I own it...not.
Eight-year-old Jack Kelly already knew the score. He had been through his fair-share of hard times and had started selling papes about a year ago. He found he was naturally good at it and rose through the ranks, becoming an idol for the youngest kids.
Right now it was March, and it was still cold. He wrapped his thin jacket tighter around him and glanced around, looking for a crowd. The streets were unnaturally deserted. Two in the afternoon was a little late for selling, but he still had ten papes left and didn't feel like eating them that night.
Jack heard a scream. He whipped around, nearly losing his papes. The sound had come from an alley he'd just passed. Another sound ― like wood clattering on the ground. He retraced his steps and peered down the alley.
Two boys, Jack's age or a little older, stood in front of another figure. Jack couldn't make out much about him except that he was younger, maybe seven, and was tall and thin. He carried a blanket on his back and was reaching for a stick that the boys had snatched.
"What's wrong?" One boy asked, his voice too sweet for Jack's liking. "Can't get up without your precious stick?"
Jack's blood boiled. Before he knew what was happening he'd rushed at the boys, knocking them over like dominoes as he tackled one. A short scuffle ensued in which Jack got a black eye and both the other boys got two. They ran off, looking back only once.
Jack went over to the boy on the ground, kneeling beside him. "They hurt you?" he asked, passing over the stick that had fallen to the ground.
The boy shook his head no and struggled to get up. His shirt was ripped in several places and he could see the bruises that littered his skin. His lips were bleeding, making it hard for him to talk. He wavered as he stood up.
"If you can't walk I'll carry you." Jack offered, seeing the boy nearly fall back down. A cold look made him quiet.
"I don't want nobody carrying me." The boy said fiercely, standing up without wobbling this time. Jack nodded wordlessly, not sure what to say.
"What's your name?" He asked as he picked up his papers. He dusted them off before putting them back on top of his shoulder.
"Crutchie." The boy said, looking at the papers admiringly. "You sell those?"
Jack nodded and they walked out of the alley together. They were quiet for a while as they walked down the block in the direction of loud whoops and shouts. Then Crutchie asked tentatively. "Can you teach me?"
"Teach you what?" Jack asked, hovering on the edge of the crowd, trying to find the best place to start.
Crutchie gave him a sideways look. "How to sell papes." He faltered as Jack looked at him. "I mean, I don't know how, and I don't know if I can, but it's worth a try and all, right? No reason not to ―" he would have kept going if Jack hadn't cut him off.
"I'll teach you, but why do you want to sell papes?" He plunged into the crowd, trying to make his way towards the front.
"I don't got nothing better to do." Crutchie said, keeping up easily. Jack looked at him and smiled.
"Okay, guess we're like, partners now. I'm Jack." He spat on his hand and stuck it out like he'd seen the older boys do. Crutchie spat on his own and shook it, smiling too.
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