Disclaimer: You know I don't own Jack or any of the newsies. All original characters are mine, except for Miracle.
Book Two: Chapter 1
From behind a stack of papers ruffled by the heavy wind, she peered at the sign on the building opposite her: Newsboy Lodging House. This seemed to be the place and if the address hadn't confirmed what was written on her grandfather's most recent letters than the score of noisy boys surrounding the place certainly helped.
Now she just had to get across the street.
Already today she'd been pushed to the ground on two different occasions, cursed at by the nicest looking old lady, and almost run over by a runaway carriage. She'd managed to avoid slipping in every other pile of slop that flowed towards the city gutters and, her greatest feet of all, no one had called her 'Miss'.
Looking both ways she darted across the street, catching her breath in the brief shade underneath the building's awning. Her hand still held tight to the hat covering her head and while she shrunk into the wall behind her to let a stream of boys pass, she couldn't help but let her fingers slip underneath the brim. Her hair that she'd spent years growing and that Rose had pleated for hours, now rested no longer than her chin! And even that length she knew was slightly long for a boy of her age. But the night before, looking at her reflection in the window and thinking of Jack, she couldn't bring herself to make it any shorter. She'd cried harder that night, lonely without her hair, than she had when Jack returned to the city.
She peered into the building and positive no other stampede of boys would run her over, slipped inside. Her eyes blinked to adjust to the dimness and she knew that normally her hat should have been removed. But upon sighting her grandfather's hunched form, she pulled it lower over her eyes. She hadn't really thought through the possibility of his reaction. Everyone else on the road to the city had picked her up without a second thought; a loner boy whose chin seemed to be glued to his chest. But her grandfather might recognize her features, that round nose that so resembled her mother's or the dimple in her right cheek. She clenched her teeth together and tried to look grave.
Kloppman turned at that point, surprised to see a boy standing there. It wasn't very often that someone entered under his door silently. Boys were known to run around. He cleared his throat and Annabelle could feel his eyes on her, but before she could step up to the counter and mumbled her request, another boy slipped in front of her.
She took this time to study how the boy spoke, his manners and how her grandfather responded. It was quick conversation, the boy asking to see some sort of log book while her grandfather complied silently. The boy signed it quickly, dropped a few cents onto the counter and then scampered upstairs.
"So, what can I do for ya, then?" Annabelle jumped back from where she'd been leaning on the counter and stole a peak of her grandfather's face.
She coughed, trying out her 'man' voice. "Ah, I'll be needing that book, please." After listening to her voice in her head she kicked herself for adding that last 'please'. The book scrapped across the counter and she used the brim of her hat to hide her false signature. "How much?"
"Six cents." She ruffled in her pocket for the change, not daring to break out the larger stash she had in her bag. She placed the pennies on the counter, pushing each one across into her grandfather's hand. "All set."
"Th—um," she stopped herself from thanking him and cleared her throat. "I was wondering if you knew a boy I'm looking for."
"Well, what's his name?" He rested his forearms on the counter, prompting Annabelle to step back into the dim light. "Maybe I know him. I see a lot of people your age."
"Kelly, Jack Kelly."
She jumped when he slapped the counter. "Sure, I know Kelly. In fact," He pointed towards a boy that was passing by at that moment, joking with another who had an eye-patch covering one eye. "Mush, you know where Kelly is?"
The boy turned, to Annabelle's surprise. Who had a name such as Mush? "Sure, he's meetin' us at Tibby's."
"Do me a fava, will ya?"
The boy glanced at his friend and smirked. "What's it to me?"
"It's a warm bed and a roof ova your head, dat's what!" Her grandfather laughed, the other boys joining in and leaning against the counter. "This kid here—what did ya say yer name was."
"Turner.'
"Turner—take Turner wit ya. He's new to the city."
Mush turned and offered his hand for Annabelle to shake, remembering to spit as was proper among the newsies. Annabelle did not follow but she bit her lip and shook his hand anyway, including the hand of his friend who he introduced as Kid Blink, and wiped her hand discreetly a moment later. She stumbled after the two, pushing past a group of boys who decided to enter at the same time she exited. With her disguise as a boy they then felt no need to step to the side for her either.
"So, how do you know Kelly?" Mush asked in a generally friendly smile.
Annabelle fixed her hat. "Well, you could say I met him while he was upstate."
