"Hey, get back here!" came the shout of the bulls.
They'd hauled all the kids down to the dock early in the morning, walking almost on parade from the Refuge to the docks between Brooklyn and Lower Manhattan. Most of them had sleeves and buttons torn from the only outfit they owned, all of them had deep set sweat patches and blood stains that had been there for god knows how long. It was a conflict for them all. Being out in broad daylight and feeling the sun was a sensation they had all missed, but the pitying and disgusted looks of New York's finest was a torturous affair. The only people who didn't seem to care were the factory owners, and business reps that came to claim what practically free labourers they could. More bodies to press into another stuffy room to work until their fingers bled, and tossed aside when they'd given all they could. Lucy would not be one of them. She wouldn't let herself be fodder for anyone, no matter what it cost.
Now Lucy was a fast learner, and she knew from her eight weeks in the Refuge how to sneak about, just how fast she needed to run to be relatively safe. She could be quiet as a mouse if she wanted, in fact that's who she was to most of these people she'd spent her weeks cooped up with; she was Mouse. She hadn't said a word to anyone other than Crutchie since their initial reaction to her voice. Though losing her voice to humiliation had caused a growing hollowness in her chest, it kept her safe. Her vocal box was a black hole big enough to hide behind, and growing every day. She'd tried her hardest to blend in to the background, even moving silently on her tiptoes around the room to avoid the unwanted stares. Lucy was quite content to observe them, to learn everything she could to avoid sticking out again. So when they came to the docks and there were more jobs for the Bulls, more distractions, she bolted to the closest alley. Lucy was not exactly fit for anything much anymore. Her whole body ached, she felt physically fragile. A few other kids followed as she ran and she used them as a distraction for the bulls. They ran in every direction out the other end of that alley with the cops following just behind, when she suddenly jumped out of the race up the alley and behind some bins no one really noticed.
She clambered up the closest fire escape then sat and watched them run, some finding their own hiding places or else fighting the Bulls off. Lucy was just trying to keep her breathing as shallow as she could when the shouts and footsteps came too close to her hiding spot. She was almost completely clear, watching the last cop run through, when a voice by her ear made her scream. A hand quickly clamped over her mouth and all she could do was watch in terror as the cop below her stopped and looked around for the source of the noise.
"H-hey, okay, If I lets go you gotta be real quiet, 'kay?"
The voice was soft but strong. She nodded yes and the hand let go. She quickly turned to face a boy with messy blonde hair sticking out from a worn cap, one hand up in peace, the other holding on tight to a slingshot and a rock. He almost looked angry but with a finger to his lips and a jerk of the head she saw that stubborn concentration set on a kind face and the only thing she could do was trust that this boy might just save her. The cop was pacing below, looking behind bins, combing through every nook and cranny. The boy carefully moved around Lucy on the fire escape, smirking now, and took a shot at a metal bin further up the alley. He easily made the shot, and the cop was off in an instant soon as that pang rang out through the alley.
The boy was beaming when he turned back around to Lucy, "Ya see that!? Name's Finch by the way! You's okay?"
Lucy was so caught up in Finch's energy she just nodded along to his excited bobbing. It was a sort of infectious excitement. It was bliss, though it was not enough to stop the pang of fear when the boy started trying to bring Lucy into his mad ramble of a conversation.
"What's ya name? Ya new here? I ain't see you around before."
She said nothing, her mind in turmoil of what voice to use now that the opportunity presented itself. Be herself and be laughed at, or mimick this strange excited boy and let him believe that stranger is who she is?
"Hang on, ya ain't from the refuge are ya? I was jist watching th- hey where ya goin'?!"
Lucy had moved closer to the stairs during Finch's questions. She didn't have to make a decision, she didn't have to take that gamble with this boy or anyone else. People didn't matter anymore, what had they done for her after all? Broken her bones, isolated and embarrassed her. She was on her own now, and this time she was going to be just fine! In her eight weeks of being alone with her thoughts, Lucy had come to a firm conclusion; she could see the end, and yes she was living a muted version of herself, but there was potential inside her. She could feel it pushing around inside, defying her black hole vocals and setting loose fireflies in the dark caverns in her mind. She was too curious about the possibility of, well, herself, to give up trust to anyone. Full of determination Lucy vaulted down the fire escape steps, jumping most of them, and ran away from refuge, from the Bulls, and from the strange boy watching her from that same spot..
