Weather Frightful, Fire Delightful (~*Open*~)

[Dreamer]

(A/N: OK, guys. Here's the thing: I'm bored. Nobody is on. I felt like posting something, and this helps me get over the fact that I can't stop shivering in the igloo that I live in. lol.)

Wintertime was a stranger to Dreamer. It's magical white snowflakes that fell in the sky were no more than flying foreigners floating in the blistering cold wind. The gray sky above her had shown no ray of sunlight in what felt like years...when in actuality, it was only a month or so.

It was Dreamer's first snow-white winter in her lifetime, and she hated it. When she was a little girl, she would dream of how wonderful it would be to wake up in her farm back in Texas, look out her window and find a beautiful blanket of snow laid covering the horse ranch and the 50 acres of land she had once owned.

Now she knew the meaning of the phrase "Be careful of what you wished for".

Not to mention, it wasn't particularly fun walking in New York City in the middle of a snow-fall when you have papers to sell. And to make it harder for Dreamer, being her first winter, it took her a long time to sell them.

But they were sold and that's all that mattered...OK, selling the newspapers and making sure she could still feel her own small and dainty feet that were now freezing.

Quickly, with her head hunched between her shoulders, and her arms wrapped around herself, Dreamer hurried down the icy sidewalks to get to the Manhattan Lodging House. It was growing darker outside for the night, and that meant that it was going to get colder. Before the first snow fell, Dreamer was able to buy herself a cheap coat for the winter. It wasn't much, but still, it kept her warm...some of the time.

Finally, she had made it up the front steps of the lodging house, and with shivering hands, opened the door and slipped inside. Closing the door behind her, Dreamer shouted:

"Hey guys! Anyone home?"

No answer. Perfect. This made Dreamer smile a bit, despite her non-stop shivering. No one was there to bother her. Dreamer's smile soon faded as she tried to warm herself up while she walked upstairs to the bunk room. She thought about making a fire, but she didn't know if that was against the rules or if it would make anyone mad. Plus, hot water was like gold at the lodging house. You were lucky enough to get it once every two weeks for a shower

The last thing Dreamer wanted was to get any of the boys mad enough to yell at her for, yet again, being stupid.

Like always, Dreamer dumped her newspaper satchel, and her newsboy cap right by the bunk room entrance. She forced herself to take off her shoes and coat, the only things that were barely keeping her warm, other than the clothes on her back. Maybe it was better if she just crawled into her bed and pulled the covers over her.

It was a pretty nice idea. A pretty warm idea.

Still shivering and holding her arms around herself, but not saying a word of complaint, Dreamer walked quickly to her bunk bed, pulled the very thin cotton blanket over her, laid her head on the pillow and closed her eyes to relax. Now she was safe from the bitter cold, or however much time she would be protected from it. She still shivered, but that was all right. All Dreamer wanted to do was sleep. No one would bother her, and she wouldn't bother anyone if she was sleeping.

As she was drifting off, she thought she heard someone come in through the front door from downstairs, but didn't think anything of it. It wouldn't matter. By they time they would come up the stairs, she would be in a deep sleep before a word would be said.

And she was.

[Anthony Higgins]

Racetrack slammed the door behind him and let out a string of curses in both English and Italian that would have made a sailor blush. As he took his first few slow steps into the room, he pushed off his hat, carelessly letting it fall to the floor. He glanced around and saw, with some chagrin, that there was someone sleeping. Who was it? He noticed the long hair. Oh. Dreamer. It was just Dreamer. Had he woke her? He didn’t know, and he was too angry to care. He wasn’t angry. He was agitated. Agitated, disappointed, upset, lost, confused. Everything that Racetrack Higgins had not been a day in his life, he was right now. He didn’t like it much. He knew he had a decision to make. It was no little matter; it was something that would determine the course of his entire life. And he had about an hour to decide.

He sat in silence for a while, musing over what had just gone on. The very thought of it made his heart clench, and made him feel sick. Racetrack could scarcely remember his brother Thomas, but seeing him on the street that cold morning was like looking into a mirror. The gentleman (yes, gentleman, every inch of him!) had the same features, the same eyes and nose, mouth and even similar hair. Their identical eyes had met as the newsboy peddled his papers, and the young gentleman reached into his waistcoat pocket to draw out a penny. It seemed they realized the fact of their similar features at the same time: they froze and stared, with furrowed brows and incredulous looks. Then, at long last, the gentleman spoke. “You’re not—you couldn’t be. Anthony?” For the newsboy, suddenly, everything made sense, and he realized exactly who this man was. “No way in hell!” he had exclaimed. “Thomas? Is that—my God! No way in hell!”

