So hopefully I haven't lost all my readers! I'm sorry it's taken me so long to update, but school really got out of control. Well, now it's summer and I'm back to writing, so hopefully I'll get a couple chapters up this month & next. Thanks ladies & gents! On with the show.
Her fingers were thoroughly dirtied by the chalk once she had finished her work. Cara sat back and crossed her legs, sighing contentedly at the menagerie of scenes before her. A few more coins fell into her cap before she retrieved it, securing the coins inside a pouch before placing it safely in her pocket. When one was poor, one guarded every penny with a level of ferocity most adults would regard with reproach. But every penny meant another day with bread, another day without an empty stomach, and at 17, Cara had quite an appetite. By this time the sun had begun its descent to the evening horizon, and Cara had to make her way across town to the theatre for the vaudeville show. She jumped onto the back of a trolley and rode most of the way until the conductor found her and kicked her off rather unceremoniously, shouting. She threw him a far-from-friendly hand gesture and dashed off down the street before he could do anything else.
Cara bought a bread-wrapped meatball just before entering the theatre, her stomach growling from a foodless day. She entered a line of blackfoot boys streaming into the theatre and was soon basking in the glowing light of the Irving theatre. Boys were singing and girls were chatting all about. Newsies were hanging off railings, and Cara soon spotted her fellow chimney sweeps; soot-faced and beaming, they were in the highest seats, many sitting precariously on railings, posts, and some even dangling off of curtain-pulls. Cara found a familiar face.
"Ahoy up there!" she called up to a blonde girl who was dangling her feet as she straddled a high railing. The girl looked down and grinned.
"And you, Cara O'Conner! Get up here!" she shouted back.
Cara jogged up the steps and embraced the girl, planting an enthusiastic kiss on her cheek. She was Meghan Wintry, a sweep and one of Cara's best friends. She worked on the other side of town, but she and Cara occasionally crossed paths. They had met at a young age in an orphanage and bonded quickly. They were separated when they were moved to separate housing developments, but they managed to keep in touch, mostly through newsies and messenger boys throughout the cities. Now they were reunited, in this theatre filled with shouting children and teens, snippets of song and a barely audible musical track playing somewhere in the background. All at once, a stage light went on and the rest of the lights were killed. Playful screams ensued, and Cara stared at the stage in anticipation. Medda stepped out, and the theatre erupted. Boys whistled and hollered, and girls shrieked, clapping. Medda was the favorite of every working child; she had sheltered their rallies and supported their cause when the rest of New York would not. She risked her business and her theatre by allowing the newsies to gather there. They owed her loyalty, which they gladly gave without question. She waved for silence.
"Thank you, thank you all!" she cried, smiling beautifully. "Where's Jack Kelly?"
She made a show of peering through the crowd as the children whistled and cheered; Jack jumped up onto the stage with Medda, giving her a kiss on the cheek and waving to the crowd. In the following silence, Cara gave a particularly loud wolf whistle, to the amusement of the juvenile gathering.
"I'm glad to have you all here for this show, and I'm especially glad that Jack can be here with you," said Medda. "You pulled off something no one's ever done before, not like you. You made the mountains bend!"
At this, the children screamed triumphantly.
"I congratulate you," said Medda. Jack whistled, receiving appreciative laughter. "And now, on with the show!"
Cara and Meghan sang along with the raucous crowd, swaying and dancing when they felt the need. It was quite a sight, any adult would have been astounded, perhaps impressed, and maybe even enlightened. Music and theatre filled the bellies of these children like food; many would easily sacrifice their dinner to see a vaudeville show. A free one was a blessing from God. As the show dwindled to its end, Cara glanced around, finding faces in the sea of caps and dusty heads. Jack, Dave, Les, Racetrack, Crutchy, all of Jack's crowd was there, along with other newsie sectors. Spot's boys were there, and groups from Harlem and the Bronx. Sweeps from all over, dirty blackfoot boys, factory and serving girls, and even a few dock children had made their way to the Irving theatre. Cara looked again at Jack's group, and noted curiously that Sarah was nowhere to be found. Perhaps she was at home, or maybe working at this hour. Cara shrugged to herself.
