Escaping Boredom

Six

“Finally done!” Pat sighed and plopped down on the street, leaning against a building. He reached into his pocket and started counting out how much he earned. “Over two hundred paps sold, gots me so much, I don’t even thinks I coulds counts it.”

“Cause you can’t count past twenty,” Sid snickered under his breath.  He sat down next to Pat and started counting as well. “Eight ninety...eight ninety-five...crap, I’m fucking rich!” He put the coins back in his pocket and grinned broadly.  He rested his hand behind his head and leaned back, stretching his legs out. “Food for me!”

“Where’d you think Franky went to?” Bobby said standing above the other two. He too, had sold all his papers and was wallowing in his grand success.

“You done it again,” Sid snapped, glaring at Bobby. The smile was wiped from his face in a split second.

Bobby raised his eyebrows while looking down at Sid. He stopped counting long enough to ask, “do what?”

“Talk about something that nobody gives a shit about.”

Sid’s words were so curt that Bobby didn’t know how to respond other than stare blankly ahead at the street.

To change the topic, Pat asked, “Are you gonna go?”

“Nah,” Bobby shook his head.

“Coward,” Sid snickered.

Today, Sid was uncharacteristically mean. Something about him was different. It was almost like the notion of the country being at war, changed him into somebody that crossed all boundaries. Before, all the newsies knew that Sid had a sharp tongue, was brutish and could cut one’s emotions into two so nobody, who wasn’t his friend or looking for trouble, bothered him.  But today, Sid insults were worse than ever.

“Reckon you are?” Bobby asked softly. His words were pointed. He slid his bag off his shoulder and dumped his change into a small side pocket, designed to store his change. 

Sid nodded his head. “I ain’t no fraidy-cat.” He stood up before continuing, “When I see them bastards, I is gonna pull my trigger until they all lay dead and bloody.” He picked up a pebble and chucked it as far as he could though. When it went ‘plunk’, he smiled maliciously and whispered, “that’ll be them heads.” He was silent for a moment, searching for the pebble down the street. “And maybe Dad will...”

All of a sudden, Sid sat back down, not finishing his sentence. The look on his face was melancholy and his green eyes were clouded with unshed tears.  He looked up at the sky to avoid the other boys from seeing his emotions revolving around his father. Scraping his hand across his eyes, he started to rub his stomach. “Wanna get some food? We gots the money now.”

Pat and Bobby nodded their heads. The three of them, with enough money to buy food for the week and a hotel room, walked down the avenue in search of a store.

***

“Clara.” Franky muttered the girl’s name over and over again, letting it slide off his tongue. It felt like he had jewels running around in his mouth.  “Clara...Clara...Clara...”

In between fawning over Clara, Franky shed his papers in a timely manor, earning more money than he had ever had in his life.  He wandered around New York catching in the excited humour of the war.

“Franky!” a voice behind him called out.

“What?” Franky spun around to meet it’s proclaimer. He held a certain enthusiasm in his voice, hoping that it would be someone interesting. “Oh, it’s you guys.”  Before him stood Pat, Bobby and Sid. The first two were smiling, ecstatic to have met up with Franky. But Sid, on the other hand, wore a grimace of pure distain.  “What you doing here?” he demanded, not in the mood to put up with Sid.

“Gettin’ food,” Sid snapped back angrily. “What the eff do you think?” His words here filled with resentment. Taking a strong stance against Franky, he narrowed his green eyes to Franky’s brown ones.  Repeating the events of a few hours earlier, they glared at each other. Sid, after a minute, was tired of staring and with all his might, shoved Franky backwards.

Franky fell back a few steps, nearly whacking into the bakery’s walls. He stopped before he did by smacking his hand to the wall for balance. Once he was fully back on hi feet, Franky took a running start towards Sid, with fire crackling in his chest.

Bobby, stepping between the two interrupted the soon to be heated argument. He waved his arms almost like he was forfeiting on the behalf of one of them. “Stop it.” He pleaded.  Franky, from his momentum, nearly ran into Bobby but was fortunate to be able to stop in time. “You two be best friends since your parents ran out.”

“Don’t mention me parents; you know nuthin’ about ‘em,” Sid growled.

“Mine either!” Franky interjected crossly.

“Oh yeah,” Pat took Bobby’s place. “Sid, your mum suffers down there and your dad...well...”

“He’s a piece of shit,” Bobby muttered to Finish Pat’s thought when Pat faded out.  “Franky, your parents was long blasted.” Franky hung his head and refused to look at anybody in the eye.  Sid scowled at him. He clenched and unclenched his fists.

None of them really knew what had happened to their parents.  Some of their boys were left on the steps of a church, some were orphaned by fate and some ran away on their own free accord, never to see their parents again. They pretended not to care and on most level days they did not, for the most part. But in truth, each boy was damaged by the mystery of why they were scorching the streets instead of at home with their doting mothers or at school off of their father’s wage. 

“For God’s sake, stop acting like girls and get over it,” said Pat, placing one hand on Franky’s shoulder and the other on Sid’s. He pulled them away from each other.

The passion that had burned inside Franky withered away as he stepped away from Sid. He put his hands up in the air to signal he was all right.

Sid did the same. But there was still a small spark in his eye that read he could have, and would have, fought for longer even though it was worth nothing.  After a beat, Sid opened his mouth and said, “Sorry.”

“Fine,” Franky scoffed. He brushed past Sid and into the bakery with his hand digging into his pocket for the money. “Whateva this’ll buy.” He slammed a quarter down on the counter of the bakery.

The man behind the counter turned around with a smile on his face. But the moment he saw Sid and Franky, the smile slipped off his face and was replaced with a scowl. “Oh, it’s you two again.” He waved his finger in the air and pointed towards Franky and Sid.

“Yeah,” Sid said brutishly, pushing his way to the front through Pat and Bobby. “And this time, we gots the money.” He banged the cash down on the counter with an arrogant smirk.

The baker raised his eyebrows in shock and slight annoyance. But being the businessman he was, knew refusing to ‘play nice’ with the mock rich boys, would be a bad deal. In his eyes, all the boys were giant dollar signs just waiting to be crumpled in his palm.  Pasting a fake smile on his lips, he spoke, “What can I get for you?”

“Whateva this’ll buy,” Franky repeated pointing to his money on the counter. Bobby and Pat agreed with Franky as they too got money from their pockets. 

“Somethin’ good!” Sid interjected; leaning onto the counter with one forearm while his other he grabbed his cash. 

Of course, Sid would be the one to say something as crude as that and subtly insult the baker’s talents.  The baker took four loafs of bread off the rack and put it on the counter. The boys paid for their bread and dashed out of the bakery, eager to eat.