Sorry this update's been so long in coming. A combination of factors
contributed to my lateness including finals and second semester
preparation. Admittedly, I have not been receiving as many reviews as I
would like, and it does tend to get difficult to deliver new material if I
convince myself that no one is even reading the old stuff. So please, if
you read my story and have something to say, say it! I appreciate your
feedback. I would like to thank Kaylee, AaronLohrLover24, Rhapsody, and
especially Raeghann for their support and comments. Please don't desert me
because of this long absence; I love hearing what you guys have to say.
So, here goes chapter nine. - Ursula
Later in the week Katie returned to the lodging house once more to see if there was any more work for her there. She had gotten a good start on her story for the Sun and she wanted to collect more information from the newsies if she could. After the past few cheerless days of life as usual with Kevin, she also looked forward to some of the newsies' cheerful antics. She carried the half-full box of clothing up the stairs to the bunkroom expecting to set up shop this time on a bunk that didn't belong to Jack Kelly. To her surprise, when she reached the top of the stairs, she saw a low rocking chair sitting near the window at the end of the row of bunks.
"I moved it up from my office," said a gruff voice behind her. It was Kloppman, the old man who owned the lodging house. "It's too low for these old bones anyhow."
"Thank you Mr. Kloppman, what a lovely thought!" Katie smiled at him gratefully.
"It's nice to see these boys running about with something warmer than nothin' on their bodies this time of year. You're doin' them a great service young lady." He gave her a watery old man's smile. "Now you just tell me if any of those boys start givin' you any trouble. Old Kloppman'll give 'em a what's for." He chuckled as he made his way slowly down the creaking stairs back to his office by the main door.
Thinking that her day was already looking up, Katie moved to the chair and began working through the box left by the newsies. Noon came and went, and Katie was darning the last pair of socks in the box when she heard two pairs of feet clambering up the stairs to the bunkroom. Rat and Jack Kelly emerged into the room. For a moment, Rat scowled at her sitting in the chair.
"You're back early," she commented to him.
He shrugged at her and busied himself with some marbles and a chalk circle drawn on the floorboards near the window. Jack Kelly merely sighed and made his way to the washroom.
Seeing that their presence was not going to disturb her work in any way, she continued with the socks, and sang absentmindedly to herself as she finished. She sang "La Femme avec son Mari Ivre" and dropped the socks with a satisfying plop into the box of newly mended clothing.
"That was a nice song," commented Rat, his voice lacking its usual impatience. "What does it mean?"
She was somewhat startled to be reminded of his presence. "It's about a woman with a drunken husband."
"Really?" He looked skeptical. "You'd never guess that. It sounds so cheerful."
"I don't know, my mother used to sing it to me when I was younger. I could teach it to you if you'd like."
He looked nonplused and shrugged noncommittally. "Maybe, sometime." He returned to his marbles and Katie, having no more sewing to do, fished her tablet from her bag and began writing. She jotted some objective notes for her story, but she also included her general impressions of the newsies and of each newsie she knew in particular. She was trying to describe what she thought might be behind Rat's semi-permanent scowl when she heard Jack Kelly speaking from right next to her. He took a long drag on his cigarette and blew the smoke unceremoniously into Katie's face.
"What ya writin'?" he asked.
Hastily, she snapped the book shut. "Notes for my story," she replied.
He grinned as if going along with a joke. "Oh, your story. Right." His tone turned serious. "Look, I don't know why you're doin' what you're doin' and like I said, I don't plan on spillin' your secret to any of these guys, but I just don't know what to make of it, or of you."
"Jack Kelly, the only reason you don't know what to make of me is because I don't fall into a swoon whenever you look my way." Rat made a strangled sort of noise that could have been a laugh if he hadn't tried to turn it halfway through into a cough. Katie looked up at Jack testily from her seat on the rocking chair. "Can I get back to my writing please?" He didn't look surprised that she had dismissed him so quickly.
Before he could reply, a graveled voice floated up the stairs. "Kelly! That better not be cigarette smoke I smell up there. Where ya gonna sleep once you burn this place down 'round your ears? Take it outside Kelly!" Jack exhaled a disgruntled stream of smoke from his nose.
"Oh," Katie cooed, "does the big bad Jack Kelly take orders from old man Kloppman now? You'd better run along before he gets really angry." Katie made a mock-frightened face as he turned to leave, wearing a scowl that looked remarkably like Rat's.
On his way out, he said to Rat, "Rat, I'm goin' out again. Don't let me catch you at old Pam's stand again or you'll have a hole in your head where there ain't meant to be one." Rat scowled again, but as soon as he heard the door close behind Jack, he was up and standing expectantly at Katie's chair. She looked up from her writing again, slightly annoyed.
"Do you need something else mended Rat?"
"Tell me what all the words mean.in that song."
"Oh, so now that Jack Kelly's gone off again, you're interested?"