"Ah! Are you Roz? He told us all about you"
"And not one thing about his sister." Kid Blink added, nudging Mush with a knowing wink.
Annabelle colored at the idea, quickly setting them straight. "No, I'm not one of the Moorings but I worked with them, on the Webster land."
They nodded in understanding. "Well, Kelly should be up at Tibby's wit de otha newsies. It's only a couple blocks up dis street."
Annabelle tucked in behind the boys, listening only with one ear as they chatted to themselves or to people they met on the street. Her mind was running with excitement at the idea of Jack being "only a couple blocks away." For so long he'd been in New York City, a place that seemed impossible to reach. And with that mindset, she'd wasted away her winter at home, forced to sew the duvet to her own marriage deathbed. Her only condolence was Roz's presence in the house, although for all her delight in his conversation, she would have much rather his leg healed. That day at the track he'd won the first place, enabling him to race that spring in New York City. But he'd also broken his legs in various places, causing concern among the local doctors. It was questionable whether or not he would walk again, let alone ride.
So Annabelle tried not to mention Macy or the race or even Jack. And Roz had just become more and more withdrawn, making Annabelle more and more desperate to make him better again. She hadn't realized how, until one afternoon, with Mama, Pa, and Letty all in town, and Rose tending to the babies, Roz had looked her straight in the eye and said, "We missed our chance."
She didn't understand what he was referring to until he started talking about the race, the experience of meeting all the other jockey's, waiting with them at the starting line, what it had felt like to cross that finish line, in front of them all. What stung worse than the pins in his leg was the fact that he still had the opportunity to ride; they were saving that place for him in the New York City race. "You should go," he'd laughed, "Go in my place and blow them boys away."
It had hit her then, so hard that she'd dropped the pan she was holding to the floor. It wasn't as farfetched as he seemed to think it was. He'd gotten all the paper work in the mail and instinctively she'd slipped it out of the garbage. The next day she whispered the idea to Piper from the kitchen window and he'd explained how to contact the track and arrange for Macy's quarters. So with his help, her concerns of arriving in the city were solved and her mind turned to Jack.
They'd left it rather strangely and John Hanks had been pushed into her face ever since Jack had left, making Annabelle dwell more and more on her new role in the world: a woman. Her mother scolded her, told her that she would adjust to the idea of marriage, to the responsibility of pleasing a husband and of raising a house. But her mother didn't understand. Annabelle wanted all those things now, the comfort of her own home and a bed that was shared by two. Dresses that accentuated her figure, the delightful look that Tom showered on Rose whenever she was in the room. She wanted all those things, the freedoms and responsibilities of being a woman, just not with John Hanks.
And it seemed, based on the letter Letty had slipped to Annabelle late on night, that Jack wanted something similar. It had changed Annabelle somewhat, her secret of leaving for New York and meeting Jack. He would be happily surprised at what she'd blossomed into, she'd play the boy for a week or so, and then they'd start the life she'd imagined in the city.
This image had been in her mind since she slipped out of her bedroom window, up until that day, standing in front of Tibby's, when Mush pointed and said, "There's Jack."
Yes, she'd realized without Mush's introduction, that was Jack in all his sandy-hair glory, embracing some equally glowing companion. Mush, Blink and Annabelle caught them mid-kiss and Annabelle was too stunned to stop Mush from breaking them apart further.
From standing off to the side she heard Jack say, "what's dis about Mush? Can't ya see I'm"
Mush chuckled and patted Jack on the back. "Sorry bout dis May, he's got some newsie business to attend to." Jack snuck a quick peck on the cheek before letting Mush drag him away, asking for more explanation with his raised eyebrows. "Kloppman knows him. Asked me to take him to ya. Said he met ya upstate."
"Really?" Jack turned and faced Annabelle head on, only an arms length away. She wished she'd raced off sooner, disappearing while Mush retrieved Jack and Blink went inside Tibby's. That would have made the whole situation easier. But she was still stunned, her image of the perfect ending shattering to her feet and cutting them to pieces.
She faced him head on but said nothing, his smirk twisting in confusion a moment later. "I dunno Mush, this kid mute or something?"
