Disclaimer: The characters in this story are the property of Disney and are only used for fan related purposes.
--
The Sparrow
When Sarah disappears, it's up to David to go looking for her.
With only a simple clue to where she could have gone, and the understanding that he's in over his head,
it won't take him too long to discover that his sister wasn't the only one with a secret.
--
I wouldn't really call myself a curious guy. Curiosity often leads to trouble and I tended to try to avoid getting into any sort of trouble whenever I could. It was hard, I've got to admit, to keep out of trouble when Jack was around but, with the exception of the strike last summer, I've managed pretty well.
But, just because I'm not all that curious, that didn't mean that I was ignorant. If there was a question, that could be answered, or a riddle that needed to be solved, I would probably try to answer it. Mysteries always were very tempting to me if only because there had to be some sort of logical explanation somewhere.
Maybe that was why I took the envelope. I took the envelope from off of Sarah's bed, stuffed it into my pocket and left the apartment—but I didn't open it. I don't think the idea to actually open that envelope ever crossed my mind. If it did, then that would make me curious. But I wasn't curious; I just wanted to know what was going on with my sister and I thought that Sarah's message for Jack would tell me.
I wanted to know what was inside of the envelope but not enough to actually invade Sarah's privacy. The envelope had Jack's name on it, not mine. I was going to have to bring it to him to open.
And, if I played my cards right, I might just be able to get Jack to tell me what happened to Sarah.
There was one small problem, though. I realized it as I stepped out of the tenement and I paused in the middle of the busy street, shaking my head. Where was I supposed to find Jack?
It was the middle of the afternoon, probably too late to find him selling the morning edition of the World, but not late enough for the evening paper.
Knowing Jack, there were a few places he could be if he wasn't selling. The lodging house, Tibby's, Irving Hall to see Medda, all the way to Brooklyn to check in with Spot… and, since I did know Jack, there was even the chance that he could be in the Refuge again. Where was I supposed to look first?
I decided to go to Tibby's first for no better reason that it was the closest one of Jack's haunts to my building. That, and because I was pretty sure I could see Mama's blonde head bobbing up and down, getting nearer and nearer. She was coming home, she was only a block or so away, and I didn't want her seeing me there.
If she found out that I thought something was fishy about Sarah, she would be furious that I went out on my own instead of waiting to tell her and Papa about it.
But, before I left, I did shield my eyes and squint a bit in order to get a good look at Mama. No doubt about it—she was alone, and she looked worried.
For some reason, I wasn't surprised.
Sarah, where did you go?
--
The walk to Tibby's didn't take long but that might've been because I spent most of the short walk with my head down and my hands in my pockets, imagining all sorts of reasons why Sarah would've left an envelope for Jack and disappeared. None of them were very hopeful and I tried to clear my head. It wouldn't do my any good to get all worked up—that would have to wait until after I spoke to Jack.
That was another thing. Why was the envelope addressed to Jack? They were friends, definitely, and the two of them had even had a brief summer romance just after the strike last year, but I didn't think that Sarah had spoken to Jack in quite some time.
She never was comfortable going down to the newsboys' lodging house to visit Jack and, when school started again and Papa went back to work, Jack slowly stopped coming around the apartment. Without the two of them seeing each other all that often, their attraction just fizzled and faded until there was nothing left but a mutual friendship. Sarah started to talk to a couple of neighborhood boys; Jack, I heard from Boots, stepped out with a couple different girls over the course of the last winter.
Things were so different now than they were when summer ended. Even I only saw Jack when Mama let Les and me go out to sell the evening paper for pocket money.
What, then, did Sarah have to tell Jack? And why couldn't she tell me?
That little jealous question seemed to nag at the back of my mind, underneath all of my other concerns. Sarah was my sister and if something was wrong, I would've thought she would come to me for help. We weren't that much different in age, she was only a year older than me, and we were pretty close.
The image of the front door being left open, and the pile of clothes and scraps of lace and other odds and ends scattered on her bed and the floor flashed before my eyes. Without really knowing, I was certain that something had happened to her. In fact, I don't think I've ever been so certain of anything in my life. It was like a gut reaction, a hunch I had to follow through on.
