The Art of Affection
Summary: It would have been a straightforward enough return trip home had not the voices of the past seen fit to interject.
A/N: This installment takes place immediately following the first part of Chapter 123 of Something Worth Winning and is OC-centric, focusing on the Bronx newsie Calico as she makes her way back from Manhattan to her own territory. Please be forewarned that it contains a few instances of profanity/coarse language (if you know my writing style, you know that these are very few and far between, so I felt that a heads up was warranted).
Here we go!
The wind gusts up cold and damp as Calico makes her way down Duane Street away from the newsboy lodging house. She can almost smell the scent of the approaching rain in the evening air (though if the weather report is to be believed, the coming storm won't hit until Thursday), and this makes her all the more satisfied that she's lined her pockets tonight in preparation for what promises to be no small shower.
Looks like the toffee will have to wait, she hears Mesch's voice in her head.
Toffee had been a staple in the cook's kitchen, for the master of the house had possessed a particular weakness for it, and Mesch had been nothing if not obliging when it came to indulging his employer's gustatory predilections. The approach of rain - of any dampness, really - had occasionally precluded the endeavor, but Mesch had kept an extra stash of toffee in the pantry for just such occasions, and under his watchful eye, the crystal candy dish on the counter had never run empty.
Calico finds her mouth watering at the mere thought of the cook's toffee, and she sighs a little in regret, knowing that it's too late to make a stop at the confectionery shop that she's occasionally passed on her previous visits to Manhattan.
Of course, nothing could compare to Mesch's toffee. His recipe was meticulously fine-tuned, the perfect blend of buttery sweetness topped with a layer of rich chocolate and finished off with a sprinkling of almonds that added just the right amount of crunch. It was the kind of treat that satisfied from the very first bite while simultaneously leaving you wanting more, and Calico had done her fair share of raiding the candy dish behind the cook's back, though she suspects that Mesch had always known of her antics and had simply chosen not to remark on them.
She's been hearing the man's voice in her head more often, lately - his, along with others from her past - and though she hasn't given much thought to what their unlooked-for encroachment might mean, she knows that it's significant somehow. She isn't much for superstition, but these occasional intrusions have come and gone often enough in the past where she knows that they're generally harbingers of some sort.
Well, let the voices pester as they please; the meaning of their portent will surface soon enough, and in the meantime, there are more pressing things to think about.
Turning onto Broadway, Calico continues north, following the directions that Racetrack had provided at her request. She's keen to see the tenement where Sophie Higgins is staying, and it's only a little bit out of her way, so she's decided to swing by and take a look before she returns to her own borough. There's only so much that one can tell about a place - or its people - from the outside, of course, but she is curious by nature, and wants to know what her soon-to-be recruit's living situation is currently like.
The prospect of having Racetrack's sister to watch over in the near future isn't the burden that an outsider might suppose. It will mean another responsibility, of course, and with things going the way they are in the Bronx, that's no small thing, but Calico is pleased to be entrusted with the task, and managing another girl among the many whom she already oversees won't really be such a hassle. Her charges know how to look out for themselves and how to take initiative, and soon Sophie Higgins will, too.
It will be another adjustment for the young girl (especially if her current living situation is as comfortable as Racetrack has described), but Calico is confident that, in time, the Bronx will become home enough for Sophie, just as it has become for her. Home, after all, is not a matter of sentimentality but of settledness. It's having a place to return to at the end of the day, full of people you like well enough, and being able to stay in that place if you want to without fear of the powers that be evicting you on a whim, simply because they can.
Perhaps for the materialistic or the maudlin, there's more to home than this - goodness knows there are domestic luxuries and sappy notions enough to be had for those who desire them - but time and experience have done little to instill in Calico an appreciation for such things. Said amenities may enhance a person's experience to a degree, but that only makes the loss of them more acute, and she'd rather her home be predictably stable than full of niceties that might be snatched away at any given moment. She has, for some time, ceased to want anything more than a space to call her own, and is quite content with her current situation. A roof over her head, her own bunk and a small but serviceable cubby for her personal items, and the filling meals of the lodging house are all that she needs.
(The recent memory of Mesch's toffee cheekily interjects here, belying her assertion, but Calico dismisses the thought as an outlier).
Refocusing her attention on her task, she turns onto Baxter Street, keeping an eye out for the tenement that Racetrack had described. It's easy enough to locate, a well-maintained edifice that stands out merely because it lacks the sagging, sorry appearance of its neighbors, and Calico can't help but appreciate the property manager's dedication to its upkeep.
She skirts the building, noting that there's an easily-accessible area behind the tenement, but electing not to venture much further beyond having a peek. A part of her would like to investigate further, but it's already getting late into the evening, and any prowling around would probably look suspicious, especially on a chilly night like this when the rain is threatening and most people have already sought shelter inside.
As she returns to the front of the building, the sound of a girlish voice reaches her ears, floating down from the tenement's rooftop, and Calico stops in her tracks to listen. It's not a particularly loud or piercing voice, but in the quiet of the near-deserted street, it carries well enough, and Calico's hearing has always been keen (and her temperament not above eavesdropping), so it's only second nature for her to listen in.
"Davey Jacobs, what are you doing up here so late at night?"
The name jars Calico for a moment before she belatedly remembers that Thimble lives here, too - he is the reason why Sophie's found lodging in the first place. Racetrack had explained those details, but Calico hadn't been particularly interested in Thimble's role in the matter, and she certainly hadn't expected to run across him, no matter how indirectly, on her homebound detour.
Since she has, however, she might as well see what she can learn about him.
"I could ask you the same thing, Chare," Thimble replies from above. "I thought you were working at the tailor's tonight."
"I returned just a few minutes ago," his companion explains. "I noticed on my walk back that the rain seems to be threatening, so I decided to move the planter box to a more sheltered place. The thyme in particular does poorly when it gets deluged. And I thought that I might rescue the laundry why I'm at it, just in case we're in for an early shower."
"Let me help you," Thimble offers.
"Only if I won't be taking you away from anything important," the girl demurs. "You never answered my question about your own reason for being up here, you know."
"I wasn't doing anything important. Just thinking."
The girl's reply is too quiet for Calico to make out, and the voices above her fade for a moment as she hears the sound of something - perhaps the aforementioned planter box - being lifted and set down in a different location. She considers leaving at this juncture, for she isn't sure that eavesdropping on Thimble's conversation with his neighbor will be worth her time, but just as she turns to go, the voices move within earshot again, and Calico catches the sound of a familiar name.
"Sophie is looking a lot better, Chare. Your family has taken good care of her, and it shows."
There's a note of satisfaction in the girl's voice as she replies, "I'm pleased to hear that you think so. It's been lovely having her with us; Lilly absolutely adores her company - we all do, in fact - and I think that my mother is happy to be able to feed her guest at least one hearty meal a day. She speaks in the language of hearth and home, and takes a particular interest in sussing out what dishes might be especially preferred by tenants and visitors alike."