"Let's get down to the newsies before things really get crazy," said Meghan, jumping over the railing, snatching a curtain cord like a monkey on a vine. Cara laughed and followed suit, landing loudly on the stage with enthusiastic yells and surprising the group of newsies at the stage edge. Jack saw them and laughed in surprise. Cara leapt at him and was quickly tackled by a bunch of rowdy newsies, as was Meghan.
"How ya been Cowboy?" roared Cara over the raucous noise. She laughed as Racetrack tickled her from behind.
"Pretty damn good, Cara, how's chimneys?" said Jack. Les clambered up and made himself comfortable on Jack's shoulders.
"Dirty," she said, wrinkling her nose. Meghan grabbed her, faking panic as Mush gave her a bear-hug.
"How 'bout we get outside? It's a madhouse in here!" she said, laughing.
"Sure!" Jack said. He grabbed Racetrack by the collar and gave Les back to David. They followed the girls out into the street, lit dimly by the yellowish street lamps. Meghan and Cara swung each other around, shrieking with laughter, caught up in the hilarity of life for those few moments. They finally digressed and returned to the group of adolescent newsies. Except for Les, the boys were all above 16 years of age, and constantly vying for female attention. Speaking of which –
"Oy, Cowboy, where's Sarah?" said Cara, wrapping herself awkwardly around Meghan, who giggled.
"Oh, she um, she's at school, y'know, college," he said uncomfortably. "It's kinda far so we figured we should break it off. That was a coupla months ago."
"My sincerest condolences," said Cara, bowing in the pretense of holding a top hat and cane.
"Oh, go on, Jack, you know you've got half o' New York's finest ladyfolk on their knees," said Meghan dramatically, batting her eyelashes. Jack burst out laughing and strutted a bit, to the delight of the small crowd.
The group settled down and walked down the street leisurely; Cara was arm in arm with Racetrack and Jack, whereas Meghan had taken up a comfortable spot between Dave and Mush. Occasionally the girls threw glances at one another, grinning.
"So Cara, you get a fella yet?" said Racetrack, taking a drag on his cigarette and offering it to her. She took it and held it thoughtfully for a moment before shaking her head.
"Nope."
"Aw, why not? It'd do yah good," said Racetrack, sounding more like a middle-aged uncle than a teenage boy.
"And it'd do you good tah have a lady around you a bit mo' often, too, Race, but I see you ain't rushin' about to find one either," she replied cheekily. "Sides, when would I have time for a fella when half the day I'm stuck down a chimney, huh Race?"
"Aw, I dunno, some guys like a dirty gel," said Racetrack, and Cara punched him, chasing him down the street half a block before turning around and returning to the company.
They came to a park, small and out of the way, but pretty nonetheless. The boys set immediately to climbing the trees; they were, after all, boys. Cara sat down on the sidewalk and began to draw the night sky, shading the moon with yellow and white, her tongue protruding from her mouth slightly. Jack watched her from a short distance away. Crutchy nudged him.
"She's a sweet kid, ain't she, Jack?" he said, smiling. "Kinda floatin' on a cloud all the time, huh?"
"Yeah, that's right," said Jack, clapping Crutchy on the shoulder. "How you doin' with the papes lately?"
"Oh, I'm always doin' good, Jack," he said happily. "Anybody'll buy from a cripple!"
Jack and Crutchy laughed about this for a few minutes, and Jack strolled over to peer at Cara's work over her shoulder. The night sky was complete, and Cara sat back to admire it.
"Nice. Y'know you're one o' the only people I know who kin draw like that, Cara," he said.
"Are you givin' me a compliment or are you kissin' up, Jack Kelly?" Cara scrutinized him with a jaunty eye.