I could feel the thick, coarse paper rubbing against the inside of my hand. That one envelope, the one thing that seemed the most out of place, was the only hope I had. Pulling my hands out of my pockets, I tried not to focus on that either. For all I knew, it could've been a note that she wrote for him back when they were closer. Just because I happened to find it today, that didn't mean that it held the answer I was looking for. I just hoped it did.
So wrapped up in my thoughts, I almost walked passed the little restaurant. I only knew that I was passing it when the familiar stench of fried bratwurst, sauerkraut and cheap beer caught my attention. Looking up, I saw the familiar storefront and quickly turned around so that I was facing the door, my hand stretched out for the door handle.
I peeked inside before actually entering. Tibby's was, in my experience, very rarely empty but it was pretty crowded inside. It looked like many diners had come out for a late lunch, or an early supper.
The tables and the handful of booths in the back were completely filled. Since that was usually where the World newsies usually met—when the headline was decent, of course, and their improvisational skills were at their best—I began to think that my journey across town just might be justified.
The smell of cooked meat and the stink of cabbage—now I smelled it—was even stronger once I walked into Tibby's and it reminded me how I hungry I was before. I had rushed that morning and breakfast was only a piece of bread leftover from last night's supper but, even though I could hear my stomach grumbling in protest to all the strong smells, I ignored it. There more important things than food just then.
A waiter hurried by me, a tray in each hand. I was standing still in the doorway and he barely spared a glance at me as he swerved by and started to walk towards the back of the restaurant. I did try to step out of his way; I noticed and recognized the peeved expression he was wearing. It was the one that most waiters wore when having to serve a bunch of rambunctious newsies.
Without another thought, I followed the path the waiter was making through the tables. I had only gone halfway across the room when I saw quite a few familiar faces; just like I'd assumed, the waiter was setting the two trays in the center of a table full of my friends.
I could see Racetrack, Mush and Kid Blink sitting on one side, facing Skittery, who was sitting in between two girls I didn't know. One was an olive toned, dark-haired girl with a cheery grin and a calm manner; the other a taller girl, somewhat thinner, with her brown hair twisted up and out of her face and a disinterested frown as she played with her straw. Swifty was sitting at the edge of the booth, having pulled a loose chair up to the side, and he was trying to reach for a chicken leg without any of the others noticing.
For a second I thought that Jack wasn't there but that was before I looked at the next table over. He was sitting there, sitting across from Crutchy at a table suited for four. The seat next to Crutchy was empty but there was another girl at this table, lounging in the seat beside Jack.
She was barely shorter than Jack, even slouching, and she was an unusual looking girl, I thought. Her skin was fair, and there were dark lines under her eyes. Her light brown hair was long; she wore it plaited and the thick braid was resting over her shoulder. Her lips were a vivid red color—I think that's what caught my attention—and, unless I was wrong, she was wearing lip paints.
I didn't recognize this girl either and I wasn't really surprised. It wasn't too unusual to see that some of the fellas were taking up with ladies now that the weather was warming up again, especially after what happened to Pie Eater. After Pie got his lady friend into a spot of trouble and left the lodging house to work in a factory, it seemed like more and more of the guys were bringing around a girl that they were sweet on.
Most of the girls were working girls, whether they were seamstresses, factory girls or newsies themselves. I'd met a couple of them, new friends of Jack mostly, who worked down at the milling factory. They were nice girls but they were nothing like Sarah.
Not that I had anything against them. It's just that, whenever I saw Jack with another one of them, it made me wonder what the two of them, Jack and Sarah, ever saw in each other.
"Dave! Hey, look fellas, it's Davey!"
Crutchy was waving wildly over at me. I had followed the waiter most of the way to their tables but I'd stopped a couple of feet away when I was looking over the new faces I saw. I was still standing there, standing on the opposite side of Jack's table and, before Crutchy called out to everyone that I was there, only two people had seen me coming: Crutchy and the braided girl.
I think she caught me looking at her because, as I started to walk over to the table, I could feel her eyes on me. I felt a little foolish and, honestly, a little embarrassed at the attention. My eyes glanced back at her again and I confirmed it—she really was watching me. There was a tiny grin, almost like a secretive smile, on her face and, when our eyes met, I'm pretty sure she winked at me.
