Sometimes when i'm alone I think about all da things my life could have been. Ya know, if I had been in a better situation. With a family. A mother, a father, maybe even a bro'da and sister. Ever since I was little that has always been my dream.
Although life on the streets is a lot easier when you're just looking after yourself it would be nice to have someone to talk to, to share your troubles with and to help keep you warm in the winter months. To have someone to make you laugh when you're feeling down.
A companion.
A brother.
A friend.
That's really all I've ever wanted.
But, look at what I have now.
Nothing, that's what I have.
Nope, nope, no, no, no. There is no way going to feel sorry for myself. That's not going to get me anywhere at all.
Sometimes though, like the... other day. (Ya know, when I was... uh... experimenting with that shaving blade)
Anyway, sometimes like the other day I think that maybe I could have made my life maybe even a little better. But, then I think, no, I couldn't have.
Even if I got to start over i'd still end up being just a boy with a limp. Orphaned as a baby and homeless with no friends or family to take care of. Opps, there I go feeling sorry for myself again. Okay, Crut-uh... Darn it, I don't know what to call myself anymore! Curse you Jack Kelly!
Never mind that, as I have said before, self pity will get me nowhere.
Now as I think back to the time in the courtyard, Jack Kelly and his Newsies' a mere few feet away from me and Mr. Jacobi's frowning figure in front of me, I think I could have handled it a bit better than I did...
--
"Boy! What's the matter boy? Cat got ya tongue?"
I shook my head slightly, I had zoned out and I was miles away at the moment. I didn't want to be here. The last thing I wanted was to run into Mr Jack Kelly with his band of... of... hooligans.
"U-Uh... I-I... I-I uh..."
My teeth clicked together as my mouth snapped shut. I thought that I might as well close it if stuttering nonsense was all that was going to come out of my idiotic mouth.
What's the matter with you? You need to keep it together! No stuttering! You don't have your limp to bad right now since you've been behaving good so don't ruin that streak now! Straighten up and give Mr. Jacobi a good answer... Idiot.
At my mind's harsh reprimand I stood a little taller and squared my shoulders, dot daring to meet Mr. Jacobi's stern glare but straightening enough to show some sign of self worth. I wasn't going to let Mr. Jack Selfish Man Kelly ruin my... well... non-existent self esteem.
I managed ta clear my throat and I swallowed back my nerves.
"No Mista Jacobi, I'm fine. Can I offa' my assistance to ya kitchen staff?"
I let a small smile cross over my lips. Yes! I hadn't stuttered or even looked in the direction of... them.
If i'm gonna be honest though.
On one hand, I wanted ta just turn invisible and pretend that I had never met Mista' Kelly with his Newsies. And... on the last fantastic side of the scale I wanted Jack to come back and say something, maybe... I don't know, say he was sorry?
I know it's silly that I still want recognition from him but... After look'in up ta someone for so long and then having your idol turn out to be just like everyone else. Well, you wanna give'em a second chance.
Yeah, I guess stupid, big-hearted Chrutchie wanted to give Mister Jack Kelly and his Newsies another chance. Hooray for me.
No matter, I just need to get through dis hell-ish situation without Jack noticing me. I tried to look calm and collected as I waited rather impatiently for Mister Jacobi to process what I had said to him and den think up a reply to give me. I passed the tense period of time that felt like an eternity but was probably only a few minutes by staring at the dirt packed and sun baked cobblestones beneath the soles of my worn shoes.
I was one of the lucky ones to be able to find a pair of old shoes that fit me in one of the rare barrels of clothing at the orphanage. I was also lucky that I hadn't grown much over the last few years.
Granted, the well worn soles let in a little rain when you stepped in a puddle but they kept my feet from the freezing snow in the winter and sheltered them from the sizzling temperatures of the sun's warmth radiating off the heat saturated bricks during the day.
I mean, I was and am very lucky that i'm even still alive.
Lucky to be working, lucky to be able to to look after myself.
Yeah, I guess you could call me that. One of the lucky ones.
"Alright den. I'm gonna thank ya for da help. Heaven's know dat we need it. Hey boy? Why don'cha consider work'in for me? Don't expect me ta pay ya a whole buckets worth but I reckon dat it'd be more den ya earn now."
Well, slap my hat and bless my dear dead aunt Harriet.
If I had anyone working for me up there it would be my Aunt Harriet. She was the only one who I had fond memories of, even though she did regrettably pass away when I was five.
I can remember the visits she payed me in the orphanage. She could barely manage to take care of herself and yet she still visited me every month. So many times I can remember begging her to take me with her when she would leave. I would beg her to take me home.
"No no my dearest A, I'm so very sorry my darling boy but my time on this wretched earth is almost over, and I want you taken care of. Your Uncle would have been so very proud. Be strong my darling boy."
She was right.
Such precious time was the memories I had with her but...
Gone.
It's all gone and then by the time I turned ten I had been kicked to the curb once again by that orphanage.
If the poor people in the slums of New York had enough money to feed themselves let alone even want to adopt a boy well... They wouldn't adopt a small, frail, boy with a limp that I was, am, and will always be.
I could feel the telltale signs of tears prick at the side of my eyes at the thought of my Aunt. I would never, ever forget her. Even after all these years she is and was the only person I can consider a ture friend. The only one to give me a name, and I cherished it.
Well... Except for... him. Needless to say and regrettably so, I cherished the name that he gave me too.
"Well boy?"
I blinked rapidly and shook my head to clear my dreary thoughts from the forefront of my mind.
"Y-Yes! T-Thank you Mista Jacobi! I-I promise I won't let'cha down."
Yes. This is something I could hold on too. This was real. And I would give this job my best shop.
Mr. Jacobi gave me a gruff, rare smile and I gave him a shy smile back. The side of his lip quirked upwards and his hand swiped my hat off my head so he could ruffle my hair.
Even though he was just another one of my employers Mr. Jacobi was just about the only father figure I had in my life. I bit my lip and gave him a shy, boyish grin which earned me a light, and dare I say fond slap on the head.
"Alright alright. That's enough now, git yourself to the kitchen and give a hand to the staff."
I nodded eagerly and grabbed my hat that he was holding out to me.
"Thank you Mr. Jacobi!"
I called out a thanks over my shoulder as I scurried around the mass of dirty bodies trying to squeeze my way to the kitchen. The building that Mr. Jacobi held his small restaurant in wasn't the biggest facility on da block but it was quite a reasonable size. It's bricks had been bleached a dull and washed out brown from the unforgiving sun and sharp wind that often swept through the debris littered alleyways.
"Crutchie?"
My heart just about exploded and I tripped on my own feet as the boice I dreaded the most rang through my ears. I managed to catch myself at the last second but I did happen to crash into some poor, unsuspecting and innocent onlooker who happened to be in my path.
I muttered a quick 'sorry sir' to the man I had bumped into and endured the rough slap I received to the back of my head with a submissive pose. I extracted myself from this non-to friendly situation and flattened myself against the wall.
I think I had lost Jack but I wasn't sure. I didn't want to take any chance.
I had two options.
One, run away and dash into the kitchen hoping that Jack or any of his Newsies had spotted me. Then, I can live out my life happily working at scrubbing grease off dirty dishes.
Or two, the lesser favourite of my two sad options. I can actually grow a pair and face Jack and his Newsies head on. Confrontation. I shuddered involuntarily.
No thank you.
Looks like it's option one then.
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