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Post by mabel on Aug 13, 2008 0:39:08 GMT -5
"Truth is, what you said had some sense to it. We can keep striking until we're blue in the face but in the end we don't have anymore power then we did a year ago. We're still a bunch of kids with no money and even less possibility of having any kind of future that we don't make ourselves.."
The idea of not having a future scared Mabel stiff. By eighteen, Mabel had always figured she would have been married off and content with a life full of, well, to be honest, not very much. But she would have been safe and financially secure: pleasures which now seemed a distant memory. Now, unless things turned up considerably, she was going to have to either work hard or be exceptionally lucky. The latter seemed unlikely--the Fitzpatrick's luck well had run dry.
""I'm waiting for Jack to call a lodging house meetin'.. Kid Blink said we need Davey and I think he's right. And truth be told, I'm not sure Jack wants the strike. He wants to be a newspaper man, and he can get his foot in the door because of what he is-- but another strike could ruin his chances.." Like a repeat record Bumlets had heard it all before, the promises and in the end, he was right where he'd been a year ago only he was wiser this go around. "I'll stick with Jack, whatever he decides but--"
Mabel nodded, "Yes, well, hopefully he'll do so sooner rather then later... something tells me some of the other newsies won't be so patient." There was a definite tension these days--boys seemed to be snapping at each other and picking fights with disconcerting frequency. They weren't happy and it was becoming painfully apparent.
"Good for Jack, though..." She trailed off, "And I think, no matter what he decides, he'll make sure his newsies are okay." She nodded as though she'd just come to some profound realization, "I'll stick by him, too."
Rubbing her neck, she chuckled weakly, "Well, I'll stick by him until I begin to starve and then-... then I might to have to go my own way. But I trust you, Bumlets, you're a smart fellow." She remarked with a nod and a smile.
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Post by Bumlets Russo on Aug 13, 2008 1:17:03 GMT -5
Rubbing her neck, she chuckled weakly, "Well, I'll stick by him until I begin to starve and then-... then I might to have to go my own way. But I trust you, Bumlets, you're a smart fellow." She remarked with a nod and a smile.
Smart? He actually blushed and shrugged a little, he didn't think he was smart he just did what was necessary and followed his own mind. He was destined for something and he wasn't sure what it was really, sighing he looked over at her with a kind of smile.
"Some people don't really notice sometimes but that's okay--" And that she trusted him gave him a warm feeling somehow, but this girl was as far out of his league as the Governor's Daughter was for Blink. Yet he couldn't help but keep talking, there was a lot of things Bumlet was looking to say but he only came up with one. "My name isn't Bumlets... it's Brian.."
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Post by mabel on Aug 13, 2008 1:30:56 GMT -5
"My name isn't Bumlets... it's Brian.."
Mabel's grin widened, "Brian- well, that's a wonderful name! Honest to god, I just don't understand this nickname thing... what's so bad about the name you're born with?" Recalling the time Jem had taken to calling her Maple, she chuckled. It was sweet of him, but Mabel needed to keep her name--it set her apart.
"I think I'll call you Brian, then. Hope you don't mind." Kicking her legs boredly, Mabel looked up and down the boardwalk, eying some well-to-do folks going about their business. "One day we won't have to worry about money--I'm sure of it." She glanced at him, "Any idea what you'll do after selling papers?"
Mabel didn't know what she'd do. She was booksmart, but she didn't have the kind of schooling that caught most people's attention. Her father also did not have the sort of connections he used to. Any rich suitors had come and gone for Mabel. Though she wouldn't admit, something told her she would be supporting herself--one way or another.
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Post by Bumlets Russo on Aug 13, 2008 1:41:37 GMT -5
, "Brian- well, that's a wonderful name! Honest to god, I just don't understand this nickname thing... what's so bad about the name you're born with?"
