Jules pretty much ran Harlem. She lived in a lodging house with about twenty boys and seven other girls. They all valued her advice and friendship. Getting on her bad side was definitely not a smart thing to do. She was cunning and a bit vengeful. Getting her angry at you was almost like commiting suicide. Though she did occasionally turn to her good friend Hunter for advice, she usually made up her own mind about everything, including her revenge.
As for her looks, she was beautiful and strong. She was also relatively thin. She had greenish brown eyes and reddish brown hair. She wore a pair of brown pants, a tank top undershirt, a dark blue shirt tucked into her pants, and a pair of black suspenders hanging off her waist. She also wore a pair of black boots and a gray hat. Sometimes her hair would be pulled up into her hat, sometimes it'd be pulled back into a ponytail, and other times she just left it down.
"Hey, Jules!" Hunter called from up the street. He was tall and thin, but buff and sexy. He had dark brown hair and blue eyes. He was lightly tanned and very handsome.
"What kin I do fer ya, Huntah?" she replied, looking over at him with her greenish brown eyes. She stood with one hand on her hip and a satchel of papers resting on the other. Several wisps of her reddish brown hair blew across her face as Hunter approached her.
"I jist hoid somethin' from Race Downtown," he replied, walking closer to her.
Jules was quiet for a second. "What- What's 'e say?" she asked, hesitating a little. She and Race had once been very close.
Hunter looked away quickly. "He says dat dey gots trouble wit' Staten Island. An' dere problems is our problems," he said, trying to persuade her to join the Downtown boys. He wanted to join them, but he didn't have the authority to do so.
"Huntah, I know ya really wanna help 'em, but dey kin 'andle 'emselves jist fine. Dey don't need us," she said, turning away from him to sell a few papers.
"Jules, come on. Ya know dey ain't as strong as us. As you."
Jules looked back at him and sighed. "Fine, Huntah. I'll go tawk wit' Jack. Ya jist keep it quiet. When da kids find out dat I'se even tawkin' wit' Jack, dey'll think we'se joinin' 'em; we ain't," she said sternly.
"Right, Jules. See ya at da lodgin' house tanight," he said and ran off. Jules looked like she was a bit on the annoyed side, and he didn't want to annoy her any further.
Later that day, Jules made her way to Tibby's, Downtown. the restaurant was a favorite hangout of the newsies for lunch and dinner meals. Though, frequently, it was one not both. Jules walked in, and the newsies quieted. The businessmen took little notice of her. She ventured over to one of the tables full of newsies.
"Where's Jack?" she asked to everyone in the vicinity.
"He should be heah soon. If he'd a known ya was comin', he'd a been waitin' fer ya," a nervous newsie with a patch over one eye said.
"Hm," Jules mumbled and found herself an empty table. "If I'd a known I was comin', I'd a told 'im," she thought to herself. She sat down and decided on what she would have to eat. A waiter came, and she ordered a sandwich and sarsaparilla.
A few minutes later, Jack strode in. He noticed Jules in the far corner. He said a few muffled words to the boy with the patch and walked over to Jules' table. "Evenin', Jules," he greeted politely as he stood next to her.
"Have a seat, Kelly," she said, looking over one of her papers.
Jack sat. "So, what cha doin' 'ere?" he asked.
Jules looked at him. "I hear ya gots a problem wit' Staten," she said, looking directly at him with her intense eyes.
"Race tol' ja?!" he replied with surprise.
"T'rough Huntah."
"Oh, well, yeah, we gots a problem wit' Staten Island."
"Why me?"
"Hunh?"
"Why me? Why not Spot? You'se 'n' him's bettah friends 'an you 'n' me," she stated.
"Dis's a New Yawk problem. It ain't got nuthin' ta do wit' Brooklyn," he replied as the waiter brought their food.
"Except dat dey gotta go t'rough Brooklyn ta git 'ere."
"Dat ain't da point!" he exclaimed loudly, slamming his palm on the table. Jules looked around; everyone in the restaurant was staring at them. Jack looked around nervously. "Look," he began in a low voice, "we gotta solve dis ourselves. Spot ain't gonna help us."
