HOLA! GUTEN TAG! HELLO!
Wow-why do I always feel the need to post when I've got a hundred other things I could be doing? Thinks for a moment. Never mind…I've ALWAYS got something I could be doing! Here's the next chapter…as promised…but FIRST:
SHOUT OUTS!
M-e lee12:
Ah-ahahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh….ah ah ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…ah ah ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…ah ah ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…
Race: covers ears MAKE HER STOP!
Mush: THE PAIN! THEY AGONY! Keels over
Sorry guys. Grins Little Mermaid always makes me want to sing! Lol…oh, and nope-I'm not posting instead of doing CLS, studying for Chemistry, or studying for our notecard quiz tomorrow-nope shifts nervously and looks around room Sometimes I think Mrs. V is watching me…
Hawk Kelly:
Thanks for the review, hope you like the new chapter!
TheAngryPrincess13:
Yep-going back in time is one of my favorite fantasies. Along with the newsies coming forward in time…sideways glance at M-e lee 12…eh heh..um…I'm working on it! Anywho…I'm glad you like the story and I hope you keep reading!
Rubix:
Hmm…do you like the story? How the play going?
Oh-and just so everyone knows…if you mark on the page that says "DO NOT MARK" on it on standardized tests, I know what they do. They call you down to the office, ask you what it means, and make you erase it. Ducks head down in shame. Yep…they do that alright…
ON WITH THE MAIN EVENT! Ding ding ding
It was 8:00 and the boys were all heading out to Medda's. I couldn't help but oogle at them as they got ready. Mush is SO ripped…can you say steroids? Anywho…they were gone, and that's all that mattered to me. It had been nearly 5 minutes, and I was already beginning to feel symptoms of withdrawal.
I got up from my position on the bunk and looked around. I wanted to make sure there weren't any newsies who decided not to go that were still around. The coast was clear. The bathroom, bunks, and even fire escape were completely newsie-free. I frowned to myself, thinking how stupid I was to give up this time with them. They'd be gone late-I knew they would be, and I'd have nothing to do.
I shuffled down the stairs and walked over to Kloppmann's desk. He was reading the newspaper-how ironic-and enjoying a cup of coffee. He looked up from his paper when he saw me at his desk.
"Ya didn't go with 'em ta the show?" He asked, looking puzzled.
"No," I replied. I could hear myself using my high, girly voice, the one I use when I'm talking to adults I don't know. "I'm kinda not in the mood for live entertainment."
"I guess you prefer dead entertainment eh?" Kloppman jested, a small smile creeping around his lips.
I smiled back, and laughed a little.
"Anything good in the paper today?" I asked curiously.
He looked back at me-stunned that I asked.
"What?" I answered his puzzled look.
"Nothing dear. Didn't you sell today?"
"Not the evening edition, which, I see, is what you're holding," I replied.
He smiled again.
"Yeah, there are some pretty good headlines," he said, scanning the pages. "Here's one you might enjoy: Umpire Killed During Game in the Bowery, Catcher and Shortstop taken into custody."
I laughed and leaned over the counter to make sure he wasn't lying. There it was, plain as day.
"That's hilarious!" I laughed at Kloppmann and he returned to his reading.
"you can read it if ya want when I'm through," he offered.
"Will ya save it for me for tomorrow?" I asked. "I think I might go…er…rest for a bit." I was going to say sew or knit or something, but that might be pushing it a little…
"Sure," Kloppman replied. "I have it here tomorrow if ya wanna borrow it."
"Thanks Kloppman," I said as I started back up the stairs. I stopped. "Do you know when the guys will be coming in?" I asked.
"Oh, lets see…probably around eleven or so, I should think…half the time they come back drunk and rowdy, so you better get some rest now, while ya still can!" He joked.
"Thanks. I'll do that," I replied. And I started up the stairs, with no intention of resting at all. I had work to do.
Once I got back upstairs, I plopped myself back onto the bunk that had recently become mine. I lay there, looking up at the bunk above me for a few minutes, thinking. Just thinking. Thinking of everything that had happened. I smiled to myself. This is awesome.
