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Jack's expression didn't change. It was as if Blink hadn't spoken yet and he was still awaiting the answer.
Blink cast a worried glance to a near by Skittery and continued.
". . See we just thought, seein' as how no one calls ya dat . . I mean, we didn't know if she . . we didn't know ya had a sistah Jack. ."
"I don't," Jack said confidently, looking unfazed by what was just said.
The room was again quiet. Some of the older boys were giving each other hidden glances, but Mush was still staring at Jack in confusion.
"But Jack, how'd she know dat . ." Mush was cut of by Jacks temper.
"Hey, If I had a sistah, I think I would know about it," He snapped, louder than he intended.
It was clear by Jack's expression he was thinking very carefully. He unconsciously ran a hand though his hair and turned to take a seat on the tattered sofa; leaning back and rubbing his face with his hands.
Knowing that he wanted to be left alone, the other boys tried to resume the soft chatter; milling about the room and once again restarting a game of poker they had yet to get through.
Blink slowly sat down beside him, eyeing his face for signs that he was unwelcome. Jack just continued to stare at the floorboards. Suddenly his head shot up from its drooping position and he turned to toward the patched face next to him.
"You're sayin' she just came in heah, dat same girl," He said, motioning to the stairs, "an' started askin' for a Francis Sullivan. . .I mean, you're shoa dats what she said . ." As he spoke he wasn't looking directly at anything, his eyes looking somewhat glazed over in thought.
"Well, not exactly. . .Ya see, I saw her yesterday , when I was sellin'. . . She asked about ya then too."
Jack had his face in his hands as he listened intently.
"I didn't tell her anythin' Jack, really, I just walked away . . .I mean, I aint gonna go round tellin' people wheah ta find a Francis Sullivan, none of us are stupid enough ta do somethin' like that, ya know?"
A sigh could be heard from Jacks hands and Blink took that as a cue to continue.
"Den, next thing I know, she shows up heah, right outta da rain, an' askin' for ya again. What were we supposed ta do? We didn't know what she wanted with ya, and she nevah spoke up an' said anythin' bout no bruddah, not dat we woulda believed her, so... Race told her ta beat it."
Jack glanced up at this.
"Race? Your tellin' me Racetrack told a girl ta leave?" He grinned despite himself. "Musta been a bad day at da tracks. ."
Blink smiled at this too, glad that Jack didn't seem as upset anymore. They sat in silence for some time, before Blink asked, "So, what are ya gonna do?"
Jack sighed. He had no idea. He didn't have a sister, he was sure of that, but what was he supposed to do? Just tell her to go away and keep looking? Another especially loud sigh could be heard as he leaned back on the couch with his hands over his face.
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I woke up to the sound of squeaking wire above me. As I laid peacefully in the moment before I became fully conscious, I heard a loud shout coming from across the room. My eyes darted open but I didn't dare move.
The first thing I noticed were two feet hanging down in front of my face from the top bunk. Top bunk?
My eyes swiftly took in my surroundings and I found I was lying on the bottom bunk, the squeaking having stopped now that the boy had jumped down, and I was covered in a warm blanket.
I squeezed the soft pillow with my arm under it and sunk my head deeper into it, feeling completely content and more comfortable than I could remember being in a long time. I still had my one eye peeked out over the fluffy pillow and was taking in the scene. There was an old man, he was going around to the bunks and waking people up. Memories began coming back to me and I consciously tried to fight it, not wanting my moment of utter bliss to fade.
The old man. Well I knew he looked familiar. Oh shit.
The previous events came barging back into my head and I inwardly groaned. Unfortunately, once again, I found I had not managed to contain my thoughts to the privacy of my mind. I realized I must have made a noise when a boy passing by stopped quickly and turned to face me. Before I even saw his face my eyes were closed and I was holding my breath. Oh, right, I'm sleeping, not dead. I let my breath out and tried to breathe evenly, feeling every muscle in my body tense in fear.
