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I walk through the gray, moonlit streets of New York City on my way back from my nightly paper run. It’s too loud here. People chattering, whistles blowing, dogs barking, not for me. I may be just 13, but I know what the world is like. And I don’t like it like this. My attention turns to a bar down the street, with its lights spilling through the windows. The door is suddenly thrown open and a girl, about my age, is pushed through. “And stay out!” “Por favor déjame quedarme! Necesito comida! Vamos, déjame quedarme!” She screams at the man. He closes the door in her face. “Mierda.”
I jog over to her. She is wearing a slightly dirty and faded pink dress. Her dark hair is flowing over her shoulders. Pretty. “Hey, ya’ speak English?”
“Si. Yes,” She says with a slight accent, “And I don’t need any help. I’m doing fine on my own.”
“Wasn’t gonna ask if ya’ needed help. Do ya’ need a spot to stay?”
“What is your name? And I said I don’t need any help.”
“Fr- Jack. Jack Kelly.”
“Aren’t you sure?”
“Shuddup.” I don’t say it meanly, but she seems taken aback.
“Do you have any comida?”
“What does-“
“Food.”
“Yeah I know a spot. You got any money?”
“Not a cent. Why are you wanting to help me? Looking for a girlfriend?”
“Uh… No. I’m not.. interested. And because why not? I got nothin’ else ta do. Follow me.” We start walking to a place called Jacobi’s. It’s reasonably priced and I know a ton of fellow newsies who hang out there.
“So where ya’ from…“ I hesitate, “Hey, I never caught ya’ name?”
“Lorena.”
“Where are ya’ from Lorena?”
“Santa Fe, New Mexico.”
“Where is that?”
“Out west.”
“How didya get all the way here?”
“Train.”
“Where’s ya’ family?”
She stops in her tracks.
“Oh.”
“They aren’t muerto.”
“Muerto means dead?”
She smiles and resumes walking. “Si.”
“How long have you spoken English?” I say hesitantly. She seems sensitive, and I don’t want to disturb her.
“Since school.”
“You are very good at it.”
“I should be, I was born here. The only reason I speak Español is because my parents speak it.”
“Got it. We’re here.”
I approach the door of the deli, but before I can open it, a little blond boy rushes out and tackles me.
“JACK!”
“Jeez, Racer, youse is gonna kill me!”
Race only laughs. “Who is that?”
“This is.. uh.. what’s ya’ name again?”
“Lorena.”
“This is Lorena.”
“Nice ta meetcha!” Race says as he jumps up and holds out his hand. Lorena shakes.
“Nice to meet you too.” Lorena says with a smile.
“You’re really pretty!” Race says.
“Gracias.” Lorena does a little twirl.
I shove Race’s cap back on his head. “She needs food Racer, you wanna buy?”
“I already ate!” He says, patting his belly. He is so skinny. It worrys me more than I can let on. I force a smile.
“Then it’s on me.”
Lorena smiles again. Gosh, she sure is quiet. “Ay, Lorena, just to warn ya’, my friends are mostly olda’ than me. And theys is loud.”
“Nothing to worry about.” She says.
Race opens the door, and the loud chatter of my friends is immediately apparent.
“Ay! Jackie!” Says our leader, Soaks. We call him that because he will beat up anyone who makes him mad, and he looks like he never has seen a bath.
“Hiya, boss.” I have to admit, I am a little scared of him. Not that I would tell anybody. Lorena walks up to him and holds out her hand. He shakes.
“Who is this, Jackie? Got youseself a girl?”
“Nah, Soaks. She needs food. I’m buyin’, and don’t call me that!” I turn to her, “What’dya want?”
“I don’t know. Anything will do.”
“Mista’ Jacobi? Can we have a water and a hot dog?”
“Sure kiddo.” Says the jovial store owner. He goes into the back and fetches a water. He hands it to me, and I give it to Lorena.
“Gracias.” She slurps down the water very quickly.