Only when Lucy's stomach cramped and she was struggling to keep her breath did she stop. When she did get her breath back again, enough to look around, she saw cafe's, a laundrette, and other independent shops of all kinds. Alleys were there on either end of the street, with big bins and crates to hide behind. Lucy could certainly set herself up here. At least for tonight. Walking along the high street she finally caught a glimpse of herself in the reflection of the shop windows. Her long auburn hair was knotted and greasy. Worse than that was her dress, covered in mud, ripped at the bottom and flashing her ankles. The sleeves were hanging on by half the threads they should have been. Worst of all were the very visible bruises and cuts all up both arms where she had been grabbed too harshly too many times, and again across her face. Her face didn't look how she remembered it, her nose was ever so slightly crooked and Lucy struggled to see herself behind it all. She didn't even want to think of the injuries her dress actually did manage to hide. It was fortunate that Lucy's dress sleeves fell to her elbows. She frowned at her reflection, self-consciously pulling her sleeves down lower, then turned up her now crooked nose and walked away, furiously blinking back tears. It wasn't worth crying about something as petty as looks now.
The first thing Lucy had to worry about was food. After not eating for so long Lucy knew her stomach had shrunk, she could feel it almost every day she was in the refuge. Small a pit as her stomach had become, she still felt hunger dearly when it came over her. It was like her stomach was trying to eat the rest of her insides. It hurt enough that the stale biscuits or even mouldy bread delivered every couple of days was cause for celebration. At least it would make the pain stop for a while. There was no supplier of biscuits or bread now though. The refuge was bad, but at the very least they didn't actually allow anyone to starve. Snyder definitely cut it close though.
It was just starting to get dark by the time Lucy had set up her makeshift home out of crates and any bits of cardboard and wood she could find to use as a roof between the bins and the wall of the alley closest to Jacobi's; the deli whose scraps she planned on feasting on when they were thrown away later that night.
That was the plan anyway. What was not in the plan was for Lucy to become so caught up in the scent of food, so lost in the pure sensation of flavour. The food may have been scraps, but it was better than anything she had had in months. Jacobi himself found her that way; lost in the meagre scraps of the night. He stood and watched her a minute. The girl was too skinny by half, so dirty and small was she that he had almost missed her. Her bright blue eyes reflected the lights around them though, watery as they were. The child was crying while she scarfed down what food she could.
Jacobi gave a gentle cough and when he did Lucy jumped a mile, letting out a squeak as she did.
"Calm child, I don't mean to frighten you. Come inside now, fresh food is nicer than scraps no?" he smiled.
Lucy felt sick. She had been caught. She tried her hardest to swallow the lump in her throat, only then noticing that she had been crying. Sick and embarrassed Lucy dropped her scraps, looking everywhere for an escape while rubbing furiously at her eyes. He was going to call the cops, she just knew it, then they'd send her to the workhouses and she'd be trapped all over again. Jacobi knelt down in front of her then, placing his hands on Lucy's shoulders. Did he know about the bruises there that blossomed all across her shoulder blades from every hard shove into walls, every night on the hard floor? He was hurting her. Lucy thought he might just be naive to her pain, but then Snyder had seemed friendly at first too. Lucy mustered all of what little strength she had trying to wriggle out of the man's grip, which only resulted in his grip becoming stronger. "Calm down, I am not angry with you child, I'll be more offended if you turn down the food I'm offering you!" She shook her head furiously, lashing out with her fists now trying to get the man to let go. Jacobi turned back to the deli, calling for Jack, whoever that was. Repeatedly looking back and forth between his cafe and the girl, too confused and scared even of how she might react to anything else he could say or do.
She was terrified and trapped all over again, the panic had taken over. Already. Lucy really felt hopeless, she couldn't even stay out of trouble for one day. Two boys came running out to meet Jacobi and the crying girl, who was repeatedly landing weak hits on the overly concerned deli owner.
"Mouse!"
"What's happened?!"
