Summer 1893

"What're you doin' today?" Pat asked. He sat at the kitchen table, drinking steaming black coffee in long, slow sips.

Jack slumped in the chair across from him, barely awake. The sun was just coming up. "I dunno. Washin' windows for Miss Gracie this morning." His dark hair stuck up in all directions. Jack was 11 now, baby fat just starting to morph into broadening shoulders.

"Use that money to go to the bakery, would ya? And see what's at the market. Get whatever ya want. We just about outta everything."

Jack yawned and nodded. His father finished off his coffee, then sighed and stood up from the table. "Be good, lad." He said, and gently squeezed Jack's shoulder as he walked by. The door shut softly.

Three years later, the hole Evelyn and Ciara had left was still massive. Jack and Pat hadn't patched it, could never fill it, but they danced around the gaping silence, trying desperately not to sink into it.

They didn't live on the fourth floor of the old brick apartment anymore. Jack didn't know it when he was little, but his parents had spent years praying every single month that their rent wouldn't budge even a penny. Evelyn took in seamstress work for extra cash. Once she was gone, so was that income. Pat and Jack moved about six months after they'd lost them.

Jack missed the long, narrow room with the big window and the curves of the big black stove. He missed sitting with Ciara on the fire escape, their legs dangling dangerously over the edge, and he even missed the leaking ceiling in the corner above their bed. This new place-could he still call it new if they'd lived there nearly 3 years?-was tighter and smaller, but it wasn't horrible.

Somehow, though, there weren't any kids his age on the whole block. A few families on their floor had babies, and there was a pack of older boys, maybe 15 or 16, who'd begun working like the men as soon as they were tall enough to lie about their age. Jack could usually count on one hand the number of times a month he felt like going to school. Other than that, he didn't know any other 11-year-old boys. The endless warm days of winning at marbles, listening to Ciara's jump rope chants, and throwing snowballs in the alley behind their old building felt far away.

How could something feel like a million years ago when he'd only been alive for eleven?

Jack yawned again into his fist. He'd been up too late drawing. All week, he'd been trying to capture the sliver of skyline he could see through the kitchen window. It wasn't perfect yet. He slowly got dressed and attempted to comb down his hair, then grabbed an apple for breakfast. His father was right; they really needed to get groceries.

The day was already sweltering when he stepped outside. He ate his apple as he walked, weaving around in and out of traffic on his way to their old apartment. It was six blocks South and four and a half blocks East. He could do it in his sleep.

Miss Gracie's little girl, Alice, opened the door with a huge toothless smile before Jack could even knock. Miss Gracie and his mother had been friends because they were pregnant together. Alice was six, just a couple weeks younger than Molly. How old Molly should've been.

"Hey, Alice." Jack said. The little girl waved.

Miss Gracie was kneading bread, her hands sticky with dough, but she nodded her hello. "You know where the rags are." She said. "Get ya self a drink of water, too. Hot as blazes out there."

Jack got right to work. He and Miss Gracie both knew that she was capable of washing her own windows. But every Thursday for the past two years she'd given Jack a nickel to do it, and it wasn't a tradition either of them wanted to break.

He did the insides first, then the outsides. As he stood on the fire escape, stretching to reach every corner, he listened to the streets below. Kids shouted, carts rumbled over the rough streets, dogs barked. Heat made everyone angry. There was construction happening nearby, and like a little kid, he wondered if it could be his father.

"Thank you, Jack." Miss Gracie said when he was done. The windows shone. "You always do good work."

Jack smiled shyly and stuck his hands in his pockets. "Thanks, ma'am." She insisted he have a glass of water before he left, and gave him a cookie with his nickel.

On his way out, as he stomped down five flights of metal stairs, Jack glanced at the door of their old apartment. He didn't know the family that lived in it now.

.

Jack decided to take the long way to the market. He wasn't ready to be stuck in the apartment alone yet, and the skyline was only good to draw at night. As he turned a corner, he saw a sunburnt boy waving a newspaper.

"Extra! Extra!" the kid yelled. "Thief still at large!" He looked at Jack. "Hey, kid, wanna pape?" The boy held out the paper to Jack, and wiped the sweat from his face with his other hand.

Jack paused. This kid was his age, maybe a year older, tall and lanky, all bony elbows and skinned knees. Why did he look so familiar?

The kid let his arm drop to his side as he stared at Jack, his brow furrowed. "Do ya live over here?"

"Used to." Jack said. The boy nodded slowly.

"You ever go to school 27?"

"Wait…" Jack said. "Did you? 'Bout 3 years ago?"

"Yeah, yeah! You're...Jacob, right?"

"Jack." he said. "Jack Kelly."

The boy stuck out his hand. "Name's Racetrack. I was the one who was always sleepin'"

Jack grinned and shook his sweaty hand. "I, uh, don't have enough for a pape."

"No worries." Race said. "I'll sell plenty without ya. So ya still go to school 27?"

"Nah. Got bettah things to do."

"Me too." He adjusted the canvas sack of papes on his shoulder. "What ya up to?"

Jack shrugged. It really was too hot to be just wandering around.

Race turned from him to get the attention of a passing crowd. "Priceless jewels gone! Homes at risk! Get ya papes!"

A man in a suit more expensive than Jack's apartment stopped and handed Race a few coins. Jack squinted at the headline. He wasn't the best reader, but there wasn't a thing about jewelry. Far as he could tell, the theif was an ametuer, slipping odds and ends from store shelves and unattended carriages.

"Did ya make that up?" Jack asked as soon as the man turned away.

Racetrack smiled. "Just made it bettah." He said. "Gotta sell out somehow."

Then Jack knew what to do with his endless summer. "How'd ya get this job?"

.

Early the next morning, Jack left the apartment as soon as his father did. He clutched Miss Gracie's nickels in his pocket. Race told him he could get papes two for a penny at the distribution center uptown.

When Jack arrived, a dozen boys were standing around, leaning against the building and empty wagons. Race smiled when he saw him. "'ey , fellas, this is the new kid I was talkin' bout."

All eyes turned towards him and Jack's stomach froze. "Uh, hi." He said quietly.

Unlike the rough, intimidating shoe-shine boys Jack remembered, these boys just looked tired. They introduced themselves one by one with a tired wave or a curt nod. Most of them were a few years older, but a couple were about his age. Race was 11, of course. There was Mush, who said he was almost 12, but was so beefy and broad he could've passed for 15 or 16. Tommy was short and stocky, and only 10, but so quick and firey it more than made up for his size. "I's Italian." he explained, constantly, loudly. "Raised by Long Island women, ya know?"

The circulation bell clanged and the window of the center flew open. The boys leapt up to buy their papes and Jack got in line behind Race. One of the oldest boys showed him how to fold his papes and tuck them in his bag. It was heavier than he expected, but he didn't say anything.

"C'mon." Race said to Jack. "We's partners for today."

.

Jack fell into a chair almost as soon as he got home. He was sticky with sweat. His shoulders hurt from the heavy canvas bag, and his face was hot with sunburn. And he'd loved every second of it.

.

Jeez, took me long enough! But YAY tiny Newsie brothers! I love shy tiny Jack-Jeremy's talked about in interviews being a really quiet kid, and I wanted to play with that in Jack. We'll see how he grows...
Thanks to brighteyes for the suggestion of the boy Jack sat near at school being a future newsboy. More to come. maybe Monday, for sure after the holiday. Thanks for reading and reviewing! -Em