Clara opened the door to the Lodging House and quietly stepped into the room. No one looked up, save one or two of the younger boys who had been sitting near the door, and they only took momentary notice of her. Lynn looked up too. She studied Clara, and looked back at her hand of cards, determined to ignore the girl.
"Lynn," whispered a voice just across from her.
"Yeah Pokey?"
"Watch it," he warned.
"Yeah, I's gonna try. I's gonna try..." Lynn said, rolling her eyes and putting down her hand, "I, uh, fold." She quickly shuffled her cards back into the deck and closed her eyes. "I ain't gonna do nothin' stupid. I ain't." She assured herself under her breath.
"No, you ain't," Pokey said. Lynn hit him on the shoulder and rolled her eyes. Pokey snickered to himself. Lynn just raised her eyebrows and looked back towards the door very quickly.
"Well, hello Lynn, how are you doing today?" Clara gushed, her voice so sweet it was practically sticky. Lynn glared at the table, intent on ignoring the girl's greeting.
"Be civil be civil be civil be civil be civil..." Pokey muttered under his breath.
"H'lo Clara. I's jus' fine, how 'bout youse?" Lynn answered sweetly, a similarly sugary smile on her face as she spoke.
"Fine, I'm just fine." Clara's eyes lit up and she cocked her head slightly, "Must you always talk in such a heathenish fashion, Lynn? Any self-respecting fema-" Clara broke off, interrupted by Pokey.
"Dat ain't-" Pokey began, cutting Clara off, but Lynn silenced him.
"What were ya sayin', Clara?" Lynn said, her eyes narrowing as she innocently looked around. Clara ignored Lynn completely.
"Now you, um, boy..." she began, looking pointedly at Pokey.
"I's Pokey," Pokey said, almost challenging her to say anything at all.
"You need a lesson or two in manners, interrupting when someone else is speaking... and what sort of demonic name is Pokey anyhow? Don't you have a given name? Or Flash for that matter, or Racetrack or Kid Blink or, well, the lot of you! At least your pathetic excuse for a girl," she paused, waiting for Lynn's reaction. Lynn's jaw dropped, and a satisfied look crossed Clara's face; she was really enjoying pushing Lynn to the edge and seeing how far she could go before she snapped. Clara gave Lynn a sidelong glance and continued speaking. "Excuse me, that was very rude. I am sorry. I meant to say that at least, ah, Lynn here has a Christian given na-" Lynn jumped up and slowly walked towards Clara.
"What were ya gonna say?" She growled, backing Clara up against a wall. Pokey sucked in his breath. Clara laughed in a scared, silly sort of way.
"Say? I was just commenting on the fact that your friends have these uncivilized names. I mean, Pokey? Flash? And you picked up this street tra-" Clara stopped when she saw the look in Lynn's eyes. It was not anger, not of even being slightly afraid of Clara, Lynn looked completely enraged, and Clara was both thrilled and frightened.
"I think ya need ta re-think dat, Clara." Lynn said, her eyes narrowing to slits, "or I's jus' gonna hafta soak ya unrecognizable."
"Re-think?" Clara tittered, "Lynn be serious..." Clara studied Lynn's face, rather alarmed. Lynn's eyes were blazing, and she was clearly much more worked up than Clara had intended. Her glare was intense and her grip on Clara's shoulders was inflexible. Maybe she'd gone a little bit too far this time...
"Be serious? Well... I think you'se done ya damage now. Ya make fun 'a me; I ain't 'feminine' 'nough for ya. Ya make fun 'a my friends an' call 'em 'street trash' an' make fun 'a dere names. Well ya know what? I's thinkin' dat it's my turn ta do some damage. Maybe ya won't be makin' fun 'a nobody afta' I's done wit' ya." Lynn's voice was low and vehement, she glowered fiercely and she looked around the room at the guys. There was not one person who wasn't watching her. Having everyone watch her wasn't something Lynn enjoyed. At all. In fact, normally, Lynn would have felt extremely self- conscious at this, and possibly given up on Clara. But she was so very enraged right now that she didn't care about anything, least of all the eyes of the boys watching her... she stared intently into Clara's now frightened eyes.
"Now Lynn, you know I didn't mean anything by-" Clara began, in a soft, coaxing sort of way, putting a hand on Lynn's shoulder. Lynn slapped her hand away and shoved her, hard, into the wall.
