Title: The Book of Life
Author: sabor ice
Summary: 26 newsies. 26 emotions/feelings/attitudes of life. 26 stories.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, but I do own this story.
Author's Note: Please read and review. Thanks!
Two: Courage/Heroism
"So, wait, wait, yous tellin' me her name's actually Toy?" Bumlets wondered, before an amused chuckle escaped his lips.
"Dat's an unusual name for dese parts," Snipeshooter chimed in, as he impersonated Specs.
Specs rolled his eyes and swiped his hand at the young newsie, who just nearly ducked out of the way in time. Bumlets and Snipeshooter had been teasing him for the past half hour. He had just met this new girl in town the other day. She worked at the seamstress's shop over on 111th street with Mush's girlfriend. She and Specs had become quite good friends, and he hoped that someday soon it would turn into more. The only trouble was that this girl was rather flirtatious at times; her eyes liked to wander. And, she was pretty, too, so naturally she had the interest of more than one guy at a time.
"Dat's just her nickname. Her real name's Toya," Specs said, matter-of-factly.
"Like dat's much better?" Bumlets snickered. He and Snipeshooter laughed again.
"Better den your real name. Don't think I's don't remember what it is either!" the spectacles-wearing newsie replied, with a wry grin.
The color seemed to drain from Bumlets' handsome face. Snipeshooter ran in between the two as he splashed through a puddle. The boy turned around and adjusted his hat atop his head full of curly hair before looking back at them with a grin.
"What is it?" Snipeshooter wondered. "C'mon, I's gotta here dis!"
Specs bit his bottom lip as he tried not to laugh. He wanted to say it so badly now. Bumlets glared at him.
"Don't yous say it, Specs," Bumlets said in a tough voice. "I's was drunk! So were yous! Who knows what we's said? For all I's know, yous coulda told me yer name was Daisy, and I's coulda said me name was Truffles!"
Snipeshooter literally fell onto the ground in a fit of laughter. He laughed until he began to cry. Bumlets and Specs held unamused looks upon their youthful faces as they watched him. Bumlets knocked the younger boy's hat off his head, causing it to land right in a puddle, as he and Specs walked past him. Grumbling incoherently to himself, Snipeshooter retrieved his hat and quickly caught up with the two older boys.
"So, what did Bum's say his real name was?" Snipeshooter chided, and watched him as if he was hanging on Specs' every word.
"Shut up, kid," the raven-haired newsie said, and smacked him upside the head. "Don't forget yer real name ain't that good either. Antonious."
Snipeshooter's dark eyes widened as he stopped in his tracks. He stomped his foot down in frustration, and shook his chubby, little finger at Bumlets.
"Hey! I's told yous dat in confi - confi...confidence! Yous swores to me yous'd never tell!" the young newsie exclaimed, his cheeks now flushed red with anger.
Specs held an amused expression on his face; he glanced back at Snipeshooter.
"Don't worry, Bumlets' name is worse," he noted, then looked at the other young man. "Isn't dat right, Ashley Angel?"
Snipeshooter's mouth fell agape. He wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh, cry, or run. Bumlets' eyes darkened from brown to black as he glarred daggers at Specs.
"Wait, wait, wait...you're name is actually Ashley Angel?" the young boy wondered, in slight disbelief.
The raven-haired young man's jaw visibly tensed. He was so angry at his friend now that he felt like punching him. After a moment, Bumlets realized something. He did remember Specs' real name, too. A smile slowly formed on his lips; he chuckled to himself and folded his arms over his chest. Time to get even.
"At least me name isn't Ralph," Bumlets answered, with a grin, then made a gagging gesture with his finger.
Specs hardly noticed that Bumlets had been speaking in those moments. His attention had been diverted elsewhere. He removed his black, bowler-style hat a moment and scratched the top of his head. Snipeshooter and Bumlets had begun bickering behind him; the dark-haired newsie raised his hand towards them.