After what felt like forever I slowly cracked open my eye, and much to my relief, I found the boy was gone. I heard all kinds of commotion coming from another end of the room, or maybe it was a different room entirely. I couldn't tell from my angle. I heard footsteps coming near and slammed my eye shut again.
I heard the footsteps stop beside my bed, and I could feel someone's eyes on me. Quickly they were moving again as I heard the swift sound of them snatching something off the top bunk and heard them walking away.
As I dared to peel open my eye once again, I saw most of the boys were leaving, a few rushing to catch up after the main herd had passed.
I slowly pushed the blanket off and pulled my feet to the side of the bed. As I sat up I felt my head pounding and sighed. I sat on the edge of the bad for a while, just gazing around the room and reliving what all had happened. From what I could recall I figured I must've been sick... Or something... It was all a bit fuzzy.
I slowly stood and stretched out my arms over my head. The first thing I did was turn around and begin making my bed. It became a habit from the orphanage and I didn't really even notice what I was doing. I looked at the corner of the top bunk and saw my coat hanging there, now perfectly dry. Looking down at myself I felt filthy. Taking small steps I wove through the bunks and found a washroom. Inside was a line of sinks and I made my way over to one.
I looked at myself in the mirror and shrugged. eh, dats da least o' my worries I mumbled to myself as I began scrubbing the grime off my face with some water and a towel.
After feeling my face and hands were clean I looked down at my dirty dress in disgust. It had dirt caked on it from constant wear and felt as gross as it looked.
I placed the towel I still had in my hands on a sink and began wandering through the washroom, finding small razors and combs strewn about carelessly. I made my way over to the stalls and was beyond disgusted. I peeked in one and gagged, making dramatic coughing noises.
"Gah, don't dese boys evah clean nuthin?"
"Well, ya know how it is Rosie, we sell papes all day, sleep all night..."
I spun around so fast I nearly lost my balance. The boy who found me the night it rained was leaning against the doorframe and grinning, amusement dancing in his eyes.
I immediately turned beat red and felt like slapping myself. How rude could I be? I tried to stammer an apology.
"Oh . . right, I um. . . I didn't mean that Jack, I was just sayin'..."
His grin grew as he watched my pathetic attempt to back peddle. I gave up and returned the grin.
"Sorry," I said sheepishly and slowly walked over to him.
"Aw dats O.K., you was right. We don't evah clean nuthin'."
I felt a sudden pang of guilt and my grin faltered.
"Hey Jack?" I asked quietly from my place across the room.
"Yea?" He replied as he stood up straighter and away from the frame.
"I . . .I just um. . ." I glanced at him then down at the dusty floor. "Thanks for lettin' me stay heah last night, an' for everythin' else you've done for me." He cocked his head slightly as he looked at me, a grin tugging at his lips.
"Well it was nuthin', but it wasn't just last night ya know. . . You slept all through yesterday heah too. We didn't wake ya cause you was sick."
My expression said what my voice could not.
"Aw don't worry about it," He waved his hand and laughed, His charming smile going full force. "We enjoyed da company." He grinned at seeing me blush once again and walked back into the bunk room, subtly signaling for me to do the same.
I watched as he sat down on the bed I had slept on and ran a hand through his hair. He sat with his head facing down and his hands together, elbows resting on his knees. I was slowly coming near, eyeing him through the bunks.
"So what are ya doin' heah? Don't all you newsboys have papes ta sell?" I regretted it almost before I finished saying it. Who was I to ask him what he was doing? I stopped walking when I got to the edge of the bunk and stood leaning against it.
"Yea, I just got done sellin' da mornin' edition an' thought I'd come back heah. . . thought maybe we could have a little chat."
As he finished speaking his eyes looked up at me.
I stood there awkwardly, avoiding his gaze.
"About what?" I asked cautiously, slowly taking a seat on the bunk across from him.
"Well ya see," He began slowly, seemingly choosing his words carefully. "My boys tell me you was lookin' for a Francis Sullivan." He looked up at me after he said this, trying to read my reaction.
I couldn't hide my excitement as I felt my eyes light up.