By some absurd twist of fate, after twelve years apart, each thinking the other dead, the two brothers were reunited. For hours, they sat and talked. Once the ecstasy of their reunion died down, Thomas sat with his younger brother and told him of everything that had happened. Their parents were killed years ago by some criminal desperate for money. Thomas was taken to an orphanage. No one ever knew he had a grandmother and younger brother in Manhattan because he never spoke. “I watched them die,” Thomas Higgins said, hanging his head in shame. “I did not speak a word for years.” Nonetheless, Thomas received an education, and was struck with ambition at a young age: he desired, with all his being, to become a lawyer. His extensive studies had brought him much success. As of his meeting Racetrack, he had graduated high school and was attending Columbia University, studying toward his law degree. He had tried locating his brother and grandmother, he said, but upon finding Nonna Giulia dead and Anthony missing, he had no idea where to look. “So,” said the law student, “I more or less gave up. You must forgive me.”

“Course I do!” Racetrack said quickly. “Who’s blamin’ ya? I woulda given up in your shoes…” He then proceeded to inform Thomas of everything that had happened since the day they were separated: his years with Nonna, the shock of her death and his struggle to decide what to do next, and then his years at the lodging house as a newsboy. He illustrated a newsboy’s unusual and feckless life, and Thomas shook his head in disapproval. “It’s disappointing, Anthony. Mother and Father would have wanted better for you…” “I didn’t have too much of a choice, now did I, Tom?” Racetrack was careful not to sound too bitter. “I did what I could and I made a livin’ out of it. I ate enough to keep me goin’ and I had a roof above my head every night. I stopped goin’ to school, but I learned how to gamble…” “What?” “Like it or not, Tom, it happened. Well, I figure I’m about as good a businessman as anyone in New York, me knowin’ all the stuff I do about sellin’…”

“How old are you now, Anthony?” “Sixteen.” Thomas thought for a long moment, and said, “Anthony, I want you to come with me. I live in an apartment, nearly across the street from the University. We could live there together. I could school you in everything you need to know. You could finish school, and then high school, and go into business. You can turn your entire life around, Anthony. I know you’re just as smart as I am, if not more so. There’s so much more you can accomplish. God decided we’ve been apart long enough, and naturally, we meet again just when you’re old enough to begin working and I’m attending one of the most prestigious universities in New York. Please, Tony. I want to be the brother I always could have been, were it not for everything that happened. And you! You can become the man you’ve always wanted to be. The man you could have been right now if things had been different…”

Despite himself, Racetrack saw many positive aspects of Thomas’ appeal. Always ambitious, he thought of everything that he could do if he went through high school. And he wouldn’t have to endure the ridicule of being the only sixteen-year-old in the fourth grade. He could learn how to buy as well as sell, he could have new clothes and his own bed that he didn’t have to pay for every night. He could have good food…and a future! The prospect of this very nearly overwhelmed him. He knew as well as anyone that no boy could sell newspapers forever. Sooner or later, the boy had to grow up and take a job elsewhere. Usually, newsboys who left the lodging house to become men were found later as waiters, stock boys, and in other undistinguished positions. Tom’s offer was Racetrack’s ticket out of that inevitable life. He could be a big business man. Years from now he could own his own business, be a tycoon with a box full of expensive cigars and diamond cufflinks. He would have men like William Randolph Hearst and Joseph Pulitzer over for dinner every Saturday. “An’ one day I promise you all,” he had told his best friends in some happier place and time, “I will beat Pulitzer at a game of five cards.” These were some big dreams, but for the first time in his life, Racetrack had reason to dream big. It was no longer some million-to-one shot. It could actually happen. If he said yes.

And he did. At first. But then he started thinking of all his friends. Jack. What would Jack say if he knew Racetrack was about to leave the newsboys to live the high life with his brother? Probably call me a scabber, Race thought. He’d think of me as a traitor. Wouldn’t matter if I’d been one of his closest friends; for the rest of his sorry life he would remember me as a scabber. He thought of his three best friends in the world: Blink, Mush and Chance. In a good mood, they were everyone’s favorite comic relief. In a mischievous mood, they were everyone’s worst nightmare. Racetrack could remember some of the best times of his life was when he was with those boys, hanging around the distribution center or the bunk room, playing craps against the stairs or poker in the lounge, selling papers and torturing the girls and eating at Tibby’s. The strike. The war with Greaser. “Can I let you know, Tom? I know it sound nuts, but I gotta think.” “I have to return to Columbia in a few hours, Tony…” “It won’t take that long. Wait for me over there, inside that restaurant. Tibby’s, it’s called, you see it? I’ll be back in—an hour.”

