a striking pair | f.c

Chapter One

Lane believed in fighting for what she thought was right. Strikes were no exception. Unlike her brothers, she would follow her father to where the trolley strike was happening everyday, and scream for her father's rights until her voice was reduced to nothing but a whisper.

Yer like me, her father would always tell her when she was younger, and rights weren't something that had to be fought for. Ya got spirit, kid.

Now, times were different, and she took a last bite of her bread, before running out the door after her father to join all the trolley strikers for the third week in a row.

The busy streets of Manhattan, New York, were old and dusty, as per usual. Lane's eyes followed the movement of the hundreds of people walking around aimlessly, looking for a trolley to ride.

People really did not stay updated with the news these days, did they?

Ignoring them, she pushed her way into the middle of the crowd to find her father and the group of strikers, all facing their leader, Trek Williams.

"He start yet?" She asked her father, panting.

"Not yet," he answered.

"Trolley work-ahs 'a Manhattan!" Trek boomed, commanding silence. "Look at how far we've gotten. Fa three weeks now, we've been strikin' non-stop for our rights, 'n it is with my greatest pleasure to announce that we've earned the support of Governor Theodore Roosevelt!"

He went silent for a few moments, to allow the thunderous applause to die down, before he raised an arm and closed his fist to shut everyone up for good. "But that don't mean wese gonna get paid fairly straight away. I'm talkin' a few days to a week, people. Now is the time ta wait!"

A chorus of 'Yeah!'s rang out across the street.

Yeah, so, that didn't turn out too well.

"Strike!" A man out there somewhere shouted, a trolley catching fire a few seconds later.

So much for waiting, Lane thought to herself bitterly, watching as people ran around like mad men.

"Ya ain't joinin' 'em," she pointed out to her father, who was normally all for throwing some punches when he had the chance.

"You heard Trek." Her father didn't look at her, but instead observed their leader as he desperately tried to calm the chaos. "He said 'we wait'. So we wait."

The sixteen year old crossed her arms anxiously, taking note of how exhausted she'd become with all the fighting and yelling she'd been doing for the past couple weeks. "Ya really think it'll end soon? Dat yer boss'll keep his woid ta keep the prices lowered?"

"I sure hope so." He sighed. "I dunno how much more we can take..."

"Yeah," she mumbled, glancing down at her worn shoes, disliking the small hole above her left toes. She knew it wouldn't take long to tear even more.

"Dere ain't much we can do out here," her father countered. "At least, not taday. How's about we head home, get some food... Lane?"

Her head shot up as she heard her name being called. "Yeah, sure! Sounds great!"

Her father smiled at her, turning away, and she huffed, letting her fake ecstatic expression drop. "After all, it ain't like dere's somethin' else we can do ta help."

Thunderclaps that in reality were merely spoons against dishes, rolled over the kitchen as the deafening silence threatened to drive Lane and her father mad.

Unfortunately for them, it was nothing new.

Lane stirred her still hot vegetable soup as she gazed emptily at the just as empty seat in front of her. The one that had been for the past six years.