"Ya meant every word 'a what ya said, an' I know it. I don't know what's da matta' wit' you, or what it is ya wants, but I don't even care anymore." Lynn hissed, pushing Clara's shoulders against the wall. "You'se been mean, exceedingly mean, to me and my friends," her voice was dangerous and she spoke very softly. "Wit' no reason whatsoeva' ta do dis. An' so it's my turn ta be mean, 'cept I's got a reason," Lynn said menacingly.
"Lynn, I think we could discuss-" Clara began softly. She was very frightened of Lynn now, and knew that there was no way she could get out of this one safely. Her shoulders smarted.
"No! Shut up!" Lynn yelled, "I don't care at all 'bout what ya wants now... I want ya to leave me alone." She was yelling at Clara, but suddenly her voice dropped back to a near- whisper. "I's givin' ya one last chance ta be nice ta me an' my friends, or if ya ain't nice at least be civil. An' I swea', if ya don't get da pit'cha dis time, you'se gonna be real, real sorry ya didn't listen ta me." Lynn's tone was ominous. Clara's green eyes looked at Lynn with a frightened, unsettled look to them. Lynn was glad of it. She gave Clara one last warning look and then stalked off to the other side of the room. Clara stared back at Lynn, and finally shattered the silence.
"You want to know who's gonna be sorry?" She asked, "it's not going to be me..." Lynn stared at her, watching her slowly walk out of the room. The boys exchanged glances, no one knew what to say; no one met Lynn's eyes. Finally, all Lynn's anger subsided.
"Oh my God..." Lynn said, sitting down on the couch next to Flash. She tucked her knees up to her chest, buried her face in her arms, and started to cry.
Part Seven
"So, Flash, how did da two 'a youse end up on da streets?" Lynn asked, as she, Pokey and Flash walked down the sidewalk in the mid-morning summer heat.
"Well, Pokey an' me, sorta... ran away." Flash said, blushing ever so slightly.
"Why'd ya run away?" Lynn asked. Flash blushed redder.
"Well, uh... 'cause Pokey, an'... well..." he stammered.
"Flash only ran away 'cause I did." Pokey said, smiling. Lynn laughed quietly.
"So, why'd ya - " she began.
"Mudslide in California kills twelve!" Flash shouted, racing down the sidewalk after a tall man. Lynn shook her head.
"Dat kid's amazin'... an' a litta' crazy," she murmured.
"Yeah, I know." Pokey said, looking dubiously at the stack of papers he still held. Flash came running back, slightly out of breath.
"Some people... take foreva'... to notice dat... dey'se bein' chased... to buy a papa'..." he rolled his eyes and tucked his small stack of papers under his arm. "Now what were we talkin' 'bout?" Pokey and Lynn just laughed.
Flash's eyes lit up as he saw a couple walking down the street, arm in arm. "Train ova'turns while crossin' ova' riva'! Many drown!" He shouted, as he left his friends and ran after the couple. "Buy me newspapa', please?" He said, widening his eyes as he stopped in front of the couple. The man looked ready to strangle him.
"Young man, you are - " he growled, only stopped by the woman laying a hand on his arm to quiet him.
"Aw, look at the little boy. You shouldn't be selling papers out in the heat of the day..." she crooned, patting him on the head. It was all Flash could do not to cringe at her touch.
"Liz, we don't need a paper." The man said, exasperated, with a dark glare at Flash.
"I know, but the little boy needs the money. Don't you, dear?" the woman asked Flash. He managed a cough in response.
"Liz..." the man began in a warning tone. The woman took out a small, silver coin. Flash eyed it hungrily.
"Here you go dear, now you go and enjoy yourself... buy some candy or something," she said, handing him the dime.
"I's 'fraid I don't got da change." Flash said, trying to hide his smile.
"Oh, that's quite all right. You need the money," she simpered. If looks could kill, Flash was quite sure he'd be dead by now. The man took the woman's arm and turned her around, with one final glare at Flash.
"Liz, we are leaving. Now," he said. Flash just smiled and started back for where Lynn and Pokey were waiting for him, pocketing the dime. Suddenly, he stopped, startled by the sight of a large brick building directly in front of him. He shouldn't have to turn here, should he? Wait... that alley was supposed to be on the left, not the right. He walked down the street for a bit, but didn't see anything he recognized. He looked up and noticed the brick building he'd seen earlier again. Oh great, he'd just walked in a circle. He turned around, a little nervous about being so confused about the directions. Nothing looked right. Hadn't he turned left at that street light back there? Oh, but they all looked the same. He walked back down the street anxiously looking for something familiar. Flash peered around and nervously pushed his hair out of his face. He was very lost.
