Part Five: Un Lugar Celestial


Swifty lurched up; beads of sweat running down his temples and his heart ready to burst out of his chest. He’d just had a dream of the night he had run away. His stepfather was throwing wild punches at him, and then the nightmare got worse.

Just as Swifty found himself being slammed into a wall in his house, the door opened and Seven stepped in. He was shouting frantically for her to get out of there, but she paid no heed and rushed to aid him. His stepfather then went after her. Swifty couldn’t watch as Seven was suffering that same fate as he. That was when he awoke.

Something was telling him that there was something waiting ahead for him at Clifton, and it was more than just the medicine. Rising, he left the tent and went outside. The bitter cold howled in the wind, almost like a coyote at night when it howled at the moon. Swifty wrapped his coat tighter around him and walked around.

The sun was just coming up, and he watched it as it peeped over the horizon to bring on the new day. It was so beautiful…and yet so romantic. He wished that he could’ve brought Seven with him to see it. Just as the sun was rising higher, the tent opened and Stamblyr came out and was surprised to see Swifty standing there.

"What’re you doin’ up?" Stamblyr demanded.

"Couldn’t sleep." Swifty answered, looked back at the sunrise. "Could only think of my girl back home."

Stamblyr snorted. "Well if she’s all you can think of, why’d ya leave ‘er?"

"Cuz I wanna make sure the medicine gets back to her. I love her, and I’d do anythin’ for her."

"That’s nice."

The tone in Stamblyr’s voice was basically telling Swifty that he didn’t care about Seven. He began to think of her, and the night that they had first met. His memories were interrupted when Jeff came out of the tent.

"Already up, I see." He said. "The others are gettin’ up, so Swifty, would ya help me take down the tent?"

Swifty nodded. "Sure."

The other three men emerged from the canvas tent and Stamblyr got a fire going. As Swifty helped pull the canvas off the stakes, he looked toward the sunrise once more. It was getting lighter, and the lighter it got, the more he missed Seven.

"I’ll be home soon," he whispered, "just you wait. I’m comin’ home, Chase."

* * *


"Coffee was a treat, and Hannah showed great tact in making it that morning. No one could resist her persuasive nods, or the fragrant invitation issuing from the nose of the coffeepot. They drew up to the table, exchanged handkerchiefs for napkins, and in ten minutes were all right again." Tweetheart read.

"Hey Tweetheart," Skittery said, walking up behind her.

"What’s up, Skittery?" Tweetheart asked.

"You’ve been reading to ‘em all mornin’. Ya’d bedder let someone else take over."

Tweetheart shrugged and nodded. "Okay. You read to ‘em while I go downstairs."

Tweetheart handed the book to Skittery and walked downstairs. All this reading about coffee made her taste buds tickle her mouth for a hot mug of steaming coffee. She took a mug, sat down next to the fire and sipped her coffee quietly.

All was silent except for the sipping of coffee heard from the newsies who had drinks. After about five minutes, the door opened and everyone jumped. A young man was standing in the doorway with an envelope in his hand.

"Is there a Mariah and Alicia O’Hara staying here?" the man asked.

Tweetheart stood up. "I’m Alicia."

The man held the envelope out to her. "Telegram."

Tweetheart took the telegram and the man left as quickly as he had arrived. Tweetheart ripped open the paper and pulled out a letter. Her eyes grew wide and her jaw fell open in shock.

"Tweetheart," Kloppman asked, "what’s wrong?"

Tweetheart sat down heavily on the bench and just stared at the letter. Everyone in the room knew that something was terribly wrong.

"Tweetheart," Race asked, "are you okay?"

Tweetheart swallowed. "I just received a ledder from me cousin, Sal, da old leader of the East Side newsies. ‘E just told me dat my grandma died."

"Oh Tweetheart, I’m sorry." Kloppman said.

"Ah, it’s okay. Sal says ‘e’s comin’ up in da spring ta give us some stuff dat belonged ta grandma."

"What’re ya gonna do now?" Specs asked.

"I gotta tell Chase." Tweetheart stood up. "Gotta go."

Tweetheart took a deep breath as she walked up the stairs. She could feel the sadness growing inside of her as she got closer to the bunkroom. When she reached the bunkroom, she walked quietly over to Seven’s bunk, where Skittery was still reading to them.

