It's short, but I wanted to let y'all know that I am, in fact, still here. My computer's been broken, and I've had a rough week, what with Hurrican Ivan and all. My parents were out of town when the city ordered an evacuation, so I was stuck with driving my three younger siblings from New Orleans, LA to Dallas, Texas. Woohoo. And let me just tell you, it was bumper-to-bumper all the way. It normally takes one hour to get from NO to Baton Rouge; it took six. Hours. Without getting over twenty. I'm getting a headache just thinking about it. Fortunately I found that I can sort of watch Newsies on our portable DVD player without looking at the screen too much while driving in non-moving traffic. (This is a very unsafe thing to do. Don't try it)
Oh, and the OOOO are shifts or breaks or whatever. Nothing else works!!
The next day was Sunday – not the boys' favorite day. People went out with their families on Sundays, people went to Church on Sundays. Overall, people were less likely to buy papers on Sundays, even if those who did gave more tips. And there was nothing more depressing on a bad selling day than watching kids who were provided for spend time with parents and siblings who loved them. Of course, many of the boys argued that most families weren't like that all of the time, that Sundays were just their day to shine, but it was easy to believe what was right in front of you. People looked happy, and that made the newsies feel their suffering more acutely.
Race turned away from selling a paper to see a young man carrying a boy on his shoulders. The man was grinning as he teased his son, and the boy looked as though there were no place he could imagine being happier. Race clenched his jaw as he watched them until they faded into the crowd. He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned fiercely on a man with two pennies in his outstretched hand. He quickly, desperately, arranged his features into a grateful smile – his patented customer smile, with just the right mixture of brave suffering, gratitude, and suppressed spirit – and took the two pennies, thanking the man politely as he handed him the paper with a flourish.
Dropping the pennies into his pocket, Race fell back into brooding. A few minutes later, another man walked up to him, family in tow, and Race fell into the same performance. This time, though, he forced himself to pay attention to the task at hand. He had to sell these papers if he wanted to stay ahead. "I need to find me a new sellin' spot where dere ain't so much to t'ink about." Even though he started thinking of places, Race knew that he would never move. He went through this at least once a week – had even moved a couple of times – but he just couldn't seem to give it up.
Shaking his head in disgust, Race raised a paper and began shouting a headline, "Extry, extry! -- "
OOOOO
"-- Da dark truth behind da cities' orphanages!" Jack smiled sympathetically at the woman who dragged her family over to him to buy a paper, clutching her young daughter as though to protect her from any nuns who might try to steal her.
"It's just terrible the way those poor children are treated," she told Jack shrilly.
"Yes ma'am," Jack nodded solemnly, taking her penny and handing her a paper. As the lady turned away, he added, "I know, I used to be in one." His breath caught on the last few words, and he lowered his eyes, keeping them just high enough to gauge her reaction.
He cheered mentally as he watched her facial expression change from indignance to pity. "Oh, Frank, can't we spare another penny for this poor boy? He needs it more than us."
"Frank" sighed, but reached into his pocket, even as Jack protested, "Oh, no, ma'am, I couldn't, I – well, I jus' couldn't!"
"No, no, you must accept it. It's the least I can do," she answered, pressing it firmly into his hand. "Take care of yourself, my dear."
Jack smiled gratefully at her until she turned the corner, when he looked at the penny in his hand and, chuckling, dropped it into his pocket as he picked another nice-looking woman to work on.
OOOOO
"Aw, man, she came last night?" Blink asked. "I wouldn't o' expected to see 'er fer anudder week at least. If at all."
"Yep," Mush told his selling partner, "she came to give Race his coat, an' we made 'er stay fer a while an' meet all da guys an' all."
They were interrupted by a middle-aged man wanting to buy a paper. As he walked away, having made the exchange to his satisfaction, Blink said, "Bachelor. Rich by 'imself, but not if 'e had a family." Mush nodded his agreement, then Blink asked, "So what did dey t'ink of 'er?" Mush looked at him, confused, and Blink rolled his eyes. "Annie. What did da guys t'ink of Annie?"
Mush shrugged. "Not very much, I guess. Dey were kinda surprised at first – we don't get too many goils in da Lodgin' House," Blink grunted his agreement, "but, after a while, most of 'em jus' fergot she was dere." He reflected for a moment, then said, "Yeah, I guess dat me an' Jack were da only ones who really talked to 'er much."
"What 'bout Race?" Blink asked, after selling a paper to a young girl who Mush classified as "twelve-year-old wit' parents. Better off dan us, but dat's about it."
Mush rolled his eyes. "You know how Race gets when he's playin' poker. He got up to say 'hi,' but dat's all."
Blink laughed. "Da children of our city are at risk!" he yelled, then turned to Mush, "I'm lovin' dis orphanage story. 'Specially on Sunday, when everyone's out wit dere families."
Mush grinned back, muttering, "Happy family approaching. Dey're poor, but doin' alright. Deir Pop's workin' 'is tail off to keep 'em in school, even dough dey wanna get out an' work too."
The papers were exchanged, and Blink replied, a bit angrily, "Mush, you t'ink everyone's happy, don't you? Dat guy's a drunk, an' 'e smacks 'is kids aroun' whenever dey do somethin' wrong. Prob'bly 'is wife, too. 'E burns all da money 'is family earns on booze, an' 'is kids'll run away when it gets too bad."
Mush was quiet for a moment, but, just as Blink turned to apologize, Mush said, "I know," very softly. Then, more brightly, he asked, nudging Blink, "So how was yer night wit' Samantha, eh?" and the rest of their time was spent in teasing as Blink extolled the virtues of his beloved new girlfriend.
OOOOO
"I hate Sundays," Annie said in disgust, putting her groceries on the counter with a thump.
The girl behind the counter looked up in surprise, then laughed, "Oh, hello Annie," she greeted in a thick Irish brogue. Then, "an' why do ya hate Sundays, lass? You're off on Sundays."
"Exactly, Katie" Anne replied. "So Sundays are market days, an' I lose money instead of earnin' it."
Katie rolled her eyes, "Yes, but you're off on Sundays," she emphasized, "and you don't even go to Church. I have to wake up even earlier than usual to get that in before I sneak off here."
Annie started to laugh. "The Irish," she said, "place too much emphasis on the Sabbath. I've never met anyone else who had to 'sneak off' to work so their parents wouldn't get angry."
"My da doesn't think I should work on the Sabbath," Katie said, with the air of someone continuing an old argument. She held out the bag of groceries that she had been addin up during the conversation, "The usual, love."
Annie counted out change, then picked up the bag and turned to go. A moment later, though, she turned back around. "Y'know why I really hate Sundays?" she asked wistfully. At Katie's encouraging look she continued, "My mother used to love them," her voice got soft, as it always did when she spoke of her mother, "they were her days off, too, and she would spend the whole day with me and Da, an' we'd play all day." She looked up to see pity flit across Katie's face, and her voice grew bitter as she turned to leave again. "I hate Sundays."
Once again, I am losing reviewers. Where have they all gone?
koodles: Not listening in science is a valid excuse for anything. And I await the ABCs of Newsies with bated breath. ((begins turning blue even as she protests)) No, I'm fine, I can do it.
Mydela: Oh yeah? Well, if you're a pineapple, I'm a -- wait, what am I saying? I can't believe your insight, I thought I was being subtle. Not taht I'm dropping plot hints or anything. Just -- wow.