“You’re welcome. So, tell me about Santa Fe. What’s it like?”
“Quiet. Very new, and it’s a lot of cowboys. The sky feels so big there.”
I can say I am intrigued. Santa Fe sounds like my kind of place.
“Tell me more.”
She laughs. “I had a horse there. A palomino. We went swimming in the Rio Grande river on Sundays.”
“We? You and the horse?”
“Me and mi mejor amiga, Florence.”
“Sounds fun.”
“It was.”
We are interrupter by Mr. Jacobi handing Lorena a hot dog.
“Thank you, sir.”
“I like her manners. Why can’t you be more like her, Francis?”
Lorena looks at me with quizzical eyes.
“My real name is Francis Sullivan. I.. I go by Jack Kelly. Call me that will ya’?” I explain quickly.
“Of course.”
I let out a breath as Lorena digs into her hot dog. I smile watching her.
“Jack! Can you take me back to the lodgin’ house? I’m tired.” Race sighs. I pick him up. He is getting way too big for me to hold him, but he is small, and too skinny.
“Sure, bud. Ay, Lorena, follow us. Ya’ need somewhere to stay right?”
“Si, Yes.”
We start walking back to the lodging house, it’s almost fully dark now.
“Hey, what does ‘si’ mean Lorena? And ‘gracias’ You say it all the time.” Says Race, his forehead scrunched in thought.
“I speak Spanish. My parents spoke it, so I speak it very well, and sometimes it is easier for me to think of the words in Spanish rather than English.”
“My parents died.” Race says solemnly. I ruffle his blond curls.
Lorena’s eyes grow big.
“I’m so sorry.” She says, not knowing how to deal with Racer’s blatant honesty.
“Yeah, theys got sick,” I whisper in her ear, “And uh.. even though he seems like he’d be open ‘bout talkin’ ‘bout his folks, don’t ask him.”
She nods. “Right.”
I see the Newsboy’s Lodging House come into view.
“Lorena, that there is the lodgin’ house. Kloppman is gonna want you to pay. I can pay for ya’ tonight, but once ya’ start earnin’ money…”
“I can pay once I start earning money. Could I… never mind.”
“What?”
“Could I become a Newsboy? Or Newsgirl?”
“Wouldja? That would be great!”
“Jack… Gracias!” She is beaming.
“Of course.” I tip my hat.
I open the door for her, and she steps in. It isn’t much, but the look on Lorena’s face stays it all. I hear a snore next to my ear and realize that Race has fallen asleep.
“Wow.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty nice- huh?”
“Thank you, Jack.”
I walk over to the desk, Race still on my hip. I paid my 6 cents, Lorena’s 6 cents, and took 6 cents out of Race’s pocket. Sleeping is expensive.
I turn back to Lorena, “Ay, follow me to the dormitories. Theys is up on floor 4 ‘n 5, so I’se understands if ya’ get tired.”
She nods and follows. My side is getting tired from holding Race, so I wake him up and he groggily walks up the stairs. We made it to floor 4, where Race’s bed is, and he crawls in. There are a couple younger boys in here, but it’s mostly just us.
“‘M tired, Jackie.”
“Don’t- ‘night Racer.”
I pull the sheets up over him.
“How did you meet him?”
“Huh?”
“How did you meet Race?”
I look at the sleeping, curly haired boy.
“Come with me.”
“Por qué?”
“What does- never mind.” I gesture for her to come to the window. I slide it open, and step out onto the fire escape. We walk to the roof in silence.
“I met Racer two years ago. His parents got sick, and he was out on the streets by himself. The kid was 7 when I found ‘em.”
“He seems young for nine years old.”
“I don’t tell him much. We sell together for the morning edition, so I’se make sure nothin’ bad’ll happen to him.”
Lorena looks around for the first time.
“It’s beautiful up here.”
“Ain’t it?”
“The moon is different.”
I look at her.
“Whatdaya mean?”