"That seems accurate," Thimble laughs. "I noticed that she sent a cider cake to our family after Les ate nearly a whole one by himself at the tenement party, and I did wonder why she seemed to be baking whenever I stopped in."
"Oh, Mama hasn't forgotten the compliment that you gave her apple pie the first time you made her acquaintance," the girl assures him. "You might as well consider the dessert inevitable, now, for until you tell her that you've grown tired of it, you may expect to see it over and over again."
"No complaints here; everything your mom makes is delicious."
"She is a wonderful baker and cook," the girl agrees.
Abruptly, she falls silent, but Thimble must understand the meaning behind her lapse in conversation, for after a moment, he says lightly,
"You know, I think you're a lot more like your mom than you think, Chare - at least when it comes to hospitality. You might not 'speak the language of hearth and home' in the way that she does, but you have your own way of caring for people and making them feel welcomed."
The girl's answer is again too quiet for Calico to hear, but she must put up a token protest, for Thimble chuckles, and his voice becomes warmer as he adds,
"Of course I'm not just saying that. You know I don't say things unless I mean them."
Silence descends again, the girl perhaps pondering his reply and Thimble content to let her muse uninterrupted. It's an easy, companionable lull, the kind that settles between two people the way a cat settles into a small space and makes itself at home, and Calico finds herself feeling suddenly wistful, for it's been some time since she's been able to find such wordless peace in another person's company.
The wind picks up just then, gusting through the streets and sending debris skittering over the sidewalk, and she pulls her shawl closer around her shoulders, thankful for its warmth against the evening chill.
"Are you shivering?" the girl asks suddenly from above.
"Just a little," Thimble replies. "I'll be fine."
The girl tsks. "For someone who dislikes the cold so much, you certainly have a way of neglecting to arm yourself against it. You're not even wearing a coat!"
"I didn't expect to be up here this long," Thimble admits. "In reference to thinking, I mean - not because I'm helping you with the laundry."
"But the fact is that you are helping me with the laundry, which in turn is prolonging your exposure to the wind," the girl contends. "You really ought to go inside now."
"I'm not leaving you out here to finish this by yourself."
Calico quietly scoffs at this idiotic gallantry. It doesn't surprise her, for she's seen enough of Thimble to know that he's well meaning but entirely capable of acting as though he possesses only half a brain sometimes, and she wonders what he thinks his stubbornness will accomplish. The girl is not demanding his continued assistance and is urging him to seek shelter, in fact, so she clearly wouldn't take offense if he were to bow out now before the task was done.
A thought suddenly jogs Calico's memory, bringing her back to the time she'd first met Thimble at Irving Hall on the night of the newsies' rally. She'd picked his pocket then, wanting to quickly establish her presence and to see how far she could throw him off balance, and though she hadn't managed to hold on to her prize (thanks to Racetrack's intervention), she still remembers the item that she'd nearly pilfered from her then-new acquaintance the way she remembers all of the items that she's gotten her hands on.
It had been a lady's thimble made of copper with a sizable crack and three initials etched on its shiny surface. Calico had assumed that it was a sentimental token of some sort (an assumption corroborated by Thimble's flustered and thinly-veiled desire to repossess what otherwise would have been a useless and easily replaceable item), and now she has a sneaking suspicion that she knows whom the implement belonged to before it came into the other newsie's possession. The girl on the rooftop works at a tailor's shop, so clearly she's good with a needle and thread, and - perhaps even more incriminating - she has a warm rapport with the boy in question, so it's entirely possible that she'd given him the thimble as a symbol of her affection. If Calico remembers correctly, one of the initials on the thimble's surface matches up with the girl's rather unusual name as well, so that is another piece of supporting evidence.
The conversation above her has devolved into good-natured banter, the girl insisting and Thimble refusing to bow to her concerns, and it's clear that these lighthearted squabbles are quite in character, for there's a fond give and take to them that render their words more earnest than sharp.
Another pang of wistfulness suddenly sets in, more aching than before, but Calico pushes it aside.
"Fine," the girl huffs from above. "If you're going to insist on being ridiculous, it falls to me to be the sensible one, so I'll propose a compromise. Here is Papa's scarf hanging on the line; it's clean and dry and will ward off the chill. If you consent to wear it while we finish the laundry, I'll waive my demand for you to go inside immediately to get warm."
Thimble begins to protest, but the girl quickly cuts him off.
"Your remonstration won't work on me, I'm afraid; I'm not about to let you stand there shivering when there's something that I can do about." Her tone turns playful as she adds, "Now come here, if you please."
Thimble falls silent, but eventually he must capitulate, for Calico hears the sound of footsteps on the rooftop, followed by the sound of the girl's teasing voice.
"Must you really be so inconveniently tall?"
"You say that as though I can do anything about it."
"You could condescend to lower yourself so that I could reach you more easily!"
"I could," Thimble agrees, "...but it's kind of fun to watch you struggle. Perhaps a ladder might help?"
The girl huffs again at his cheeky reply, and the sound of a scuffle ensues, followed by a surprised giggle and Thimble's lower-timbered laugh.
"You're insufferable, Davey Jacobs!" the girl declares, and Calico can tell that she is having a very difficult time mustering up the sternness to match her words.
This time Thimble's answer is too quiet to overhear, and the conversation grows gradually softer, leaving Calico to only guess at what may be transpiring between the two on the rooftop who are ostensibly only completing a mundane chore, but seem to be engaged in business of a far less utilitarian kind.
When the murmur of voices fails to return to an audible level after several moments, she decides that there's no point in staying any longer.
Turning to go, she pulls her shawl around her, steeling herself for the walk back to the Bronx. She's made this trek countless times before, and knows the route like the back of her hand, but if the wind continues gusting up like this - or worse, if the rain begins to fall before she's made it back - it could be an unpleasant return trip, especially if the melancholy longing that's come out of nowhere insists upon accompanying her. She's not in the mood to entertain heartache tonight, and if she must dwell on the past, she'd far rather muse on the memories of Mesch's toffee than be haunted by regrets of the far, far sweeter things that she has lost.
Rumination will get you nowhere, she reminds herself. Let the mourning be over and done with, for giving it quarter - no matter how small - is only extending an invitation for it to stay.
She turns her thoughts away from the memories that linger, and focuses her attention instead on the events that have transpired over the course of the evening. Melancholy feeling aside, she doesn't regret coming to Manhattan tonight, for she's pleased to have been able to offer a solution to Sophie Higgins' housing problem, and she's picked up some unexpected information about Thimble as well, thanks to her spontaneous detour. Knowing that he gets easily cold and has a liking for apple pie and isn't above flirting on the rooftop with his neighbor won't give her an edge on him the next time their boroughs meet for negotiations, but these pieces of information might still prove useful under the right circumstances, and it never hurts to know as much as possible about the people within your orbit, especially those with any degree of power. Thimble, of course, is less of an official leader than a casual advisor when it comes to the Manhattan newsies, but Calico senses from her own observations and from Racetrack's disclosures that Thimble's influence runs far deeper than appearances would suggest.