Crutchie was there, hobbling over as fast as he could. Surprisingly fast even, he managed to beat the other boy who was looking, perplexed, between herself and Crutchie. Lucy thought she might have seen this boy once before, but she couldn't place exactly where. The only place could be the refuge, but he hadn't been inside with her and Crutchie. Though if Crutchie was here and trusted these people maybe that meant they were all good people? Lucy was in Crutchie's arms the second he sat down next to her, her body wracked with ugly sobs for the home she'd lost, and for becoming so helpless when she knew she could be strong. She felt the exhaustion in her bones. Lucy wanted to feel real and strong, not fragile as she was. Lucy just wanted to be safe and warm again. That's all she'd wanted when she first started living on the streets. When she first came to the Refuge. She'd finally found it in the arms of the only friendly face she knew. Tricked by the relief of being reunited with her friend, the exhaustion took over and she fell asleep clinging to Crutchie.
"She a friend a yours?" asked Jack, helping Jacobi back up. To say Jack was confused about the whole situation was a severe understatement.
Crutchie nodded solemnly, "Yeah, she helped me write ya letters from the Refuge. She's a good kid Jack, jus' scared I guess."
Jack turned to Jacobi and addressed him for the first time, "I'se guess you jist found her out here and she freaked on ya?"
Jacobi smiled sadly, looking to the food bin and then looking back to Lucy, "I offer her food and she kicks off, maybe my cooking is not so good as I thought?" The chuckle that escaped his lips was forced and defeated. He'd never understand how so many of his city's children ended up as alone and broken as he'd repeatedly seen. Jack squeezed Jacobi's shoulder in understanding, having met the guy in similar circumstances he knew exactly what was going through the old man's head.
"Hey Jack, we's gonna bring her back to the Lodge right? I don't think she'd last too good on her own. Y'know she came to the Refuge thinking it was a good thing? Grew up in a pretty fancy place 'nd apparently Refuge means somethin' pretty good there." Crutchie spat out with a bitter laugh. He pulled himself up, as much as he could with a sleeping child on his lap, and puffed his chest out with an almost smug grin. "Hey Jack- we's could teach her our kinda smarts!"
The sight made Jack grin, "Nothin' phases you, huh kid? She can come home with us but I ain't promisin' she'll be able to take on our kinda street smarts. You eva seen a goil Newsie?"
Crutchie helped move Lucy so that Jack could pick her up, all the while saying "Ise got my suspicions 'bout that Smalls kid. Guy's got an aiwful goily face if ya ask me."
"Ya want I should tell him youse askin'?"
Crutchie held up his hands in defeat just as the rest of the newsies started piling out sent their way by Jacobi. Jack was beyond quick to shut down the half a million questions ready to be launched at them the second the boys clocked on to the tiny mess of a girl in his arms. It was lucky Finch seemed to know the girl too, he was more than happy to distract the boys with the story of their meeting.
"I was a poifect gentleman. Only saved her from the Bulls an' she ran off without a word!" Finch had been getting louder and louder as he got more into his story but Specs was consistent, placing a hand on his shoulder every time he started getting too loud.
Crutchie stuck by Jack and Lucy's side while Finch regaled everyone else with his heroic actions and masterful slingshot skills - only to be half-heartedly rebuked by Race for slacking off. Jack's family was happy and safe, and growing it seemed. He'd have to grill Crutchie for information on this girl, just to be sure of what he should expect from her. Maybe he'd call Ace too… Jack didn't want to admit it, but he wasn't exactly sure how to deal with a girl. Would it be like dealing with any of the other boys when they first came to the Lodge? Would she be okay wearing trousers cause they sure as heck didn't have any spare dresses lying around. The kid, presently, was a mess. Her hair had become matted, and the little skin that wasn't covered couldn't be seen for the blood, dirt, and bruises. What would this frail thing do to earn money? Would she be strong enough to recover, let alone live their life? If Jack knew anything, he knew that Weasel wouldn't let a girl sell papes. The man was too mean and too old fashioned for any of that. Besides, Lucy was pretty - like dainty classical painting pretty. No amount of dirt could hide that. There was no way they could make her look like a guy.
It took a long time for the newsies to calm down and go to bed that night, everyone was too curious and excited to meet this girl that had looked out for Crutchie in the Refuge, and ditched Finch without a word after their run in with the cops. Lucy hadn't stirred since she'd first fallen asleep at Jacobi's though, and it looked like she wouldn't wake anytime soon.
Helloooo, thank you for reading! This is my first story, I hope it's okay. Please do leave reviews, I would love any constructive criticism you may have :)