He shrugged, but then looked at her in a conspiratorial way, reminding her that he was indeed only a young boy trying to make it in a world of his elders. "The other boys, they like to go down to the pubs at night and sing rowdy songs. I never know no rowdy songs. They all laugh and say I'm not old enough but I bet if I knew a rowdy song that even they couldn't understand, they'd stop their laughin'"
She tried not to smile and spoil the gravity of his statement. "Well, anything I can do to help that cause." She sang the song again in French.
Une femme s'est assise dans sa cuisine Son mari entrait tard de l'usine Elle pouvait sentir la bière sur son souffle Elle s'est enlevée doucement sa pantoufle Elle lui a dit dans une voix très douce « Tu doit prendre une décision mon pouce » (Ben, si tes pensées ne sont pas trop floues) Ma chaussure sur ta tête ou dans ton cul ? »
"And in English it means," she paused to think of the translation. "Well it won't rhyme when I say it now, but basically a woman was in her kitchen and her husband got home late from the factory. She could smell the spirits on his breath so she took off her slipper and said sweetly, 'You have a choice honey, if your thoughts aren't too fuzzy for it. Do you want this shoe on your head or up your.' um, ass?"
Rat grinned to hear her say the last word. "That's even better than I thought! Teach it to me," he demanded.
They sang the song through three or four times together, but Rat sprinted away from her and back to his marbles quicker than a shot when he heard the sound of approaching footsteps coming up the stairs. She sighed inwardly to see the trademark scowl return to his brow as he hurriedly collected his prized marbles to keep them away from the other newsies who thought it all too easy to steal from someone half their size.
As Jack Kelly and Kid Blink entered the room and Rat squeezed past them clutching his toys, Katie noticed a solitary marble that Rat had overlooked behind one of the bedposts. She bent to scoop it up and called to the fleeing boy, "Rat, you missed one!" But it was no good. She heard the door slam downstairs as he left the lodging house to find a safer corner for his game.
"How do you always do that?" Jack Kelly barked, sounding almost annoyed.
"Do what?" She answered his annoyance with her own. The boy's constant commanding tone was beginning to wear on her.
"See stuff that no one else sees. You know, stuff folks drop or forget."
"Is that a problem with you? That I pick up after people?"
"Nah, I'd just like to see the pile of poke you got stashed somewhere."
"If you are suggesting that I deliberately-"
Blink broke in diffusing the brewing argument. "Hey, you know with an eye like that, you could make quite a career for yourself huntin' for gold out west. You know, lookin' for gold in all the rivers an' all."
Racetrack walked in and caught the tale end of Blink's statement. "You plannin' a trip out west Katie? If y'are you'd better ask Cowboy here to come along to show you the way of it." He chuckled as he made his way over to the box of mended clothes and began rooting around for his faded vest.
"Nah, she ain't." Blink answered. "But we sure do got ourselves a regular forty-niner around here."
Later in the week Katie returned to the lodging house once more to see if there was any more work for her there. She had gotten a good start on her story for the Sun and she wanted to collect more information from the newsies if she could. After the past few cheerless days of life as usual with Kevin, she also looked forward to some of the newsies' cheerful antics. She carried the half-full box of clothing up the stairs to the bunkroom expecting to set up shop this time on a bunk that didn't belong to Jack Kelly. To her surprise, when she reached the top of the stairs, she saw a low rocking chair sitting near the window at the end of the row of bunks.
"I moved it up from my office," said a gruff voice behind her. It was Kloppman, the old man who owned the lodging house. "It's too low for these old bones anyhow."
"Thank you Mr. Kloppman, what a lovely thought!" Katie smiled at him gratefully.
"It's nice to see these boys running about with something warmer than nothin' on their bodies this time of year. You're doin' them a great service young lady." He gave her a watery old man's smile. "Now you just tell me if any of those boys start givin' you any trouble. Old Kloppman'll give 'em a what's for." He chuckled as he made his way slowly down the creaking stairs back to his office by the main door.
Thinking that her day was already looking up, Katie moved to the chair and began working through the box left by the newsies. Noon came and went, and Katie was darning the last pair of socks in the box when she heard two pairs of feet clambering up the stairs to the bunkroom. Rat and Jack Kelly emerged into the room. For a moment, Rat scowled at her sitting in the chair.
"You're back early," she commented to him.
He shrugged at her and busied himself with some marbles and a chalk circle drawn on the floorboards near the window. Jack Kelly merely sighed and made his way to the washroom.
Seeing that their presence was not going to disturb her work in any way, she continued with the socks, and sang absentmindedly to herself as she finished. She sang "La Femme avec son Mari Ivre" and dropped the socks with a satisfying plop into the box of newly mended clothing.
"That was a nice song," commented Rat, his voice lacking its usual impatience. "What does it mean?"
She was somewhat startled to be reminded of his presence. "It's about a woman with a drunken husband."
"Really?" He looked skeptical. "You'd never guess that. It sounds so cheerful."
"I don't know, my mother used to sing it to me when I was younger. I could teach it to you if you'd like."
