Chapter two
Skittery walked around the city aimlessly. He had sold all of his papers and was looking for someplace hidden from the city where he could be alone. He thought about all the hiding places that the newsies would go to if they were being chased by the bulls but decided those might be too risky, after all, one never knew when one would be chased into hiding for pissing off the wrong person.
Finally, down by the docks, he spotted what he'd been looking for. The rundown old warehouse was boarded up and abandoned, probably had been for some time. It wasn't uncommon for a warehouse to be left for "dead" so to speak after it outlived its usefulness. Smiling to himself, Skittery ran over to the building and peered in through a broken window. It was dark and rather grimy inside with rats and mice scurrying about nervously. Thick dust layered the wooden boxes that had been left in the corners, forgotten by the world and hidden from sight. To the right, the soft glow of a fire could be seen, its light flickering shadows across the walls as it danced and crackled. Four or five raggedy looking men sat in a circle around it, talking quietly to one another. Skittery knocked on the board quietly and waited for one of them to notice him. A man with a salt and pepper beard looked up from the circle and squinted at Skittery. Tapping another man's shoulder, they got up and went to the opening.
"Whaddya want kid?" the man with the salt and pepper beard asked gruffly.
Skittery looked at the man who had approached him and noticed his stormy grey eyes were surrounded by a ring of red. His own chocolate brown eyes were dull and threatening as he answered, "I want in. Whad's it look like I want?"
The other man laughed roughly to himself. He liked a boy with a sense of humor. Tapping the bearded one, he moved to the side. Looking at the other man, the bearded one scowled and moved to the side, pulling the board up as he moved to allow Skittery entrance. Skittery nodded to him in thanks and ducked inside. Dust and dirt swirled around him as he bumped against a box, sending a few nervous rodents running. Taking a deep breath, he sighed contently to himself. He had never smelt anything as sweet as he did in that room.
"Whad ya smokin'?" he asked noticing the pipe on the ground next to an older looking man. This man was clearly of Native American decent, quite possibly full blooded Apache or Cherokee given his jet black hair and leathered tan skin. Dressed in animal pelt clothes adorned with brightly colored beads, the man looked as if he belonged in the Buffalo Bill Show.
"Peace pipe. Tontoe 'ere was sharin his pipe wid us. But yer too young to be smokin dis stuff." The bearded man said his voice gruff and harsh as he crossed his arms over his chest. Skittery turned to face him and scowled.
"Really? Wanna bet dat I ain't?" he asked.
"Yeah." The bearded man answered again. He took a step closer to Skittery and was ready to get nose-to-nose with the teen when the first man stepped between them.
"Gentlemen, gentlemen. We are all adults here. If the lad thinks he can handle this pipe then he may have a go at it. In the mean time, dat dere sitting next to Tontoe is Frank, the man behind you is Otto, dat is Marcus, and I am Dodger. An' who might you be?" Dodger asked taking his shoulder.
"Skittery." He answered as Dodger led him over to the circle.
"Well Skittery, please sit, and by all means, share our pipe." Dodger said as he held the antique looking pipe out to him. Skittery smiled as he took it and looked it over. Hand carved out of a single piece of wood, it wasn't as fancy as some pipes he'd seen and it certainly looked as if it had seen far better days in its time.
"Very old. Was my grandfathers." Tontoe said as his eyes slowly closed.
"It's uh, nice." Skittery said. So it was a bit of a lie, but as a newsie, he'd grown quite good at improving the truth as Cowboy would put it. Placing it to his lips, he took a deep breath, inhaling a nice long drag from it.
Marcus and Otto watched him with narrowed eyes, just waiting for him to cough or gag. He didn't. Instead, he held it for a minute or two, and then exhaled slowly, a wisp of white smoke escaping his mouth and ghosting its way towards the ceiling. Letting a sly smile cross his lips, he handed the pipe back to Dodger and crossed his arms over his chest. Laughing, Dodger patted him on the back and looked to the other vagabonds.
"The boy certainly can hold his hash, I'll say dat for him."