Hey guys! I hope someone is still reading this story, because I plan to keep updating like this! Please please R&R –Fighterr
Within minutes, I had been introduced to a dozen or so boys- Mush, Blink, Specs, Skittery, Crutchy, David, Les, and more. Apparently, the Jacobs brothers- Les and David- were in the same boat as me. They had just become newsboys days prior. It made me feel better that they were still smiling, and you know. Still alive.
Bumlets and Race walked me up towards the front of the line, towards their "leader". He would make the final call on if I could stay, and who I would sell with. I swallowed my nervousness, and put on an air of confidence, just like I had done during sorority rush. How bad could he be compared to the spoiled girls of Yale?
"Heya, Jack," Race began. They shook hands.
"Heya, Race. How was da races last night?" He replied. I was confused. He didn't go to the races last night.
"You know dat hot tip I told youse about?" He responded. Jack nodded. "Yeah, wells, nobody told da horse." They both cracked up laughing.
"Hey dere, Bum," Jack said, nodding towards Bumlets. "What did youse do last night?"
"Same thing as always," He said grinning. "Bumming in the bars, getting drinks from the city's finest."
Jack laughed, "You two could be related for all I'se know,"
I was steadily more confused. They were related. And they had spent last night with their parents and me. I didn't let the confusion show on my face.
"Dis here," Racetrack said, slapping me on my back. "Is one fresh off da boat. He's from Italy, wants a job heah, he was a cousin of me motha."
"Name?" Jack said, now interested. He was handsome, and stood with an air of power and confidence one only got with years of experience. His eyes were a warm, melting brown, and his skin was darkened by dirt. He wore a red bandana around his neck, which nowadays would have been a little too gangster to wear in public. He had muscular forearms, and big, strong hands that were worn.
"Enzo," I said deeply. He nodded.
"Do youse think youse gots what it takes to be a newsie?"
"Yes," I said without hesitation. "I can be a newsboy."
"A newsboy?" He guffawed loudly. "Well, well hoity toity, huh?"
I stuck my jaw out, and looked down on him. How was I freaking supposed to know you weren't supposed to call it a newsboy? That's what Francesca and Sal called it. I was silent. Bumlets looked at me with frightened anticipation. Jack's mood decreased instantly.
"So what, kid?" He said, leaning closer into me. "Youse got what it takes to lie to sell, steal to eat, and fight to live?"
"Yes." He got closer into my face, his voice getting lower in volume. I didn't flinch.
"You sure about dat?"
"Care to try me?" The words came out of my mouth faster than I could stop them, and they were dripping with acid. My heart was pounding, and the group around us became silent. I never broke eye contact.
To my surprise, he grinned. "Yeah, we'll take em. Enzo, youse gonna sell wit Race today cause you cousins."
I was surprisingly disappointed. I wanted to sell with Bumlets, the nicer and more pleasant counterpart. I looked at him, and he nodded quickly, affirming Jack's commands.
"Okay," I responded. Bumlets quickly explained the system that bought papers, and he recommended I start out with thirty "papes". When I stepped up to the barred window, there was an ugly man standing there.
"Thirty papers, please," I asked, handing him the money Bumlets had lent me. He looked at me disgusted.
"Thirty for the immigrant," He called out to his cronies. I looked at him with contempt. What an asshole! Being an immigrant wasn't a bad thing, and here he was, calling it out like he would say "convict" or "prostitute". I moved over to the other window.
"Thirty papers for the spic," The ugly teenager gloated handing me my papers. I was about to respond with where he could stick his papers when Bumlets put a hand on my back to calm me down. I glared icily and took the papers.
Bumlets, Race, and I walked away from the building.
"Ignore em," Race said, being surprisingly nice. "Dere assholes to everyone, not just the Italians."
I nodded.
"You're going to sell with Race, today. I'll meet up with you at lunch, and we can go get the housing situation handled. Race, look out for Enzo. We don't need any trouble."
"Yeah, yeah," Race responded. He cocked his head. "Dis way."
