Chapter 17
I looked at Medda; a true smile was visible on my face. She looked at me and smiled back.
I looked her in the eyes, "Thank ya, Medda, really. You'se has been so great ta me tahday, and I don' know how I could evah repay ya," I said reaching forward and pulling her into a hug, surprising both her and myself. I was never usually this open with people.
He put her arms around my back and patted my head, "You don't have to, darling. It is alvay's a pleasure to help such a nice soul like yourself, Cross," she said as she pulled back, smiling at me.
I looked at her, "Call me Sara, please," I said seriously.
"Well, Sara, you are alvay's velcome at my place," she said holding her arms out.
I was about to leave the room, but turned around when I reached the doorway, "Hey, Medda?" I called.
"Mhm," she mumbled, not facing me as she cleaned off the vanity of makeup residue.
"Do ya happen ta know what time it is?" I asked, fingering at my navy blue dress.
"Vell, I vould say that is it about, oh, seven? Maybe seven thirty," she said, now turning to face me.
"And what time does di Newsie Night start?" I asked looking nervously behind me for some reason.
"Around eight," she said walking past me out into the hall, looking side to side.
I pulled my eyebrow together, "What are ya doin'?" I asked in a clearly confused and curious tone.
"Oh nothing," she said as she waved her hand at me, "Just seeing if Kelly came yet, he is usually here early," she said turning back to me.
"Jack Kelly? Cowboy?" I asked, just to make sure who she was talking about.
She smiled to herself, "Yes, Cowboy. Good kid and a good man his father vas too," she said reminiscently.
My mouth opened, "Are you…," she looked at me with her eyebrows raised, "Are ya his, uh, mudda?" I asked.
Medda looked at me for a moment before cracking up, placing her hand on my shoulder, "No, no dear. Family friends we are. I may look old enough to be his mother, but no," she finished, her laughter ceasing.
I blushed, "Oh," I said quietly, "I'm sorry," I whispered looking down embarrassedly.
"So this, uh, this Newsie Night," I ventured, "Who comes ta it?" I asked.
"Newsie Night, for us," she said, "is just Manhattan and Brooklyn, alvay's has been, alvay's vill be," she said, putting a hand on my lower back, leading me into a large ballroom like area with tables and a stage. I was in awe.
"This is wear the party begins," she whispered, leaving me to go onto the stage.
The door swung open and a group of boys came in. I smiled. It was Mush, Race, Davy, Jack, and other newsies I assumed to be from Manhattan.
They gave me odd looks, as if they did not know me, but soon smiled as they came closer. "Sara!" Jack said as he approached me with open arms, "How ya been goil?" He asked with a smile. I noticed a girl behind him, a small smile on her face. She looked like a mixture between Davy and Les, but was sort of pretty in her own way.
"Ey, I'se been good. Hell bent in Brooklyn a course. And by da way, da names Cross now," I said with a smile.
"I see ya got ya Newsie name," he said with a smile. I looked behind Jack at the girl. He noticed and slapped his hand to his forehead. "I apologize Cross, dis, oh dis is Sarah, the goil a my dreams," he said putting his arm intimately around her waist.
Her smile grew and she extended her hand to me, "Sarah Jacobs," she said, and then looked at Davy, "I'm Davy's sister," she said.
I took her hand, "Sara Clarke, aka, Cross. And I thought ya looked like Davy," I said jokingly with a smile taking my hand back.
I greeted the others, all of them complimenting my dress and hair. Race even told me he thought I looked gorgeous. Gorgeous, he said to me.
I walked with race and the gang to a table in the corner. The place was half filled with Manhattan newsies as we waited for Brooklyn to arrive.
"Always arrivin' fashionably lately," Race joked, a cigar hanging out of his mouth.
I looked around, seeing boys with some girls who looked like prostitutes straight off the streets, other then Sarah and I. "Wheah's ya date?" I asked Race, not looking at him.
He chuckled lightly and leaned on the table with his elbows, "I ain't got one," he said looking at me.
"Oh," I said with a small smile, looking back at him.
Just then, the room cooled as the doors of Irving Hall opened. In walked Brooklyn, being led by Spot, who had a brown haired whore under his arm. Her nose hooked down at the end and her eyes seemed shifty. Her hair was toppled on her head in show curls, her dress accentuated her chest, and her face was caked ten miles high in makeup.
And yet, for some odd reason, I envied her. I rolled my eyes and looked back a Race who stood up and waved at Spot.
"Conlon!" He called, waving his hand in the air.
Spot nodded his head up at Race and walked with his pet over to our table. I scoffed at his arrogant aura he held, keeping my back faced away from him.
"Race, my boy," he said shit shaking with him. The girl made a face of disgust and I rolled my eyes. Her normal face looked like one of disgust.
Spot sat down across from me, not even noticing that I was there. The girl sat on his lap and looked at me with a mean expression.