Now, sitting on his bunk with his head in his hands, Racetrack sighed. His time was dwindling. Either way, he would be losing something. No matter what he chose, it seemed he couldn’t win. He said quietly to himself, “It was that damn war that made everything go sour.” All the murders and coldness, the tense feelings from leader to leader, newsie to leader, and most crippling of all, newsie to newsie. Everything had gone downhill. Nothing was the same. Racetrack couldn’t remember the last time Jack had made a joke and they both had laughed like crazy. He couldn’t remember the last time he had spent the day with his friends, doing nothing at all and loving every second of it. “Nothing’s normal anymore, dammit,” he said bitterly, and stood up. He hated to leave. But he would hate to stay. And the only way to move, he thought sullenly, was forward. The only way he could do that was to go with Tom.

He crossed to his bunk and slid his pillow out of its linen. In it he threw his few worldly possessions: his pocket watch, harmonica, his first race card from the Sheepshead, his old deck of cards, his cigar box with his matches, and his grandmother’s green glass brooch. He knotted the pillowcase and swung it over his shoulder, taking one last look around the bunk room, fighting the sour feeling in his stomach and the knot in his throat. He willed himself not to cry. He realized that Dreamer was still on her bunk, and wondered again if she was really asleep. As he picked up his hat from the floor, dusted it off and put it on, he found a scrap of paper under Mush’s bed. He picked it up to find it blank. Good. He found a pencil near Snipeshooter’s bunk and knelt beside one of the night tables to begin writing. He struggled at first, but then the words came out easily. As he wrote, he spoke to Dreamer, who still lay on her bunk. He couldn’t see her face from where he was. “Well, I’m outta here, Dreamer,” he said matter-of-factly as he wrote, a sullen look on his face. “I know you’re probably all too glad. I know I was a real bastard sometimes.” He paused for a long moment and continued writing. He signed the note and stood with it in his hand. “But I gotta tell ya. And only cause you’re asleep, and only cause I’m leavin’ here probably for good. You’re pretty okay. I know I wasn’t too nice to ya, but really? You’re pretty okay.”

He tacked the note to the door, using the tack that someone, long ago, had put there for some unknown reason. “Well. Goodbye, Dreamer.” He sighed, and again hoped he wouldn’t start crying at any point. “Carry the banner.” With that, he was down the stairs and through the lodging house door, heading down the street to Tibby’s, to meet up with Tom and begin his new life.

Dear Fellas,
Dear Everyone,
Dear

This is a goodbye. I don't mean to just take off like this, that ain’t what I look to do. I would just hate to go through the rest of the day and think for one second even that it's all gonna be normal. That’s all. Stupid, right? Well, it’s the truth. I can't make like it's gonna be just another day.
I didn't know two weeks ago I was gonna be leaving today. But would you believe I finally saw my brother again? I’m going to live with him. I wouldn’t have. But I can’t help but feel like everything just dissapeared. Remember how things used to be? Everything we had before. It’s all gone now and I miss it like crazy. But we can’t have it back. And that's why I’m leaving. I gotta go make my own life and forget about what I used to have here. Cause it’s not there no more. I’ll miss you guys. I’m sorry. Take care of yourselves.

Racetr Anthony J. Higgins

[Amionette Chevalier]

As Amionette went thought her day cleaning she sent Dreamer a lovely smile as she did, the girl was dead to the world. The young french girl didn't even stop her sweeping as she hummed, until she came across the note tacked to the door. Her eyes widened to saucer dishes as she reached forward and tugged it from the tack though it ripped the top when she did so. Her only reason for the tug was the signature and the lines crossing out as he began again and again.

Anthony J. Higgins

Racetrack? her eyes scanned the lines as she leaned on the broom stick, tapping her fingers as she read over the lines again and again. Can't have what we once have, going to go live with my brother-- it stopped her heart as she read the words more then once.

The soft curls of her hair fell out of hte bun as she read it again, and then another time just to be sure she was not mistaken. English thought not her first language was not that easy to read but she did know it when she saw it and those words she knew. After about the ninth time she dropped her broom as her hand went to her throat.

