November 1896
Jack and Buttons stood together on a corner as people pushed past them, eager to get home from work.
"Get ya papes!" Buttons called. He stood on a step to try to get the attention in the crowd. "President-Elect McKinley's first speech right here! Inauguration plans!"
Jack rubbed his hands together to try to warm them. At least there was some sunshine. "They alls read the speech already, kid." Jack said. "It's almost old news now. The ones that are gonna bother read it first thing in the morning paper."
"Did you read it?" Buttons asked.
Jack rolled his eyes. "Hell no." Another crowd of people pushed past them. "But, hey, ya said inauguration right." The two of them had worked on that pronunciation half the morning.
Buttons jumped down from the step and pulled at Jack's coat pocket to count their coins. "Think we got enough for dinner tonight?"
Jack felt the coins in his pocket and did the math in his head. "Not with rent at the lodge going up." he said. Each of the boys now paid 15 cents a week instead of 10, and they were all feeling it.
"Please, Jack," The nine-year-old said. "I'm so hungry."
Jack sighed. He was hungry too, an empty, gnawing feeling that would just get worse before it got better. The meals they got from the church were better than nothing, but they weren't enough. None of the boys had eaten since early yesterday, and the world was starting to feel fuzzy and foggy. "I know, kid." Jack said. He handed him another paper. "Here, make something up. I'll be right back."
There were several shops across the street. Maybe someone would be willing to make him a deal since it was the end of the day. Jack dodged carriages and carts on the way to bakery.
The man behind the counter raised an eyebrow at Jack as soon as he opened the door. "Can I help ya, son?" he said.
The warm air and smells of fresh bread felt like a welcome hug, but he was afraid to get too comfortable. "Um, you closing soon, ain't ya, sir?" Jack said. He shuffled his feet.
"'Bout 10 minutes."
"You, um, you don't have anything you can get me a deal on, do ya?"
The man shook his head and gestured to the almost-empty display case. "Sorry, kid." He said.
"Or anything you was gonna get rid of? Really, anything. I don't got much, but I'm honest, sir. I'm willing to pay." he reached inside his coat pocket and counted his coins again. He had seventeen cents and unless Buttons sold them out by some miracle, he was losing money on those papes. It was Friday. His room and board was due tonight.
The baker shrugged. "Not getting rid of a thing. Just about sold out today, and what I've got left is for my family and I tonight." He smiled warmly at Jack. "But come back first thing tomorrow, we'll have plenty of anything ya want."
Jack nodded. The baker locked the cash drawer and returned to the kitchen to finish cleaning up.
There was a display of sugar cookies on top of the counter: five perfect circles on a tray, and a sign next to them saying they were a nickel each. Jack's stomach grumbled just looking at them. He reached up, grabbed three, and shoved them into his coat pocket.
Every muscle tightened. Had he really just done that? He glanced over his shoulder, then got on his toes to peek through the little doorway into the kitchen. He didn't see the baker.
Jack turned, threw the door open, and sprinted down the block back to where Buttons waited.
"Where'd you go?" Buttons said. "I sold one more pape." He proudly held up a coin.
Jack put his hands on his knees to catch his breath. "Went to try to get us something to eat."
Buttons' face lit up. "What'd ya get?"
Jack pulled one of the cookies from his pocket and Buttons snatched it from him. "I stole it." Jack said. He licked his lips. "Shit...I can't believe I did that."
The younger boy's mouth fell open. "You stole these?" He whispered, and he looked down at the already-half-eaten cookie in his hand.
The other two cookies felt like lead weights in his pocket. Across the street, he saw the baker come out of his shop and lock the door. Jack turned to face the building behind him, even though he was half a block away.
"What are ya doing?" Buttons stood on the steps of the building again, trying to make eye contact with Jack. "Can I have another cookie?"
"Shh!" Jack said. "The baker's gonna see us."
"No, he won't, stupid." Buttons said. "He probably don't even know it was you."