This cobbled-together leadership structure - Kelly and Racetrack sharing lodging house leader duties with Thimble rounding out their triad in an advisor role - is somewhat surprising, for Calico's own encounters with Jack Kelly have predisposed her to think that he isn't one to welcome outside input…but perhaps that's an erroneous assumption, for there's one thing that Racetrack and Thimble have in their favor that she doesn't, and it's something that Kelly puts an inordinate amount of stock in.
The memory of their earliest acquaintance still rankles.
She'd heard good things about the then-newly-minted leader of the Manhattan newsies and had been ready to meet him as equals, despite the fact that her own experience far exceeded his, but he'd barely acknowledged her presence, choosing to direct all of his attention to Jax and to the other (lower ranking) boys, and even going so far as to talk over her when she'd spoken up in their conference. His belittling behavior had immediately incited Calico's ire, but she'd held her tongue, knowing that lashing out would only serve to further his dismissive opinion of her.
A girl's got no place chimin' in about the business of leadin' a group of fellas, had been Kelly's words, and he hadn't even had the decency to say so to her directly, speaking the words instead as a general pronouncement as though she was only a fly on the wall rather than a living, breathing, thinking participant in their discussion. Jax had spoken up then, mildly explaining that the Bronx functioned differently and that all of the newsies in the territory were under his and Calico's joint leadership, but Kelly had only shrugged at the clarification and had continued his discourse as before.
Calico's abhorrence of him had crystalized from that moment.
Her interactions with Kelly since then have been few and far between, but he has done nothing to redeem that abysmal first impression, and while a part of her knows that his boorish behavior stems less from animosity than it does from ignorance, that doesn't make it any easier to swallow. The assertion that Kelly has supposedly changed (according to Racetrack) after falling in love with a "smart girl" only makes it worse, for in Calico's mind, being listened to merely because you are attractive is its own kind of belittlement, no matter what type of "sincere" respect might take root afterwards. This girl reporter, apparently, has no such qualms, but if she's really as smart as all that, she'd do well to ask herself if her beau is enamored with her mind, or if his fascination is of a far more carnal nature. A true appreciation for the female voice and its contributions means a respect that extends beyond one's own sweetheart, and until Kelly shows evidence of this, Calico will think of him as disdainfully as she has before. She wants no favors, only the same respect accorded to the other newsie leaders and a chance to prove her worthiness to stand beside them, but he's given her neither one, and unless he does, she will not forgive him for it.
That doesn't mean, however, that she will let bitterness cloud her own judgment.
If she'd been more apt to do so (or if her loyalty to Racetrack hadn't been so strong), the Bronx would have never shown up at the rally that hot night in July when Manhattan had been on the ropes and desperate for allies to come to her aid. Gar had been disinclined to attend the function in the first place and had been prepared to send a runner along with an excuse for his newsies' absence, but Calico had stepped in, offering to take a contingent down to Irving Hall herself, and pointing out that it would behoove them to at least make an appearance, for Brooklyn would be there. That reason alone had been enough to procure Gar's agreement; Manhattan could be slighted easily enough, but Brooklyn was not to be dismissed so easily, and if Spot Conlon had seen fit to muster his newsies to attend this rally, it must be an important meeting indeed.
Gar had made her promise not to pledge the Bronx's support unless Conlon's newsies did so as well, and Calico had agreed, privately conflicted herself about Manhattan's ability to see the strike through to completion. To her surprise, the rally had turned out to be quite well-organized and well-run, and when she'd discovered that Racetrack had been half of the brains behind it (along with the clearly intelligent yet simultaneously stupid Thimble), she'd found herself more inclined to be sympathetic towards their cause, even if she'd held back from officially saying so in keeping with her promise to Gar.
She'd wondered at Kelly's noticeable absence from the proceedings, but had eventually become so caught up in the entertainment and spectacle of the night that when the Manhattan leader had suddenly appeared onstage, urging capitulation to Pulitzer and ignoring the obvious disbelief of his lieutenants, she'd found herself equally astonished and dismayed at the bizarre drama unfolding before her eyes.
She'd known that Kelly was a boor and a blowhard, but she hadn't pegged him as a turncoat, and her eyes had immediately gone to Racetrack, watching the emotions flicker across the gambler's face as he'd stood by helplessly offstage, too seemingly stunned to do anything to stop his leader from ruining the rally. She would have decked Kelly for his treachery, but Conlon had interjected first, and after that, everything had devolved into chaos. Thanks to Racetrack and Thimble, the night had ended on a triumphant note for Manhattan after all, but Calico's aversion of Kelly had only deepened (in spite of the fact that he'd later returned to the cause in yet another fickle change of heart).
She had pondered the rally's events on her way back to the Bronx, turning them over in her mind the way she'd carefully examined her winnings whenever she picked someone's pocket. As chaotic as the night had been, it had yielded introspective bounty in more ways than one, for it had afforded a firsthand look at how Manhattan was poised on the knife edge of change, and not just with respect to the strike. Change often brought about upheaval that could be capitalized on if one was astute enough and prepared for it, and while Calico wouldn't go so far as to undermine her southern neighbors (not directly, and not while Racetrack was there), she considered it beneficial to know as much as possible about the newsies outside of her own territory. Inter-borough relations could be tricky, but the worst thing that one could do as a leader was to sit on the sidelines and let the other key players determine the outcome of the game. She was not about to pass up any opportunities to learn what she could on the chance that such pieces of information could give her an advantage later on, no matter how slight that advantage might be.
To that end, she'd made it a point to engage Spot Conlon, striking up a conversation as their contingents had left Irving Hall to return to their own territories. The king of Brooklyn had been predictably shrewd and his subtle power plays irksome, but despite some unpleasant surprises, Calico had been pleased by their conversation in the end, for she'd managed not only to hold her ground but to come out the victor, skillfully divesting Conlon of the key that he'd had in his possession without him noticing that he'd been pickpocketed.
Surprisingly, since then he has made no attempt to regain his missing property, though months have already passed. Perhaps he sees parlaying as beneath him, or perhaps he's simply chalked up the key's disappearance to it being lost somewhere along the way (the former seems more likely, but there's no way of knowing for sure). At any rate, the key remains in Calico's possession, and when she returns home tonight, she will have yet another prize to add to her treasure trove.
It had been only too easy to lift the coin purse of the well-dressed lady whom she'd run across while walking with Racetrack. By all appearances, the blue-blooded woman could stand to lose a few dollars, and probably wouldn't even miss the cash that had been taken from her.