Part Eight
Lynn stopped so quickly that Pokey, who was walking behind her, nearly ran into her. "Oh, sorry," she whispered, almost inaudibly. Pokey looked confused.
"Why'd ya stop?" He asked her, narrowing his eyes in confusion.
"Shhh... quiet. I'll tell ya lata'." She closed her eyes and listened very carefully for the voices she'd been hearing. Sure enough, they were still talking.
"You're sure that this is the right kid?" asked a male voice.
"Positive. I saw the photographs," answered another.
"How much did you say this job was worth?" the first asked, sounding rather nervous.
"Fifty dollars. Cash money. We gotta get that kid," answered the second.
"Fifty dollars!"
"Yeah. That's why we gotta get him."
"Who's the girl? She worth fifty dollars too?"
"Don't think so. Think we can get her away long enough to grab the boy?"
"Huh. I don't know, probably. You take care of the girl. I'll get the boy." Lynn didn't wait to hear anymore. She looked at Pokey. Apparently he hadn't heard the conversation and was just looking around the street absently, waiting for Lynn to continue walking.
"Pokey," she said, looking up.
"What?" he asked, interested in what she'd been doing.
"I'll race ya back to da Lodgin' House," Lynn said. "Ready, go."
They ran as fast as they could trying to beat each other back, and when they reached the Lodging House, Lynn led him inside and into the parlor. By now it was getting a little dark out, and there were several newsies sitting in the room.
"Hey, what happened, why ya so outta breath?" Race asked them as they sat down.
"Aw, I was jus' racin' Pokey 'ere back." Lynn explained, panting slightly.
"Yeah, an' I won," Pokey smiled. Lynn shook her head.
"I let ya win," she said, laughing.
"Sure ya did." Pokey rolled his eyes.
Flash wandered nervously around the unfamiliar streets, looking for something, anything, that would help him recognize where he was. The sun would be setting in a couple of hours, and he didn't want to still be lost if that happened. He uneasily stopped and leaned against the side of a building, trying to decide what to do. He looked at the couple of newspapers he still held. He supposed he might as well sell them, and get them out of his way. He cautiously walked across the street and held up a paper.
"Terrible mudslide on West Coast kills dozens, injuring more!" he shouted, attracting the attention of no one, save a boy slightly smaller than him. He had short brown hair and light brown eyes. He was dressed like a newsie. He glared at Flash. Flash glared back at him. For a moment, no one spoke.
"Who are ya, an' why are ya hea'?" the boy asked, looking at Flash suspiciously.
"Why does it matta' ta youse?" Flash accused.
"'Cause dis is Spot Conlon's territory an' I's warnin' ya, he's gonna be real mad if 'e finds ya sellin' in 'is territory." The boy's light brown eyes studied Flash. "An' I's neva' seen ya 'round hea', an' I wanna know who ya are."
"Well, I's Flash. An' I ain't from 'round hea'." Flash said, shortly. Being lost hadn't put him in a good mood, and this annoying little boy was making him more and more aggravated. "An' I guess I can sell 'ere if I wanna." The boy shook his head dubiously.
"Spot's gonna be real mad when I tell 'im - " Flare warned.
"Tell 'im? Why don't ya jus' leave me be?" Flash raised his eyebrows earnestly.
"'Cause it's my 'sponsibil'ty ta make sure Spot knows ever'thin' dat happens in 'is territory. I's gotta go find 'im," the boy said, turning around.
"Wait." Flash began, "where 'zactly am I?"
"Brooklyn, of course. Da Brooklyn Bridge is jus' a few blocks ova' dere. What kinda question is dat?" The boy looked confused, and he started to walk away again. He looked back over his shoulder. "An' I's givin' ya a warnin', get outta hea' 'fore Spot comes lookin' for ya." He shook his head and walked down the street, away from Flash. Flash shook his head.
