Chapter two! Sorry it took so long. My stupid computer decided now would be a good time to drive me nuts. Not a very long chapter, but I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Casting call is still open. Thanks to my reviewers. If you don't like my story, please tell me why, so I can try to improve!
Disclaimer time: Newsies isn't mine. Catherine, Laura, Anna, and this plot are all mine. That quote from Shakespeare is from the play The Tempest. If there's anything I missed, just try sueing me. I got nothing for you to take.
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After the breakout, we walked on silently in the darkness for an hour or so. There was no real destination; our only goal at that moment was to get as far away from the orphanage as possible. Other than that...
I was suddenly alert, looking around, taking in our surroundings. I had just realized what idiots we were being. Walking around on the Brooklyn streets, with nowhere to go! We were no strangers to the streets. We had lived on them for over a year before the orphanage. But that had been five years ago. Five long years, which had robbed us of the honed senses and instincts one needs to survive on the rough streets of Brooklyn. And here we were, walking around like we owned the place, like nothing could hurt us! We knew how to fight, of course, but I wasn't sure we could fight well enough, if we had to. Sheesh, how stupid and naive could we get?
I was, perhaps, overreacting. I don't think my fears were completely unfounded, though. I knew from experience how harsh Brooklyn could get. So well, in fact, that I wondered how Laura and I could have forgotten.
I put out my hand to stop Laura. "I'm tired," I told her, not wanting to state my fears outright. "Can we rest soon?" As I said it, I looked her in the eye, and I think she understood, because she nodded and frowned.
We continued until we saw an empty alley. Empty, at least, of people. I cannot guarantee you, and actually highly doubt, that it was clear of spiders and insects and all manner of creepy crawly things, and rats, too. While I wasn't really afraid of bugs, I did not enjoy the thought of them crawling all over me as I slept. And rats terrified me. Mice were cute, but rats were freaky. As you can imagine, that, coupled with the hard ground, did not make for very easy sleep, and I lay awake long after Laura had somehow dropped off. When I finally did sleep, it was only lightly, and I woke up several times during the night.
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Too soon, and not soon enough, it was morning, and Laura was none too gently nudging me awake. Laura loved waking people up, especially if they were already awake, and especially if they were me. She would silently sneak up right next to you and shout "Moooo!" right in your ear. Or she'd sit on you. Or pull your eyelids up and ask "Anyone in there?" Or she'd poke you awake. If anyone ever managed to poke someone to death, it would be Laura who did it.
Back to Laura waking me up. That was a mistake. A long night had put me in a very foul mood. With a loud groan I pulled myself up. I felt disgusting from sleeping in my clothes. My brown hair was full of knots as I ran my hand through it, and my body ached from sleeping on the ground. This did not help the aforementioned bad mood. All in all, I'd had better mornings.
If I'd known what was in store that day, I'm not sure if I would have jumped up excitedly, or refused to leave my uncomfortable bed.
My darling sister was in far better spirits than I. She was somehow bouncing around, happy as a bird. If there's one thing that someone in a bad mood hates most, it's someone in a good mood.
I tried to follow Laura's example and look on the bright side. At least we were out of the orphanage. There was something to be said for that. Not a whole lot, though. Sighing, I brushed myself off as well as I could, then turned to Laura. "How much money do we have?" I asked in my best long-suffering voice.
"One dollar and three cents," she replied without missing a beat. "Come on, it's more than enough to buy breakfast. Cheer up." Easier said than done, but her good mood was rubbing off, and I actually tried. This was actually pretty strange for Laura. Since when did she get good moods? It was a weird, well, almost a reversal of our usual roles.
We picked up our bags and left the alley. At the first bakery we came to we stopped and bought two delicious pastries. In the orphanage we had been allowed only healthy, absolutely tasteless food. Compared to the stuff we usually got to eat, this was heaven. Every bite was savored. As we ate we stood on the side of the busy street, "people watching", as I called it. The dirty looks shot at us from under the parasols of prim ladies as they passed by were answered with near hysterics, which provoked more dirty looks. Good-looking young men were secretly admired. Conversations were "accidentally" overheard. Couples, lost in each other's eyes, bumping in to everyone and not caring, were sighed at. Laughed at too, of course. Basically, we just had a good time, like we hadn't had in ages.