"Mon Deiu," she said her hand shaking as she looked around. Where was Jack!? "Race--- Dreamer mon chere!" she went over and shook the girl, she needed to find Jack and quickly. "Mon Chere! Where is Jack? Race is gone!" She was only the cleaning girl for a lodging house full of boys, but that meant nothing when it came to the bond she had with them. She cared about all of them actually. They were like brother's she'd never had.

[Dreamer]

"Dreamer mon chere!"

Was it just Dreamer, or was she shaking from something else beside the freezing cold temperature?

Sleepily, the newsgirl forced her eyes open and looked up to find Amionette, the cleaning lady, shaking her awake.

Dreamer pushed herself up to a sitting position, and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes as she gave a tired frunt.

"Amionette?" she whispered. She didn't have the energy to speak up. "Wh--What's going on? What is it?"

As soon as Dreamer stopped rubbing her eyes to be a little more awake, she took another look at Amionette and was immedietly concerned. There was something in the french girl's eyes that told Dreamer that something was wrong.

"Amionette," she spoke more softly and carefully. "What's wrong?"

"Mon Chere! Where is Jack? Race is gone!"

...Race was gone?...

"Gone?" Dreamer sat up more and pulled the covers off of her.

Normally, Dreamer and Race never got along. Just a few weeks ago, he punched her across the face and made her bleed. Most of the time, she hated him. But, still, Race was a human being. Even Dreamer had to be concerned for his well-being.

"I--I don't know where Jack is. He's probably at Tibby's or selling some evening papers. What do you mean Race is gone? Gone where?"

[Amionette Chevalier]

She was frazzled and looked horrible concerned. By that time she couldn't even get her mind to translate her words into English. The jumble of french tumbled from her lips as she tried to explain what the note entailed about Race, but after a few moment she realized that she wasn't making any sense to the American.

Handing the letter to the girl she took a few breaths, Tibby's? She stood up slowly and folded her arms trying to calm herself so that she would make some sense to others. French wasn't a common language around and only her grandmother would understand her.

"Dreamer, we need to find Jack," her accent was thicker when she was upset, so Jack ended up sounding like Jacques. It wasn't a bad thing per say but it was not a good thing either. Closing her eyes she concentrated her breathing.

Only Jack could bring Race back, nobody else could manage that.

[Dreamer]

Amionette started speaking a tangle of French in a panicked state. Dreamer didn't understand any of it. For a few moments she just sat there, listening, until she interuppted her.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," she said quickly. "Calm down there. What's going on?"

Amionette handed Dreamer a note. She carefully took it, looking at the French girl with her curious, dream-like eyes, and read the note quickly. After a few seconds, her eyes went wide.

"...This can't be happening..." she said softly to herself.

"Dreamer, we need to find Jack,"

Nodding, Dreamer folded the note up, and stuck it in her pocket.

"You're right," she said, standing up and walking over to her cap and coat. "But I don't know where he is. If we want to talk some sense into Race, we're gonna need to look for Jack now,"

[Amionette Chevalier]

"You're right," she said, standing up and walking over to her cap and coat. "But I don't know where he is. If we want to talk some sense into Race, we're gonna need to look for Jack now."

Ami nodded, "Oui." That wasn't all she had a mind to say but as she set her broom against the door she walked across the room. "Quickly I need to get my shawl.." She was out the door and down the stairs in a jiff. She had no idea how she'd gotten so attached to these boys. The sounds of her Nana and Kloppman in the small side kitchen talking had her shaking her head. well, ceste la vies, it was sweet in its own way.

Moving from the closet she put her own cap and shawl around her shoulders, stepping to the base of the stairs once more. "Mon Chere! Hurry we need to go... Try-- Tibby's first." That was the best place to start.

[Dreamer]

It was settled. Dreamer and Amionette would look for Jack first. Maybe even get a few of the other guys to help out. Yes. That was the smart thing to do. Quickly, Dreamer grabbed her snow boots and shoved her feet into them, practically hopping on one foot to get the other in the boot. She probably looked like an idiot, but she didn't care at the moment.

"Mon Chere! Hurry we need to go... Try-- Tibby's first."

"Sorry," Dreamer finally made it to the bottom of the stairs. "Even when I'm fully awake, I'm always a bit slow after I wake up,"

Wrapping her coat tight around her, and making sure her cap was secure on her head, Dreamer opened the front door, letting Amionette go out first.

"I hope we're not too late," she exclaimed.

(So, do we need to get Jace in on this, or what?)