loud snores and incoherent murmurings heared coming from Jockey's bed
NEWSIES: move quietly around the room gathering papers and other things
SKITTERY: Heya! Jockey is busy gettin' her booty rest right now...
DAVEY: It's 'getting her beauty rest' not 'booty rest,' Skitts.
SKITTERY: glares darkly at Dave Anyhoo, we's decided dat we's couldn't wake day proity goily up, so we's are takin' ovah da beginin' of dis chaptah. Blink?
BLINK: Okay, Spot, youse read dis for da Shout Outs to da people interested in dis story.
SPOT: takes paper from Blink, smiles dashingly at the camera, and clears throat Herah we's go. 1 cup of sugar, 3 cups of flour... 1 tsp of vanilla...? Blink, dis isn't da shout outs! It's a recipe!
BLINK and SPOT: RACE!
RACE: Heh, sorry fellas! My mistake. hands Spot the right paper
SPOT: silently looks over the paper Dis is da right one dis time. Ahem...
Shooter O'Brian Hey there to ya too! blows candy kisses to Shooter I'm glad that you liked this chappy. I thought that it would be cool for one of her "old" friends to show up. I hope that you like this chappy too, because it is about Shooter's history.
Mistymixfox giggles and huggles Misty back I can't say no to a loyal fan who begs for something. thinks a few minutes How about I give you Spot? How does that treat ya? looks around for a big enough box to put Spot in
SPOT: rather pale after the last shout out Gulp! H-hey Race youse up! I's gotta go hide so Jockey don't sells me as a toy or sumptin woise!
RACE: gives Spot a weird look Right... anyhoo. Jockey owns no one but Tripper. Shooter O'Brian owns Shooter O' Brian and Disney owns us Newsies (even though they made us then ignore us!)
NEWSIES: Enjoy da show folks!
TUMBLER and SNIPES: pulls back curtain hiding the next chappy
Chapter Five
The walk to Central Park was a quiet one. Neither girl spoke since neither wanted to bring up the painful past. It seemed to the both of them that a cloud had moved over the sun dimming the world around them. They both gave a small shiver as a cool fall breeze whistled between the brick buildings and danced about them.
They didn't speak as they strolled along the shaded path winding through the park. The day was beautiful, and, thankfully, the two girls weren't melancholy enough to ignore it. The sun came out from behind the gloomy cloud it went behind and shone down bright and warm again. The trees that surrounded the path were painted bright hues of orange, yellow, and red. The late year flowers gave off pleasant scents that attracted the last of the bees and butterflies.
Shooter led her friend down a small branch in the path to where a small pond was hidden behind a glen of trees. After another few minutes of silent walking, Shooter found a quiet, secluded spot under a bright red maple tree that stood next to the pond. She sat picking at the browning grass and frowning darkly at the thoughts jumping across her mind.
Tripper sat patiently next to her brooding friend. One thing that years of friendship had thought her about Shooter O'Brian was that no one could push her to tell something till she was ready. As Rory waited for Shooter to gather her thoughts, she listened to the sounds of the crickets and bullfrogs coming from the murky water behind them.
A deep sigh came from Shooter's chest as she turned to face the other girl beside her. The pain had returned to her face and eyes once again.
"I guess I might as well git dis ovah wit. I'll go back ta da beginin'. Ye remembahs when me mum and papa died leavin' me and Blake alone?" Getting a nod from Tripper, she took a deep breath and continued.
"Well, before Papa went an' past on, he called me into da sick room. He told me about dis rich, old aunt who lived herah in New Yawk. He told me where ta find a containah filled wit cash. Den he told me to take Blake an' run away to America before we's could be thrown in da orphanage. An' dat's what we's did.
"I was thoiteen, and Blake was only nine when we's landed in da harbor. We soiched for our aunt only ta find out dat she gone an' died jest a week before we's landed. So, of course, da bulls got's a hold of us an' threw us inta da orphanage.
"Wit nutin' bettah ta do an' no where's bettah to be, Blakey and I's jest stayed where's we was. We stayed put for six months. Den one day, a fight broke out in da yard.
"Four oldah boys were beatin' on me bruddah for no reason. I tried ta stop dem. I tried ta get help, but nutin' woiked. Dey beat Blake till he was nearly dead. We's ran away dat night wit me carryin' him on me back da whole way.
"We's ran an' ran till we's reached an alley on da outskoits of 'hattan. In da farthest, safest coiner of da alley, I sat holdin' and doctorin' Blake for three days. I every raspy breath dat he took. At one point, he opened his eyes and smiled at me before breathin' his last. I sat wit his body for two more days jest cryin' and rockin'. It hoit so bad ta know I's had no body wit me anymore.
"After I had used up da last of me tears, I walked to the nearest choich an' asked da pastor ta bury me bruddah for me. I watched dry-eyed as dey lowered his casket inta da dark hole. For anothah two days, I walked da streets of 'hattan scrounging and stealing for food.
"Den one night, I happened ta pass dis pub where's dey had a pool match goin' on. So, knowin' me, I went in an' tried me luck. I out shot da best man dere an' won a nice sum of cash. It kept me alive an' reenforced me name. I played in pubs and bars for nearly three months, sleeping in doorways or alleys that whole time.
"Da last night I was on da streets, I fell asleep on da doorstep of da goils' 'hattan lodgin' house where Hawk, da leadah, found me latah dat night. I woiked as a newsie for two years befores I met anuddah goil named Sweeps.
"She told me of dis group of her friends who lived tagethah in dis building where dey all had their own room. Dey had only one ting in common: dat dey's were all goils. Dey all had different jobs, but dey was da best of friends. Well, aftah several months, we all became good friends.
"Dey found me a bettah job at Grand Central Station. I's been loadin' and unloadin' freight cars for da last year. I's loves it! An' I guess dat's de end of me story."
Tripper sat staring at her friend as she tried to sort all the new facts of her friend's life.
"Bless me! That's quite a life, Shooter lass."
Shooter nodded and grinned at her amazed friend, "Yeah, dat it is. I's jest wish dat Blake would 'ave stuck 'round ta live it wit me."
Tripper sniffled as she thought of the bright happy boy that she had at one timed called her second brother. It was hard to think that he was gone, never to return.
Shooter wiped her eyes and took a deep breath before jumping to her feet.
"Come on! Enough tears and frowns! Blake has been cried ovah for da last three years. He would want us ta be happy and not some sour pusses!" She grabbed Tripper's hand and hauled her up from the ground. "Now, let's go! I want's ta intraduce youse ta da udder goilies!"
Shooter took off sprinting down the path toward the entrance of the park with Tripper close at her heels.
sniffs and sniffles can be heard coming from the newsies a loud wail wakes Jockey who finds here cahppy over and a group of crying newsies with handkerchiefs in their hands
What happened? Is it over? What did you guys do? Spot? Why is there snot all over your trousers?
SPOT: Youse were sleepin' so we's did youse chappy for youse. It was so sad! blows his nose really loud
Right...well, ladies and germs...while I fix this mess please review and be excited about the next chappy. moves off camera to comfort a sobbing Blink and Mush