He shook his head and laughed a little, his hand reaching for his trusty broom handle as he looked for a way to answer her question. "I guess it started because a lot of the newsies were runaways and nicknames help you hide better if no one knows your real name. The cops and your folks can't trace you-- eventually you just find yourself with a nickname, to tell you the truth I don't even remember how I got Bumlets it was so long ago.."
"One day we won't have to worry about money--I'm sure of it." She glanced at him, "Any idea what you'll do after selling papers?"
Following her gaze he shrugged lightly, he really wasn't sure what he would do but the docks and even that-- well it didn't seem right for him. "I don't know, Mabel. I've been thinking about it a lot lately too--" Going west maybe or working at the train station, but in reality he had nothing to lose or gain by staying or going. "I honestly wasn't sure I would live this long, winters are hard here in the city. Sometimes to find what you really need or want, you have to have nothing to appreciate what God gives you in the end. Your talents-- strengths-- weaknesses.."
Yeah he had little prospects but he was smart, and that brain could get him a lot father then the muscles of his back could. If he thought about it right.
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Post by mabel on Aug 13, 2008 1:53:11 GMT -5
"I honestly wasn't sure I would live this long, winters are hard here in the city. Sometimes to find what you really need or want, you have to have nothing to appreciate what God gives you in the end. Your talents-- strengths-- weaknesses.."
Mabel blinked, a bit taken back about his not expecting to live this long. She'd moved to the city during the tailend of this past winter and that had been miserable enough. She had spent the whole duration of it sniffling. She wasn't used to being outside in the freezing cold. What she'd do this coming winter, she didn't know.
"Well," She began, quite impressed with his sentiments, "You're clearly intuitive... maybe you should stop selling the newspapers and start writing for them. I bet you could--you've got the ear for it."
Another obnoxious breeze blew Mabel's hair back into her face. Huffing unhappily, Mabel drew her hair out of her face and behind her ears. "Stupid wind," She muttered, pouting slightly. Then again, a bit of wind was far better than the humid air they'd been plagued with in recent weeks.
Looking up, she spotted a few grey clouds on the horizon, "I hope it doesn't rain..." If it rained, Mabel would be back to her sniffling. "When do you fancy that lodging house meeting will take place?" Though it was unlike Mabel to be involved in newsie politics, this she wanted to witness. She wanted to know once and for all what their stance would be.
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Post by Bumlets Russo on Aug 13, 2008 2:42:42 GMT -5
"Well," She began, quite impressed with his sentiments, "You're clearly intuitive... maybe you should stop selling the newspapers and start writing for them. I bet you could--you've got the ear for it."
Bumlets looked at Mabel when she said that and looked a bit shocked, his hand tightened on his boom handle and he turned his eyes quickly down the boardwalk while he considered that an option. No Jack was the newspaper man, not him. He was-- he looked back at her. "You really think I could do something like that?"
Looking up, she spotted a few grey clouds on the horizon, "I hope it doesn't rain..." If it rained, Mabel would be back to her sniffling. "When do you fancy that lodging house meeting will take place?"
Bumlets turned his eyes to the clouds and knit is brow before looking back over at her and her hair waving in the wind, he didn't really know what to do to help her so he got to his feet and held out his hand. "Come on, I'll take you back home.." Bumlets NEVER touched girls-- they were a bit terrifying in his mind but this one? She was different.
"I'm not really sure Mabel, I think Jack headed to Brooklyn to talk to Spot, hopefully we'll know more then.."
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Post by mabel on Aug 13, 2008 15:57:59 GMT -5
"You really think I could do something like that?"
Mabel shrugged, returning her gaze to the boardwalk. “I can’t see why not… I’m not saying it will be easy. Kids who grow up on the street are bound to run into some trouble trying to leave the streets.” She stated matter-of-factly. It was never her intent to be rude or blunt—it was just how she saw things.
"Come on, I'll take you back home.."
Mabel glanced from him to his hand, smiling politely at the gesture. Extending her own hand, she took his and pulled herself to her feet. For reasons Mabel could not fully understand, Bumlets seemed determined to look out for her. She appreciated it—it was refreshing after a days worth of people going about their own business without so much as a passing glance. He was turning into quite the friend-… something Mabel desperately needed, particularly if things were about to get much worse.