The well-heeled are all the same, Calico reflects, blinded by their own affluence and indifferent to the plight of the less fortunate. As such, she suffers no pangs of conscience whenever she steals from one of them; in fact, she makes it a point to target those whom she knows don't need - and don't appreciate - the funds that she's divesting them of. Tonight's bounty will be put to far better use in her hands than in the hands of its original owner.
Calico pats her inner pocket, feeling the weight of the aforementioned coin purse and smiling a little in satisfaction at its pleasing heft. She'd made several purchases at the street vendors' carts tonight, but it had hardly made a dent in her winnings, and it's gratifying to know that she'll have a substantial cash reserve to offset any poor selling days that may be ahead.
She'd financed Racetrack's dinner, too, buying him a frankfurter on a roll and the McIntosh apple that she'd seen him eyeing. The latter had cost a whole six cents and had been completely unnecessary, but she'd seen the way the Manhattan newsie's gaze had lingered on the fruit before he'd turned away, and had immediately stepped up to the seller's cart to buy the sweetest, juiciest apple that the old man had to offer. It had been a while since she'd indulged Racetrack in anything, and it felt good to see him devour the food that she'd provided, even if she'd pretended not to notice.
She'd never had an easy time denying Hartley anything, and with Racetrack, it's been much the same, that instinctual overriding of inherent self-interest which would otherwise have urged her to keep all of her winnings for herself. Of course, it's also different with Racetrack, for he's closer to a peer and a confidant than Hartley ever was…but still, there's a common affection for them in Calico's heart which easily conflates their vastly different personalities, and she's only half heartedly tried to stop herself from looking out for Racetrack the way she had looked out for her own half-brother years ago, when her life had been completely different.
Hartley's voice is another one that she's been hearing more often lately, clear and piping as the last time she'd seen laid eyes on him, though he must be quite grown now, with a young man's deepening voice and mannerisms. She wonders if he still loves to play dominos, if his sniffling continues to act up whenever the grass is cut, and if he thinks of her at all when he visits the library for his lessons. The manner of their parting would suggest that any goodwill he'd felt towards her has probably left his mind or else been poisoned by the powers that be…but a part of her hopes that he hasn't forgotten the good times that they'd shared, and the efforts that she'd made to be a good sister to him. She'd been genuinely fond of him, but there had been factors that had prevented her from enjoying his company as much as she would have liked to, even if she had tried to communicate her care for him in her own rather limited way.
Affection, for her, is less of an effusive expression than it is an art, a skill applied in measured strokes with careful precision and painstaking care. It is something best expressed in action, not in word, for fond declarations roll easily enough off of the tongue, but they're only as sound as the person saying them, and for her part, she'd rather have her actions do the talking than to profess her regard only to have her conduct - or her circumstances - belie it.
You know I don't say things unless I mean them, Thimble's voice runs through her head, and Calico immediately scoffs to herself, irked that the declaration she'd overheard just moments ago would now feel the need to intrude upon her thoughts.
She has no reason to doubt Thimble's sincerity (and if he's really true to his word as his declaration would suggest, the girl on the rooftop is a fortunate lady), but even the most earnest of men may make promises that they are unable to keep.
If only Jax hadn't promised –
Enough.
Calico stops herself before the specter of the past can speak, but it is too late to parry the stab of pain that accompanies its presence.
Not tonight, she tells herself, pushing the ache aside. Not tonight.
There will be a brief but probing interrogation awaiting her when she returns to her own territory, and she knows that she cannot show weakness in front of Gar and his cronies, for they will jump at any reason to call her authority into question. For now, things are stable enough, but she cannot afford to slip up, not when she is one of the only dissenters preventing a turf war with Queens, and not while the safety of so many newsies - especially the girls under her care, whose number will soon come to include Sophie Higgins - hangs in the balance.
She hadn't mentioned it to Racetrack, but there's been a growing sense of disquietude in her, for she can tell that her own position among the leaders of the Bronx is growing more and more tenuous. Gar, of course, has never liked her, and has begrudged sharing even an ounce of his power with a girl who sees it necessary to challenge him at every turn, but so far he has restrained himself from acting on his poorly-disguised desire to have her gone. The fact that she is well thought of as Jax's former partner has afforded her some protection, but the number of newsies willing to stick their neck out for her and oppose Gar is growing smaller by the day.
Were she to relinquish her position, or consent to simply overseeing the girls of the Grahame Lodging House, waiving her right to attend the Bronx's leadership meetings and letting Gar run the rest of the newsies as he pleased, she'd have nothing to fear, for Gar has no interest in the small but tight-knit contingent of female newsies whose selling territory has been confined to an area about four miles square. So long as they cause no trouble, they're beneath his notice, and while in theory this annoys Calico to no end, in practice, she is thankful. She's always instructed her girls to abide by the boundary lines and to stay out the way of Gar and his henchmen, knowing that her charges' safety is far more important than her own ideals of merit-based privilege.
But still, the inequality of it galls.
She spends the rest of the return trip home schooling her features into some semblance of placid aloofness and warding off the voices' persistent attempts to intrude upon her aplomb. By the time the Third Avenue Bridge comes into sight, she's almost relieved, even if she little relishes the questioning that she knows is drawing nearer.
Knuckles is on watch tonight, and Calico deftly slips past him, little caring that it will cost the burly newsie a sharp reprimand the following morning when he reports to Gar. It's no fault of hers that the lout doesn't patrol the way he's supposed to but instead sits like a bump on a log next to the Bridge in plain sight, as though any ill-intended parties would simply announce themselves to him voluntarily. Calico had suggested weeks ago that he find a less obvious lookout, but Knuckles had only grunted at her and continued to sit as before.
Well, the boor could dig his own grave if he wanted to.
Stealthily making her way onto the Bridge, Calico casts a quick glance over her shoulder, assuring herself that the hulking shape of Knuckles hasn't moved, then continues confidently on, knowing that it's unlikely she'll be bothered the rest of the way. She, of course, ought to be afforded the freedom to come and go as she pleases anywhere within the Bronx and beyond it without having to sneak around like this, but Gar's henchmen aren't above stopping her for "questioning" just to assert their power.
Thankfully, the rest of the return trip is smooth, and Calico is knocking on the back door of the Blake Street lodging house just as the town clock is striking half past eleven. The voices, at this point, have gone silent, and not a moment too soon, for she will need her wits about her for what's to come, but a part of her can't help but feel a little solitary at their retreat.
Gar takes his time answering the door, but eventually he appears, giving Calico a curt word of greeting before motioning for her to follow him inside. She closes the door behind her, then tails the shorter newsie through a narrow corridor to the small room that serves as his personal quarters.