Mush shrugged on his way inside and Annabelle's eyes followed May as she slipped inside also. "Maybe you've got the wrong Jack—"
Before Jack could finish his sentence, a gust of wind that Annabelle had been battling all day swept the floppy hat from her head, sending it spinning into the air and exposing her face for everyone to see. She scrambled after the accessory, brushing it off before turning to face Jack with her cover gone. He stood with his jaw slack and it would have been comical, for any outsider.
Annabelle smacked the hat against her leg and tried not to grind her teeth. "Glad to see you've got some patience, Kelly." Her disappointment had flashed to anger.
Jack stumbled over his words, taking a step closer but stopping when she only scooted further away. "Annabelle, I—I didn't even recognize you." He took in her slacks and chopped hair for a second time.
She had begun to leave when his stuttering stopped her. Facing him with eyes of flint she pulled her hat onto her head, situating it low over those frightening eyes. "Yea, well, let's keep it that way." And before he could explain she dashed into the crowd, that fury and temper he'd seen on their first meeting resurfacing to send him a clear message.
Annabelle wouldn't have heard him if he called after her. In her mission to return to the lodging house she'd blocked out all outside distractions, looking ahead of her but not really seeing until she tripped over the familiar front steps. Inside, as it had been when she first arrived, boys ruled the place. Adopting their roughness she pushed her way to the counter, pulling a stack of papers from her pants pocket.
"Do you know how to get to this address?" She pointed to what was written on one of her papers, startling Kloppman by her abruptness. Only after did she pray he hadn't recognized her handwriting.
He ran his tongue along the front of his teeth before nodding, "Sure do. That's the race track down in Brooklyn."
"Can you give me directions?"
"Of course, you here for racing?" Annabelle nodded. "What do ya know, I've got a grandson 'round your age and he's a racer too."
Blinking steadily for a couple minutes she looked her grandfather in the face. "I need another place to stay, closer to the track. Do you know where I can find one?"
"Sure," Kloppman rolled his shoulders and stood, reaching for a stub of a pencil before returning to his elbows. "There's another lodging house down there, for newsies." He scrawled on the back of one of her papers. "This here are the directions to the track. Now these," he grabbed a paper of his own. "Are what you follow to get to the lodging house. Ask for Spot, he runs the place, you see?" She nodded, focusing on his fingers while he wrote. "They might give you'se a hard time down there but tell him Kloppman sent you and give him this." He handed her another piece of paper, this one folded like a letter. "Make sure you give it to him yerself."
"I will, thanks." She waited as he rustled under the counter only to appear with six pennies in his hand. They bounced onto the counter. "What's this for."
"You ain't spending the night."
"Oh." She tipped her hat as she'd seen other men do and slipped underneath the door, unable to hear her grandfather pray to Mary and say, "Jesus Annabelle, what have you gotten yourself into."
Much like the Manhattan Lodging House, boys of all ages roamed in and out of the Brooklyn quarters. The only difference fell in the boys' faces, these Brooklyn characters eyeing Annabelle with the same squint she'd seen on the faces of men at the track—right before they jumped into an angry brawl.
She squared her shoulders and adjusted her duffle bag, her anger towards Jack disgusing itself as courage. Inside the building, greeting her in a similar arrangement to the Manhattan entrance, stood a boy only a few years older than herself. He was hunched over a newspaper, glancing up for only a moment when she entered before returning to whatever was on the front page. She knocked on the counter cheekily, forcing him to acknowledge her presence. "I'm lookin for Spot Conlon."
His smirk was a challenging one, as if he knew there were more important people in the world. Obviously he didn't want to bother with her requests. "Ain't we all, kid." The boy tipped her hat up off her eyes, and she jumped back at his touch.
He returned to his paper but Annabelle persisted. "Kloppman sent this for him."
Now that the note was clutched in her fist and blocking his ability to read the paper, he looked up at her. Slipping the paper out from her fingers his expression was one not easily impressed. After a quick skim of the directions, she hadn't shown him the special one directly for Spot, he rested on his elbows. "Ah, you'se from Manhattan."
"You could say that."
She didn't like the lazy smile on his lips. He might have had all the time in the day but she didn't. And after tapping her fingers on the counter and keeping a steady gaze he pushed away from the counter. "Okay, follow me." She waited patiently as he rounded the counter, surprising her by exiting the building and heading for a nearby pier. They made a beeline for a higher section, avoiding the boys who were playing in the water. Annabelle followed, looking straight ahead and ignoring the curious glances of every newsie she passed. They stopped in front of a ladder that lead to the upper level and the kid bent back his head before calling, "Spot, visitor."