"I'm not really sure Mabel, I think Jack headed to Brooklyn to talk to Spot, hopefully we'll know more then.."
Twisting her arm to link it with his own, she nodded, “Well, good… frankly, I’m not sure I’d ever want to talk to that Spot fellow, but I’m sure Jack can handle him fine.” Somewhere along the way, Mabel had developed this misconceived notion that Spot Conlon was something like a rabid dog.
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Post by Bumlets Russo on Aug 16, 2008 16:57:14 GMT -5
. “I can’t see why not… I’m not saying it will be easy. Kids who grow up on the street are bound to run into some trouble trying to leave the streets.”
"That alone makes people more determined to do better and prove everyone else wrong. I guess that's what had Jack striking before.." To prove himself something more then just a body that took up space on the streets. Bumlets had gone along for the thrill, he'd gotten caught up in the moment. He'd thought it threw to death though and at the time the strike HAD been the only way. This time though.
Twisting her arm to link it with his own, she nodded, “Well, good… frankly, I’m not sure I’d ever want to talk to that Spot fellow, but I’m sure Jack can handle him fine.”
If he'd ever thought she wasn't out of his league her actions showed him something else entirely. He used his broom handle as a walking stick sometimes just because it was something to do with his hands. "Spot's not all bad, he's got a temper and a mouth but that describes about all of Brooklyn. And if you are ever in a jam it's Brooklyn you want at your back. They are quick and loyal but violent and hard to control. Only Spot seems to be able to keep them all in line.." he kept walking, leading her home before the sky opened up on them.
"If he wants to strike then there isn't much stopping him, I think the leaders are going to be split on this one.."
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Post by valerie on Feb 11, 2009 22:53:25 GMT -5
***NEW DAY***
Her father warned her about Manhattan. About street rat kids and con artists. Well, Valerie would prove him wrong. Still, he had bought her a very nice apartment on Fifth and would be giving her a weekly allowance.
Valerie heaved a sigh, digging in her hand bag, standing on the sidewalk. That stupid piece of paper must be inside somewhere! She had heard of Irving Hall from a friend of hers when she had visited New York. Now she couldn't find the paper telling her how to get there. Valerie adored singing and vaudeville, much to her father's dismay who spoke of opera as if he'd been listening to it all his life.
Her parasol hung on her arm, a light pink, matching her dress, of course. Her fingers fumbled in their white gloves and she dropped her purse on the sidewalk. Giving a frustrated, "Oh!" she knelt down to pick up her belongings.
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Post by pupdawkinseitz on Feb 11, 2009 23:01:58 GMT -5
, "Oh!"
Pup was sprinting down the street, his blue eyes wide and frantic as he peered back over his shoulder, the bulls were chasing him. He could see them getting closer and closer. He just kept running and running blindly through the streets not knowing where he was going, just trying to do anything to lose them. His Father had seen him, he knew it. His father sent the bulls after him. He could never go back to that life, never, he didn't want to, he just couldn't!
If he had to go back home to his hateful torturing Mother, he had no idea what he would do. He was running and the bulls seemed to be stuck behind when he tripped over something and went sprawling. He picked himself up quickly, only taking a second to look at the scrape on his elbow that was already starting to bleed. He looked around frantically, and looked up at the girl in front of him. She was obviously rich, but she was his only chance. He ducked under a bench near by, he was small and could stay hidden pretty easily.
"Don't tell them I'm here, Pleeaassee!" He whispered.
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Post by valerie on Feb 12, 2009 9:51:02 GMT -5
Feeling terribly guilty that the little boy had tripped over her parasol that stuck out as she was kneeling, Valerie quickly scooped up the rest of her belongings but pretended not to even hear the child. The cops, two of them, were now crossing the street. Valerie stood up and walked right over to the pair, as they came on her side of the sidewalk.