"Report," Gar grunts without preamble. He seats himself in Jax's chair, and Calico inwardly bristles at the sight of him reclining in it as though it's his, as though the power that he wields hasn't been handed to him on a silver platter thanks to the fickle hand of fate. It's nothing that she hasn't seen before, but somehow tonight, with the memories of her former co-leader and friend surfacing so sharply, seeing Gar's unworthy bulk in that seat galls much more than usual. He no more deserves to lead the Bronx than Calico deserves to call herself king of New York, and yet, here they are.
And there's next to nothing that she can do about it.
Gar doesn't offer her a seat, but she would rather remain standing, anyway. The Bronx leader has always been irked by the fact that she's taller, and if he's going to rudely keep her on her feet the way he does all his subordinates, he'll have to put up with the pronounced disparity.
Shaking off her irritation and pitching her voice in a tone of cool neutrality, Calico begins her report.
"Nothing of concern to relay today. The Bridge was quiet for most of the afternoon, aside from the usual foot traffic. It looks like the construction project we got wind of last month is finally going up on the Manhattan side, but it hasn't affected any of us as far as I can tell. If anything, we're getting more business, now that the Manhattan newsies who usually cover that area have left to sell elsewhere for the time being."
She pauses, her eyes never leaving Gar's, then concludes, "I have no further remarks."
It's an insipid report, as usual (for she won't give Gar the satisfaction of humoring his insistence on this completely unnecessary practice by drumming up concerns that aren't there). Instead of dismissing her with a few imperious remarks as he normally does, however, Gar narrows his eyes.
"And what about your little detour?" he asks, tenting his fingers and leaning forward a bit as he regards her suspiciously. "Didja think you would get away with leavin' that out?"
"I had to attend to a matter of personal business with a friend," Calico replies with a shrug. "There are no rules that prohibit traveling across borough lines."
She normally would have left the last part out, but it seems that her patience with Gar's claptrap is wearing thin tonight.
"So, you left your girls to fend for themselves," he grunts.
It's a flimsy objection, given that he cares little for the girls in question, and Calico finds herself saying stiffly, "I left my second in charge of overseeing the evening routine. It's imperative that she learn how to handle the responsibilities of leadership in my absence, and tonight was the perfect opportunity for her to practice in a low stakes situation."
"Seems like she must be gettin' a lot of practice in with you sneakin' off to 'Hattan more than usual," Gar sneers. He observes her for a moment, his eyes dark and beady, then adds, "This 'Hattan friend of yours run a smugglin' ring? You linin' your pockets with trafficked goods, Cal? Or have you gone and found yourself a new beau, now that your old one's been rottin' at the bottom of the Harlem River for almo – "
"How dare you!" Calico hisses, surging forward. "How dare you speak of him with disrespect!"
She barely manages to stop herself from striking Gar and abruptly turns away, knowing that if she looks at the cad's repugnant visage for a moment longer she will wipe the smug look off of his face in an instant, consequences be damned.
An uneasy silence descends as she clenches her hands into fists, attempting to rein in the tightly wound anger that she's pushed down far too long. She can feel her heart racing and a welter of emotions threatening to tip her precariously balanced self-control over the edge, but instead of letting go, she takes in a sharp breath.
It'll be fine, she hears Jax's voice in her head, and in her mind, she can see his cheerful, honest face as though he's standing right next to her. Trust me, Cal, it'll be fine.
But it's not fine! she wants to scream at him. It's not fine, and you promised –
"Gotcha in a pucker, eh?" Gar gloats from behind her. She can practically feel the smugness radiating off of him, and exhales slowly, willing herself not to react. It's foolish to bicker with Gar, for he holds all the power and she none, but to simply sit by silently while he desparages Jax in such a manner -
"If we's gonna talk about disrespect," Gar interjects with infuriating superciliousness, "we oughta talk about you forgettin' your place and refusin' to acknowledge my authority. My authority, Cal. Jax left me in charge. Not you."
"He didn't know he was going to die," Calico says through gritted teeth.
She hates how brittle her voice sounds.
"Maybe he didn't," Gar agrees, "but that's his fault for not thinkin' things through when he went knockin' on Queens' door."
Calico turns around to face him, willing herself to speak calmly and unclench her fists even as her heart continues to pound in anger.
"You speak as though you played no part in his decision," she contends. "As though you weren't the most vocal supporter of retaliation." Jax's final errand, undertaken alone and under the cover of night, had not, in fact, been a mission of vengeance, but it had been misconstrued as such, and the consequences thereafter had been deadly. Nobody except for her knows the true intent of his failed endeavor, and she understands why Jax had wanted it that way, but there are times like these when she wishes she could throw the truth in Gar's face.
"Like I said," the newsie in question shrugs, "he made his choices. I ain't responsible for what happened to him on account of it. And it ain't my fault he decided to go it alone instead of bringin' back up like I told him to."
Calico bites back her reply.
Untenting his fingers, Gar rises from his place.
"I gotta wonder 'bout you sometimes, Cal," he says softly, beginning to circle like a hawk. "You say you's loyal to Jax and to our borough…but if you was, you oughta be chompin' at the bit to teach Queens a lesson instead of sayin' we oughta go around all lily-livered."
"There's no reason to attack newsies who have done us no wrong."
"'No reason?'" Gar scoffs from behind her. "'Done us no wrong?'" He comes to stand in front of her again, his disdainful gaze boring into hers, but Calico refuses to be cowed.
"You can't prove that the trespasses of these last few months were deliberate," she asserts. "They could have been honest mistakes, or coincidences. Responding with a show of force will do nothing to smooth over the offenses of the past."
"So you want to go belly up to those no-accounts who did your fella in?" Gar huffs.
"I want to make sure that no one else dies unnecessarily." Turf wars incited by desperation were one thing, but brawls between boroughs for the sake of mere pride were avoidable catastrophes, and she would never condone them, no matter how much Gar claims that this is a matter of respect and not of arrogance, and no matter how much it pains her to think of how differently things might have looked if others had chosen to believe the best rather than assume the worst.
"You also seem to have forgotten one thing, Gar," she adds aloud. "Jax and I were partners. Co-leaders. Not sweethearts."
Gar chuckles dryly. "Oh, that's still the line you's givin', huh?"
"It's the truth."
"Like hell it is. There ain't no reason a fella like Jax would keep you around unless he was beddin' ya."
If Calico hadn't heard this insinuation before, whispered behind her back or even spoken to her face, it would have completely outraged her in the moment, but by now she's well-acquainted with the churlish assumptions that accompany her close association with the former leader of the Bronx. There had been no shortage of opinions on their partnership when Jax had been alive, and after his death the rumors had only persisted (perhaps due in part to Gar's perpetuation of them, for it's another way of easily discrediting Calico and of subtly shifting popular opinion in favor of his own one-man show). She'll refute his accusation on principle, of course, but she's long ago grown weary of defending herself against these ignorant individuals who insist upon seeing her in this manner, merely because she is a girl.