“The moon looks different here than in Santa Fe.”
“Different how?”
“It almost looks gray here. At home, the moon looked amarillo.”
“Amarillo? And I’se is sorry I don’t understand spanish.”
“No need to be sorry, Jack. And yellow.”
“S’long as you don’t mind. ‘Ay what does Santa Fe look like?”
“You really like Santa Fe, hmmm?”
“I mean.. it seems like somewhere I would like.”
She laughs.
“It is a desert. These reddish orange buttes are everywhere, but along the river it is very lush. The sunsets are like a painting.”
“I’m an alright painter, maybe I could make you a Santa Fe sunset?”
“I would love that.”
I am starting to get tired, so I take Lorena back down to the dormitory where Race is sleeping. There are usually certain beds that aren’t occupied, so I point her to one. I explain that I sleep on the roof. I don’t tell her why.
“If ya’ need anythin’, let me know.”
“I will, Jack. Goodnight.”
“‘Night.”
I climb up the fire escape to the rooftop, and sit on my pillow. The sky is clear, yet the stars are almost non-existent. The smog must be really bad tonight.
I lay down, dreading sleep, but my eyes grow heavy and eventually close.
———
THWAP. THWAP.
I curse, and roll into the fetal position.
“Have you had enough, boy?” Snyder sneers down at me.
My back is screaming from pain. I want to tell him to stop. I can’t. Tears are streaming down my face.
“Jack! Jack!”
I open my eyes, gasping.
“Jack, are you okay?!”
I see Lorena staring at me with big eyes.
“Did I-“
“You were screaming at someone. You were yelling at them to stop… just- are you okay?” She repeats.
“Never better.” I reply bitterly, wiping the tears off of my face.
I want to cry more. But I gotta save face in front of the new kid- especially if she is a girl.
“You don’t seem okay. Was it a nightmare?”
“Yeah. I get ‘em pretty often. It’s because…” I trail off. “Never mind.”
“Sorry. I was just going to ask where I could get some new clothes- I can.. I can come back later.”
“Yeah… wouldja? Find me when the bell rings.”
“Mmhmm.”
I put my head in my knees. I hate waking up every night to these nightmares. They’re from the refuge. I try to tell myself that it’s over, that I’m not there anymore. To stop living in the past. But there are some things you can’t push away, no matter how hard you try. Then it hits me.
I can’t live here anymore. Every street, every alley, every face- they will just remind me of my past traumas. But where would I go?
The rattling of the ladder leading up to the roof from the fire escape brings me out of my stupor.
“Lorena, you still there?”
“Si.”
“Can.. come back up here.”
Her head emerges, peeking over onto the roof.
When she reaches me I ask her.
“You plannin’ on goin’ back ta Santa Fe?”
“No, why?”
“Well cause… well I was wonderin’ if I could come with ya’.”
“Jack.. of course.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
Lorena starts to get up, but then hesitates.
“Jack?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I sleep up here tonight?”
“Why? I mean uh.. sure.”
“I don’t want you getting scared again.”
“Oh, um ya don’t gotta worry ‘bout that.” I scratch my neck. “I was in a place called The Refuge. It’s not a place ya wanna be in. Ya hear me?”
“Si.”
“‘Kay.”
Lorena lays down, and looks up at the sky. I watch her, willing myself to feel something. She is pretty, smart, nice… and I don’t feel anything. I should feel something! Why am I like this?
I try to make myself comfortable again. I punch my pillow and lay down, turning away from Lorena.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah! Yeah… no.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothin’ youse gotta worry youseself about. Ya got enough problems as it is, ya don’t need mine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Mmhmm.”
“Then go to bed. We have a lot of selling to do tomorrow.”
I laugh. “You got it.”
———
The bell rings. ‘Mornin stinking streets of New York? Ready for another day? I sure am not.
“Lorena?”
I see Lorena’s sprawled out figure on the rooftop, her dark hair forming a halo around her head. She looks so peaceful. Her figure stirs.
