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Post by Mabel on Aug 22, 2008 23:54:23 GMT -5
The day had not been a pleasant one for Mabel Fitzpatrick. She had bought her papers, just as she always did, and had opted to take a scenic selling route by the water. Unfortunately for her, she ended up competing with another Newsie who had also opted for the scenic route that day, much to Mabel’s displeasure. Meeker by nature, most of her sales were lost to the other more exuberant newsboy and her earnings for the day suffered as a result.
Then, making yet another poor decision, Mabel decided to stroll Fifth Avenue and became unbearably depressed at the sight of very beautiful, very expensive white lace gloves. Her own gloves had seen better days—for one thing, they were no longer white—but Mabel could not afford to make frivolous purchases. Staring forlornly at the expensive storefront for a long time, Mabel managed to catch the attention of several passerbys who asked if she was lost. Mabel could not blame them—her distraught expression signified as much.
Depressed and poorer than usual, she returned to the Manhattan lodging house, which was terribly quiet for that time of day. Bathing quickly, she made her next poor judgment call of the day and walked barefoot from the washroom to the bunkroom, a choice which would result in one beastly splinter.
Whimpering childishly, she hopped to the nearest bunk and sat down, sopping wet hair soaking the shoulders of her blouse. Pulling the afflicted leg up, Mabel clutched her foot in her hand and sought out the splinter. Of all the injuries one can endure, splinters do not rank high on the list of the most painful. That said, Mabel's own tolerance for pain was not very high.
Huffing, Mabel cautiously pressed her thumbnail to the broken skin, trying to shove the chip of wood from her foot. The sharp pain that followed caused her to pull back and release a disgruntled moan. The only thing more bothersome than having a splinter was trying to get rid of one.
Chewing on the inside of her cheek, Mabel put her nail to the afflicted area once more. The best way to go about these things was to do them fast…
Cursing loudly, Mabel decided whoever came up with the “faster is better” rule ought to be shot. Stomping her uninjured foot, Mabel ran a hand across her forehead, brushing her bangs back.
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Post by Dreamer on Aug 23, 2008 0:49:39 GMT -5
Dreamer sighed, after another long day of selling papers with no such luck. She wasn't that good at selling anyway, nobody ever bothered to teach her.
The day, Dreamer decided that since it was still daylight out and the newsies would still be out selling the afternoon edition of "The New York World", she would take a nap in her bunk bed.
Sleeping on the roof did hurt her back a little bit...
When she got to the bunk room, she saw Mabel, one of the older newsies she had hardly seen, but knew, on the farthest bunk bed, favoring her foot. Dropping her newspaper satchel from her shoulder to the ground, Dreamer timidly walked torward Mabel, concern in her eyes.
"Mabel," she started softly. "Are you OK? What's the matter?"
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Post by Mabel on Aug 23, 2008 1:01:51 GMT -5
Trying once again to pull out the splinter, Mabel squeaked in frustration. The tiny piece of wood was relentless. “Damn it all,” She breathed, pressing her palms into the thin mattress.
"Mabel,"
"Are you OK? What's the matter?"
At the sound of Dreamer’s voice, Mabel took her attention from her foot to the younger girl. Embarrassed to have been seen pitching a fit over a measly splinter, Mabel forced a tight smile and put her injured foot to the floor, making sure not to put any pressure on it.
“Oh, I’m fine.” She replied with a curt nod, “I was, uh, just checking this cot… mine’s been giving me some grief and I wanted to see…” She trailed off lamely, her lie falling short of her own expectations. “But this one’s fine—nice and springy…” The cots in the lodging house were neither “nice” nor “springy”, but once Mabel got on a lying tangent, she thought it was in her best interest to see them through.
Standing up, Mabel winced, shifting all her weight to her good foot. For such a small piece of wood, it was certainly giving her a fair bit of grief. Attempting to cover up her pained expression, Mabel leaned against the bunk bed with attempted nonchalance.
Nodding at the younger girl, she smiled in what she hoped was a friendly manner. “How, uh- how was selling?” It was a lame question to ask another newsie, but Mabel had never been good at pleasantries.