He leaned over. "Nah, I only do one kind a' kissin'."
"Jack Kelly, mind yo' hands!" Racetrack called from a tree across the pavilion. "Keep them paws away or I'll deck yah meself!"
"You're a foot and a half shortah than me, Race, don't kid yehself," Jack called back, offering a hand to Cara as she stood up.
"I've gotta get back home, Trenton wants me to clean all of 'is chimneys 'cause he's got guests comin'," she said, brushing her hands off and tucking her chalk safely in her pockets. "Meg, you comin' or what?"
"Race 'n Mush are gonna walk me home, love, I'll see you tomorrow maybe?" Meghan replied as she swung down from a tree, received happily by Mush's strong arms.
"All right." Cara straightened her cap and winked at Jack. "I'll see you around, Kelly."
Jack hesitated, and then matched her stride. "I'll walk yah home, it's late, and you've got a ways to go," he said, tucking his hands in his pockets.
Cara smiled. "Thanks, Jack."
They continued for another block or two in silence, and then Cara spoke up again.
"You ever think about what you're gonna do after you can't work as a newsie no more?" she said. "I mean, you're almost twenty, Jack."
"I figure maybe I'll go into management or somethin' like that. I'd like to stay around here for awhile yet anyhow. I mean, I wanna see the world and all that but I gotta make a steady livin' around here before I can hop a train," he replied, looking up at the stars. "I wanna see what the sky looks like from Santa Fe, yah know?"
"Yeah," said Cara. "I'd like something knew to draw, even paint! Gawd, if I had my own paint set I could really do somethin'. You know, Denton said I should sell my stuff. If he could sell it for me, I might do good, but nobody'll buy from a girl sweep."
"I think you could really do good," said Jack softly. "I mean, we're kinda cursed, yah know? Street rats, that's all we'll ever amount to. But the strike got me thinkin'. I mean, if we could do that together, there's gotta be more."
"If we're together," said Cara. "Not many of the sweeps are up to any more strikes, I can tell you that."
"Naw, no more strikes. I just mean, lookin' out for each otha, and takin' care of everyone," said Jack. "Instead 'a arguin' over turf and crap like that. Take some damn responsibility."
"You tell them that and they'll do it," said Cara wistfully. "Dunno about Spot Conlon, but…"
She grinned, as did Jack. "Yeah well, we gotta watch out for somethin', don't we?"
"Or someone," said Jack, nodding. "There's always gonna be troublemakers, I should know, I am one."
"Not you, Jack Kelly, neva!" said Cara with a whoop, jumping gaily. "We've all got our black marks."
"True enough."
A feminine giggle drifted out through an open window. Cara blanched and Jack looked a bit dazed.
"It's Octoba, ain't it cold out? Doesn't it seem cold to you, Cara?" he said. "And they got a window open!"
Cara grabbed his arm and ducked out of the street, giggling. "Well, don't shout! There's a lady's house about a block from here, Jack. The girls around here ain't too savory."
Jack frowned. "You know 'em?"
"Yeah, some of 'em. I don't like what they do, but it's how they live, I can't argue with that," she said, shrugging. "You think newsies got it bad sometimes, these girls have it worse all the time."
Jack sighed. "I guess I never really thought about it that way. They couldn't really strike, could they?"
"Nope." Cara shook her head and stood under the streetlight outside her group home. "But then again, why would they? They'll always have a business. I gotta go, Jack. Madam Brently won't be too pleased."
"Aw, let the old bat wait," said Jack, waving carelessly. "Good to see you again, Cara."
"And you, as always, Jack. Let me know about that management position you're bankin' for," she said with a smirk.
Jack smiled, but didn't say anything. Cara gave him a kiss on the cheek and found herself wrapped up in Jack's arms. She smiled into his shoulder and gave him a warm hug.
"Thanks, Jackie boy."