I reached underneath the bed where my bag and backpack were safely tucked away. Grabbing at the straps on my backpack, I heaved it up and onto the bed where I could again examine it's contents. I found things that I had thrown in 'just in case', disregarding them at the time. Now those things felt like precious jewels, and I savored everything I had. I reached for my iPod, then stopped.
Wait. The pennies. When I took them out, they changed to the old-mintage type of penny. What if when I pulled the things out of my bag, they changed? Then I would be screwed. The last thing that I wanted was for my iPod to morph into a phonograph or something.
"hmm," I said, examining the contents. I looked through the bag to find something I would not miss. My eyes rested upon one of my hairbrushes.
"Bingo."
I pulled it out.
Nothing happened. I was so confused.
"okay…" I thought. "Maybe I have to think…"
And at that moment, the brush transformed into an old, rigid comb, with hard bristles instead of the soft, plastic kind.
"Eureka," I muttered to myself. I had to think to myself that I wanted it to change, and it changed.
"very interesting," I said. "Very interesting indeed."
I took a deep breath and pulled out my iPod. I plugged in the headphones, flipped off the HOLD button, and pressed play.
Those who know
They don't let it show
They just give you one long life
And you go, oh oh, oh oh,
"OH MY GOSH!" I cried, even though there was no one there. I clutched the device playing my Velvet Goldmine CD on it tightly. This was amazing. Newsies, Music, and…I looked back inside my bag and pulled out my Newsies Binder.
My Newsies Binder is a blue 2-inch binder, completely covered with gum wrapper foil. Thanks to my friend Brittany who started that on it…it looks awesome though, and it stands out from all my other things.
I open the binder and flip through the contents. First is the list of prices of stuff from 1900's. From food and clothing to utensils and make-up. Then comes the countless fanfics. Stories I had printed out over the years from many different authors-so I could read them at times I wasn't sitting in front of my computer. After the fics is the script. I flipped through it and laughed to myself. I had tabs marking the songs, and I had even corrected it.
Yes. Obsessed.
I plugged in my headphones and switched it over to the next song, "Hot One". Page after page, I continued to flip through the notebook, glancing here and there at fan fiction that I love. After about ten minutes of aimless perusing, I stopped at my friend Emmie's story.
I quickly scanned the first page, remembering bitterly the first time I read it. It was SO exciting, since Emmie had vaguely based one of the characters on me, and another on our other friend Brittany. I sighed. Thinking of my friends made me sad. This was our dream…to go back to their time...and now…I was thankfully here-but with none other than my brother.
Not exactly the fairy-tale journey we had imagined.
I read through Emmie's story, laughing at parts, and sighing at others. Shutting the binder with a sigh, I returned it to the sanctuary of the backpack.
I sifted through the contents of the bag, making mental notes of things that her family always made fun of her for pack: band-aids, water bottle, make-up, four different books, a couple of textbooks that lay unused, binders from school, about 25 batteries, Neosporin, 50 assorted pens and pencils, a tiny flashlight for camping, and other miscellaneous items. I ginned to myself at the thought of how ironic it was that I might actually benefit from being a packrat for once in my life.
Safely stowing my bags back under the bunk, where hopefully no newsie would discover the treasures they held, I took my iPod, safely hidden in my pocket, and decided to go exploring.
In the absence of it's rowdy occupants, the Lodging House seemed barren and unnaturally quiet. The stairs were worn, and the smooth rails leading the way up and down especially showed innumerable hands that must have slid along it over the years. Slowly I made my way up the stairs, curious to see exactly how far they went. On the floor next landing, I found another, smaller and less furnished bunkroom that was obviously unoccupied-given the fact that it, unlike all the other rooms the boys inhabited, was extremely clean.
Passing the room, I continued up to what was unmistakably Kloppmann's room-or rather his storage room. Cracking the door slightly to examine the contents, the room held a desk, and a coat rack, as well as a swivel chair. Apart from that, there was no bed or sign of any sleeping arrangements. The location where Kloppman slept was still a piece of knowledge that evaded me.