"Are you alright, ma'am?" The first cop asked, both of them removing their hats.
She gave them a big bright smile, "Oh, yes. Thank you."
"A little boy didn't push you down?" The second cop looked a bit suspcious. Obviously they had seen the boy near here.
She laughed, "A little boy? Oh no! Clumsy me, I just dropped my purse trying to find something. Do you know which way Irving Hall is?"
They ignored her question, for which she frowned deeply, "Did you see a boy? Running?"
"I believe so. Yes," She thought for a long moment, looking down the street then pointed, "I'm sure I saw a whole group of kids run down that way. Now, if you would--"
But before she could ask them again they were gone.
Valerie sighed and sat on the bench the boy was under. She watched the cops turn the corner and then spoke, "You can come out now. They've gone." She didn't know why exactly she had helped the boy. For all she knew he might have been a thief. But it was her fault he had tripped and was now bleeding. She searched in her back for a handkerchief, waiting for him to come out of hiding.
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Post by pupdawkinseitz on Feb 12, 2009 21:07:28 GMT -5
Pup had been crouching under the bench, listening anxiously to the lady talk to the bulls. His blue eyes widened. He was amazed she didn't tell.
"You can come out now. They've gone."
He poked his head out, peering this way and that, making sure they were really gone. He couldn't take any chances. Slowly when he was sure they were really gone, he crawled out from underneath the bench. He brushed his faded, torn black jacket off, and used his cap to wipe the suit off his forehead. It had been a far run. He had run faster than ever before. Every time he was spotted, the call became closer and closer. You see, Pup was the son of a well known business man, Pulitzer's right hand man, Seitz.
He was still panting a bit, and he smiled shyly at the girl, oh so grateful she hadn't told the bulls on him. He was only seven years old, and as small as they came. He wiped his nose with his sleeve and gave her another shy toothy grin.
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Post by valerie on Feb 13, 2009 0:58:59 GMT -5
Getting a better look at the boy she was sure half the street could hear her heart breaking. Such a small boy to be running from the cops. She smiled back a little before moving over on the bench a little and patting the space next to her, "Let's have a look at that scrape. I'm terribly sorry you tripped over my parasol. I hope it doesn't hurt too badly."
She held the handkerchief in her hand still, waiting for him to join her. She couldn't help but wonder where the boy's parents where, if he had any, when his last meal or bath was, whether he was getting sick or if he was hungry.
Perhaps she could take care of him. Why shouldn't she? She had enough money. She wondered if he could read or write. If he had ever listened to music that moved him or if... well, if he ever felt loved.
She gave another warm smile, knowing she was getting much too far ahead of herself. A meal and a bandage she would get him for now. Everything else he would probably refuse to tell her anyway.
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Post by pupdawkinseitz on Feb 13, 2009 10:46:01 GMT -5
"Let's have a look at that scrape. I'm terribly sorry you tripped over my parasol. I hope it doesn't hurt too badly."
He saw her pat the space next to her. His dark blue eyes were solemn and serious. He slowly climbed up next to her. She seemed really kind, kinder than most people he met, but he still couldn't be sure. His Momma had acted nice when Daddy was home, that was the only time she loved Pup, but it was only an act. Pup always had a hard time trusting new people. The very faint bruise marks on his arms and face showed the hidden abusive life he had led.
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Post by valerie on Feb 13, 2009 11:09:09 GMT -5
She gently took his arm in her hand, cleaning the dirt from his wound, but it was still bleeding. She pressed the handkerchief to it then took his other hand and move it to hold it there instead, "Hold that there and the bleeding should stop soon. We should get it properly cleaned up though with soap and water. Listen, I haven't eaten lunch yet and I really feel terrible about tripping you. Why don't I treat you to lunch to make up for it? What do you say?"
She gave him a bright smile, hoping he wouldn't just run away. She saw the bruises on his arm and was careful not to touch them, or that her grip wasn't too firm when she held his arm before. "I'm Valerie, by the way."
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