"Excuse me, Skittery," Tweetheart said, "but I gotta talk wit Seven. Can ya leave us alone fer a sec?"

Skittery nodded. "Sure."

He closed the book and handed it to Tweetheart. She held it in her hand and sat down in the chair.

"Devin, what’s wrong?" Seven whispered.

Tweetheart swallowed. "I jus’ got woid from Sal. ‘E said dat grandma died las’ week."

Seven sat up. "What?" she demanded.

Tweetheart sniffled. "She was real old, Chase. Sal said it happened when she was sleepin’, so she didn’t feel a thing."

Seven lay back down and hid her face in her pillow. She cried harshly, for their grandmother was very special to the both of them. Tweetheart also let her tears fall. All she could do now was pray that Swifty would come home soon and bring the medicine with him.

* * *


Swifty never thought he had ever seen a more beautiful sight than when Clifton came into view. He sighed a sigh of relief and Smokey tossed his head as if to know that their journey was coming to end.

"Almost there." Jeff announced. "Let’s kick up some speed."

Swifty gently tapped Smokey with his heels and clicked his tongue. Smokey snorted and began trot through the deep snow. The closer they got to Clifton, the more hopeful Swifty became. All they needed to do was get the medicine and he was back in Manhattan with Seven.

The sun was going down, but the darker it got, the faster Smokey went. Somehow, Swifty believed that this horse seemed to know how important it was to get there. Finally, they reached the outer boundaries of the town. When they stepped on a shoveled street, Swifty could feel his heart leap.

"Follow me," Jones said, taking command of the crew.

Swifty breathed as they trotted through the streets. The townspeople stopped to watch them as they made their way through the streets. They seemed to know the strangers’ purpose in this town. Swifty felt a little embarrassed to catch a pretty young woman looking at him, but he ignored her and tried to think of Seven.

At last, they had arrived at the hospital. Jones dismounted his horse, followed by the rest of the men. Swifty patted Smokey’s neck when he had dismounted and leaned toward his ear.

"Good boy." He whispered.

Swifty then followed the rest of the group into the building. The waiting room was cold, but it felt warm to Swifty since he had been out in the outdoors for the past few days. After a short period or waiting, a doctor finally emerged and met the group of men.

"Jefferson?" the doctor asked Jeff.

Jeff nodded. "That’s me."

"You and your men follow me. Once you get the medicine you can board at Mrs. Hester’s boarding house for the night."

Jeff turned to the men behind him. "Let’s go."

Swifty obeyed and lagged behind Whittier. He looked over at Stamblyr, and he was shocked. Stamblyr had a proud and conceited look on his face that Swifty had never seen before. It suddenly occurred to him that Stamblyr was only in it for popularity, and not to help his friends.

Swifty felt overcome with anger and wanted to hit him for thinking that. How could he only be in this for popularity when his friends were dying back at home? Swifty overtook his anger and concentrated on the path in front of him, not noticing the eyes of a patient staring straight at him.

The doctor led Jeff into a room at the end of the hall, and when they left, Jeff nodded to the doctor.

"That oughta be enough for them newsies back home." He said.

"Tomorrow morning we’ll have a sled set up for you to take with you when you return to New York."

"Um, excuse me," Swifty said shyly, "but the newsies need ‘em really bad, an’ we should leave tonight."

Everyone stared at him, and Swifty bit his lip to keep from saying anything stupid. The doctor approached Swifty and looked up at him.

"If you leave tonight, you’d be an ice sculpture in the morning. You should wait."

Swifty nodded solemnly without saying a word. The doctor turned to the rest of the man and stuck his hands in his coat pockets.

"Mrs. Hester’s boarding house is right around the corner. She’ll give you a room for the night and meals to get you going."

"Thanks, doc." Jeff said. He turned to his men. "Let’s get going."

Swifty turned and felt Jeff’s hand on his shoulder. He turned and looked up at Jeff, and he had a sympathetic look on his face.

"I know you love yer girl, but we can’t go riskin’ our own skins tonight or else the medicine may never get to New York."

"I understand." Swifty said.

Jeff removed his hand and went to the front of the group. As they walked down the hall, Swifty thought he could hear a quiet voice speaking to him.