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Post by Dreamer on Aug 23, 2008 1:15:29 GMT -5
“Oh, I’m fine.” She replied with a curt nod, “I was, uh, just checking this cot… mine’s been giving me some grief and I wanted to see…”
Somehow, Dreamer could tell that Mabel was lying. But she went along with it.
"Um..." she started. "You can either have mine or Jinks's. I don't mind, and I'm sure she wouldn't..."
Jinks had gone to Midtown. Dreamer felt like she was losing a friend, but she didn't want to say why Jinks left to the other newsies. She didn't know if they knew about her decision or not.
“But this one’s fine—nice and springy…”
Dreamer slightly smirked. Yep. Mabel was lying.
She sat on the bunk bed Mabel leaned against and sighed.
"Well, it's better than sleeping on the roof or in a train car that's for sure," she smiled a bit.
“How, uh- how was selling?”
Dreamer looked down a bit.
"Same as always," she mildly said. "Not good. I dunno why I even bother trying to sell papers anyway...You know Mabel, if I didn't know any better when I walked in here, I'd say that something is up with your foot..."
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Post by Mabel on Aug 23, 2008 1:34:05 GMT -5
"Well, it's better than sleeping on the roof or in a train car that's for sure,"
Mabel cocked a brow, not fully understanding Dreamer's meaning. Allowing herself to slip down onto the bunk once more, Mabel sat herself on the very edge of the mattress. She felt awkward just leaning there and Mabel would gladly welcome any opportunity to get off her feet.
"I wouldn't know about sleeping on roofs." She remarked plainly, giving Dreamer the option to explain, but she was not about to pry. In the six months she had been there, Mabel knew that most of the kids there had stories and it was their prerogative whether they brought them up or not.
"Same as always," she mildly said. "Not good. I dunno why I even bother trying to sell papers anyway...
Mabel sniffed humorlessly--not at Dreamer's predicament, but at their similar situations. While Mabel wasn't a bad seller, per se, her ability to keep track of money put her in the same boat as Dreamer. "Well, it helps, I can't manage to save the money I earn anyway..."
Realizing this was not the sort of comforting sentiment Dreamer's situation called for, Mabel chuckled awkwardly. "What I mean to say is, I'm sure you'll learn... I mean, just shadow Jack or one of the other older boys or girls. I'm sure they could give you a few pointers."
Running her fingers through her damp hair, Mabel began to seperate it into three sections and braid it. "I'd help you myself, but I'm more than positive someone else is better suited to." Truth be told, Mabel took no pleasure in pushing papers. She would like nothing more than to give it up and go back home, but, for the time being, that was simply not in the cards for her.
You know Mabel, if I didn't know any better when I walked in here, I'd say that something is up with your foot..."
Mabel opened her mouth, keen on refuting Dreamer's claim before accepting that denying it would do her no good. "Yes," Mabel said slowly, resting her injured foot across her other leg's thigh. "I got... I have a splinter." Mabel admitted with a hint of shame.
"But, frankly, it hurts like hell, so-..." Mabel trailed off, eying the splinter with contempt. Glancing back at Dreamer, she did her best to smile comfortingly. "Really, though, couldn't you talk to Jack? About the selling, I mean."
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Post by Dreamer on Aug 24, 2008 20:35:11 GMT -5
"Yes," Mabel said slowly, resting her injured foot across her other leg's thigh. "I got... I have a splinter." Mabel admitted with a hint of shame.
"Hmmm," Dreamer looked at Mabel's foot from where she sat. "...It doesn't look too bad. Hang on. I'll be right back,"
When she worked at the horse ranch back in Texas, splinters were an everyday thing for Dreamer. Even when she worked on the fence with her father and the part-time workers, she would come home with 10, maybe 20, splinters a day.
Her mother knew the quickest solution. Splinters usually were easy to work with if they didn't have any oxygen or were connected to anything with heat. Going to the washroom, she grabbed one of the very few clean washcloths and ran it through some hot water. It was a good thing it wasn't morning time, otherwise the other newsies would be ticked since hot water was like gold at the lodging house.
Wringing out the excess water, Dreamer came back into the bunk room with the warm washcloth, and gave it to Mabel.
