Thanks for the reviews Stress and CosmicOasis! I really appreciate them! :D
This one is shorter, but keep in mind, I'm building a lot of foundation in the first few chapters.
The start of my adventure, or rather, the adventure itself, was not exactly what I had expected. Not that I expected anything really. I guess I had thought that Francis might live in an apartment by himself, or hopefully with a family. But then, I was ready for a box in an alley. I had the fuzzy image in my head of Francis and I walking the streets with hoods on and avoiding any policemen. That was my idea of being an escapee and hiding from the law. But, Francis led me to building, any details were obscured because of the night, where I had to scale the wall to get nto a window and eventually plop in some room where I only heard the sound of a good number of people breathing and was able to see absolutely nothing. The breathing, I was relieved to hear, was probably his family. He then guided me towards a bed and I curled right up. Where he went, I had no idea. I was too tired to care.
The next morning, the light revealed everything. Aside from catching Meggie putting presents under the tree Christmas morning instead of Santa, that time when I cracked my eyes open, expecting to see a nice little apartment, was the worst morning in my life. I saw lots of bunks. Lots of boys. And lots of skin. I instantly shut my eyes and pulled the blanket over my head, hoping that no one would notice me. The room was abuzz with noise. I heard cursing, yelling, fighting, singing, joking, humming, and everything else that could possibly come out of a boy's mouth. I felt the air as boys walked by my bed, was jolted when someone jumped down from the bunk above me, and heard someone probably not more than ten inches away from me say 'Stop pickin' yer nose, Snitch and gimme my glasses!' Oh, where was I? Probably in some orphanage for boys. Was Francis an orphan then? And where was he?!
"Charrrrrlotttte," I heard someone whisper dangerously close to my ear. I recognized Francis's voice and pulled the blanket back just enough to reveal an eye.
He was crouching down next to the bunk, looking at me with a smile. He had a different shirt on and his hair was combed.
"Where am I?" I whispered back.
Francis looked behind him and then glanced to the right and left. When he looked at me again, his face was serious and he had one eyebrow raised. Then he cupped his mouth and said in my ear, "The refuge."
I gasped, though it was more of a frightened squeal, and pulled the blanket back over my eye. I didn't want to be here. I just wanted Meggie and Henry and my books. Then I remembered last night. Hadn't Francis led us to his place? I heard him laughing. I jerked back the covers and sat up straight.
"That isn't funny!" I said, glaring at him. Then I remembered the other boys in the room. A few of them were looking at me. Gah, and some still didn't have their shirts on. I wanted to fly back under my covers, but stood strong.
"Francis, where am I?" I asked again, more desperate than before. I trained my eyes on Francis, determined to ignore everyone else in the room.
"The lodging house. This is where I live," he said and then sat down on the bunk besides me, "Don't worry. It's safe. They won't think to look here."
One boy having heard Francis, called out, "What'd ya do this time, Cowboy?"
I looked at Francis suspiciously.
"Just a nickname," he said to me. That made sense. This group of boys didn't look like they'd call him Francis. Then a few other boys approached us, looking ready for the day with their hats on. I wondered what I looked like. My hair had been curled yesterday and probably still retained some bounciness, but I bet loose strands and frizz were sticking out everywhere. And I was still in a blouse, a skirt, and my good old boots.
"So, Cowboy, whose dis?" one asked. They all looked friendly with grins on their faces. I still didn't trust them. A few even had cigars in their hands.
"Well, dis here, is Charlotte," he said, looking at me, "and what was the rest of it?"
I fidgeted under the boys' gazes. I coughed and said quietly, "Charlotte Faye O'Neil."