Jack looked over his shoulder. The baker was walking in the other direction, fading into the crowd, so Jack turned back around. "He was nice to me." He shook his head.
"So?" Buttons said. "We need it. We're hungrier than he is."
God, he was so hungry. The sun was just starting to set, and it was going to get below freezing soon. They had three papes left. And two more of those dang cookies in Jack's pocket.
"Can't argue with ya stomach, right?" Jack said. He handed Buttons another cookie.
"Right." Buttons said.
Jack took a bite. It tasted like butter and shame.
.
That night, as they laid in their bunks, Jack fessed up to Race.
Race laughed. "Welcome to the club." he said. "Wanna know how much shit I've nabbed in the last couple months? You thinks I got the cash to get any of us smokes? Think Tugboat or Kid Blink or any of the guys 'round here when we was younger never had to steal when times got rough?"
"Yeah." Jack said. "Guess you right."
"Don't beat ya self up, Jackie." Race said. Jack didn't know when they'd started calling him Jackie. He rolled over and tried to sleep.
The baker's face, the baker's money didn't matter anymore. Buttons was right, they needed it more. Doin' what I gotta do for the guys...for the little ones. He told himself.
.
A couple days later, Jack tipped an apple into his bag as he walked past the market, nestling it in between newspapers as he kept walking. He could've sworn everyone was staring at him as he hustled up the block. He kept his eyes forward.
Then he did it again on the other side of town, grabbing another two to share with the boys.
Stealing was getting easier already. Whenever that made Jack feel gross inside, he pictured the relief on his brothers' faces whenever he brought them something, thought of how he finally had enough to function, thought of how winter-and coughs that shook the lodge every Christmas-was approaching fast. We need it more.
.
The circulation in Crutchie's right leg was awful. The rainbow of colors his twisted, atrophied foot turned-red when he was hot or standing too long, purple or blue if it was cold, sometimes ghostly white-was just another effect of the polio that'd almost killed him when he was nine.
Jack and Albert had been the ones who found him a year and a half ago, leaning in the alley behind the bank. He was begging for change and hiding from Morris Delancey, who'd given him a black eye just for fun. Crutchie was almost ten, but the size of a six-year-old. His feet were red then, and all scraped up because he didn't have shoes.
"Come stay at the lodge with us." Jack immediately offered. He helped him to his feet and drug him back to the lodge. The older boys-this was right before Tugboat got on a train to head West-somehow found him a crutch, and a newsies cap, and from then he was family.
As November crept on and the first snow flurries started to fall, Crutchie's bad leg was stiff and sore, and rainbow more often than not.
"Wish I could get me some good socks." Crutchie would say almost every night as he massaged his feet.
All the kid wanted was a pair of socks that weren't patchy, worn hand-me-downs. He just wanted to keep his feet warm. Jack thought he could handle that.
There was a clothing store near the lodge where a pair of pants cost more than Jack made in a month. There was a rack of socks in a corner. They were nicer than anything Jack had seen in a long time: thick and soft, knit by a machine with perfectly uniform stitches. No one was around. He slipped a navy pair into the very inside pocket of his jacket, then pretended to look at some buttons.
"Thanks, mister." Jack called over his shoulder as he left.
Crutchie would be thrilled.
Jack stepped around a couple people as he walked up the block, fast, but not fast enough to be suspicious.
"Hey!" he heard someone shout behind him. "Hey, you! Kid in the hat! Stop right there!"
Jack walked a little faster and glanced around to see if he could cross the street. A carriage sped in front of him.
A policeman's whistle shrieked.
xxx
All Jack wants to do is protect the people he loves, dangit! *tears* This was tough to write for some reason, but I'm pretty happy with it. Let me know what you think! Next chapter will be the Refuge! Thanks for reading and reviewing, fansies ~Em
(ALSO if you haven't seen clips of Jeremy and Ashley's show last night, go treat yourself. It's lovely)