I scowled at her. Spot looked up at me and his laughing stopped. His mouth hung agape and her struggled to get words out of his mouth. The girl grew increasingly frustrated.
"Cross, ya look fantastic," he said in an awed whisper.
I wanted to smile, and blush, but I simply gave a fake grin, "Thanks, you too," I said.
I don't know why I was acting so irate right now, but I could not help it right now.
"Seriously, Cross, ya look amazin', striking actually," he said as he eyed me closely.
Before I could reply, the girl jumped from his lap, "Dis is how ya treat a goil on a date? Ya floirt wid othah goils? Doirty whores ta be exact," she said meanly in a thick jersey accent.
I slapped my hands down on the table, "You'se is callin' a whore? Look at you'se, ya look like ya a friggin' Sasquatch, bitch," I retorted meanly, leaning over the table.
Spot grabbed the girl down, and Race stood up and put a hand gently on my shoulder, "Would ya like ta go dance? Cool down a bit?" he asked kindly.
Not taking my eyes off the girl, I panted angrily, "Yea, I'se would like dat very much, Race, thank you," I said taking his hand in mine walking away.
I looked over my shoulder and through the corner of my eye, I saw Spot scowl. What the hell could he possibly be upset about?
Race took me out to the empty dance floor. "Uh, Race? Dere ain't no music heah," I said shrugging my shoulders.
He laughed and grabbed my hand, putting them around his neck, and then placed his hands on my hips. I blushed furiously at this action, but kept my mouth clenched shut tightly.
"Medda!" He called out unexpectedly, causing me to jump slightly.
Medda stuck her beautiful head through the curtains and smiled at Race, "Everybody's heah, babe, crank up da music!" he said.
She nodded, and looked down at the orchestra pit. She disappeared behind the curtain and music began to play. The curtains opened and Medda came out, smiling and bowing as she began to dance around the stage beginning to sing.
Race and I began to dance in rhythm. We talked about people in the crowd, and joked.
Yea, he was pretty cool.
A few songs later, I began to tire down. "Ya thoisty?" he asked as he kept dancing.
I simply nodded and with that, he walked me over to the drink table. "Would ya like a beer?" he asked handing me a cup.
I frowned and pushed the beer back towards him, "No thanks," I said in disgust.
He put the cup on the table, "Watah?" he asked handing me a separate cup. I nodded and gulped the whole cup down in one sip.
We sat at a table and talked more about the life of newsies.
There was a silence between us. All of a sudden, Race leaned in and caught me in a kiss.
I pushed him away, "What da hell was dat foah?" I asked.
Race growled and leaned back in his chair with a scowl, "Prude," he said, taking a sip of his beer after.
My mouth dropped open, but no words came out. I stood from the table, "Fine," I said as I stormed out of Irving Hall. I sat outside on the steps.
I put my head in my hands, "Tá sé seo olc, chomh dona. Cén fáth go raibh mé teacht anseo sa chéad áit?" I said to myself in my own language.
"Toisc go raibh tú spraoi a bheiuth acu," a voice from behind me answered.
I looked around, "How did ya know what I was sayin'?" I asked looking at Spot.
He shrugged sitting down next to me, "Me parents were straight off da boat. Whadda bout you'se? How da you know?" He said leaning back on his elbows, looking around.
I looked at my tapping feet, "Me parents were right off da boat from Ireland too. I mean, I only knew my ma since I was five, but I was bound ta pick up da language. I also spent most a my time ovah in Hell's Kitchen," I said simply.
Spot grunted in comprehension, "What's got ya in such a sour mood?" he asked.
I looked at him, "Whadda mean? I ain't in a sour mood," I said.
"Well den, why is you out here?" He asked.
I sighed and ran my hand through my curly hair, "Race," I said.
Spot looked over at me with raised eyebrows, "He kissed me," I whispered, Spot's jaw jutted out, "And I pushed him away," his jaw set back, "and he called me a prude," I added.
"Dat's it," Spot said, jumping up, his face angry.
I grabbed his hand, "No, Spot, jus' leave it," I said standing up now.
He looked at me, "I can' let him get away wid call you'se dat. Dat jus wasn't right of him. And I'se'll show him dat by puttin' my fist in his short Italian face," he said.
I sighed, "No, Spot, let's, let's jus' go back ta Brooklyn," I said taking his hand as I walked down the steps.
He growled, "A'right," he said angrily, "But if anyone evah insults ya like dat again, I'se won' be so nice," he grumbled.
We started our long walk to Brooklyn with a flattered grin.
Maybe I didn't hate Spot.
Maybe, just maybe, I actually liked this kid.
End of Chapter!
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Translation:
-Ta` sé seo olc, chomh dona. Cén fáth go raibh mé teacht anseo sa chéad áit: This is bad, so bad. Why did I even come here?
-Toisc go raibh tú spraoi a bheiuth acu: Because you wanted to have fun.