Chapter Eight: Steam Gratin'

The owner of the Central Park Lodging House looked up as the door opened, expecting to see one of his usual boys, but instead he saw a new face peering back at him.

"Yas got a free bed?" the new boy asked.

"Yeah. But first I need yer name an' some othah information," he answered.

"Watson. What else yas need ta know?"

"Last name?"

The boy gave an exasperated sigh"Look, I'se jus' in needa a steam gratin'. Can I'se get one heah a not?"

"I'se said you can get one heah, but first I need some information. What's yer last name?"

"Watson's what ya'll know me's by. It's me las' name anyway."

"A'ight. Then what's yer first name?"

"I'se go by Criss-Cross as me foist name. A'ight?"

The owner sighed and nodded. Apparently he wasn't going to get the boy's real first name, so he decided to give up.

"Wheah ya from?"

"Wells, I'se jus' got back from Colaradah. A'ight?"

"Ya sound like yer from New Yawk," the owner replied, getting more annoyed by the minute.

"Wells, I'se am originally, but's I'se jus' got back from Colahradah. A'ight?"

"A'ight, fine. Ya got any fam'ly?"

The boy gave a huge sigh. "Wells, I'se t'ink I'se still gots a faddah, an' poss'bly a sistah, but I'se ain't shoah. Me bruddah's dead d'ough..."

"A'ight," the owner replied, not wanting to push the subject as he could see it upset the boy. "Ya got a hist'ry with da bulls?"

"Nah...I'se a good lil poisen..." the boy said, slightly sarcastically.

"A'ight then...One more question, an' this is the one no kid like ta answer. What's yer past?"

The boy visibly bit his lip and sighed. "Listen' all I'se needin' is a steam gratin'. I'se won't be 'round heah much, I'se sweah."

"Sorry kid, ya still gotta answer the question..."

The boy got an annoyed look and took a moment thinking, chosing his words carefully. "Wells...Uh...Um...Dat is...Ya sees..."

"Look kid, I ain't got all day, so either say it or get outta heah."

"A'ight..." The boy got a far-off look in his eye and simply said, "I'se got in a brawl wit' me bruddah cuz I'se let 'im down, an' I'se ran away from wheah I was stayin' wit' 'im, cuz 'e was real mad at me, an' I'se couldn' stand ta t'ink about it. An' den I went out ta Colahradah ta really cleah me head, but den I found out 'e's dead so'se I'se came back ta New Yawk. A'ight?"

"Sounds kinda fishy, but yer in. Now I'se just need ta copy down yer hair an' eye color." He looked at the hair you could see under the boys cap on either side of his face, and was suddenly confused. On once side the hair was a dark blonde, and on the other it was a reddish-brown.

Seeing the owner's confusion, the boy stated, "Me haiah's a reddish brownish blonde, but I'se got a small brown streak on me left side. An' me eyes are a gray-green-hazel type colah. A'ight?"

The owner nodded, recorded it down in his book, and then led the boy up a flight of stairs and into the bunkroom without a word. He pointed out which bunk would be the boy's and then left him alone to sort his tiny amount of belongings out.