He looked nonplused and shrugged noncommittally. "Maybe, sometime." He returned to his marbles and Katie, having no more sewing to do, fished her tablet from her bag and began writing. She jotted some objective notes for her story, but she also included her general impressions of the newsies and of each newsie she knew in particular. She was trying to describe what she thought might be behind Rat's semi-permanent scowl when she heard Jack Kelly speaking from right next to her. He took a long drag on his cigarette and blew the smoke unceremoniously into Katie's face.
"What ya writin'?" he asked.
Hastily, she snapped the book shut. "Notes for my story," she replied.
He grinned as if going along with a joke. "Oh, your story. Right." His tone turned serious. "Look, I don't know why you're doin' what you're doin' and like I said, I don't plan on spillin' your secret to any of these guys, but I just don't know what to make of it, or of you."
"Jack Kelly, the only reason you don't know what to make of me is because I don't fall into a swoon whenever you look my way." Rat made a strangled sort of noise that could have been a laugh if he hadn't tried to turn it halfway through into a cough. Katie looked up at Jack testily from her seat on the rocking chair. "Can I get back to my writing please?" He didn't look surprised that she had dismissed him so quickly.
Before he could reply, a graveled voice floated up the stairs. "Kelly! That better not be cigarette smoke I smell up there. Where ya gonna sleep once you burn this place down 'round your ears? Take it outside Kelly!" Jack exhaled a disgruntled stream of smoke from his nose.
"Oh," Katie cooed, "does the big bad Jack Kelly take orders from old man Kloppman now? You'd better run along before he gets really angry." Katie made a mock-frightened face as he turned to leave, wearing a scowl that looked remarkably like Rat's.
On his way out, he said to Rat, "Rat, I'm goin' out again. Don't let me catch you at old Pam's stand again or you'll have a hole in your head where there ain't meant to be one." Rat scowled again, but as soon as he heard the door close behind Jack, he was up and standing expectantly at Katie's chair. She looked up from her writing again, slightly annoyed.
"Do you need something else mended Rat?"
"Tell me what all the words mean.in that song."
"Oh, so now that Jack Kelly's gone off again, you're interested?"
He shrugged, but then looked at her in a conspiratorial way, reminding her that he was indeed only a young boy trying to make it in a world of his elders. "The other boys, they like to go down to the pubs at night and sing rowdy songs. I never know no rowdy songs. They all laugh and say I'm not old enough but I bet if I knew a rowdy song that even they couldn't understand, they'd stop their laughin'"
She tried not to smile and spoil the gravity of his statement. "Well, anything I can do to help that cause." She sang the song again in French.
Une femme s'est assise dans sa cuisine Son mari entrait tard de l'usine Elle pouvait sentir la bière sur son souffle Elle s'est enlevée doucement sa pantoufle Elle lui a dit dans une voix très douce « Tu doit prendre une décision mon pouce » (Ben, si tes pensées ne sont pas trop floues) Ma chaussure sur ta tête ou dans ton cul ? »
"And in English it means," she paused to think of the translation. "Well it won't rhyme when I say it now, but basically a woman was in her kitchen and her husband got home late from the factory. She could smell the spirits on his breath so she took off her slipper and said sweetly, 'You have a choice honey, if your thoughts aren't too fuzzy for it. Do you want this shoe on your head or up your.' um, ass?"
Rat grinned to hear her say the last word. "That's even better than I thought! Teach it to me," he demanded.
They sang the song through three or four times together, but Rat sprinted away from her and back to his marbles quicker than a shot when he heard the sound of approaching footsteps coming up the stairs. She sighed inwardly to see the trademark scowl return to his brow as he hurriedly collected his prized marbles to keep them away from the other newsies who thought it all too easy to steal from someone half their size.
As Jack Kelly and Kid Blink entered the room and Rat squeezed past them clutching his toys, Katie noticed a solitary marble that Rat had overlooked behind one of the bedposts. She bent to scoop it up and called to the fleeing boy, "Rat, you missed one!" But it was no good. She heard the door slam downstairs as he left the lodging house to find a safer corner for his game.
"How do you always do that?" Jack Kelly barked, sounding almost annoyed.
"Do what?" She answered his annoyance with her own. The boy's constant commanding tone was beginning to wear on her.
"See stuff that no one else sees. You know, stuff folks drop or forget."
"Is that a problem with you? That I pick up after people?"
"Nah, I'd just like to see the pile of poke you got stashed somewhere."
"If you are suggesting that I deliberately-"
Blink broke in diffusing the brewing argument. "Hey, you know with an eye like that, you could make quite a career for yourself huntin' for gold out west. You know, lookin' for gold in all the rivers an' all."
Racetrack walked in and caught the tale end of Blink's statement. "You plannin' a trip out west Katie? If y'are you'd better ask Cowboy here to come along to show you the way of it." He chuckled as he made his way over to the box of mended clothes and began rooting around for his faded vest.
"Nah, she ain't." Blink answered. "But we sure do got ourselves a regular forty-niner around here."