"Wait. Hey, cheese it for a minute. Yous guys hear dat?" he wondered, then began walking away.
"Hey, wait up!" Bumlets called out, before following him.
Snipeshooter idly scratched the back of his neck. "Is his name really Ashley Angel?" he asked himself, then shrugged, before running to catch up with the others.
The three newsies rushed down the street and then through an alleyway towards the direction of Bottle Alley.
"Look!" Specs shouted, pointing up at the black smoke that was now visible in the sky.
"Holy cow!" Snipeshooter interjected, wide-eyed.
The three continued to follow the black smoke until they reached a building filled with small apartments. It was old, shabby, and clearly falling apart. It must have been one of the buildings that only 'squatters' occupied (Squatters were people that lived in condemned buildings. Once there, they couldn't be ordered to leave if they didn't want to.) Flames could be seen shooting out of the second story windows (not that there had been glass there in the first place). The three newsies watched in awe as a few people flooded out windows on the first floor and ran screaming past them.
"How do yous think it got started?" Bumlets wondered, shading his dark eyes with his hand as he continued to watch the burning building in front of them.
"Yeah, and where's dem no-good, lazy coppers when dey's actually needed?" Snipeshooter said, rolling his eyes.
Specs absentmindedly shook his head. He saw a strange movement from one of the windows on the third floor. He furrowed his brows as he took a couple steps forward. Squinting his eyes, he inspected the window closer. Suddenly, he saw what looked like two little hands sticking out of the half-way boarded up window!
"Der's a kid up der!" Specs exclaimed.
Before Bumlets or Snipeshooter could even react, Specs had jolted towards the nearest fire-escape and begun to scale the ladder.
"Specs!" Snipeshooter and Bumlets called out in unison.
The younger newsie tried to follow his friend, but Bumlets quickly reached out and pulled the boy back by his shoulders. The flames were reaching higher; the heat from the flames could be felt all the way over where the two stood. The smoke was even worse; it's thick blackness covered the entire area. The two newsies lost sight of their friend for a moment, and worriedly began scanning all the fire-escapes with their eyes.
Meanwhile, Specs had managed to find a way up the side of the building. He had to go slowly and take cautious steps, for pieces of the fire-escapes were missing. He pulled the collar of his shirt up over his nose to try to block out some of the smoke from his lungs. He stopped a moment to try to catch his breath. For a moment, he couldn't see or breathe at all. In that moment, he heard a small cry for help from the window above up. He tilted his head backwards to try to see, but again, the only thing he could see was two little hands sitcking out between two boards.
"Specs! Specs!"
The newsie heard the clouded calls of his two friends from behind the screens of smoke. He glanced back over his shoulder for a moment. The flames were beginning to surround him; sweat rolled down his face. He heard violent coughing from the window above him again. His bowler hat fell off his head and landed on the ground below, but the newsie hadn't even noticed. His eyes filled with determination to save both the child and himself before it was too late.
Noticing a pipe on the wall nearby, Specs grabbed onto it and began to carefully climb up it. He reached out for the platform of the fire-escape above, nearly missing it the first time and falling. He gulped hard as he clung onto the old pipe with his hands and feet. Finally, he sucked up enough courage to reach out for the platform again. Once he felt that he had a decent hold on it, he let go of the pipe and pulled himself up onto the fire-escape. Specs didn't even notice anything around him now - not the fire nor the smoke nor any other sounds - nothing.
"You in der?" Specs called out, as he tried to pull open one of the boards. "Hey! Hey!"
Fear rose within the young man. What if it was all ready too late? Finally, the two small hands came into view again. Specs blew out a sigh of relief and reached out to touch them, to let the child know someone was there to help him or her.
"Help me," came the child's weak voice. "I's can't...breathe..."
"Hold on! I's gonna get yous outta der!" he promised.
