I know that this is really short and all, and actualyl not really very good, but I just wanted to post it in the hopes that it will get me motivated to write more. And I promise it will get better. OK, I don't promise, but I fervently hope so. And I'll try to update as much as possible, but since my "spare time" consists of stolen minutes in Physics while my teacher isn't looking, I'm not making any promises there, either. Oh...just read the story. And I'll try harder next time.
The street was empty – or as empty as it ever got in New York City. The door to one of the many identical apartment buildings opened, and a girl stepped out, clutching a blanket around her shoulders. Her face was shadowed by a thick mane of dark curls. She leaned against the door frame, the moonlight slanting down on her; the whole scene had an ethereal quality about it. That is, until she started to cry. The peace was shattered, her body started to shake as though it would break apart from the force and intensity of the sobs that tore through her.
Jack, coming home from a show at Medda's, heard a faint noise and cautiously scanned the seemingly empty street. His eyes finally focused on the girl in the doorway, and, as much as he tried to fight it, the natural compassion that years on the streets hadn't been able to train out of him welled up. "I don't gotta help 'er," he thought, "she probably don't wanna talk to anybody anyway." Still, he couldn't resist taking a second look at her. He tried to harden his gaze, but the false coldness melted from his face as she began to cough, choking on her tears. Sighing as he realized that this would mean even less sleep tonight, Jack squared his shoulders and headed over to her.
He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Um, hi."
She looked up, eyes staring wildly, then instinctively turned away, wiping frantically at her tears. "Who – who are you?" Her voice was hoarse and weak from her cry.
"Um," Jack said again. This was far more awkward that he'd expected. "I'm Jack." In an attempt to give her time to compose herself, he continued, "I live in da Lodgin' House fer newsies a few streets down," he paused and gestured toward it vaguely. "Dat's what I am. A newsie." Another pause as she sniffed. Jack took a deep breath, "So...are you OK?"
The girl gave a shaky, tentative laugh. "Yea." He raised his eyebrows at her. "No, really I am. I know I didn't, uh, didn't really look it jus' now, but I am. Jus' a bad day, y'know?" This time, her laugh seemed forced, and she knew it.
"No yer not," Jack said calmly. "I've had bad days, an' dis ain't what dey look like."
The girl was beginning to get irritated. What right did this boy have to waltz in on her weakness, telling her to parade it around like she should be proud of it? "What are you, some kinda do-gooder?" she snapped. "I'se fine. End of story."
Jack put up his hands, "I was jus' asking," he protested, then muttered, "You sure don't look fine."
"What was that?" she asked sarcastically, "since you know me so well and everyt'ing, I shouldn't be surprised dat you can tell how I'm feeling. Maybe I'm jus' a big crier. Maybe I like cryin'. Did you ever think about dat one?" She tried to look menacing while sniffling and wiping her eyes. "You don't know the first thing about me. Not even my name."
Jack made an effort to be calm, "Well, what is it?"
She opened her mouth for a sharp reply, then seemed to choke on her words, "What?"
Jack grinned cockily, knowing that he had thrown her off. "Yer name. What is it?"
"Oh...oh, it's Annabelle," she stammered. Then she made a face, "but you can call me anyt'ing but." She started to smile, then caught herself and scowled at him.
Jack's grin widened. "Well, I'm Jack Kelly. It's nice to meet you...Annie?" The last word came out as a bit of a question, but at her shrug he repeated it more firmly. "Annie."
Annie seemed to give up on the angry approach as her face relaxed into a smile. Granted, the smile was rather shaky, and its effect was rather marred by her red, splotchy face, but it was a vast improvement over her threatening glare. "Well, Jack Kelly, I have to be getting' to bed. An' I'd guess you do, too. A newsie's day starts early, right?"
Jack nodded. "Dat's right. An' ends late," he gestured at the night sky as he began backing away. "Good night, Annie," he smiled, tugging his forelock (A/N: I've always loved that expression), "an' take care."
"Good night, Jack," she smiled softly.
She watched him as he left, then remained staring down the street long after he was gone, the same soft smile playing about her lips. "I've heard that people can be angels to one another," she mused. "I wonder if he knows that he was mine." As she turned to go in, though, her smile faded, and she unconsciously hunched her small shoulders as though she were taking up some heavy load.