"Your inability to conceive of a platonic partnership between equals says more about your own small mind than it does about my relationship with Jax," she states bluntly. "But think what you want. My position regarding Queens still stands. There is absolutely no supportable reason why you should cross the East River to antagonize them. If you must bring the trespasses of the last several months up, call a meeting with their leaders and present your complaint. Ask them to exercise more control over their newsies to ensure that the boundary lines are respected. Then see if things improve."
"I ain't beggin' those bummers to keep their boys in line," Gar growls. "They oughta be seein' to that without me havin' to tell them."
"No one said anything about begging."
"But that's what you's implyin'," Gar insists. "And that's why a girl leader like you ain't worth beans. Skeery and snivelin', like you ain't got no spine."
Some of us think with our heads, Calico rebuttals. But she refrains from saying so aloud. Continuing to engage her adversary at this point will only prolong the conversation.
Gar falls silent, and she thinks that perhaps he'll dismiss her then, but irritatingly enough, he sees fit to continue.
"I ain't gonna rest until we've settled our hash with Queens," he mutters, his voice turning dark. "And if you think I'm gonna sit here and let you keep underminin' me at every turn, Cal, you got another thing comin'. I know who's with me and who's against me, and if you ain't with me, you got no place leadin' anyone in this lodgin' house."
"Some of your lieutenants think otherwise," Calico replies.
"And that's 'cause they's just as disloyal as you," comes the quick rejoinder. "But I ain't gonna stand for that. You's either in or you's out, there ain't no in between. Our territory's been soft for years, and I ain't gonna stand for it no more. You think Brooklyn got to be the way it was by Spot listenin' to every bummer who had an idea of how things oughta be run? 'Course not! Brooklyn's strong because they's united under one man, and they don't question him or give their opinions. They know who's in charge."
Calico cannot contradict that outright; her own brief interactions with the king of Brooklyn have convinced her that he's similar to Gar in many ways, for Conlon comes off as authoritarian, forceful, and even somewhat arrogant, fully steeped in Brooklyn pride and well aware of the sway that he holds, even beyond his own borders.
And yet, there's something different about him, too, some kind of strength that Gar has never possessed, despite all of his posturing.
The Bronx is more divided now than it has ever been before, and the push towards "unification" - of silencing the voices who may bring alternate opinions to the table - will likely result in further division amongst an already-contentious territory. It hurts to see Jax's work - those long and laborious years of building bridges, of drawing out those who had been silenced, of trying to restore goodwill amongst several offended parties - being effectively dismantled by a brute who cannot see beyond his own self-aggrandizement.
And yet, no one seems to be able to stop the slow but relentless collapse.
Gar has been silent for several moments now, absorbed in examining the dirt under his fingernails, and Calico finds herself growing even more weary from the long night and eager to depart from his presence.
"Will that be all?" she asks coolly.
Gar looks up at her. "You'll leave when I say you can leave."
She finds her temper flaring up at his pompousness, but again checks the impulse to act on her anger. Gar regularly has one of his newsies stationed just outside the door, listening in and ready to intervene should a private conference go amiss. She is not afraid of them, but she's not stupid, either, and this would be a foolish time to lose control.
Bullies and thugs, they'll try to get to your head, but you can't let them tell you how and when to fight, ah? she hears Lee's voice in her head. These things I'm showing you, they're for self-defense only. Not to attack. You let your temper get the better of you, you've already lost half your battle.
She's replayed those words often, for the temptation to draw on her considerable (if roughly honed) set of skills is strong in situations like these, but she knows that there is wisdom in Lee's words, and if there's any way to repay the man whose shrewd foresight had led him to teach her the skills that have kept her safe on the streets time and time again, it's in honoring his directive not to fight unless it's absolutely called for.
Gar has removed a thin metal file from his pocket and is now methodically using it to scrape at the dirt under his fingernails. He works slowly and deliberately, pausing to examine each digit after he's cleaned it before moving on to the next, and Calico has to hold in a sigh of exasperation as he tidies first one hand, and then the other.
He makes her wait while he completes his task, then finally puts the file back into his pocket and addresses her again.
"I'm sendin' you up to Pelham Bay tomorrow," he pronounces. "I want you coverin' the park for the rest of the week. Send whoever's up there down here to look after your area by the Bridge."
It's both a punishment and a precautionary measure, an efficient way of absenting her from whatever proceedings might be taking place at the lodging house over the next few days so that she cannot interfere. She wants to defy his orders, for she's sure that trouble must be brewing, but a deeply foreboding feeling makes her hold her tongue.
Something has shifted tonight. Gar has never taunted her so openly nor spoken of Jax's death in such flippant terms, and it's a frightening sign of how quickly the balance of power is tilting in his favor. She'd known that he'd been steadily amassing allies, but hadn't expected his numbers to grow so quickly, nor for him to move so boldly to begin sidelining his detractors.
She wonders, now, at the absence of certain newsies from the most recent lodging house meetings, newsies who, while far less outspoken than her, had nevertheless raised objections to Gar's leadership decisions in the past. Had he been quietly working behind the scenes to remove these dissenting voices from the table? And has he now decided to target her, satisfied that he's eliminated any potential allies who would rally to her side? A part of her hesitates to give the brute that much credit, for Gar is neither clever nor patient, but only a fool would dismiss such concerns outright.
She needs to talk to one of the others, to find out the reason for their absence. If she's remembering correctly, Carps has been selling up by Westchester Square which she'll pass on her way up to Pelham Bay Park, so perhaps she can turn this punishment of Gar's in her favor after all.
In any case, there's nothing more that she can do tonight. Best let him think she's hung up the fiddle and remove herself as soon as possible so that she can plan for the following morning.
As though sensing her plot, Gar narrows his eyes, and Calico, with considerable effort, drops hers to the ground. It irks her to show any sign of submission, but if it will lull him into a false sense of security, making him think that she's been cowed, and if it will mean a more swift dismissal –
"That'll be all, Cal," Gar says abruptly.
Calico turns around and leaves the room, mollified in the knowledge that her show of deference has served its purpose. Skeet is just outside the door, and he sneers at her, but she sweeps by him without a word, letting herself out of the back door of the lodging house.
The streets are dark and even colder now, but she's thankful to be out of that stifling room, and the brisk air invigorates her as she makes her way towards her own living quarters, walking a few blocks north and then turning down a narrow alleyway which serves as a shortcut to the Grahame Lodging House for Girls.
It's a modest establishment, housing twenty beds (with only a little more than half of them currently filled), but the sight of it is its own kind of welcome, and even in the dim lighting, Cal can see the touched up trim on the facade of the building, which the girls have been working on painting over the past few days. They all help with the lodging house's upkeep as a way of defraying the costs of their own room and board, but these tasks don't feel as tedious as they could, not when everyone is doing them together, and it does instill a certain sense of pride to see the lodging house looking so spiffed up, thanks to their efforts.
