I was nervous. Going to see Ingrid, that is. Ace had arranged for her to come over without her parents' knowledge. I knew this was a big step for her; she'd defied her parents about as often as I had-which was never! The Meyers were far stricter than my parents had ever been, though, so I appreciated her coming over. We met early the next morning in the little park at the end of the Brooklyn Bridge. It's really just a grove of trees, but it is close to the lodging house and not that far from were Ingrid lived. I hadn't eaten anything that morning, and my stomach was doing flips. I had insisted that the boys sell as normal, so Jimmy and I were alone on a bench in the park, waiting for Ace to bring Ingrid over.
"Katja!" I heard her familiar voice yelling my name. I looked up and saw Ingrid running toward me from the path to my right, and I stood up to greet her. She was smiling as she pulled up in front of me.
"Ace told me I wasn't allowed to give you a hug," she panted in German, her eyes glowing. "But I almost forgot. It's so good to see you!"
"You, too," I said, and I meant it. It was so good to hear her voice, see her smile, and even hear and speak my family's native tongue.
"So what happened? Where were you? Where are you staying now? What are you doing? How can I help? Why no hugs? Did something happen? How come the newsies knew where you were?" The questions tumbled from her mouth in one long stream with no pause even for a breath.
"It's a bit of a long and kind of tough story," I said. "To be honest, I'm nervous about telling you or anyone, but Spot said I could trust you, and I think he's right."
That stopped her in her tracks. She instantly sobered and motioned for us to sit on the bench. She looked at me quizzically, her expression inviting and patient. I took a deep breath and launched into my story.
"After Papa died, Spot found out that the police were going to send me to an orphanage and take my family's things," I said, hoping this would be a good place to start. "So he and the boys took me and all my things to the lodging house. Don't worry-I have my own room and everything. The boys have been very respectful. But that night the police came looking for me. I hid up on the roof, and the boys covered for me. At work the next day they came for me again. Antonio-my boss-sent me to his apartment to hide. Then he told me Spot wanted me to stay there in hiding. He kept me there for almost six weeks. I never left his apartment, and I had no idea the boys were looking for me."
"Not just the boys," Ingrid put in, and I looked up at her in surprise. "Mutti and Vati put a notice for information on your whereabouts in the paper about two weeks after your Papa died. We were looking for you, too. We haven't told them you've been found yet. Ace told me you were with the boys, but we decided Mutti and Vati wouldn't like that, so we haven't told them yet. They don't know that you're safe."
Wow. I hadn't thought of that-that our family's other friends would be looking for me. I thought back to the one or two times Santorelli hadn't brought me a paper. I had been so involved in my own problems that I had failed to consider how the past few months would have affected Mama and Papa's friends. How selfish I had been. I would have to fix that wrong in the coming days. I bit my lip. How could I do that if I could barely tell Ingrid this next part? Turning back to the present, I caught her question.
"So why did your boss want you in his apartment?" she asked.
Here it was. The moment of truth. I took a deep breath, looked at Ingrid, and dropped my eyes again. "Sex," I said, barely loud enough for her to hear me. I heard her gasp in reaction, so I knew she heard me. She was silent, so I screwed up my courage and continued. "I didnt want to or anything, but he sort of made me. After awhile I couldn't take it anymore, so I left. But he had tricked me into thinking I needed to hide out. I thought I had no safe place to go, so I ended up wandering around Manhattan. That was almost two weeks, until Spot found me last Sunday," I finished, still staring down at the dirt under the bench. The silence seemed almost eternal, but it must have only been a moment before Ingrid spoke.
"Katja, I don't even know what to say," she said. I didn't react because I was too busy fighting for control. It wasn't that saying the words was hard-I mean, it was, but it was much harder not knowing how Ingrid would react. I wanted to be ready for anything, and that level of steeling myself was, quite honestly, beyond me. It required every ounce of concentration I had to prepare for a potential reaction, so I couldn't look up at Ingrid. "I wish I had known. It seems stupid to say I'm sorry this happened, but I am. I don't know if there is anything I can do, but I hope you'll tell me if there is," she said.
Well, I hadn't expected such unconditional support. I have to say that for all my preparation to be rejected, I hadn't prepared to be supported. It took me off guard, and I started crying in spite of all my best intentions. I managed to look up at Ingrid, and I saw her eyes were tearing up.
"Thanks," I said. "Just not walking away is the best thing you could do." She looked horrified and affronted at the suggestion.