There was a brief montage of whistles, 'dat's pretty's, and 'almost as fancy as your's, Cowboy!'. Then they all introduced themselves. There was Mush, curly hair and tan skin, Boots, short and cute, and Kid Blink, eye-patch guy. I didn't commit their names to memory however, for I was sure and almost determined that I wouldn't be here that long. I didn't know these people, or Francis for that matter. I didn't belong here. As they left, and Francis started telling me little stories about each of them, I pushed the blankets out of my way and stood up. I shook out my skirts, straightened my blouse, and ran my fingers through my hair.
I glared at him as he stopped talking and stared at me. I hated when boys did that. I didn't want anyone to like me or stare at me. That was for girls looking to get married. And I didn't want to get married. All I wanted was to live with my family and read books.
He blushed and continued telling me about Boot's past life as a shoeshiner. Him blushing made me feel a little bit better, like he was the same person I had trusted when he strapped the saddles on the horses' backs. Here, he was more confident and I guess himself. This was his terf and I was the new kid. Understandably so.
When he was finished, I asked, "So? What's on the agenda?"
We left with the other boys leaving the room. I stuck to Francis's side like a leech. He didn't seem to mind. We left the house and traveled down the road. On the way, Francis explained what was going to happen. I didn't hear too much of it because I was too busy looking at everyone and everything. I had never been on this street before, but I knew it was called Newspaper Row. All the big newspapers had their office buildings here. I saw men in suits, men with big cameras, and boys scurrying in the same direction our little newsie group was traveling. I frowned, feeling like the only female on the street.
"And that's how you sell a pape," Francis finished saying. I jerked my head over to look at him. What? But we had stopped in front of a big green gate and I couldn't asked for a summary. Here was a huge line of boys, all waiting, I guess, for the gates to open. I had more difficulty staying with Francis as he wandered to different boys. I ignored all their curious looks and questions and tried to be transparent. It obviously wasn't working, because everyone kept bumping into me and then staring at my skirts. I did feel out of place. Everyone here was decked out in a pair of britches and some other odd apparel that gave each boy a unique look. In fact, I think they resented me. Especially the younger ones. Every now and then someone would look at me and then stick their nose in the air. As each minute passed, I began to wonder if being female was a sin.
Finally, a bell rang, the gates swung open, and everyone made a scramble. I hung back, even as Francis made a dash. I saw a new line form inside. Now alone, I crossed my arms uncomfortably and glanced around. I saw one boy sitting on the ground and leaning against the wall. He was smoking and looked almost depressed. Bored, and not totally sure what to do, I watched him for awhile, wondering why he was so sad and why in the world he was smoking. I realized that Francis would probably be awhile, so I decided to be bold and approach him. I did it quietly, only sitting down next to him and mimicking his position.
He peeped out from under his hat and glanced over at me. I pretended not to notice and just kept staring ahead, like he had done.
He went back to being miserable and there was a minute or so of silence. I tried to think of what to say. Something encouraging yet not overly bubbly and annoying.
"Who are you?" he muttered just as I was about to open my mouth.
"Charlotte," I answered, figuring this was a good enough answer for a boy who lived in a society that dubbed their members by objects, traits, and other random things.
"No, no," he said, "Why are you here? I haven't seen you around."
"I-" I started, then paused. Did Francis want to have everyone know?
"Your Cowboy's girl, aren't ya?" he asked, his eyes narrowing and he looked away. I laughed at that.
"No, no, I'm just a friend," I said. He grunted. How old was he? Twelve?
"So, how come you're not in line like the others?" I asked when he said nothing.
"Don't got any money to buy today."
I frowned. Buying the papers? What Francis said came back to me. They would sell them for double the price, if I remember correctly. Ouch, I would probably fail and not sell half my papers and thus lose a good deal of profits. I hope Francis wasn't expecting me to sell today.
I dug in my pockets and came up with only a quarter.
"Here," I said, taking his hand and giving it to him. Charity, sure, but it would get me out of any possibility of selling. I had one crisp dollar bill left, and wouldn't dream to waste that on papers.
He looked at it and then looked up, his face hard. "You don't have to, ya know."