Part Nine
"How'm I s'posed ta get outta hea' if I don't even know whea' hea' is?" he asked himself. "I don't know nothin' 'bout Brooklyn, eitha'." He looked up at the darkening sky. He sighed and resignedly began aimlessly walking, hoping to get out of 'Spot Conlon's territory' as soon as possible. He found himself near the Brooklyn Bridge. "Guess dere's no question as ta wheatha' dat kid was lyin' 'bout bein' in Brooklyn." Flash murmured, looking around him for any more Brooklyn newsies.
"Hey, it's you 'gain," came the voice of a boy. Flash spun around.
"Kid..." he began, tilting his head back in exasperation upon seeing the boy from earlier.
"I tried ta tell ya to get outta hea'," the kid whispered, stepping back behind another boy Flash hadn't noticed earlier.
"Hey, you," began the tall boy in front of Flash. He was at least four or five inches taller than him, and Flash stepped back a bit. The boy was tall, with longish dark blond hair and a dark grey cap on his head. His eyes were a piercing light blue, and he carried an elaborately decorated walking stick on one side, and a slingshot in his other pocket. He looked dangerously at Flash, "I mean, you, kid."
"Um... yeah?" Flash asked nervously, craning his neck to see the little boy he'd run into earlier.
"I's Spot Conlon, an' I's been hearin' things..." he began.
"Well maybe ya should get ya hearin' checked," Flash muttered. Even though the boy was intimidating, Flash was not in the greatest of moods right now, and he felt like being impertinent. Spot glared at him.
"'Scuse me? What was dat ya said?" Spot asked, raising his eyebrows and sounding very intimidating.
"Nothin'." Flash muttered.
"Thought so." Spot nodded, "anyhow, I's been hearin' dat youse been sellin' in my territory." He looked hard at Flash. "Dat true?" he asked, an intense look on his face.
"I s'pose I can sell whereva' I want." Flash said, rolling his eyes in annoyance. "Why do ya care so much 'round hea' 'bout who sells whea'? In Manhattan nobody cares..." Flash stopped when Spot started talking quietly with Flare. He listened carefully, straining to hear their conversation, but he couldn't hear anything. Flare nodded and stepped aside a few paces.
"Ya can sell whereva' ya want, huh?" Spot said, narrowing his light blue eyes dangerously.
"Dat's what I said. An' I don't see why ya care so much eitha'." Flash said, a little bit nervous but still very annoyed.
"Well, I believes in earnin' territory. An' if ya wanna sell in my territory I think you'se gonna hafta fight me for it." Spot said, taking off his hat, which Flare took quickly from him. Flash nervously backed up a few steps. "So whaddya say, kid?" Flash just gulped.
"I's half you'se height!" Flash squeaked out.
"Would ya ratha' fight Flare, 'ere?" Spot said, ushering Flare in front of him. Flare narrowed his eyes menacingly. Flash suspected that this had been what they were talking about.
"Umm.. 'e's shorta' den me?" Flash ventured.
"Don't matta' ta 'im. Flare fights ever'body in Brooklyn, don't 'cha, Flare?" Spot asked, slapping the boy on the back.
"I'll take ya." Flare said, staring at Flash again. Flash sighed and silently prayed that Flare wasn't that good of a fighter.
Part Ten
Pokey sat down next to Lynn. "What was dat 'bout back dere, where ya stopped for so long?"
"Pokey, why'd ya run away?" Lynn asked, quietly.
"I was bored. My parents were hardly eva' home an' when dey were it was boring. Dey had too much money, hardly eva' let me outta da house..." he trailed off, thinking about his life with his parents.
"But I mean... what'd dey think 'a ya. Were dey nice to ya?" Lynn said, trying to imagine having fifty dollars on her own head.
"Dey loved me quite a lot. Wan'ed nothin' really more den my happiness. Gave me stuff, spent as much time as dey were home wit' me... dey really loved me, but I was jus' so bored. An' I's eva' so much happia' bein' a newsie." Pokey said, looking up at the ceiling reflectively.
"I's got no idea what ta do 'bout dis. Oh my goodness... Pokey, da police are lookin' for ya, an' dere's a fifty dolla' reward for gettin' ya back to ya parents!" Lynn's eyes were wide and she bit her lip. "I's got no idea... dey can't catch ya, Pokey." They both sat in silence for a few minutes.
"How do ya know dat?" Pokey suddenly asked incredulously.
"I hoyd 'em talkin'. Dat's why I stopped back dere." Lynn explained impatiently.