"Of course I wouldn't walk away. How could anybody?" she asked.
"But I was so stupid. I should have-" I started, but the weight of the sheer number of things I should have done stopped the words in my throat.
"But it doesn't matter what you should have done. Anyway, it's not like you could have known. You said he tricked you. So it isn't your fault, see?" she said. Funny, that's what Spot had said.
"Spot said you'd say that," I said, the corners of my mouth lifting. Maybe things would be okay.
We spent the morning wandering around the park with Jimmy, catching up on the last two months. Mostly that meant that Ingrid asked me lots of questions about the last few weeks, and I did my best to answer. I have to say that, while it was hard to talk about some of that stuff, it was also good. I know it helped, and she was not only understanding, but also insightful. She was able to restore some of my feeling of self-worth, and quite frankly, she made me laugh.
It turned out she was a bit shocked at my having known Emma and a few of the other girls from the New Years party she had not been allowed to attend, and I'm willing to bet her reaction was similar to what mine had been that night. We talked about how they might have ended up becoming working girls and their kindness toward me. We talked about school and all the people there I hadn't seen in so long. We talked about Papa and all that had happened since he had died. We talked about my time in Manhattan and living on the streets. And we talked about the newsies.
It turned out that the Meyers, while fine with Ingrid talking to newsies in general, had noticed her preference for Ace and had intervened. She had strict rules regarding curfew and the like that she had to follow now, and I could tell it was hard on her. She explained that she would still see Ace regularly in secret, but that she also wanted to be a good and respectful daughter. I could see that the deceit was tearing her apart. I didn't really have any advice for her, but I listened sympathetically. I couldn't imagine being told I was not allowed to see Spot at all.
"So tell me about what's going on with you and Spot," she finally said, switching gears back to me. I wasn't quite sure what to call it and had barely opened up my mouth to answer when Ace came trotting up.
"Sorry to interrupt, ladies, but it's nearly noon," he said. Ingrid grimaced.
"I told Mama that I was helping Mrs. Larsson clean today," she explained.
"She's an old friend of my ma's," Ace added, grinning impishly. I smiled as he continued, "She always said if I ever needed anything to let her know. I helped her out instead and she agreed to cover for us," he said. He handed Ingrid a number of coins, and I realized he had skipped selling to do this work, then given Ingrid his earnings. I put it on my mental list of funds to repay once I got a job.
"I have to go," Ingrid said, rising to her feet. "I'll see you soon?"
"Of course," I said, reaching over and giving her a quick hug. Somehow it's not scary that way. Sort of like it's not scary with Spot-as long as it's quick, not too tight, and I know it's coming. She smiled in surprise as I stepped back.
"I'm glad you're okay," she said as Ace grabbed her hand and fairly ran off with her. Jimmy and I headed back to the lodging house, and I have to admit I felt a bit bereft. But I grabbed Spot's slingshot and headed to the docks with Jimmy, ignoring my slight hunger almost out of habit. I pulled out the pebbles I had collected and lined up three bottles to practice.
I had been at it for several minutes and had yet to hit a bottle when Spot showed up.
"You're holding it too tightly," he said, smirking.
"Yeah, yeah," I muttered. Show off. But I did soften my hand a bit and try again. My next pebble hit the rail just below the bottles. Still a miss, but barely. Okay, then.
"How'd it go?" he asked. He was keeping his voice light, but I could hear the seriousness of this question.
"It was great. I didn't realize how much I had missed her," I said. He grinned.
"Told ya," he quipped.
"It was also good to speak German again," I said in German, knowing this would earn me a blank look.
"Darlin', Mr. Donovan has me studying Greek and Latin to get me into college, but your tongue still eludes me," he said. "That's not fair."
"I guess you'll just have to learn," I said in English. "In the meantime, allow me some satisfaction in being able to do something you can't." His rueful grin and shrug of defeat made me laugh.
"Since that went so well, how do you feel about heading over to Manhattan? We need to talk to Muriel sooner rather than later," he said. I shrugged. It wasn't like I had other plans, and given how well this morning had gone, I was feeling pretty good. Besides, I was itching to see her, to make sure she was okay.
"Sounds good," I said, and he nodded.
"I'll check in with Lefty, then we can go. Give me ten minutes. Maybe by then you will have hit one of those bottles," he said, smirking as I stuck my tongue out at him before turning back to my slingshot practice.