I shrugged. "I don't need it. Really."
Right after I had said those words, he was off. It was like he was afraid I was going to change my mind or something. I watched as he sped around the corner and into the gates. In his place came Francis walking towards me. He had a pile of papers under his arm and his newsie cap was tilted so that I couldn't see his eyes. I smiled. The whole newsie garb was kind of cute with it's sloppy vests, crooked hats, and dangling suspenders. Meggie had a play with a whole bunch of actors who played street kids. I had spent a good deal of time collaborating the costumes. They were sort of similar to what these newsies wore.
I looked up at him and shielded my eyes as he stopped in front of me.
"Well," he said, "What do you want to do?"
"I'd like to go home," was my automatic answer.
He rolled his eyes. "We've been over this."
"Then I'd like a tour of the city," I tried again.
He reached out a hand to help pull me up. "A tour of my selling spot."
"Fine." I got to my feet and started following him. I wondered if he had a boring old street like my newsie did, the one who stood by the theater.
On our way, I decided to finally ask some questions. Our conversation went like this:
"I still can't figure out why you would want to steal that guy's wallet."
"Why not? It probably had a kajillion dollars in it."
"That's stealing."
"Yeah, I know the ten commandments, Charlotte."
"And the law?"
"The law?"
"How old are you anyway?"
"About sixteen."
"Do you smoke?"
"Uh, occasionally. My turn. You said you'se was thirteen, right?"
"Almost fourteen."
"Sheesh, just a kid. Do you go to school or have any education?"
"Sure I do. I love to read."
"Grand! So you know a lot of big words. How would you dress up a headline saying that the mayor is getting a divorce?"
"Ouch... I guess I would say something like 'Marriage isn't for our mayor, is commitment?'"
Francis laughed and slapped me on the back. "Hey, that's actually pretty good! I'll use that one. And it don't stretch the truth!"
"Oh ho," I said with a big grin, "You're worried about lying now?"
"Puh, I was just sayin' that's it's convenient and one less lie," he said. I shook my head. We rounded another corner and I was surprised to be greeted with a bustling street teeming with bodies and all modes of transportation. Francis grabbed my hand then and began to worm his way through to the other side of the street. I was smiling at everything and everyone we bumped into. It was so exciting to see all these different faces and objects.
"Francis, look!" I cried and pointed with my free hand to three boys in the midst of a hard fight. He barely glanced over, nodded, and then focused on dodging the next oncoming wagon. Finally we stood on the opposite sidewalk of the road. Vendors and people walking to different destinations crowded the space, but Francis walked right over to and leaped on an attempted piece of city landscaping, a heavy clay pot with dying flowers crumpled against matted soil. I watched for about five minutes as he hawked, sold papers, collecting tips, etc. I got bored pretty quick and told Francis I was going to wander up the street a little ways and see if I could find any way to amuse myself. He agreed and made me promise to be back within the hour. A whole hour to do whatever I wanted. Well, on this street anyway. I was hoping for a book store like Henry's or maybe an ice cream parlor or something. I wanted to meet someone, watch something, do anything out of the ordinary! This was New York City for crying out loud.
So, with a smile and fierce determination, I pushed through the throngs of people and stopped at nearly every shop. So many people! At one point, I came to a small general store squeezed in between two other shops. Seeing something that Meggie would like in the window, and having that dollar left, I decided to buy it as some sort of peace offering. I don't know what I was thinking, it was a stupid gift. But there I was at the counter, purchasing a cowboy hat. It just made me think of Meggie and all her hard work. Plus, she liked cowboys.
On the way back down the street, you wouldn't be surprised to know that I ran into someone and both of us ended up on the sidewalk. The packages the girl had held in her arms went tumbling everyone. We both scrambled to sit up, muttering apologies all the while, and quickly gathered the boxes before some little street urchin ran up and stole them.