Again, I continued on, feeling a little more cautious as I ascended the dark stairs. The calm quiet had turned into an eerie silence only disturbed by the sound of my footsteps on the old wooden stairs.
I reached what appeared to be the top of the stairs and at the end of the flight, there stood a door. I grasped the doorknob, the cold feeling of the metal contrasting immediately with the sweaty skin of my palm, and I turned and pushed.
I opened the door into a new and amazing world. This door led to the roof. The most amazing sight ever was now in front of my eyes. I gasped and shut the door behind me, rushing to the edge of the building's roof. I could see for miles in every direction. Now, I had traveled a lot, and had been in some extremely tall buildings before, but nothing seemed to compare to the view that now fell before my eyes. The sight of old New York-not crowded with waves of taxis, nor illuminated by flashing neon lights, now lay before me below the skyline of old buildings. In one direction, I could see the Brooklyn Bridge and the East River, with a few boats dotting the coast. Below me, I could see carriages and pedestrians randomly dotting the streets, on their way home from an evening show or dinner.
As I looked out on the city, I felt happy. Just happy. And content. Feeling as though I had all the time in the world. I sat back on a stray packing crate and watched the happenings of the city from my rooftop perch.
"I wonder what time it is," I thought to myself.
I reached into my pockets and pulled out my iPod. Surely, no one would be home soon. I slipped the headphones into my ears and continued to gaze out along the horizon to the tune of David Bowie.
It was some time later that the boys returned home. With their rambunctious singing and yelling, by the time they even reached the door to the Lodging House, I was well aware of their return. I quickly tucked my iPod back into my pocket and returned down the stairs to greet them.
Mush was the first one I met who walked in the door.
"So how was it?" I asked, smirking at those who followed Mush-Jack and Skittery, carrying Race on their shoulders.
"Great!" replied Mush, grinning like a fool.
"Id wazz uh great HIC schow…" Race slurred. He looked up at me and grinned, wearing a sick puppy dog look on his face. I guffawed at this stereotypical scene and turned instead to my brother.
"So?" I cocked my head with interest as my brother looked toward me.
"So...what?" He cocked his head mimicking me. "Did I like it?"
I nodded.
He thought for a moment, then finally decided.
"Yeah, I suppose I did. I got to drink whiskey." He smirked at me, as though to push this in my face.
I shrugged. "Whatever. I guess it's better than having sex with some STD-infested prostitute."
My brother gaped at me, clearly in shock. However, he quickly recovered.
"Not to worry sis, that's on the agenda tomorrow night!"
I snorted heavily at this then watched with amusement as Race made his way up the stairs.
"As long as you don't come home like that." I said to John, as Race fell down the stairs…again.
It was very amusing. On about the third try, and with significant help from others, Race finally made it up the stairs and into the bunkroom. The rest of the newsies followed suit, and went upstairs to retire.
I waited about ten minutes, figuring they'd want to change before having me intrude upon them once more. I looked around the main floor.
"Sweetheart," Kloppman said goodheartedly, motioning me toward him. When I was at sufficient range he whispered, "I don't usually tell the guys this, but behind the desk here," he motioned to the door behind the desk, "is where I keep the stove, water, and other stuff. I thought if you needed it though, you'd be more than welcome at any time of the day-or night for that matter," he added as an afterthought.
I looked into the face of the kind old man and smiled.
"Thank you!" I said and truly meant it. "I'm sure I will take you up on that!"
Little did I know that I would be keeping my word much sooner than I had planned.
DUN DUN DUN! Having fun yet? I know I am! I love you all who R&R! Blows big kisses at reviewers Thanks for taking time out of your busy schedule to feed my relentless addiction and need for feedback and attention. Grins
And here's a thought provoking question to end with:
If there were to be a modern day coup in America, who would most likely be the naughty revolutionaries staging it?
a.) communists
b.) young newsie-obsessed fanficcers
c.) the rising proletariat
d.) Marxist socialists
e.) Hippies
Feel free to answer…if you want…or just ignore my weirdness-whichever you wish.
P.S.-NW! YOU NEED TO READ AND REVIEW!
Brownie