Brewin' in the Boroughs

Chapter 20

Sniper carried his papers under his arm as he crossed the square to where Specs was leaning on the wall, reading through the paper.

"Hey there Sniper," Specs said, looking up at the boy.

"Heya Specs."

Specs watched Sniper shift uneasily, a blush appearing on his face. "You alright?"

"Can you help me? I was readin' and I got stuck."

"Of course I can," Specs smiled. "Which word was you on?"

Sniper pointed it out, embarrassed that he needed help.

"Oh, that is a hard one. Just try it."

"Ne-got-ee-ate," Sniper tried.

"Not quite, but good try! That was real close," Specs encouraged. "It's s'posed to be said 'negotiate'."

"Negotiate," Sniper repeated. "Thanks Specs."

"No problem!"

Specs went back to reading through his paper and Sniper sat down on the ground near his feet. His eyes drifted back to the front page and didn't know whether to smile or be worried.

Young Boy Murdered In Richmond.

It would be a good day for selling, but Sniper knew that it was related to Hook. Once again he felt an overwhelming sense of relief that he and Tommy had run into Romeo. If they hadn't, they could have very well been that morning's headline.

Sniper chewed his lip as he tried to read through the rest of the paper. None of the rest of the articles were very good, but the front page would draw enough attention, especially in the richer parts of the city. The wealthy seemed to have a fascination with death and murder that Sniper didn't understand. There was plenty of death on the streets and in the factories of New York City. It was nothing special, it was commonplace.

All they had to do was take a trip down to Duane Street in the winter and they would see plenty of sick, starving children who arrived too late at the lodging houses, after they'd been filled. Even better, they could stroll through Mulberry Bend if they were looking for death, even murder. Their best chance at seeing the mysterious murders they liked reading about in the papers would be in Hell's Kitchen. Sniper, at not quite thirteen, could tell you that.

Sniper shook his head. Rich people would never fail to confuse him.

"Good headline," Specs mumbled as he continued to peruse the paper. "It's a moneymaker."

Sniper flinched. Specs was right, but this was a boy. He was a newsie! It could've been Ike on the front page. None of the boys would've been talking about a good headline if Ike were the boy. Sniper felt guilt settle in his stomach. Money had been the first thing on his mind, but the more he thought about it, the sicker he felt. Selling the paper today would be making money off of the death of one of their own. But Sniper knew he had no choice but to sell, despite his revelation he was going to make money off of this kid's murder. It didn't get any sicker than that.

Soon the boys had all finished getting their papers and were excitedly reading, but Sniper ignored them, instead focusing on Jack. Jack had arrived late the night before, and he'd been angry. He hadn't said a word to any of them until that morning when he told them that they could only trust themselves. All of the boys were confused, but knew better than to question Jack when he was in one of his moods. Instead they gave Crutchie the honor of trying to figure out what was wrong with Jack.

Crutchie was with Jack at the moment, and he was saying something, but Jack didn't seem to be listening. It surprised Sniper quite a bit, Jack was always a good listener to the boys, especially Crutchie. Now he was just absentmindedly nodding along with the shorter boy's words as he scanned the square. His eyes met Sniper's and he motioned him over.