Doing my best to pretend that I didn't see that, I waved back at Crutchy. "Hi, Crutchy," I greeted before looking past him and addressing the other booth. "Hey, guys," I said simply. It had been some time since I had joined the other newsies over at Tibby's during the week and they all looked surprised to see me.
After I waited for the greetings from the others sitting in the booth—they were loud, full of whistles and hollers, and the shorter of Skittery's companions offered me a gently wave; the other girl just scowled and whispered something to Skittery—I then turned my head to look at Jack. I nodded at him. "Jack."
I don't know if he saw that girl looking at me or not but there was a calculating look on his face. It was almost as if he couldn't believe I was standing there and it took him a few seconds to reply.
When he did, he nodded back up at me and patted the table. "Hiya, Dave. Haven't seen you around these parts in awhile." His face split into a grin but I had the strange feeling he didn't mean it. "Why don't you take a seat?"
Shaking my head, I tried to make my face look as serious as I could. "No, thanks, Jack. I can't really stay—"
"Sure you can, Davey," interrupted Crutchy, grinning goofily over at me. His wooden crutch was resting on the extra chair and he removed it. "There you go, a seat just for you."
It was a nice gesture. Crutchy was a really sweet guy but sometimes I wished he was just a little bit more perceptive; he had no idea that the reason I couldn't stay wasn't because I didn't think I had a seat.
I didn't want to hurt his feelings but I knew this was too important to spend extra time sitting in the little restaurant. Still standing, I appealed wordlessly to Jack instead.
Jack got the message. "I think Dave's in a hurry, Crutchy," he said, raising his eyebrows over at me. "Ain't that so, Dave?"
"Yes, you could say that. In fact, I just stopped by to talk to Jack," I answered, relieved to see that Crutchy was still wearing that too wide smile he had. He didn't look offended that I didn't want to sit with him; he just looked interested to hear what I had to say.
"Is that right?" Jack asked. I didn't miss the suspiciousness in his voice. "Weren't you going sellin' tonight, Dave? It's Friday, ain't it? I thought I was gonna meet up with you and Les later."
I shook my head again. "It couldn't wait, Jack. I had to…" I paused for a second, aware of the suddenly quiet corner. It seemed as if we had an audience so I lowered my voice. If it turned out I was overreacting I didn't want the others to know about it. "I was actually wondering if—"
"You're gonna have to speak up, Dave. I can't hear a word you're sayin'."
Just then, as if his words meant something else, I could hear some of the others raising their voices as they continued talking about whatever they'd been talking about when I arrived. Maybe they were smart enough to tell that I had something on my mind and that I was trying to tell it to Jack; maybe they were trying, slyly, to eavesdrop. In fact, I wouldn't put it past them to do just that—I kept my voice low.
"Listen, Jack," I began and I leaned down, "I was wondering if maybe you've talked to Sarah lately?"
I wasn't surprised to see Jack's eyes flitter over to where the girl was sitting beside him. If she was his new lady friend then I'm sure he didn't want her knowing about Sarah but, at that moment, I didn't really care. I was too worried about my sister to try to be secretive around his new girl.
It took him a few seconds to answer my question. I knew before he even opened him mouth that it would be pointless, though. He was going to lie to me.
"No, Dave. Sorry. I haven't seen Sarah in weeks," he said.
He sounded defensive and I think that's what made me so frustrated. He was lying to me, I knew he was, just because he was seeing a new girl.
"Are you sure?"
Jack smirked at me. "Of course, Davey. Why do you ask?"
I didn't really mean to do it but the nerves—the very same ones that had appeared in the instant when I saw that the door to my family's apartment had been left open—were stronger than my common sense.
Raising my eyebrows and pursing my lips, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the envelope. I slammed it onto the tabletop and slid it over in front of Jack.
"She's gone, Jack. My sister's gone, but she left that for you."
Author's Note: And there's chapter three! I introduced two characters that were so very generously lent to me. We'll see more of them later and, of course, actually learn their names. I figure, we should probably find out what Sarah left for Jack first ;)
I want to thank Aki, Biddy, Swindler, Brockie, Pokey7, Roman, Rae and Peg for their reviews. That was such a great response to chapter two and I hope you guys liked this one too!
-- stress, 04.11.08