Get out here, Swifty. Get away as fast as you can-

Stay, beloved. Keep walking.

Swifty listened to the second voice and inhaled deeply. Just as they were about to enter the waiting room, Swifty heard a voice.

"Derek."

Swifty froze, and his eyes widened. He knew that voice…it was a voice he hadn’t heard in three years. To make sure it was who he thought it was, Swifty turned and looked at the person.

He was staring into the eyes of his stepfather.

* * *


Seven closed her eyes and clenched her teeth. The throbbing pain in her head was growing worse. Her eyelids were drooping, but for some reason, she didn’t want to sleep. What’s going on? She wondered. Something strange was happening right there, but she couldn’t place it.

Tweetheart wasn’t reading, for the sick newsies were trying to get some sleep. For some reason, Seven thought she felt warm. It suddenly became very warm and then she thought she could smell a sweet fragrance swarm around her. It was so sweet, almost heavenly.

And with the scent, there was also beautiful music playing; so beautiful that it seemed alien, as if nothing on this earth could add up to it. As Seven looked around, she saw what looked like heavenly beings, like angels, each standing near an ill newsie.

As Seven looked around, she could almost hear the angels singing with the music that she heard. She then felt a presence, a presence of an omnipotent person who was only seen through His works.

But where was her angel?

Seven then looked forward, and she saw something. As it got closer, she saw a woman coming toward her, and she guessed that it was her angel.

She was very beautiful; she had long, coal black hair and almond eyes, and light shone all around her. She looked so familiar, so much like Swifty. When the woman smiled at her, she smiled almost exactly like Swifty did.

"Hello Mariah." The angel said to her.

Seven smiled a little bit, and she knew what her angel was here for. Taking a deep breath, she called Tweetheart over. Tweetheart rushed to her sister’s side and took her hand.

"What is it?" she asked eagerly.

"Tell Derek I love him."

"What?" Tweetheart asked, struck with confusion and fear.

Seven’s eyes were closing. She looked like she didn’t understand what her sister had asked her. She was taking shallow breaths, but it looked like she had never been happier.

"El cielo me llama." She whispered.

"Chase…" Tweetheart whispered, "Mariah…"

Seven looked at the angel sitting on the end of the bed and smiled at her. The angel smiled back, stood up and stood next to Tweetheart.

"Close your eyes." She told her.

Seven smiled once again, and the angel waved her hand in front of her face. With that, Seven closed her eyes. Tweetheart, seeing her sister drifting away into unconsciousness, was suddenly struck with a fear that she had never had before.

"Mariah, Chase, wake up!" Tweetheart cried frantically.

Seven didn’t respond. Tweetheart could then feel the tears flowing from her eyes and streaming down her cheeks. She shook her sister, but it was all in vain. She jumped to her feet when she had lost hope and stampeded down the stairs. Kloppman, hearing the urgency in her footsteps, met her immediately.

"Tweetheart, what’s wrong?" he asked.

"Chase…" Tweetheart choked.

"What’s wrong with her?" Race asked.

"Call the doctor." Tweetheart said, more tears falling.

Without asking questions, Kloppman rushed to his desk and phoned the doctor. Tweetheart rushed up the stairs back to the bunkroom. When she reached her sister’s bunk, she could see the other newsies looking at her, knowing deep inside that there was something terribly wrong. Tweetheart stayed by her sister’s side until the doctor arrived. He checked her quickly, and then turned to Tweetheart and the newsies.

"She’s taken a turn for the worst." The doctor said quietly. "If the medicine doesn’t get back soon, she will die."

Tweetheart shook her head. This can’t happen! She thought. I lost my parents and my grandmother, I can’t loose Chase too! Tweetheart returned to her sister’s side and took Seven’s lifeless hand in hers.

"Chase," she whispered, "if you can hear me, please don’t die. I lost mama, papa and grandma, I can’t loose you now."

"Tweetheart," Snipeshooter whispered, "before she passed out, she whispered somethin’. What’d she say?"

Tweetheart looked up at Snipeshooter’s pleading eyes with her teary ones, and then looked back at her sister’s pale form.

"She said," she whispered, barely audible, "heaven is calling me."

* * *