Eventually, when the pastries had been finished, and our fingers licked clean, we got serious once again. "We need to get jobs, you know," Laura began contemplatively. "This money won't last very long. And we can't even think of looking for Charlie without taking care of ourselves first." That was Laura. Crazy, yet so logical.
"I know. Trust me, I know." Silence followed that statement. "Look, brighten up," I said, shooting her words back at her. "How hard could it be for two smart, strong girls to find work in a big place like Brooklyn?"
Famous last words.
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"'How hard could it be?'" Laura repeated mockingly. She could do a very convincing Catherine impression. "'We'll get a job in two seconds, you watch!' Well, I watched all right! It's been a bit more than two seconds! Tell me again, how many jobs have we got?"
"Oh, hush," I responded sullenly, and somewhat pathetically. The truth is, though I hated to admit it, even to myself, she was right. We had walked around all day, and every single door had slammed in our faces. Even more, almost all our money was gone. Things were definitely not looking up.
"I hate to say it, Catty, but we may have to go to thieving."
I looked my twin straight in the eye. "No." For all that I joked about stealing and lying and cheating and blackmailing, I would never really do it. Steal, that is. In the short time that our parents had been with us, they had instilled in us a strict moral code, which had not been forgotten. Whenever I joked like that Anna would quote "the great Shakespeare" and say, "But for your conscience?" And, as a dutiful friend, I would respond, "Conscience? Where lies that? I have no conscience! Twenty consciences could not stand twixt me and such power!" I'd say it with such a strange emphasis on the last word that us and everyone else in the room, namely Laura, would burst in peals of uncontrollable laughter. But back to the alley we sat talking in.
"No," I repeated firmly. "We can keep searching tomorrow. We'll find something eventually. Really, we can't give up so easy." I was trying to convince myself as much as her.
"Eh. I guess." She adjusted her bag, which she was using as a pillow. A few minutes later came "Catty?"
"Yeah?"
"Who's pranking the teacher's without us?"
I laughed. Laura sat up, a look of mock-affront on her face. "This is serious, Catty! They can't be allowed to go around scot-free! I'm sure Anna is trying, but come on, she's nowhere near as good as we were. Although Freddie is probably jumping for joy right now that we're gone."
"Ha, you're right. Remember Prince Bob?"
"Of course! She ran out of the room screaming bloody murder! Every day after that for months she made one of us check her desk drawers for dead snakes. We got in so much trouble for that one, but it was worth it, I think." One day we had found a dead snake lying the grass. There was a strict no animals policy at the orphanage, but nowhere could we find anything against dead reptiles. So we named him Prince Bob and made him our pet. We gave him a food bowl and pretended he was a live dog or something for about two days. We were almost twelve, and saw nothing wrong with this. On the third day, after Ms. Fried, a tutor, had given a particularly long and monotonous history lesson, in which she had called Anna out for sleeping, when it wasn't her fault, how could she help but fall asleep when you're so boring, we decided to give Prince Bob up for the greater good. We stuck him in Ms. Fried's, a.k.a. Freddie's, chalk draw, where she was sure to stick her hand. We saw nothing wrong with this either. Unfortunately, the Headmistress did, and we lost our free time for a week. We saw very much wrong with that.
Actually, looking back on that little episode, I'm not overly proud of it. It was fun, though.
"Ah, the good old days," I said, leaning back. I turned to her, pretending to be contemplative. "You know, nostalgia just ain't what it used to be."
Laura laughed at that. I started to laugh too. Then a heard a voice that made my blood run cold.
"No, it ain't, is it?"
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Oooh, suspenseful. I already have the next chapter written, but I'm gonna wait for some feedback on this one, so the more people who review, the faster the next one comes up!