"You know wheah he is, don't you? Ah, I knew it!" I was grinning like an idiot until I saw his expression remained serious. I felt my smile fade and worry overtake my joy.
"What is it? Somethin' happen to him? You do know wheah he is right? Is he alright?"
He put up a hand to stop my questions that I couldn't help but pour out. I heard him sigh and after a short pause he looked back up at me.
"You told me you was lookin' for your bruddah," He said calmly. Only a small hint of frustration could be detected in his voice, but I didn't miss it.
"Yea," I said slowly, feeling he was stating the obvious.
"So what your sayin' is. . . Francis Sullivan is your bruddah." He looked up at me right in the eyes, seriousness etched in all his features.
I looked around the room and back to him, not knowing how to feel. I eyed him curiously as I responded.
"Yea Jack , dats exactly what I'm sayin'. . . Are you sayin' ya know him?" I asked. The annoyance in my tone wasn't obvious, it was in my nature to avoid conflict at all costs, but I got the feeling Jack picked up on it.
"Well," Jack began. "Just so happens I do know him, an' he aint got no sistah."
We sat in silence for a moment; I stared at my hands as I gathered my thoughts.
"You don't undahstand Jack, he wouldn't know bout me."
He gave me a questioning look so I continued.
"I was born aftah our faddah ran off with him." He still said nothing, just continued to look at me with curiosity shining in his eyes. "I was raised by my muddah. ."
He stopped me here with his hand and spoke.
"Nah, see, his muddah died when he was real young, dats why he was raised by his faddah."
I raised an eyebrow at him, his immense knowledge of another boys life surprising me.
He caught my expression and looked away.
"He told me once, dats all."
"Well did he also tell ya dat our faddah's nothin' more den a stinkin' liar?" I asked. His eyes met mine abruptly.
"Yea, yea he did." He replied softly. There was a long silent pause until he again spoke. "So how do I know you aint just makin' all dis up?" He asked seriously.
I glanced up at him with a furrowed brow, not knowing what to say. What a strange thing to ask. Why would I be lying?
"Well, I dunno." I mumbled. I was beginning to feel very apprehensive as his gaze bore into me. I shifted uncomfortably and looked around the room to avoid his eyes. That's when I saw it. Hanging on the bed post was my brown coat. I grinned and stood up, pulling it off the bed and onto my lap.
As I dug through it I glanced up to see Jack staring at me confused as if I had suddenly lost it.
I reached into the right side pocket and pulled out a folded pale yellow square.
I saw him eyeing it curiously as I reached across, handing it to him.
I watched his face closely as he unfolded the small square and stared down at it. He immediately glanced up at me and back down to the photo. He slowly ran his thumb over it, his expression giving away nothing. We sat in silence for a long while. At last he spoke, or whispered at least.
"Wheah did you get dis?" As he asked this his eyes remained glued to the picture.
"It was my muddahs." I eyed him questioningly, but he was still gazing down at it as if in a trance. "I took it aftah she died. I didn't want to forget her face or nuthin'... Besides, I thought it could come in handy when lookin' for my bruddah, ya know?"
He tore his eyes from the small photo and met mine, staring as if he was seeing me for the first time.
I shifted slightly and looked away, I never could keep eye contact for long. After what felt like forever he spoke, his eyes never leaving me.
"What's your full name Rose?" He asked suddenly.
"Rosalyn Margaret Sullivan," I replied softly, sounding like one would when speaking to a child. "Whats da mattah Jack?" I looked at him expectantly, hoping he would stop acting so strange.
"Jack aint my real name Rose." He said. The picture was still held lightly between his fingers and he was looking right at me, as if expecting some kind of reaction.
"Oh." Was all I could come up with. What did he expect?
"My real name, it's uh. . ." His voice sounded unusually rigid as he spoke. He finally looked away from me and his gaze again returned to the photo. "My real name is Francis, Rose."
I continued to stare at him as if I didn't hear a thing. He closed his eyes for a second and brought them back up to mine, speaking again.
"Francis Sullivan."