Hey y'all, another note for ya: someone raised the
question of a romance between Chris and Abby. yes, there will be romance in this story. I am a hopeless romantic. However, it won't necessary be with chris. Some possibilities are: peter, chris, jeremiah, and or one other
character you haven't met yet. I haven't
quite decided who it'll be, so I'm always open to suggestions. Thanks for all the reviews!
"You shouldn't be here, Abby," Susan whispered
fiercely. "If anyone saw you, your Mama
would find out for sure!" We were
sitting in the orchard behind her house: me, Susan, and Jeremiah. Things were a bit uneasy between us, all
three of us sitting awkwardly, hardly speaking a word.
Mama had almost killed me when she'd caught Jeremiah
and I kissing one day, and she'd forbidden me to see Susan, much less
Jemmy. Jemmy was courting Lavinia
Flucker, who was more Loyalist and snobby than anyone else in all of Boston. Although Jemmy and I felt awkward around
each other, we both knew that all we felt and had ever felt for each other was
friendship.
"Can I trust you two?" I asked them, looking first
at Susan, with her curly blond ringlets and brown eyes, then at Jemmy, with his
slightly darker blond hair and deep blue eyes. They both nodded fervently, much taken aback that I should even ask such
a question. "I only ask, because everything's
changed so much. The troops have come
from England, Jemmy's courting Lavinia Flucker…"
"Abby, you know I'll always be there for you," it
was Jemmy who spoke now, looking as if I had stabbed a knife into his
heart. "I know you two never got along,
and I won't court her if it means losing your trust," he looked at me pleadingly,
and I saw for the first time that it wasn't only I who had changed.
While I was running around in my boy's clothing with
Chris Snieder, my friend Jeremiah had grown up. I suddenly felt so alone, with no one to turn to. He was no longer a Loyalist because his
Father was, but because he was.
"No, Jemmy," I said, making one last attempt to find
my old friend, before I lost him completely. "It isn't that. We've all
changed so much. I haven't decided
about Susan yet, but both you and I have changed greatly," and now it was my
turn to plead with him, to ask him to be the old Jemmy, the one I used to
know. But at the same time, I knew that
I wouldn't recognize the old Jemmy either, because I wasn't the old Abby.
"What is it you want to tell us, Abby?" now Susan
spoke, wanting to hear my juicy little secret, but not as the girl I'd always
known. I somehow knew that if I told
her, she wouldn't giggle and say how horribly shocking I was, and that
we wouldn't roll around laughing for hours, wondering what "ol' Captain Atkins"
would say if he found out. But I also
knew that just because we'd all changed, didn't mean that our friendship no
longer existed. Perhaps our changing would
make us closer, and perhaps it would tear us apart, but no matter what I told
Jemmy and Susan, they would keep my secret to their graves.
"All right," I finally said. "I've so much to tell
you, I don't know where to begin," but I did begin. I told them about the day I first met my brother Charles, and
bumped into Chris. Then I told them how
Mama beat me for being in Charles' room, and how I became a Patriot. And how I was now running messages for
people such as Paul Revere, Joseph Warren, and John Hancock. I did not, however, tell them about my plans
to meet my brother Charles, or about the feelings I was now sure that Chris
held for me.
"No wonder your shoulders are all scratched up!"
exclaimed Jemmy. "Ol' Captain must put
the switch to you nearly every day!" It was true. Every day upon returning home, I'd get the switch for it. I knew it was only a matter of time before
they found out what I'd been doing all day, and maybe then I'd be banished from
the house, like my brother Charles.
"He does," I said softly. "Then he locks me in my room, but I always find a way to escape. He tied me to a chair yesterday, but he
didn't tie a very strong knot, so I was able to get out," Jemmy and Susan
looked at me with amazement, not believing what they were hearing.
"Abby, it's bad enough that you're going out, but if
they found out what you've been doing, God knows what they'd do!" said
Jemmy, a look of concern coming over his face. So we were still friends. He
didn't care that I was a Patriot and he a Loyalist, everything was as it always
was! I was overcome with a tremendous sense
of joy that I hadn't lost my friends, after all.
