Default Chapter

He had always been a kidder, my brother. He had a feel for crowds and people, when we were little we would walk around the city together and he would wave to everyone and laugh with the kids on the streets. I was never that comfortable, being three years younger and classified as the kid sister I was looked down upon and never a part of his social life. I blame that for the reason I was gone and they were still there. After our father got put in Jail, our mother depended on my brother to get money. I was to stay at home and do chores. After mother died, my brother moved out, and when my Aunt Martha came west to Frisco, I was to come with her.
I always felt it was my brother's fault, for letting me leave. When it was cold at night, and I was hungry I cursed him for letting me go to Frisco. I did everything I could to raise money so Aunt Martha could go see a doctor, but she died right before I hit the budget. That's when I started stealing things to sell, and even then not many people would buy from a girl.
I never talked about my family, because there really wasn't much to say. I knew I once had one, and I knew that they weren't in Frisco, but I couldn't tell you where they were or point them out if I saw them. After I left them all contact between us was gone. This was until I saw a story in the Golden Gate titled Pulitzer Knocked down by Sweatshop Kids. There was a picture, of a group of about 20 to 30 boys and that's where I saw him. I knew he looked familiar and when I read the article and saw his name I knew that was him, and there he was, smiling back at me, like I was someone he knew. And at that moment in time, I knew I had to get to New York City.
I had all the money saved up from trying to get Aunt Martha to the doctor; along with the extra money I would collect just to have food. All I needed was about two more bucks and I was on my way, but two bucks was not an easy thing to come by. China town was growing, and the place where I was living was slowly getting sucked in. Selling papers to the Immigrants was an easy way to make money, if they were able to read, which only a fifty, fifty chance were. But I proved everyone wrong, once again, and before I knew it, I was on my way to New York City.