Minus Baines

So wat's yer name, kid? *You enter the bunkroom and see a young man sitting on a bottom bunk. He appears quite normal until you get closer, and then you notice he is missing his right leg. Upon hearing your question he looks up, and smiles just a little* Minus Baines. Oh, ya mean my real name don�t ya? Well, nobody eva calls me by it, but it�s Jeremiah Elijah Baines, fer da record.

You got a nick-name or was 'dat it? Dat was it. Like I said, nobody calls me Jeremy. Minus is whad everybody calls me. I got called dat by dis big shot in Brooklyn. Maybe ya hoid a him, Trident. He said I wasn�t worth nottin cause I can�t run. Called me a gimp, an said I�m minus my leg. Been stuck wit da nickname since den. I don�t mind though, if I�m gonna be a newsie I gotta have a nickname. *smiles*

Where you from, anyways? Don�t know where I was born, could�a been France fer all I know, but I lived in Brooklyn up until I got left here.

Whadd'a yah look like? *laughs ever so softly* My mom. I don�t know whetha dat�s good or bad. I try not ta let people know to much. Dey might beat me up fer it, say I�m a sissy or somethin. She was a real pretty woman. I got a picture a her. *takes out a sliver pocket watch and pressing it open hands it out for you to see. In the lid of the watch is a black and white photograph of a very beautiful French woman. Looking at Minus� face, and then at the picture you can see a great resemblance. The same prominent high cheek-bones, and jet black hair. If the picture would have been in color you would notice the same cream colored skin that both mother and son have. The only difference between Minus and his mother is in his eyes. He has his father�s eyes, only they seem not as cruel as his father�s are. They are a silver-blue, changing constantly to his mood. If he is happy they appear more of a night sky blue, but when upset or afraid they are the saddest shade of gray. His height is average for a seventeen-year-old, five foot ten inches. When you ask him his birthday, he hesitates. Nervously he rushes his fingers through his dark hair and his bangs fall down into his eyes* January 1, 1887. I was born three hours after midnight. A lot a people think I�m lyin, but I ain�t. It�s da truth.

Got any 'ahhh, distin'guishin charact'ahristics? *his cheeks redden slightly, and he looks down. He rubs his right hand over the stump of his right leg. It had been amputated about two inches above the knee. It had happened when he was ten, but the painful memories were as clear as yesterday. He breathes out slowly, and solemnly says* I guess bein da only one-legged newsie in dese parts, dat�s pretty distinguishin. It ain�t often ya see a guy walkin wit a crutch an no leg. Believe me, I seen da stares. I know whad dare thinkin. *his eyes wander away from you and his smile fades*

If you emptied out yah pockets on dis' table right now, wat�would fall out? *he looks back over at you, and then grabbing a hold of the top bunk he pulls himself to a standing position. He places his crutch under his right arm, and makes his way over to the table. Then he proceeds to empty his pockets. He takes out the silver pocket watch, a handful of coins that add up to $1.10, an old pocket knife, and a very faded library card for the library in Brooklyn*

How'd you find 'da place? *he cups his right hand and pushes his belongings into the other one, then puts the things back into his pockets* I got knocked out by some �friends� from Brooklyn. Dey left me in an alley around here. Runner found me, and brought me back to da lodging house. Been here since.

You drink, smoke, gamble...� No. *he sounds almost angry* My old man did. Ruined my life. I�d neva wish somethin like dat on nobody, not even my worst enemy.

Related tah any'bady�we'd know? Only my father, but I wish I wasn�t related ta him. If ya know anybody in prison ya might know him. *looks scared* But I�m beggin ya, don�t tell him I�m here.

Who's yah best friend? When I first come here I would�a said �nobody�, but things have changed. *begins to talk faster, and a smile breaks over his lips* Mouth�s a nice guy, an Kyro *laughs* he�s one of a kind. When we first met, I really wasn�t sure whad ta think a him. He�s real great, an trustworthy. He treats me kinda like a brotha. I like dat about him. Den dare�s Skirts, her an I are kinda goin out. I neva would�a dreamed it possible. However, my real best friend is God. I know he�ll always be dare fer me, an fer a guy like me, dat�s da greatest feelin on earth.

Got any woyds tah live by? Neva give up, cause ya ain�t neva beat wit God on yer side. *You start to walk away* Hey, I'll see ya around. Carryin da banna.

