Dorthyann gripped to the gold painted pole of the trolley as it moved by ordinary people doing ordinary things. In a way Dorthyann was just like these people, except she was ordinarily rich doing ordinarily rich things.
The people talked. She just viewed the passing world with an eye of a philosopher. She saw the Brooklyn bridge in sight. She urged the trolley to move faster, but the non living object would not listen. Finally the trolley stopped and she raced onto the bridge. Anderson was no where to be seen. She had won.
Suddenly Dorthyann felt very out of place in her poof and lace. Most people were dressed in middle class clothes. She had an idea. A dangerous but wonderful idea. She checked to see if anymore trolleys were following and she saw none, so she ran. How peculiar she looked; hiked up skirt, curls bobbing. Running down the streets of Brooklyn.
She soon reached her wanted destination. A cloting shop. After a small tinkling of a bell the smell of stale air and dust filled her nose. Middle and lower class was a new world she wanted to explore. She fingered through browns, reds, blacks, and blues until she found the perfect thing: a white blouse paired with a vest and some shorts. She quickly changed into her new experience. Oh, if her mother knew she was wearing pants!
She found a hat, and a leather messenger bag to hold her other items and bought them from the clerk happily. The shoved her nightmare dress into the bag along with her money. She loosened her curls and stepped out on the streets of Brooklyn with a new point of view. Hers.
Curiously she explored the streets, not thinking about Anderson one bit. Dorthyann Gulliver, sounded too proper she needed a nick name. She brainstormed nicknames and even completely new ones when a conversation between two girls stole her wavering attention.
"Yeah, I heard Spot cheated on Beatrice and is with Hannah now," the one with red hair said.
"Oh, I heard the he's with Millie!" The brunette said.
"He probably is with both. That tramp. Oh but how I wish he'd love me." Red hair replied.
Spot. What a unusual name. Oh I got it! Dottie! That's not sophisticated! Dorthyann, or Dottie, thought to herself. Now she could explore Brooklyn as Dottie.
Next she found herself exploring a street and she heard shouts.
"Baby born with three heads!"
"Trolley strike goes for third week!"
"Hundreds flee from inferno! "
The Newsies. Dottie had a very peaked interest with the boys. Espicially because her step father hated their noise. They were fascinating. Her chance to talk to one was here and now! "Excuse me I'd like to buy a paper, sir." Dottie said to her chosen target.
The boy gave her a sideways glance and observed the girl in pants, the strange one. Dottie took this time to observe her target. He was about an inch taller than her. His blonde hair was tucked under a newsboy's cap. He had a grey and white checkered drew shirt that the sleeves rolled up to his elbow. His pants were attached to red suspenders and he looped a pimp cane and slingshot in his belt. "Alrighty miss." He said.
Dottie dug through her bag trying not to reveal her dress and pulled out a fifty cents. "Here we go!" She said and gave him the dollar. He stared at it as if it was a piece of gold.
"I can't take that from you miss." He stammered.
"Why not?" Dottie asked.
"Its too much." He said.
"No it's not, intact it's not enough." She said and shoved a dollar in his hand.
"Thank yyou so much miss!" He said as a sly smile creeped along his face.
"What's your name?" She continued.
"Spot Conlon, ma'am. Yours?"
"Oh please stop calling me ma'am or miss. Call me Dottie." She replied.
"Hello Dottie." He said. "It was a pleasure to meet you." He said and left chanting the headlines again. She took a look at it and skimmed through it before she threw it away. It reminded her too much oof her step father.
Spot Conlon didn't seem completely terrbile. He was actually very nice. Anderson would like him. Anderson! Dottie had completely forgot! He couldn't see her dressed like his so she found a bathroom and changed quickly and stuffed her new clothes on the bag and ran to the bridge to see a pale white sweaty Anderson sitting on a bench.
"Oh my God! Dorthyann!" He said once he caught sight of her. "Where the hell have you been?" He sakd very cross. Anderson had never sworn before you.
"I got curious and went exploring." Dottie explained with her head down on shame. She felt like a scolded child. "I should've waited."
"Damn right." Anderson breathed. "Brooklyn is not a safe place, ok?"
"Ok."
"I won't tell anyone about this if you don't." Anderson offered.
"Thank you!" Dorthyann exclaimed and they walked home in complete silence.