"Fifty dolla's!" Pokey said quietly.
"I know... it's kinda amazin'." Lynn said. They were very quiet for another couple of minutes.
"Oh my God..." Pokey began, suddenly snapping to attention.
"What?" Lynn asked, alarmed.
"Whea's Flash?" Pokey asked, his eyes wide and startled.
"Oh my God..." Lynn echoed as she raced down the stairs to the parlor where the boys sat.
Flash nervously watched the boys gather. Flare had gone off with Spot for the moment. Probably to get pointers on beating me into the ground more effectively, Flash thought miserably. Since then people had been gathering to watch the fight. He knew he should try to run off, but there were a couple of things stopping him. One being the fact that there were a whole lot of Brooklyn newsies there who would try to stop him, and another being that he'd be terribly embarrassed if he walked out on this fight. He stood on the cobblestoned street, trying to look as tough as possible even though he was nervous.
"Heya Flash, glad ta see ya ain't run off - yet." Flare said, stepping out of the crowd of boys towards Flash. Flash smiled confidently at him.
"Uh, heya Flare. Thought ya weren't gonna come," he said boldly. The two of them looked almost apprehensively at each other, but then Spot stepped in front of them.
"Hey kids, let's get dis show on da road, huh?" He started impatiently, looking around at the surrounding guys. They all acknowledged their agreement in some way, and Spot looked from Flare to Flash and back again. "Dis'll teach ya ta mess wit' me an' my territory." He said menacingly to Flash. "An' if ya win..." he laughed quietly, "ya get ta sell whereva' ya wants. Like ya said before." He raised his eyebrows and stepped back. "Go on, Flare..."
By unspoken agreement the two boys stepped apart and studied at each other. Flare was smaller, but strong, and Flash thought about this fight for a moment. A very brief moment, because Flare started on him with a punch to his stomach. Flash briefly doubled over in pain but managed a good knock to the side of Flare's head, and kicked him in the knee. Flare recovered far too quickly and came back to cuff Flash's left arm, and Flash tried to beat him back with his right, but wasn't quick enough. Flare smacked him neatly on his cheekbone, and hit him hard enough to send him sprawling on his back. Flare leapt upon Flash and pinned him by his shoulders to the ground. Flash struggled briefly, and then looked up in defeat.
"Give up yet, kid?" Flare asked, pulling him roughly up by his shoulders and knocking his head against the ground. Flash struggled again, and twisted around, trying to get Flare to loosen his grip on his shoulders. Flash tried to get back on his feet, ignoring his injuries as best as he could, and turned to face Flare again. He didn't look like he was much damaged from the fight. There was a bruise on the right side of his face and he was limping slightly, but Flash realized he was in much worse shape than Flare was. His lip was bleeding where Flare had smacked him, and he thought maybe he'd broken a couple of his ribs. In any case, he was hurt pretty badly, and wanted to end the fight, but didn't want to appear a coward in front of all these guys.
"Had 'nough, Flare?" Flash asked huskily.
"You kiddin'?" Flare said, directing another punch to Flash's stomach. Flash pushed him back, but Flare wasn't fazed. He came back, hitting Flash right in the face with a well-directed punch. Flash grabbed his arm and twisted it back, but Flare just struck out with his other hand. Finally, Flare shoved Flash to the ground again, and Flash didn't even try to get up. He put his hands out in front of him to ward off anymore attacks from Flare, and briefly closed his eyes, praying not to lose consciousness. Spot stepped in and took Flare by the shoulders.
"Hey Flare, I think 'e's had 'nough." Spot said, nodding to the spectators, who began to disperse immediately.
"We jus' gonna leave 'im hea', Spot?" Flare asked, rubbing his head where he'd been hit.
"Don't look like 'e's gonna be goin' anywhea' soon." Spot said, and then walked over to
Flash. "Hey kid, still wanna sell in my territory?" Spot asked amusedly. Flash shook his head very
carefully and watched the two of them walk away. What a stupid place to get lost in, he thought to
himself as he lay, unmoving to avoid as much pain as possible. The sky was deep grey and starless, for
dark clouds had moved in. Flash thought he heard distant thunder, and he closed his eyes and hoped the
rain would hold off. The last thing he needed right now was a storm. He wished he'd never earned the
stupid dime. Someone come find me, please?
To part
3!