She looked poor and dirty like Francis did and kept tucking loose doe brown strands of hair behind her ear. She was really pretty though with a fine upturned nose, pale skin, and the most beautiful clear blue eyes I've ever seen. She was smiling too, and in a way that suggested that she was always smiling. Like it was just part of her facial features.
We both stood then, looking at each other with blushes.
"I'm Angie," she said, sticking her hand out of her pile of boxes.
"Charlotte," I said and then shook her hand. "Do you need help? I mean, carrying the packages somewhere."
She smiled even wider. "Boy do I ever. Thanks!"
Angie handed me two or three of the packages and then started back down the road, explaining where she was going as we walked.
"See, I work at this store just around the block. It sells stuff like fabric and sewing tools. It's not much pay, but I like it. I sometimes take on the sewing orders that we get in. Rachel, she's the owner, tells me I'm getting better and better."
She rambled on and on until we stopped in front of the shop. We were on a different street now, and I began to wonder if Francis would mind. But then I realized what street we were on. As Angie fumbled with the door, I peered down the road and found myself recognizing a lot of the shops.
"Hey, hey Angie," I said, "My father owns a bookstore on this street!"
She looked back as she pushed open the door. "The Dragon's Shelf, you mean?"
"Yeah! That's the one!"
We walked into a small room, the counter on the left hand side of the room with a old, fat woman behind it. The walls were lined with fabric practically oozing off the shelves. I, being one of the theater's costume designers, found myself rooted to the spot, staring at all the colors and textures. Of course I had been to a fabric store before, this was just my usual reaction. It never got old.
"I love that place! I go there every week and just read!" Angie cried, her voices disappearing as she disposed of the packages in some back room.
"Whose this, Angie?" asked the old woman as she glanced up at me every now and then with a frown from her cash register. I looked over at her with a peppy smile.
"I'm Charlotte. I knocked her over on the sidewalk and ended up helping her carry stuff," I said quickly.
"Oh, well, then go put that stuff in the back. Where Angie went."
"Sure," I said and headed for the door that Angie had disappeared through. I found her shoving the packages on crowded racks of other packages. I laughed. She spun around and took the boxes off my hands.
"Thanks again for helping me," she said while she used her tiptoes to reach a higher shelf.
"No problem," I replied, watching with my hands behind my back.
"So, do you live around here?" she asked as she dusted off her hands and led me back into the main room.
"Kind of. I live above the theater a couple streets away from here."
"Oh! I think I've passed that once or twice. Does your family own that as well?"
She was behind the counter now, reaching down to pull out a box of scraps. She probably thought I was rich, owning so many places. But not really. Henry had only acquired the bookstore through many years of loyal hard work. But when the owner retired, he just handed it over to him.
"Not really," I said, "we're still trying to pay it off. Do you live somewhere around here?"
She nodded. "In an apartment with my family."
"Ohhhh," I said with a smile, "You have siblings?"
"Yeah, they're all younger though."
"And how old are you?"
"I'm fifteen. How about you?"
"Thirteen."
"Wow, you look a lot older."
And so our getting-to-know-each other game would of continued, had not Francis burst through the door. We both turned our heads at the sudden gust of wind. He looked like he had been running. I frowned. How had he known I was here?
"Hi, can I help you?" Angie asked with a bright smile, thinking he was just another customer. He ignored her completely as he came up and grabbed my hand.
"Charlotte! Come on, we gotta run!" he panted. He started tugging me towards the door.
I looked back at Angie and waved. "It was nice getting to know you! I gotta go! See ya around, k?"
She nodded, looking very confused. Francis pulled me through the door and into the street.
"What's a'matter, Francis?" I complained as we started running.
"The- the-" he began to say, but as we turned around the corner, we both ran straight into the arms of a two men. I looked up and froze.
"-bulls," Francis finished in whisper.
So, not much time to roam the streets, I know. But don't worry, it gets better!!
Please review and tell me what ya think! Thanks!