"Here," she said. "Put this on the splinter. The heat and moisture will make it easier to take it out. Plus it'll push it out of the skin a bit more,"
"But, frankly, it hurts like hell, so-..."
Dreamer chuckled a bit.
"Yeah, I know the feeling," she said. "I've had a lot of those growing up, so I know what to do with them,"
"Really, though, couldn't you talk to Jack? About the selling, I mean."
Dreamer looked down a bit at her feet as she sat down on the bed.
"I don't know," she sighed. "...I don't really think Jack likes me. I've been getting into trouble a lot lately, and he got mad at me about it,"
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Post by Mabel on Aug 24, 2008 20:58:28 GMT -5
Mabel, taking the damp washcloth in her hand, was surprised to find someone so eager to help. Smiling gratefully, she pressed the cloth to her foot with only very slight pressure, keeping her eyes trained on Dreamer. She wondered what her real name was—it was a known fact that Mabel often found the newsie nicknames silly and comedic at best. She much preferred calling them by their birth names, if she could weasel it out of them.
"Yeah, I know the feeling," she said. "I've had a lot of those growing up, so I know what to do with them,"
“You’re pretty knowledgeable—I don’t suppose there were any doctors in your family?” She asked, pulling the wash cloth away to eye her splinter. Grabbing the piece of wood between the nail of her forefinger and thumb, Mabel flicked her wrist and freed her foot of its presence. “Ha- ow! Ah, ouch.” She muttered, pressing the cloth back to her foot.
"...I don't really think Jack likes me. I've been getting into trouble a lot lately, and he got mad at me about it,"
Mabel furrowed her eyebrows, studying her suddenly downtrodden appearance. Mabel knew it didn’t take much to get on Jack’s bad side, having been there a good many times herself, but she also knew it usually didn’t last too long. If Jack was unhappy with Dreamer, it could be about any number of thing. She hopped it was a feud of little consequence and not something more lasting.
“What kind of trouble has soured you to Jack?” She asked lightly, moving to her own bunk and grabbing a pair of stockings and her scuffed leather shoes. Her foot, while a trifle sore, felt a million times better without the piece of wood embedded in it.
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Post by Dreamer on Aug 24, 2008 21:15:01 GMT -5
“You’re pretty knowledgeable—I don’t suppose there were any doctors in your family?”
To this, Dreamer had to laugh.
"If there were any doctors in my family," she started. "They were for horses. We used to take in strays, take care of them, and send them out back into the wild, or sell them to anybody for a good price,"
“Ha- ow! Ah, ouch.”
Dreamer gave a small wince when Mabel pulled the splinter out. She took it carefully from her and flicked it away off her fingers.
"I guess I should've told you if you were ready to pull it out, to pull it out slowly huh?" she gave a small, comforting smile.
“What kind of trouble has soured you to Jack?”
Dreamer flopped backwards on the bunk bed, looking up at the ceiling.
"Hmmm. Let's see," she said to herself softly. "Well, I've got into 2 fights with Mike D. Greaser when I shouldn't have. Jack got mad the last two times when Mike made me mad enough to hit him...and that rarely happens to me. It takes a lot to make me mad,"
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Post by Mabel on Aug 24, 2008 21:37:23 GMT -5
"If there were any doctors in my family," she started. "They were for horses. We used to take in strays, take care of them, and send them out back into the wild, or sell them to anybody for a good price,"
Mabel smiled, tugging her stockings on. Hearing Dreamer talk about home was comforting. It was nice to imagine a place that was... well, that wasn’t the city. Mabel missed living in clean air... truly, she would miss anywhere that trash did not outnumber plants. Still, thoughts of home kept her sane and she would keep thinking of the day her parents told her to leave the lodging house, no matter how slim a likelihood it was.
“Sounds lovely.” Not the work part, of course, but the rest appealed to Mabel.
"Well, I've got into 2 fights with Mike D. Greaser when I shouldn't have. Jack got mad the last two times when Mike made me mad enough to hit him...and that rarely happens to me. It takes a lot to make me mad,"
Tying the frayed laces of her shoes, Mabel tried to mind her own business as Dreamer spoke quietly to herself. That said, Mabel has always been of a nosy nature and could not help but overhear a few choice words.