“Good morning, Jack.”
“‘Mornin.”
“The sun isn’t up yet, why are you waking me up?”
“Whadoya mean?”
“At home- never mind.”
“No, no! I like hearin’’bout Santa Fe! Seein’ as youse is gonna take me there someday.”
“Right.” She laughs. “We just usually get up a little after the crack of dawn!”
“Imagine that.”
She laughs again. Gee, Lorena isn’t as quiet as I thought. My first impression of her was that she is quiet and standoffish. Now that I know her a little better, I can see she is quite the opposite.
“C’mon. Race is probably wakin’ up.”
She follows me down the rickety ladder down to the fire-escape. I open the window that leads in to the dormitory room, and the clamor of boys getting ready is a sight to behold.
“Top of the morning to ya Jack!” Says a guy, around my age, with glasses.
“Where’d ya learn that phrase, Specs?”
“A Brit said it to me when I sold him a pape yesterday!”
I chuckle, and lead Lorena through the maze of boys.
“Jackie!!”
“Hey, Race. How’d ya sleep?”
“Pretty good! No bad dreams!”
“That’s great!” I say ruffle his blonde hair, and his bright blue eyes stare up at me. He is so young, I almost feel bad for him.
“Alrighty, kid. Let’s go to Newsie Square.”
“Newsie Square?” Lorena asks.
“It’s where we get our papes.”
“I see.”
———
When we reach Newsie Square, I show Lorena the Circulation Gate, and we get in the long line of newsies waiting to get our papers.
“Ey, Lorena. You sees those guys?” I say, motioning to two boys helping pass out papers. She nods. “Ya can’t just nod. You stay away from them, youse understand me? They’s is the Delancey Brothers, and they’s is bad news.”
“I understand.”
I want to give her more context. She is new to this, and those boys are not good.
When we get up to the front of the line, I slap down 50 cents, so we both can have 50 papes. I usually get 100, but I can’t buy for the both of us and still eat.
I wait for Race as he gets his papers, mildly insulting the Delancey Brothers as he goes.
“Hello, Ladies! Ooh, Oscar! You have a cigar there? Well, not anymore!” He laughs as he steals a cigar from Oscar’s mouth.
Oscar looks mad but Morris, the other brother, pulls him aside.
Race bounds over to me.
“Kid, youse is gonna get into big trouble if you keep doing that.”
“Yeah, but it keeps me entertained!” He says with a gap-toothed smile, sticking the cigar in his mouth.
“That isn’t safe. You shouldn’t be smoking at such a young age.” Lorena says, reaching for the cigar.
“Ey, that’s mine!” Race shouts, pushing her hands away.
“Just let ‘em have the cigar. It calms ya down.”
“But-“ She protests.
“Look, the people feel bad for a poor orphan boy who has turned to smoking. It helps sell papes.” I explain.
“Then you should be the one smoking. He is too young.”
“You are never too young to blow off some steam.” I am mad. I understand that kids smoking isn’t for everybody, but Race? This kid has been through a lot. Let him smoke!
“Yeah!” Race adds on, with an angry face.
Lorena scoffs and takes the papers from my hand and storms off.
“‘Rena! Wait!” I grab her arm. “Hey, I gotta show you how ta sell!”
“I am fine, cabrón,” She says harshly, “I can sell by myself.”
She breaks my grasp.
“‘Rena!”
Lorena heads out the gates of Newsie Square and into the streets of New York.
Race looks up at me.
“Don’t patronize me.”
“Huh?” Race says, his blue eyes inquisitive.
“I actually ain’t sure what that means.” I want to laugh, but at the same time, i want to bury my head in my hands. Lorena doesn’t deserve to be out on the streets alone. It isn’t safe for her. Not for anyone, but she is REALLY pretty. I don’t want her getting hurt, or worse.
“Are you going to go after her?” Race says, holding out his hand to help me up.
“She’s probably long gone.”