"Abby!" cried Chris, who had been watching the
Hathorne house while I spoke to my friends. "He's coming out now, and he's fuming mad," "he" was my brother,
Charles, who had been speaking to Governor Hutchinson, across the street from
my friends' house. I hadn't believed my
good luck, when having been trailing Charles for an hour, I ended up across the
street from Jemmy and Susan's home. We
had a message for Charles, but we had to speak to him alone, for it was not to
be heard by anyone but Charles himself.
"I've gotta go," I said
impatiently. "oh by the way, if you
ever see me in these clothes, you've gotta call me Jemmy, 'cause that's what
I'm going by now, okay?" I said, impatient to finally speak with my brother,
but also reluctant to leave my two friends.
"Okay," they both said. We looked at each other, as if we had just
made a bargain, the three of us. Their
understanding, for my trust and friendship.
"Oh hello, Chris," said my brother, not at all surprised to see him. "I believe I owe 8 shillings to Edes and Gill, do I not?" my, word travels fast. We had started spreading the word of this but 2 hours ago, and already Charles knew of it!
Edes and Gill printed the Boston Gazette, a
well-known Whig newspaper in Boston. Every once in a while, a secret meeting would be held above their
shop. If a member of this club heard
that he owed 8 shillings, it would mean that all the members were to meet at 8
o'clock that night.
Among the members of this secret
club were John Hancock, Paul Revere, Sam Adams, Joseph Warren, and James
Otis. James Otis had started the Long
Room Club (as it was called), but had taken to talking so much, that another
man could hardly get a word in edgewise. Therefore, Chris and I had not notified him of this meeting, due to the
requests of the other members.
"And who is this?" my brother
gestured to me. I thought I would melt
under his gaze. God help me, I
thought. Please don't let him
recognize me!
"Mr. Atkins, this is Jemmy," said
Chris. Oh how could he be so calm! "He
runs messages for the Long Room members," he never faltered, spoke as if I were
an ordinary messenger boy, doing the bidding of the great Whigs.
"So another recruit, eh Chris?"
Charles said, a look of amusement coming over his face. "Don't you think Sam Adams's got enough
rock-throwers for a while?" The two talked on as if they had known each other
forever, my brother treating Chris like a younger brother or an
apprentice. They joked about the "great
Sam Adams", and the mob. Had Chris seen
Mac recently? No? Neither had Sam Adams. Charles wouldn't be surprised if the North End gang had broken away from
the mob, and knocked off Mackintosh, the South End's former leader.
While they continued their discourse, I stood rooted
to the ground, not daring to move a muscle, lest Charles might notice anything
peculiar about me. When they finally
finished talking, I was utterly relieved that Charles, who I found was
observant and quite intelligent had found me just another messenger boy-queer,
perhaps mute, but nothing more.
"You coulda talked some," Chris said, as we walked
away. "He may be your brother, but he
en't a monster. He's got a fierce
temper, though, glad I've never seen it," Chris talked for a while, looking
down at the ground, and when he finally looked up, a tear rolled down my
cheek. I prayed he wouldn't notice it,
but he did. "Here now, what's that
fer?"
"All my life, all I wanted for my family to like me,
but they didn't. Mama hated me, because
I didn't have blond hair like my sister, Meg. I don't know why everyone else hated me, but they did," the tears were
now streaming down my face like rain, as Chris tried violently to comfort
me.
"And now, the one person I've been told I shouldn't
want to like me, is the only one whose approval I want. But how could he ever approve of me? You said he was smart, and he is. He'll find me out sooner or later, and that
temper-the one you said you're glad you never saw- it'll come out, against me,"
I said between sobs.
I soon found that Chris had guided me through the
countless alleys in Boston, until we arrived at the back entrance to my
house. "Alright, you need some sleep,
and a beatin you could do without, so you sneak into your room, lock the door,
and don't come out til you feels better," Chris said, gently wiping a tear from
my face.
I
walked up the steps, and turned to look at him, still staring. There was a tenderness in his eyes, as he
slowly shook his head. As I went inside
and closed the door, he was still standing there, gazing up at me. I watched from the window, as he reluctantly
turned and walked away.