I followed him silently for a few blocks until he looked behind him to make sure there were no newsies around.
"So, youse probably wondering why Bum and I lied about what we did last night." I nodded. "To dat, I'm gonna say don't wonder about it. If youse gotta know, Bum and I don't wanna be a target to other boroughs and enemies by saying we brothers and dat we'd do anything for each other, yada yada.
"A lot of dese kids don't have families. Most of da lot is orphans, and it would be cruel to say wese going to our parents house for a hot meal, you know? I suggest you do the same. I know Fran and Sal ain't ya parents, but dere still someone dat cares for ya. So don't rub it in dere faces. Capisce?" He ended in Italian. I nodded.
"Capisco," I responded.
"Good," He said. "Let's get to selling. You know da prices and all dat already, so now wese gonna talk about marketing techniques. Youse need to improve da truth a little. Ain't nobody gonna buy any of your shit if you just read the damn headlines. You gotta add a little flair."
I nodded.
"Watch dis." He commanded. "Da headline says 'Trolley Strike Drags On'. A little boring, eh?" I nodded. He yelled, causing me to jump. "Innocent bystanders murdered by angry mobs! Children beaten in the streets!"
Three men immediately came up to Race and bought papers. I'm sure I looked impressed, and he smirked.
"Youse try." He said. I perused the paper for an article. There was a little blip on the bottom of the first page that said 'Mayor Enjoys Night Out On the Town'. Two could play that game.
"Mayor parties the whole night with multiple women! His alcoholism brought to light! What will the city do with a immoral mayor?" I shouted at the crowd walking by. I had four people come up to me. This time, Race looked impressed. I hoped I was getting on his good side.
"Good, kid," He said. "Dats da foist lesson. Headlines don't sell papes. Newsies sell papes."
The rest of the morning passed quickly. Race didn't ask me anything about my personal life, and we spoke in English when we did speak. He was no longer resentful, but borderline pleasant. I think he was impressed that I held my own, both with Jack and with selling papers. Soon, it was lunch time, and it was thankfully time to go see Bumlets. We met outside of a building that read "Newsboys Lodging House". (Yeah, it said newsBOYS, in your face, Jack!)
"How'd it go?" Bumlets asked when Race and I approached.
"Kid's gotta talent," Race said, and I tried not to beam. Bumlets looked proud.
"Good," He said.
We walked inside of the building and towards an old man at the front desk. He had white hair and wrinkled skin, but he had kind eyes. He reminded me of one of my favorite professors at Yale. I already liked him before he spoke.
"Heya Klopp," said Race. He looked up.
"Hello, boys," He said. He leaned closer. "No one else is here right now."
The boys looked visibly relieved.
"This is our cousin," Bumlets surprisingly lied. "He just moved here from Italy, and he needs a place to stay because he's a newsie now."
"Welcome," He said to me. "It's a nickel a week. We have an open bunk for you, next to Bumlets. All I ask is that you pay rent on Friday's, and don't bring girls into the house. Name?"
"Enzo," I said. I nearly laughed out loud when he said to not bring girls into the house. The irony of it all. "Enzo Strazzulla."
He wrote my name down in his book, and then glanced up at me. "I'll show you your bunk, and you can pay on Friday."
I nodded in understanding. He stood up, and we followed him. We entered into a room that had rows of bunk beds. Thankfully, we stopped at the one closest to what I assumed was the bathroom door. It was the bottom bunk. Bumlets sat down on the bunk directly next to me.
"Here's me!" said Bumlets.
"And me," said Race, from near the middle of the room. I guess brotherly love didn't include close contact. Race was an odd bird.
I looked around, almost in wonder. A week ago, my only concern was passing my classes and lowering my running times. And now, I was stuck in 1899, living in a house with all boys, and paying 20 cents a month in rent. I had to stop myself from laughing.
"That's settled, then," said Bumlets. "Let's go to lunch."
"Tibby's?" replied Race.
"Tibby's." said Bumlets.