“But you still hafta try right?”
“Why would I? She doesn’t want to be anywhere near me.”
Race thinks for a moment, his brows furrowed. He comes out with nothing, and just hands me the cigar.
“Here.”
I sigh. “Thanks, Racer.”
I take a deep breath, inhaling the smoke. I’ve always hated the feeling of smoking, but I do like feeling calm.
“We hafta sell now.” Race says, tugging at my cap.
“Right. Let’s go.”
As Race and I walk around the cobblestone avenues, shouting headlines. The headlines are mostly made up, I tend to over exaggerate.
“Extra, extra! Two gangs battle it out! Two dead! Read all about it on page 4!” I shout. A man drops a nickle in my hand with barely any notice. The gangs were a couple of alley cats, but dead cats don’t sell papes.
Race goes with a “sick kid” routine. The kid is a natural actor. Rich ladies out getting lunch swoon over a little kid who is coughing his brains out.
I let my mind wander from selling, and let muscle memory take over. Why did Lorena leave? She didn’t have the right to get that mad at me! I see why she was angry, but it doesn’t make sense to me that she would run away. Lorena is sensitive, I know this. But… I don’t know. She really just isn’t safe on her own. There are bad people on the streets. I don’t think any ‘Hattan boys would hurt her- maybe the older ones, but the Queens and Brooklyn boys tend to be a little more… spontaneous.
And then there is the Delanceys. You can’t trust many people out in the streets, and she doesn’t know who to trust. Lorena could get seriously hurt- or worse. I don’t want anything to happen to her.
“You okay Jackie?” Race asks, kindly- but I’m not in the mood.
“No, Race. I’se is not okay. It ain’t fair that she… she could get hurt Racer!”
“Do ya’ have feelins for her?” He says, in a very mocking way.
“No. ‘Rena is just a friend.” I say, truthfully. Sadly. Race always finds a way for me to go back to the sad, weird subject of my love life. I’ve never felt any feelings for a girl. Ever.
“Youse should try ta find her!”
“Where could she be?” I half yell, sitting down on a crate.
“Jack…” Race hesitates, but he crawls into my arms and hugs me. “It’s gonna be okay. This whole thing’ll blow over.”
I laugh. “When didya get so smart, kid?”
“Only learned from you!” He says, looking up at me.
Learned from me? Poor Race. We both still have a lot left to learn.
“Also, Jack? Can we eat?” Hungry blue eyes look up at me.
I shake my head. Because I will sell half as many papes as normal today, I can’t spare any money.
“Sorry kid. Not enough today.”
Race looks down. “I’m gonna sell the rest on my own today.”
“Okay. You know where to find me if you need any help,” I say, gesturing to the ground.
Race hugs me, and runs off.
———
As I finish selling my last paper of the evening edition, the sky has just begun to darken. I decide to head to me and Racer’s usual meeting spot, on the southwest corner of Central Park.
He will usually wait there for me, people-watching and such. Sometimes he goes off to visit friends.
But today, he isn’t here. I check for the white rock that he places on a lamppost to signal he is off with friends, but don’t see him. It isn’t like Race to not be done selling papers this late.
I start walking to his selling spot, it is a little closer to Brooklyn than my liking, but this kid, Spot Conlon, usually takes care of him. For lack of a better word. Spot and Race are the same age. Spot just happens to be more mature and tough.
When I make it to Race’s selling spot, the sun has gone down, and it is dark outside. I see someone pacing near the corner where he sometimes is.
“‘Ay! Racer? That you?” I shout at the silhouette.
“Who’s askin’?” It responds.
“His brudder.”
“Racetrack don’t got no brother.” The voice responds, coming toward me.
It isn’t Race. That build… it’s too stocky and short to be- oh shit.
“Spot.” I say.
“Jack Kelly.” He holds out his palm, and I spit in my own and shake.
“Conlon, ya’ seem to know Racer pretty well. Any idea where he might be?”