They waited a moment, the boy leaning against the ladder with his arms across his chest. Annabelle's foot started tapping again but the boy did not move to see if anyone would respond. Just as Annabelle reached for the first rung, ready to climb herself, to feet landed to her right, causing her to jump back with surprise.
The boy was about her height, although lankier and with a stronger jaw. If she hadn't been so frustrated with his friend, she would have been more intimidated by his blunt gaze. He fixed his grey cap before popping his hip to the side. "What do ya need kid?"
"A place to stay." He seemed annoyed by the request so she thrusted forward both notes, aware that the boy from before perked at the sight of two. As Spot opened them both, she explained a little further. "Kloppman told me that this was the place."
He read closer than the boy she'd first met, looking up at her every now and then, making Annabelle curious about what her grandfather had actually written in the note. After a few mintues of silence, he folded them both and slipped them in his own pocket instead of returning them to her. "So, you in for da race next week, huh?"
He surprised Annabelle with such a question, the leisurely way he waltzed towards the lodging house a good sign as far as she was concerned. She walked with him, replying with a quick, "Sure am."
"Any good?" Asked the annoying boy from behind them. They made it to the end of the pier and he caught up, walking on the other side of Spot.
She purposely hesitated in answering, letting it be known that his presence bothered her. "I made it this far."
He laughed and hit Spot on his shoulder, expecting the boy to join him. "Dat don't mean shitbucket 'round dese parts kid. You'se here to race with da big boys."
Annabelle was glad to see that Spot did not join in on the laughter. "I think I can handle it."
"Really? Should I be placing some money on this bet then?"
"Shut it, will ya?"
Although Annabelle was thankful for Spot's harsh remark, she stopped walking, refusing to got further. Her frustration was causing her nerve to wavering in the presence of such a pest and she turned to address Spot with a seriousness she figured he'd appreciate. "Look, you got a room or not?"
He glanced in the other boy's direction as if to tell her that he understood where her attitude was coming from. Pulling a cigarette out of his pocket he took the time to light it and exhale. "Yea, for Kloppman, I'll put you up. But don't go telling your jockey friends dat dis is a cheap place" He placed the cigarette back between his lips, and it dangled there as he spoke. "Follow me." They entered the lodging house, climbing the two sets of stairs until they reached a closed door. She'd seen the open bunk rooms on the lower floor so it surprised her when he opened the door to reveal a two single beds, a dresser on the other side of the room and a bare light socket hanging from the ceiling.
It seemed as if she'd be having her own room.
"Dis is where you'll sleep. Figured that you'll be needing your own room on account of your schedule. We'se up pretty eoily here but not as eoily as needed to get to the track." She nodded in understanding and walked further into the room, resting her duffle bag on the bare planks of the bed stand. No mattress filled it like the one to her right, but that bed seemed to have been worn in. "I'll have JB from downstairs bring up anodda mattress. You can unpack your things here."
"Someone else sleep here?" She asked, pointing towards the bed already made.
He nodded, still puffing on his cigarette. "Yea, my goil Miracle stays here now and then. But don't worry, she'll take to ya quickly. New goils aren't too frequent 'round here ya know. Boys are starting to wear on her."
She liked how he carried himself, sure of the daily routine and confident in his ability to lead those around him. She felt safer in his presence then she would have thought and wanted to ask if he'd known Racetrack. The burst of energy she'd received from her anger earlier was starting to dissipate and she sunk to the edge of the bed frame. Suddenly she realized how alone she was in a city of millions.
Spot seemed to sense her down spirits, shuffling towards the door. With his hand on the handle he tipped his hat up higher so that she actually got a full view of his face. "I'd give ya a tour, but I've got some previous business wit your bunkmate here."
She smiled at his comment, nodding her head to let him leave. The door clicked shut behind him and she fell back on the wooden planks. Compared to laying on a cold barn floor or on a jolting wagon, they felt fine. She tucked her bag beneath her head and drifted in a sleep she knew would be restless.
AN: Was that too short? school is almost over, along with track so I'll definitely have more time. I want to finish this one and then get Darlington County' started before September. Aww...I think I can do it!