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So wat's yer name, kid?	You enter the bunkroom and see a young man sitting on a bottom bunk. He appears quite normal until you get closer, and then you notice he is missing his right leg. Upon hearing your question he looks up, and smiles just a little Minus Baines. Oh, ya mean my real name don�t ya? Well, nobody eva calls me by it, but it�s Jeremiah Elijah Baines, fer da record.
You got a nick-name or was 'dat it?	Dat was it. Like I said, nobody calls me Jeremy. Minus is whad everybody calls me. I got called dat by dis big shot in Brooklyn. Maybe ya hoid a him, Trident. He said I wasn�t worth nottin cause I can�t run. Called me a gimp, an said I�m minus my leg. Been stuck wit da nickname since den. I don�t mind though, if I�m gonna be a newsie I gotta have a nickname. smiles
Where you from, anyways?	Don�t know where I was born, could�a been France fer all I know, but I lived in Brooklyn up until I got left here.
Whadd'a yah look like?	laughs ever so softly My mom. I don�t know whetha dat�s good or bad. I try not ta let people know to much. Dey might beat me up fer it, say I�m a sissy or somethin. She was a real pretty woman. I got a picture a her. takes out a sliver pocket watch and pressing it open hands it out for you to see. In the lid of the watch is a black and white photograph of a very beautiful French woman. Looking at Minus� face, and then at the picture you can see a great resemblance. The same prominent high cheek-bones, and jet black hair. If the picture would have been in color you would notice the same cream colored skin that both mother and son have. The only difference between Minus and his mother is in his eyes. He has his father�s eyes, only they seem not as cruel as his father�s are. They are a silver-blue, changing constantly to his mood. If he is happy they appear more of a night sky blue, but when upset or afraid they are the saddest shade of gray. His height is average for a seventeen-year-old, five foot ten inches. When you ask him his birthday, he hesitates. Nervously he rushes his fingers through his dark hair and his bangs fall down into his eyes January 1, 1887. I was born three hours after midnight. A lot a people think I�m lyin, but I ain�t. It�s da truth.
Got any 'ahhh, distin'guishin charact'ahristics?	his cheeks redden slightly, and he looks down. He rubs his right hand over the stump of his right leg. It had been amputated about two inches above the knee. It had happened when he was ten, but the painful memories were as clear as yesterday. He breathes out slowly, and solemnly says I guess bein da only one-legged newsie in dese parts, dat�s pretty distinguishin. It ain�t often ya see a guy walkin wit a crutch an no leg. Believe me, I seen da stares. I know whad dare thinkin. his eyes wander away from you and his smile fades
If you emptied out yah pockets on dis' table right now, wat�would fall out?	he looks back over at you, and then grabbing a hold of the top bunk he pulls himself to a standing position. He places his crutch under his right arm, and makes his way over to the table. Then he proceeds to empty his pockets. He takes out the silver pocket watch, a handful of coins that add up to $1.10, an old pocket knife, and a very faded library card for the library in Brooklyn
How'd you find 'da place?	he cups his right hand and pushes his belongings into the other one, then puts the things back into his pockets I got knocked out by some �friends� from Brooklyn. Dey left me in an alley around here. Runner found me, and brought me back to da lodging house. Been here since.
You drink, smoke, gamble...�	No. he sounds almost angry My old man did. Ruined my life. I�d neva wish somethin like dat on nobody, not even my worst enemy.
Related tah any'bady�we'd know?	Only my father, but I wish I wasn�t related ta him. If ya know anybody in prison ya might know him. looks scared But I�m beggin ya, don�t tell him I�m here.
Who's yah best friend?	When I first come here I would�a said �nobody�, but things have changed. begins to talk faster, and a smile breaks over his lips Mouth�s a nice guy, an Kyro laughs he�s one of a kind. When we first met, I really wasn�t sure whad ta think a him. He�s real great, an trustworthy. He treats me kinda like a brotha. I like dat about him. Den dare�s Skirts, her an I are kinda goin out. I neva would�a dreamed it possible. However, my real best friend is God. I know he�ll always be dare fer me, an fer a guy like me, dat�s da greatest feelin on earth.
Got any woyds tah live by?	Neva give up, cause ya ain�t neva beat wit God on yer side. You start to walk away Hey, I'll see ya around. Carryin da banna.