“I’se hasn’t seen him since Tuesday. He said we was gonna meet up today.” He looks up at me, his eyes are cold, but they show alarm. “He ain’t usually late.” Spot mumbles.
“That’s why I’se is worried. I ain’t seen him since the afta’noon.” I say, taking my cap off and running my hands through my hair.
“Well, he ain’t here. Youse better keep lookin’.”
I turn, to leave but Spot starts again.
“I did see those two guys that Racer talks about sometimes ‘round here though.”
I whirl.
“The Delancey’s?”
“Yeah… they said they’s was lookin’ fora kid who stole them’s cigar.”
“You kiddin’? Racer did that this mornin’.” I am suddenly 100 times more worried than I was.
“Lorena was right.” I say, under my breath.
“Who?”
“Look, I’se gotta go. But if ya’ see somethin’, find me. Ya’ dig Conlon?”
“I’se understands.”
I turn away, and run into the ever-darkening streets. The lamplighters haven’t yet started their shifts, and the streets are as dark as they come.
I start to run. I hate being out in the streets alone, especially in the dark.
As the night goes on, I start getting more and more frantic. It’s almost 8:00. I’m gonna have to pay a late fee to Kloppman tonight.
I pass an alley, and suddenly a small voice peeps from the darkness.
“Jack?”
I look into the dark corridor. Two figures are in the shadows. A short, lanky boy standing, and a girl, with a pink dress and a halo of black hair on the ground.
“Jack, It’s Lorena.” Race says.
I run to Lorena’s side.
“No, no, no, no, no, no. What happened?”
She opens her mouth to respond, but Race cuts in, crying.
“It’s all my fault. They’s was mad that I took Oscar’s cigar. Real mad.”
“But how did… how did this happen?” My hands are shaking. I lift Lorena’s head into my arms, searching for what caused her to be lying on the ground. I push back her hair, and accidentally smear her face with blood. Her blood.
“Shit! Oh shit. Lorena, did them Delancey’s stab you?” I say, my voice rising in a panic.
Race cuts in to respond.
“They cornered me! They’s was gonna hurt me… and.. and ‘Rena was walkin’ by… She saw what they’s was gonna do..” Race mumbles, stumbling on his words.
“And I jumped in front of him.” Lorena says in her quiet, soft voice. Only this time it isn’t strong. It’s shaking.
I’m in shock. “You… you…”
“Those boys were going to hurt him. I couldn’t watch that happen.”
Trembling, I look for her wound. I find it in her back, and I notice the knife on the ground.
“Where… where did they go?” I manage to get out.
“I’se screamed.” Race says. He comes behind me, and wraps his arms around my neck.
I am reminded of Race’s presence. I gotta be strong about this. He can’t… he can’t see me be scared.
“Jack…”
“Shhhh… Lorena. Don’t.. don’t talk.”
“No. I have to tell you something.”
“What?”
“I sold all of my papes.” She says with a smile. Well, it actually looks more like a grimace.
“You did?” I whisper.
“Si.” She laughs, and then coughs.
“It hurt much?” Race says.
“Not as much as you would think.” She winces. Guess I’m not the only one trying to save face in front of the kid.
“Okay. Now you don’t talk.” I sputter, wiping a tear from my cheek.
“Jackie, are you cryin’?” Race breathes, “I’se has never seen you cry. Never ever.”
So much for saving face.
“I… yeah.”
Lorena lets out a shuddering breath.
“‘Rena?”
“Jack?” She says, white-faced.
“No. No.”
“Jack. Will you… will you tell my parents I died?”
“‘Rena… no.”
“You might have to go to Santa Fe without me.”
“It.. I can’t.”
She clasps her hand in mine.
“You have to.”
She closes her eyes.
“No… No. NO!”
I can’t hold in the sobs anymore. The tears run through the layers of grime on my face, carving rivers.
Race holds me tight.
“Jackie? Is she…”
“Yeah,” I choke out, “She’s gone.”