Calico lets herself in with the key that she'd lifted earlier that night from the superintendent's desk, then quietly shuts the door behind her, making sure to return the spare before she heads down the hallway towards the bunk room.
Rina is waiting up, her wiry form silhouetted against the flickering glow of the fireplace in the antechamber that sits adjacent to the girls' sleeping quarters, and she smiles at Calico in welcome and perhaps in some relief as the latter draws near the fire.
"The girls are all asleep," she says softly. "Luan had a nightmare, but Fern sang to her, and she calmed back down."
Calico nods. "Good." She removes her shawl and takes a seat beside her second, rubbing her hands together as she feels a welcomed warmth seep into them.
"How did things go in Manhattan?" Rina asks.
"Well enough," Calico replies. "We may have a new bunkmate soon."
"A new bunkmate?"
"She's the sister of a friend of mine."
Rina makes a sound of satisfaction. "Gretel will be excited to not be the only one without a partner anymore. She's always complaining that everyone else has a friend sleeping up top except for her."
Calico doesn't say anything in reply, but she smiles a little. Gretel is currently the youngest occupant at the lodging house, but she's friendly and talkative, and if Sophie Higgins is anything like her brother, the two girls will get along just fine.
"Did Nellie manage to finish her dinner?" Calico asks, her hands now warm enough for her to leave off rubbing them.
Rina nods. "Cook made chicken soup tonight, so she didn't have any trouble." She pauses, her brow furrowing for a moment, then says, "I did have a thought, though. About her sickness."
Calico bids her to continue. Nellie is still relatively new at the lodging house, and she suffers from regular bouts of indigestion, which makes her reluctant to eat at times. The doctor had declared her to be in sound health, if a bit undernourished, and had chalked up her symptoms to nerves or some other fickleness of temperament, but Calico had always suspected that a bodily food aversion was to blame. She hadn't been able to pin Nellie's symptoms on any one ingredient, however, so she's eager to hear Rina's new theory.
"I noticed that Nellie only gets sick after she's eaten something from the ocean," the younger girl begins. "Last week it was the chowder, Monday it was the fritters, and yesterday she tried one of the oysters from Luan's lunch. Each time she had the discomfort, it was after one of those meals. I'm thinking maybe it's not one thing that's giving her trouble, like we thought before, but maybe a group of things. Maybe she can't eat anything that's caught from the sea."
It's a simple yet sensible explanation, and Calico feels a flicker of pride at Rina's astuteness which had kept her observing Nellie and pondering her condition until she'd come up with a supportable explanation.
"You've likely hit upon the reason," she says approvingly. "I'll talk to Cook tomorrow and see if it's possible for Nellie to have something else to eat whenever seafood is on the menu. If that clears up her condition, we'll know that your hypothesis was correct."
Rina smiles. "I hope it will help her feel better."
"Having an explanation for her ailment certainly will," Calico affirms. Remembering her conversation with Gar, she adds, "Speaking of Nellie, I'm going to need you to watch out for her and Luan this week. I'm being sent to cover Pelham Bay Park."
Her second looks crestfallen. "On such short notice?"
Calico keeps her face impassive. "It's what Gar has asked me to do."
"What about the plans for Fern's birthday lunch on the lawn?"
"They'll have to wait for now," Calico sighs. "There's no way I'd be able to make it here and back in time."
Rina is silent for a moment. "Shall I tell her?"
Calico shakes her head. "I'll break the news to her myself." Fern will be disappointed, for this will be the second time that they've had to put off the celebration, but there's nothing for it. They've been inconvenienced by Gar's interference before, and they likely will be again.
Suddenly remembering Sophie Higgins, Calico resists the urge to curse inwardly at this additional snag. She isn't sure exactly when the younger girl will be ready to move in, but it's likely to be sometime within the week, and while Calico's presence won't be strictly necessary so long as she's briefed Sophie on what to say to the lodging house staff, she had hoped to be on hand to welcome Racetrack's sister to her new home.
Well, she'd have to figure that out when the time came.
"Do you think the new girl will get along with the rest of us?" Rina asks, as though she's sensed the reason for Calico's disgruntlement.
"I cannot say for certain," Calico replies. "I've never met her. But her brother is affable enough, and he swears that she has at least twice the charm he does."
"Do you think she'll want to keep her name?"
"We'll find out when she gets here."
The girls get to choose their own names when they come to live at Grahame, something that Calico has insisted on from the start, for though it's newsie custom for monikers to be assigned by either the leader of the lodging house or by the rest of the contingent, she prefers to leave that decision in the hands of the one who will bear the handle. Some girls, running from abusive homes and families, prefer to adopt new names, purposefully severing any ties to the past. Others elect to go by their birth names for consistency's sake. Still others pick out alternate handles, not because they wish to hide their identities, but because they hope to embrace new ones in this place that they now call home.
Whatever the case, Sophie Higgins will have her choice, just as the other girls have had theirs. Calico isn't above assigning nicknames to newsies outside of her own lodging house when it suits her, but when it comes to the identifiers of her own charges, she'd rather give them the freedom to decide.
It's one of the benefits of living at a smaller lodging house, being free to implement such practices and subtly shape newsie culture in a small but significant way. The girls at Grahame all possess different personalities, and there's a wide range of habits, interests, and preferences represented among their number, but somehow under Calico's guidance, they've learned how to get along, and while the ambitious side of her often yearns to exert her influence beyond this small and limited sphere, there are times when she feels almost content, satisfied with the rapport that she's built with the charges under her care and pleased with the family that they've become.
She's chosen to rely on the older girls more and more lately, intentionally assigning them tasks that they'd otherwise hesitate to take on, for she knows that there will soon come a time when they will have to manage without her. She's nearly old enough to be out on her own, and certainly capable of more than hawking headlines. If things hadn't gone the way they had with Gar, she probably would have left the newsie profession months ago, in fact, for she and Jax had already been talking about putting plans in place to pass the baton at their respective lodging houses…but of course, all of that had been disrupted.
Rina won't be confident enough to assume command for a while, and Calico has already decided not to leave until her second is ready, but a part of her is impatient for this season of her life, so full of stirring hope and sharp disappointment, to finally reach an end. Any ambitions that she'd entertained as a newsie leader are all but impossible to reach now that Gar holds power, and she'd rather put her skills and abilities towards a promising if unknown endeavor than waste her time boxing the air. Concern for her girls and for the other newsies of the Bronx has kept her at the table, challenging Gar and trying to slow the spread of his ego-driven expansion, but privately she finds herself growing more weary by the day of being his primary opposition and target. She knows that, unless substantial help materializes soon, she will have fought a losing battle.
Her girls, though, will remain secure enough, and this brings a measure of comfort.
The sound of Rina trying to stifle a yawn draws Calico out of her reflection, and she says quietly, "You ought to go to bed now, Rina. You must be tired."
