Escaping Boredom

Four

The next few weeks rolled by leisurely in a redundant pattern of restless sleep and long tedious days. No matter how many papers the boys sold they were still poor hungry and yearning to break free of the social oppression forced upon them.

The temperature declined as the summer months drifted to an end and the autumn ones took their place. The wind was harsh against their skin and seeped through their ripped clothing.  The rain violently beat their flesh into red tones.

As the weather became tougher, their tolerance to sleeping outside grew thin. They desired a roof over their heads and if possible, a fire to warm their bones instead of the Russian coats.

The only thing that kept their spirits from falling into the gutters was the exciting headlines of the impending war. Every morning, they would rush to the closest vender, wade their way through the other boys and wait impatiently for Mr. Rhodes to write the headline. There was no need to conjure forged titles, as the real ones were more exciting than they could possibly think of.

Bobby and Pat decided that staying with Sid and Franky was better than being on their own.

“What’s today’s?” Franky screamed to Sid who, once again, was at the top of the group, pressed against the vender’s stall.  

“It ain’t up yet, numskull,” Sid shouted back.

As Mr. Rhodes appeared from his booth, the crowd of teenagers erupted into boisterous shouts, all too excited to get the day rolling. Rhodes walked up to the chalkboard and instead of writing the headline; he looked out at the throng of boys. “Young men,” he began in a serious voice. At the sound of his voice, the boys settled down and gave their attention to him.  “I have the dishonour of telling you that at 3:33 AM, this great nation, bound by the forces of evil, officially declared war.”

For a moment, every mouth hung open in awe and utter silence. This was the news that the whole country was waiting to hear, but now that they heard it, it was shocking. The war wasn’t supposed to come this quickly; it was supposed to come after the holidays in the dead of winter.

“...And because of this, I bet none of you will be surprised at today’s headline,” Rhodes finished his speech. He turned his back to his audience and began scribbling the headline on his chalkboard.

“Nation at War” was printed boldly at the top in thick black, daunting letters. Like Rhodes predicted, every boy was not moved by the news.  They continued to stand absolutely still. “Come on up.”

Slowly the boys broke free of their silence and sluggishly walked up to the stall, as their hands fetched their payments. Nobody tried bargaining with Rhodes and nobody put up a fight.

“This ain’t good news,” Franky retorted once he got his stack. He walked over to the front steps of a home and sat down as he started to skim the newspaper’s war article.

“Kiddin’ me?” Sid snorted, standing above Franky as he leaned against the banister that ran down the flight. “This is the best damn news I’ve heard in my whole life.” He flipped through the newspaper with a giant smirk on his dirty face. His green eyes were never filled with so much excitement. 

Bobby and Pat lingered away from Franky and Sid, lightly reading over the newspaper with as much reading ability they could muster.

“But we’re gonna lose in two seconds...tops,” Franky said in a jerked tone. He threw his hand down on his knee to emphasize the last word. “Last week, New York, alone, was in fifteen hundred dollars of debt so let’s not talk about the whole country. And,” he thought for a moment. “Europe’s loaded with so much dough it’s coming out their crack.”

“Who cares about dough?” Pat said looking away from Bobby. He tucked his pile of newspapers into his satchel and took a step closer to Franky. He stood directly in front of Franky and crossed his arms across his chest with a sceptical look on his face.

“Who-who-who cares?” Franky asked flabbergasted. “The more money we gots, the longer we can provide for the troops.” He spoke with a tone that clearly spelt out he thought he was dealing with idiots.  

Sid didn’t bother to look up from his newspaper at Franky and carried on stumbling through the article. “How come you knows so much about money and crap?”

“I pays attention to the news around me.” He spoke in such a serious tone that everyone, especially Sid, snapped their heads to Franky.  The three others glared at Franky, clearly catching on to his insult.  With a sigh, Franky rose from his seat and stuffed the newspaper in his bag.  “Gotta go sell.”