The young man backed up on the platform somewhat, until he felt his backside touch the rail. He winced because it was hot from the flames heating it up from below. The fire was so near to him now, that he actually thought he felt his shoes melting beneath his feet. With one determind kick, Specs managed to break through the top board. He rushed back over to the window and lowered his arms over the second board inside. He felt the child grab onto his wrists, and he quickly pulled her up. The little girl wrapped her arms and legs tightly around the newsie; she was coughing and crying. She couldn't have been more than five or six years old. Specs wiped her dirty, blonde hair out of her face and kissed her forehead, before holding her close to him.
"Don't worry, we'll be all right," Specs tried to assure her, though he could tell by looking around now that the odds were against them.
The newsie looked for a way for the two of them to escape. It was then he realized they were trapped. He couldn't make it down the fire-escape with her as now they were standing on the last of it! The child cried and coughed even harder as she buried her dirty, wet face into the young man's neck.
"It's ok. It's ok," Specs whispered, continuing to attempt to coax her.
Their only chance was the pipe he had scaled to get to her in the first place. The child wasn't exactly heavy, but he doubted she could hold on if he tried to climb down with her. But, they had no other choice now. He raised her face to look at him, his thumb lightly brushing the wet tears from her puffy, reddened cheeks.
"Listen. I's want you to hold onto me as tight as you can, ok? As tight as you can, and close your eyes. All right?" Specs wondered.
The shaken girl somehow understood his instructions, though she was clearly tired and terrified all at once. Her small arms tightened around his neck, and she placed her face in the crook of it again. When Specs was sure the girl had a good hold on him, he reached out and grabbed onto the pipe. The metel was hot, so hot in fact he didn't know if he could hold on long enough to climb all the way down. It was too far of a drop; he couldn't let go.
"Son! Down here, son!" came a voice.
Specs managed to glance over his shoulder as he struggled to hold onto the steaming hot pipe. He recognized the familiar hat and coat of an officer below. The coppers had finally showed up and were working fast to put out the out-of-control fire. Several men, including the one that had called up to him, assembled below the pipe with some kind of large blanket.
"Yous gonna have to jump, son! Jump!" the copper yelled out.
Specs let go of the pipe with one hand, in order to wrap it around the little girl who wearily clung onto him. Finally, he released his hold completely and allowed them to free-fall. They landed on the blanket with an "oof!" They were tired, dirty, and still coughing from the smoke inhalation, but they were alive. One of the coppers tried to take the child from Specs once they lowered them to the ground, but the girl cried out and clung more tightly onto the newsie. She didn't want to leave him.
"It's ok," Specs told the child. "It's ok."
Defeatedly, the girl gave up trying to fight and reluctantly allowed the officer to take her from the newsie. He watched the man walk away with her. She lifted her head slightly and looked back at him; he waved to her and gave her a faint smile, as if to tell her everything was all right now. He felt another officer come up behind him and wrap him in a blanket. He coughed again, before managing to thank the man.
"I'm fine," Specs assured him, as he began to walk away from the scene.
Once he was out in the street again, Specs breathed in the clean, fresh air as he tried to get the feeling of tar out of his throat.
"Specs! Yous alive!" came the familiar voice of Snipeshooter.
The boy ran into the older newsie and hugged him as tightly as he could. Bumlets had not been far behind him. The raven-haired young man smiled at his friend, then revealed that he had collected Specs' bowler-style hat off the pavement earlier. He placed it on Specs' head.
"Not bad," Bumlets said, then smiled. "For a guy named Ralph."
"Wait 'till da guys back home heres about dis!" Snipeshooter exclaimed, excitedly. He curiously looked over at Bumlets. "So, is your name really Ashley Angel?"
Specs rolled his eyes and shook his head to himself as Bumlets sighed heavily and threw his arm around his friend. The two began walking towards the lodging house together. It had been one long day.
"Guys?" Guys! Wait for me!" the boy's voice rang out as he ran down the street after them.
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