Rebuilt

Chapter 20

    I groggily opened my eyes to see Oscar trying his best to quietly blow his nose, he notices my sleepy eyes staring at him. Cringing, he throws away the tissue. "Sorry."

    I yawn and sit up fully, "what time is it?" Rubbing my eyes I try to adjust to the dim light from Oscars lamp.

    "It's late," sitting on the bed he puts a hand on my knee.  "You should go back to bed."

    "That ain't gonna happen, I'se already awake." I push the fuzzy sheets off my body, adjusting my tank top, my shoulders shutter.  "Nope," I reach for the blankets once again, wrapping them around my shoulders.

    Oscar laughs, "it's gettin' colder."

    "No shit."

    "I think that's a sign you should go back to bed cranky pants," Oscar stands up and walks over to the light, fumbling around the shade until it turns off.  The room doesn't get much darker, yellow musky light shines from the small window looking out over the street.

I groan as I hear Oscar settle into his reading chair, sighing.  I lay down and stare at the ceiling, readjusting to comfort.  The light flicks on again, I whip my head over to see Oscar sitting, smirking.  "You ain't goin' to be fallin' asleep, are you?"

I sit up again, "nope." 

His knees crack as he stands up, walking over to the bed he crawls over me and places his head in his hand.  "So, sense you ain't goin' to sleep any time soon, I thought I should get to know the girl that's sleepin' in my bed better.

I thought it over in my head, fair enough.

"Fine," I lay down and turn towards him, mimicking his position.  "What do you'se want to know?"

Furrowing his brows, he thought.  "Why do they call you 'Blades'?"

I gawk, "Morris didn't tell ya?" By Oscar's face, I was guessing that it was a no.  "Well, I'se guess I'se really good with blades, and I also held Morris at knife point." I say the last part as quickly and quietly as possible.

Oscar snickers, "you held Morris at knife point?"

I push his shoulder, "don't sound so surprised!"

He laughs at me, "shh, don't be so loud."

"Well don't be such a pain in the ass."

"Oh, okay," he rolls his eyes.  "Why were you thrown in the refuge?"

Frowning, I think of the long story. "I'se don't remember."

He runs a hand through his hair, "that's okay. Anything you wanna ask me?"

I yawn and shrug my shoulders. "Why you'se being so nice to me?"

Oscar seemed shocked, "wha-wha...look. I don't know how everyone else has been treatin' you on the street, but since you are outta the refuge, you don't deserve for people to be rude to you."

    "So the only reason you'se bein' nice to me is because I was in the refuge for a long time?"

    Oscar struggled to speak, "wel-wa- that's part of it.  Plus, your name is 'Blades' if I cross you, it might not be pretty."

    Laughing together I sigh, "you'se probably ain't wrong, Delancey."

    "You wouldn't hurt me, would you?" He asked this question seriously.

    Sitting up, I hold my head at the quick and sudden movement, "I'se would never hurt you!  Why would you'sesay something like that?"

    Oscar shrugs his shoulder, "just askin'."

    I nod sarcastically, "yuh, sure."

    "Lay down newsgirl, you need rest."  Pushing my shoulder down, he attempts to push me down on the mattress.

"Newsgirl?"

"Well you ain't a boy," he stutters.  "What's your real name?"

I squint at him, "if I knew, do you'se think I would be goin' by Blades?"

He holds his hands defensively, "I'se was just askin', Race's real name is Anthony but the boys still call 'im Race."

I snicker, "Race's real name is 'Anthony'?"

Oscar joins in my chorus of laughs, "that's what I said."

Wiping an imaginary tear from my eye I calm my fit of laughter, "poor boy, no wonder why he smokes all day."

Oscar's laugh is a smiley one, his face barley visible in the dark room.  His hair still  fluffy regardless of it being under his hat all day.  His eye still black from Spot's earlier beating, I couldn't tell if it hurt him.  Though if it did, he certainly didn't show it.   Still clothed in his suspenders and dirty collared shirt, he stared at me, studying me.  He reaches his hand and adjust the strap of my—well his technically—tank top, pulling it over my shoulder.

Smiling, he apologizes.  "I couldn't help myself, it was bothering me, just"he lazily waved a hand towards my shoulder, "hangin' there.  Plus," he pulls at my makeshift bra, "it's kinda fallin' apart, and I didn't wanna see anythin' I'm not supposed to."

Pulling at the thin tank top I roll my eyes, "such a gentleman."

He gently laughs as he sits up, "I try."

I sit up with him, "where you'se goin'?"

"Unlike you," he gets off his bed fully, "I'm goin' to bed."

I flop down dramatically on his pillow, "fine, but I'll be tossin' and turning all night."

"That ain't my fault," he says settling down in his chair.  He sighs and does his best to get comfortable, legs crossed at the ankle and his head resting gently against his right hand.  He offers a tired smile my way, "good night, Blades.  Hope ya fall asleep soon."

I laugh, though it was more of just an exhale through my nose.  "Night, Oscar."  The last thing I add was mainly out of impulse, "glad you'se okay."

I hear him slightly shift.

"You too."