A Snake Without Fangs

Chapter One

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It was rare to find a day when New York City's sky wasn't tinged with grey. Some days, this pallor came from the chilled salt air wafting in from the Atlantic coast; other days, it was the stale, nose-burning haze of smoke from coal stoves and motorcar exhaust all over the city. As bitter as the air could get, and as loudly as the streets could bustle, young Roberto would take it any day over being trapped on the family docks.

The boy looked almost unremarkable among the rest of the city's pedestrians. He tried to walk as confidently as he could – his jacket was too large, he knew, but he'd cinched it from the inside with safety pins to make it look a bit more tailored. His shirt and quarter-fours looked just fine, but he needed a tie.

Roberto slowed his stride. He was nearing Kissel's Linens, and the big red-headed shopkeeper was usually sweeping the floors at this time of day – which meant his sidewalk display was left unattended. Roberto crept past the shop's front window, waiting for the old giant to turn around...and when he did, the boy grabbed a scarlet silk tie from a display basket, and strode away.

He only stopped again once he'd reached the New Amsterdam Theatre. The boy took a moment to study his reflection in one of the front windows; his thick black hair still looked fine, his bangs still hanging in place. He hastily tied a good-enough Balthus Knot with his newfound tie. Now, it almost looked like he had a suit.

Once Roberto felt he looked good enough for an audition, he resumed his stroll, and stepped into the quaint old theatre. A teenaged usher in the lobby was organizing a stack of papers, no doubt information about the auditions that day.

Roberto walked up to the older boy and calmly declared, "Robert Bennington for Romeo & Juliet."

"Right, I'll..." The usher pulled a list from his mass of papers and skimmed its names. He nodded when he saw the name, but then paused. "...As Mercutio? How old are you?"

"Old enough," Roberto replied.

"Fair enough. Right through this door, please."

Auditions for the Romeo role were just wrapping up. Standing in the stage wings, Roberto had to force himself to be hospitable and not scoff at some of the candidates around him. There was one tall, gaunt blonde who looked to be wearing as much eye makeup as any of the Juliet candidates...but then again, he must've done something right, as several others stood around the dandy, excitedly congratulating him on getting the role.

"Robert Bennington?" came a voice from out beyond the stage.

Here's my chance. Roberto brushed past the stage curtains, declaring, "Yes! Present!"

He headed into the centre of the stage. In front of the stage were two casting directors sat at a little table, one a bald, severe-looking bespectacled man, and the other a manic-looking man about the same age with windswept grey hair. Neither looked ready to play around, though, and they studied "Robert" with careful eyes.

"Begin whenever you're ready," called out the bald director.

"Okay!" Roberto almost chirped, his voice cracking. He had planned this moment for weeks. He stood up straight, took in one breath, then two; the monologue he had to perform was one of his favourites, and every word of it effortlessly poured forth.

"Poor son of earth!" he bellowed. "How couldst thou thus alone have led thy life, bereft of me?" The further on he went, he gesticulated grandly, as if he were trying to embody Mephistopheles himself. "I, for a time, at least, have worked thy cure; thy fancy's rickets plague thee not at a--"

"Thank you, that will do," announced the wild-haired director.

Roberto stood there in shock for a moment. He struggled to ask why, only managing, "But...?"

"Your accent isn't what we're looking for," the director continued. "Very animated, though. You're welcome to try for one of the servant roles."

"I...I understand, thank you," Roberto forced out, cordially. He made a quick bow and then walked to the other end of the stage.

He remained quiet and polite as he crept out of the theatre to the lobby. Inside, Roberto was proud of himself for keeping it together, especially all the way out to the street. Once he was far away enough down the street, Roberto neared a public trash bin, and rewarded himself for his calm veneer by kicking the bin over and over again.

After a few moments of the assault, he walked on. The bin now had a melon-sized dent in it, and his left loafer was now covered in dirt and soot, but at least he felt a tinge better.

Maybe there was another theatre nearby, one that was also doing auditions. At the least, he could ask to work as an usher. Anything would do to keep him there in New York City--

"Roberto!" shouted an unmistakable brassy voice. "There you are!"

His stomach sank. Roberto tried to walk a bit faster, but he took a quick glance over his shoulder – a mistake, he knew, as his older sister Maria now had a clear look at his face. Her face, meanwhile, was pinched into a scowl as she sped towards him in spite of her long, ankle-length trumpet-skirt. Roberto knew she was too close to run away from now, and he stopped in his tracks; prolonging the chase now would only make her, and the entire family, even angrier.

"There is an entire ferry waiting for you," she went on. "And you're playing in the city in father's old coat?!"

"I don't want to go to Leros," he pleaded. "I have things to do here!"

"Oh, really?" Maria grabbed Roberto by the sleeve and began pulling him up the street. "So you'd like to traipse around town while we languish at Grandpa Rastapo's funeral? And in father's old jacket, no less!"

"He gave it to me," Roberto whined.

"Did he give you the means to survive out here on your own, then?!"

"I have friends to stay with!"

"Like hell you are...! Father's the one who sent me out here, and you're coming to Leros!"

Maria clearly had enough. She continued to pull Roberto along, grimacing, locks coming loose from her Gibson Girl bouffant as she fought to keep him moving. Roberto begun planning to kick her in the ankle and run...but then, he noticed the horse-drawn taxicab waiting at the end of the street, its passenger door already hitched open.

Roberto burst into tears. He pulled back, wailing, "I shan't! I hate you! I shan't go to Leros! I hate you, big siste--"

The back of Maria's hand cracked against Roberto's cheek. It took him by surprise, snapping him out of the fit.

"You're fifteen, now try to act like it!" Maria hissed.

They reached the taxi. Maria grabbed Roberto by the shoulders and began stuffing him into the cab, and still in shock, Roberto complied. He tried not to grumble under his breath too loudly as Maria took a seat beside him.

"That should be all," Maria said over her shoulder to the cabbie, forcing a smile. "Back to the port, please."

The cabbie nodded and cracked his whip. His horse snorted and pulled their cab down along the road. The siblings were silent, both refusing to look at the other. Roberto tiredly stared out at the storefronts and street people as their cab passed by.

So be it, then, he told himself. The audition was his only real plan out of this trip, and it had been taken away from him. He now had to look forward to weeks of the unyielding Mediterranean sun pouring down on him. If there was any way out of this, he'd have to carve it out himself.

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