The younger girl nods in sleepy agreement. "I drank a little coffee at dinner to help me stay awake, but I'm starting to fade now. You don't mind?"
"Not at all. You did well tonight."
It's out of character to give compliments, but Calico has learned over time that for Rina she needs to make an exception. The girl is highly competent and has a good head on her shoulders, but she doubts herself and seems to both cower under criticism and blossom under praise. There's no telling what kind of past has conditioned her to be this way (or perhaps it's more of a personality trait than anything else), but Calico has learned to speak her affirmation aloud, for it seems to be the only way to get through to her lieutenant. Such dependence on others' praise is likely a liability, but Rina's been through a lot, and Calico has found herself loath to withhold this boon, even if the words do not roll easily off of her tongue.
As the younger girl bids her goodnight and pads quietly into the bunk room, Calico reaches over to bank the fire, electing to remain in the antechamber and watch the embers burn lower. She ought to be getting to bed herself, for it's already late, and tomorrow's walk to Pelham Bay Park will take several hours, but she's reluctant to retire just yet.
Who needs sleep, anyway? Jax's cheery voice rings in her ear. It's not like we won't have time to lie around when we're older!
You fool, Calico thinks bitterly as she settles back into her chair. You were fond of saying that, but you never got the chance to make good on it.
But I lived, Jax's voice insists. I lived, Cal, and I didn't hold back.
If you'd held back more, maybe you'd still be alive.
Or maybe I would have died anyway without making the most of my time. None of us is guaranteed tomorrow, ya know?
She can't argue with that, but also can't help but retort, That's all well and good for you to say. You're not the one dealing with the mess that you left behind. She knows that it's an unfair accusation, but she's feeling petulant now that she's alone and the strain of the day's events has fully set in.
It's still hard for her any time someone brings up Jax, and the exchange with Gar this evening had been particularly unpleasant. The memories of the former's camaraderie feel especially sacred now that he's gone, and having to defend the innocence of their closeness in the midst of others' salacious remarks seems to sully those memories somehow. Calico knows that such accusations are baseless, for her friendship with Jax had never crossed into romantic much less carnal territory, but she also knows that there had been something there - something perhaps as close to love as a person of her temperament is capable of feeling - though she'd never admit to it aloud.
Of course, she feels undercurrents of this affection with others, too, that same sense of ardent pride in her girls, that same quiet desire to protect and indulge when she's with Racetrack, that same poignant fondness that strikes whenever memories of Hartley surface, that same deep regard that she feels whenever she thinks of Mesch and Lee and others from her past who had been kind to her. She even feels a bit of it when she remembers her mother, though that attachment has slowly faded with time.
She isn't sure what this commonality means, and perhaps at the end of the day none of it is love, but she knows that it's a part of her, this deep and fierce fondness for the few who have won her trust. She's become adept at concealing it, of course, but it's always there, humming beneath the cool aloofness that she puts on as easily as she dons her coat.
She wonders if the affection that she feels for Racetrack will extend to his sister. She's seen enough to know that siblings are not always similar in temperament, but she senses that the Higginses are close, and a part of her is ready to like Sophie just because her brother is so fond of her.
Perhaps she will ask the girls tomorrow for ideas on how they might welcome their newest bunkmate to the lodging house. The younger ones love to celebrate and plan surprises, and it will be a chance for the older ones to take initiative in organizing the festivities.
Remembering the coin purse in her coat pocket, Calico resolves to do her part by financing some supplies for decorations (a necessity that she's sure Luan will insist on) and by springing for refreshments when the time comes. They already have several bottles of ginger ale and a package of fig newtons set aside for Fern's birthday celebration, but it can't hurt to add more snacks to the stash in preparation for Sophie's welcome, and if Calico is prudent with her purchases, she'll still have a modest cash reserve left over for herself.
It will be a week of celebrations, then, something to look forward to despite the unpleasantness of Gar's directive. The thought of undermining his attempts to cow her in even this small way is grimly satisfying, and Calico finds herself pleased by the prospect, even if she's not looking forward to the extra walking that she'll have to put in this week, especially with the rain that's coming.
Having decided upon this course of action, she slowly rises and retrieves her shawl, then makes her way into the bunk room just as the clock strikes a quarter to one. Rina is already asleep, her breathing slow and even, and Calico carefully makes her way down the row of beds in the dim light, pausing to pull Nellie's blanket over her and moving Luan's shoes out of the walkway before checking on the rest of the girls.
Satisfied that all is as it should be, she prepares for bed herself, shaking off the frustrations and disappointments of the day as she undresses and envisions the new day that will come with tomorrow's sunrise. It's something else that Lee taught her - to clear her mind before she sleeps - and it's kept her tranquil many nights when she would have otherwise tossed and turned.
There's nothing so bad that a little sleep won't make better, she hears the under gardener's voice in her head, and she hopes that wherever he is right now, he's resting safe and sound.
Settling into bed, Calico pulls her blanket up to her chin and lets her body relax, listening to the soft sounds of the girls around her as they shift and settle in sleep.
It's only a matter of moments before her own eyelids begin to grow heavy, and as wakefulness begins to ebb into slumber, the voices return, soft and bleary but unmistakable as they drift in and out of Calico's consciousness.
I wouldn't advise touching those hand pies, young Miss. They've just come out of the oven…
We went to see the boat races today, Father and Mother and me, and I saw the sharpest, bulliest cutter ever!"
"Calico", huh? I like it. It's the perfect name for you…
Let's see what I have for our young pickpocket in training…
The last thing that Calico remembers is the sound of her mother singing softly to her before she falls asleep.
A/N: Some of you might have suspected this already, but Cal the ice queen does have a soft side ;) - not that you'll be seeing much of it in SWW proper (yet), but I hope that you enjoyed this glimpse of her when her guard is down and she's navigating the complexities of her own territory rather than being on the offensive when she's outside of it. She's still got an important role to play in our story, so the groundwork laid here will be important later - even some of the things that seem like throwaway information at the moment. :) Thank you so much for reading this! I'd love to hear what you thought of it.
(Also, for those of you who like to pick out narrative parallels, you may have spot-ted (haha) some structural similarities between this installment and the latter half of "Reciprocation." In case you were wondering, yes, that was most definitely intentional :P).
Guest Review Response to "Tightrope Walker" (8/15):
Hi there! Thank you so much for your review and for your interest in how Specs' one-shot might continue to play out! :) The answers to most of your questions can be found in my story Something Worth Winning - this one shot collection (Interstices) is set within that universe, and all of the installments here dovetail with the narrative there. :) I definitely have fun writing "missing scenes" from the musical, so if that's something that you enjoy reading, you'll find a lot of that in Something Worth Winning. Thank you for taking the time to leave a review, and for you interest in more of these types of installments (so many stories to tell, indeed!) - I really appreciate the feedback! :)