Glancing up, Mabel stared at Dreamer with wide eyes. “Mike?” She asked incredulously, “With all the lovely company in New York City, why o earth would you hang around him?” Mabel’s knowledge of Mike D. Greaser came solely from the mouths of others—Manhattan newsboys and girls in particular. While it is seldom wise to assume without knowing, Mabel had heard enough about Mike to know he was not someone to waste time with.
“Getting in spats with men like that is not the wisest thing to do…” Mabel remarked with a certain seriousness, “You should be avoiding him, not seeking him out…”
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Post by Dreamer on Aug 25, 2008 21:28:40 GMT -5
“Sounds lovely.”
Dreamer smiled.
"Yeah," she agreed with her whole heart. "It is,"
She sat up, facing Mabel, stars lit up in her eyes.
"The best part of the year," she started up again. "Was springtime. When the bluebonnets would be fully grown, the foals would be born, wild mustangs running around in the fields...That's one of my favorite memories,"
“Mike?” She asked incredulously, “With all the lovely company in New York City, why o earth would you hang around him?”
Dreamer winced at the tone of Mabel's voice.
"I don't hang around him," she explained. "I have a habit of getting myself into trouble,"
“Getting in spats with men like that is not the wisest thing to do…” Mabel remarked with a certain seriousness, “You should be avoiding him, not seeking him out…”
"Tried that," Dreamer sighed, then pulled up her sleeves and showed the fingerprint bruises that were almost healed but still purple. "...Failed miserably,"
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Post by Mabel on Aug 26, 2008 13:18:37 GMT -5
"The best part of the year," "Was springtime. When the bluebonnets would be fully grown, the foals would be born, wild mustangs running around in the fields...That's one of my favorite memories,"
Mabel smiled sadly at the girl’s exuberance. She hoped one day Dreamer made it back there, wherever her home was. It sounded a hell of a lot better than this pit. Any displaced child had her sympathy, as there was nothing Mabel wanted quite so much as to go home.
“There’s nothing quite like clean air, is there?” Mabel remarked with the slightest hint of bitterness. Reaching under her bed, she grabbed the small, dirty mirror she stored there. Scrutinizing her appearance, Mabel’s lips quirked in a pout. Her nose was burned from a day in the sun, her eyes were lined with dark circles and more freckles were popping up along the apples of her cheeks.
"Tried that,". "...Failed miserably,"
Glancing from her own reflection to Dreamer, Mabel’s eyebrows furrowed with concern. Tucking the mirror beneath her pillow, Mabel moved closer to get a better look. “He hurt you?” She asked, a question that was more rhetorical than answer-seeking.
“My God, this city truly is void of gentlemen,” She sighed, tentatively touching Dreamer’s arm. “Well,” She began, “I’d avoid him like the plague if he takes to beating on girls.” Mabel herself had been lucky enough to avoid any chance encounters with Mike D. Greaser and she hoped to keep it that way.
Placing her hands back in her lap, Mabel eyed Dreamer levelly, “Let me see if I’m getting this right: you’ve managed to get on both Jack and this Mike fellows bad side?” Unable to resist, Mabel chuckled lightly, “You really have a talent for pissing people off, don’t you?”
Mabel could not blame her if she did. Mabel had quite a talent for it, too.
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Post by Dreamer on Aug 30, 2008 11:39:50 GMT -5
“He hurt you?”
Dreamer shrugged a bit, but looked down.
"I tried to get him off of me," she explained. "All I was gonna do was slap him for what he did to Race and leave,"
“My God, this city truly is void of gentlemen,”
Dreamer shook her head.
"No," she started. "I've met some pretty decent guys here. They were nice to me,"
“Well,” She began, “I’d avoid him like the plague if he takes to beating on girls.”
"Actually," Dreamer smiled a little. "That's exactly what I've been doing,"
“Let me see if I’m getting this right: you’ve managed to get on both Jack and this Mike fellows bad side?”
"...Well..." Dreamer rubbed the back of her neck. "I don't really know for sure if I've gotten on Jack's bad side. I just assumed he's mad at me given that he's yelled at me when Mike got Jinks drunk and I got so mad at him, I wanted to rip his throat out,"
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