Ghosts of the Refuge - A Newsies Prequel

Chapter Three

Patch was frozen, stunned at what Mush had told the trio. "He's going to come to Brooklyn soon," Patch's voice quivered with anxiety. "Spot, make sure all the newsies have their slings."

Spot's steady gaze met hers, determination flickering in his eyes. "We'll be ready for him, Patch. This is our borough, our turf, ain't nobody gonna scare us not even your father. We'll protect you and all the newsies," he promised, his tone carrying an unspoken vow of protection.

"Thanks," Patch clutched the key around her neck, knowing that even though she was afraid of her father, she had friends that would protect her and each other. "How much did we make today?"

Spot counted the money in the collection bag. The coins jangled as he counted each nickel and dime, "twenty bucks."

"Perfect," Patch grinned, making plans for the money, "make sure the boarding house gets some of that, I don't want any of the kids sleeping on the streets. Put the rest, if there is any, in our treasury. Jack and I will close up shop."

"Swell," Spot replied, as he shoved the collection bag in his duffel bag. He tipped his hat, "I'll see you later, Patch. Bye, Jack."

.

As Spot ran into the city, Patch took apart the newstand and put the pieces of wood where they could be found the next morning. Jack helped her.

When the pair had finished, Patch sat on a bench facing the sunset. "I know it's you, Jack," she told him. "You're the only person besides me my father would willingly chase after. Tell me what happened."

He remembered how long ago it seemed, "I was caught by your father again about a year ago."

Patch knew her father hated Jack. He hated him because he reminded him of her. When she was gone, Jack became his obsession.

"How'd you bust out this time?" She asked.

Jack grinned, remembering every detail. "Governor Roosevelt stopped by the Refuge to visit. You know your father put on a pretty good show for the politicians. After the governor was finished inspectin' the place, I escaped on the back of his carriage." Jack chuckled, "Once I was outside the walls of the Refuge, I made a break for it. I've been out a month."

Patch nodded, impressed by her old friend. She looked at her feet, knowing what she would say next would hurt him.

"Jack, I'm glad to see you again, but you gotta get outta Brooklyn." She pursed her lips, trying to think of how to say it delicately, "I have my newsies to protect. With you here, it means Snyder's not too far behind and that's a problem."

Jack frowned, she was the closest thing to family he had ever had and now she was telling him to go away. She was right though, he thought. If only things could go back to how it was before; where it was just Pascale and Francis against the world.

He was quiet for a moment, "Where should I go? What should I do?"

"Do you still dream about Santa Fe?" She asked him, remembering how he read one of his Western Jim dime novels every night before bed at the Refuge.

Jack nodded, "all the time. Then I'd be a real cowboy with the crops and campfire stories."

Patch glanced at the red bandana that hung around his neck, "why don't you do that? Go to Santa Fe and live out your dreams like you always wanted?"

He put his hands in his pockets and pulled out nothing but lint, "ain't got no money."

"I can give you a few ideas how to get some dough," Patch told him, standing up and walking towards the water tower. It was a ways across town and she knew Jack would be gone before she reached it.

"Okay," Jack nodded as he followed her.

"You could go work in a factory. Snyder hates those and he wouldn't find you." When Jack shook his head in disgust, she continued, "You could try to hop a train at grand Central station. Or you could go back to Manhattan and be a newsie again."

"I'd get arrested for jumpin' a train," he thought a moment, "and I can't go back to Manhattan. The place is crawlin' with cops."

Patch stopped, her voice becoming serious, "but you can't stay here. I have Spot and Brooklyn and my newsies to protect. Whenever you come back here, you always bring trouble."

Jack swallowed, knowing she was talking about their failed rescue attempt of his sister, "It wasn't our fault that she died that night."

"I wish I could turn back time and change what happened," Patch frowned, as tears filled her eyes. "I really wish I could, Jack."

Jack knew she was blaming herself again. "We did everything we could," Jack said slowly, trying not to think of that awful night.

"I know," Patch told him, not really believing it herself. She blinked out tears quickly. "You need to leave me behind, Jack. This has to be goodbye. It's too painful to have you here."

She had to push him away, to protect her feelings. His presence was growing more painful by the moment, especially since he brought up Florrie. It reminded her of what she had buried deep in her mind; Jack's sisters death under Snyder's watch. Patch spit in her hand, putting it out for Jack to shake it. He looked at his own hand, not wanting to swear it.

"Don't make me do this, Pascale." Jack pleaded, using her real name, "I'll leave Brooklyn, but I can't ever say goodbye to you. Please don't push me away."

She motioned towards her hand and called him by his real name too, "Francis, please, it's the only way I can protect myself from my father."

"Okay," Jack said solemnly, knowing he wouldn't be able to talk his friend out of it. He spit in his hand. He shook her hand, wanting more than ever to stay.