"Why?" she asked simply, taking a bite of her food.
"Cuz 'e ain't."
"Fine, Jack," she said, a bit annoyed with him. There was a short pause. "Look, Jack, if ya kin convince me 'bout dis whole t'ing wit' Staten, I'll join ya. But it'll take a lot ta convince me. I ain't like Spot. Fightin' don't woik on me. Ya gots ta use woids." She was very determined to get her way.
"Whatta ya want me ta do, Jules? Beg?" he asked, nearly insulting her.
"I want ya ta be smawt, Jack. If ya ain't smawt, ya ain't gonna git nowheres," she said seriously.
"Jules, ya gotta help us. Harlem's strong, Jules. You'se real strong. We needs ya heah," he said.
"Jack, I know Harlem's a good, strong influence 'round dese pawts, but I can't do nuthin' I don't believe in. I'se sorry," she said and stood.
"Jules, wait!" Jack said and grabbed her arm. Jules glared at him while all the newsies cringed "Please, Jules, listen ta me some more," he pleaded.
Jules sighed and sat back down. "Fine, Jack. Ya gots two minutes ta convince me. Aftah dat, I'se leavin', convinced er not," she said, somewhat annoyed with him.
Jack nodded. "Good. Now, Jules, ya know Bubba, da leadah a Staten Island?" She nodded. "He's been givin' us trouble," he explained.
"What kinda trouble?" she interrupted.
"Dey been fightin' wit' us 'n' givin' us a hawd time sellin'."
"Dey hoitin' ya?"
He nodded. "Ya seen Race er Mush?" he asked solemnly. She shook her head. "Well, dey's da woist. Mush's in da hospital wit' a concussion er somethin'. Race's at da lodgin' house wit' a real nasty cut in 'is side. Dey wouldn't admit 'im at da hospital."
"He okay?" Jack shrugged and nodded. She sighed with relief. "I wanna see 'im," she said quietly. Jack nodded.
"Follah me, Jules," he said and stood. Jules stood, too.
The two of them paid for their meals and left the restaurant. They walked in silence the whole way. Jack knew that Jules was worried about Race, but she'd never show it. She had too much pride to do so, and a little too much guilt.
The two came to the lodging house and walked inside. Jack led the way to the bunk room. Jules walked over to Race's bunk; Race was asleep.
"Ya want me ta wake 'im?" Jack asked quietly.
"No, let 'im sleep," she replied softly. She stood and watched his chest rise and fall as he breathed. Neither spoke. Jules just watched him breathe silently. She didn't want to wake him, which was good. Jack couldn't wake him anyway.
"I'll join ya, Jack," she said quietly.
Jack smiled a little. "Thanks, Jules," was all he could say.
Jules nodded and left. She walked quickly but solemnly. She needed to get back to Harlem and tell Hunter about her decision. She knew he'd be happy, but she wasn't. She couldn't stop thinking about Race. He'd looked so peaceful and serene, but also pained. Jules couldn't get the image out of her mind. She did still care for Race a great deal.
Jules arrived at the lodging house in Harlem about an hour later. She'd stopped in Central Park for a while on her way home. She needed some time alone. Hunter was waiting for her in the lobby when she walked in.
"Jules, you'se back!" he said and jumped to his feet.
"Heya, Huntah," she greeted solemnly.
"What'd Jack say?" he asked curiously.
"We'se joinin' 'em, Huntah," she replied.
"What's wrong, Jules?"
"Nuthin', Huntah."
"Juliann," Hunter demanded.
"Ya knew 'bout Race, Huntah, 'n' ya didn't tell me," she accused, trying to control her temper.
"I knew ya'd be upset."
"I seen 'im, Huntah. I seen 'im. He's alive, but 'e got hoit pretty bad. I don't want no one hoit no more, so we'se joinin' 'em."
Hunter nodded, and Jules went upstairs to sleep. She didn't speak to anyone. She just undressed quickly and got ready for bed. Nobody could tell exactly how she felt; she had no distinct look on her face, only a simple emotionless expression. But they could tell that she was either upset or angry. She acted like that whenever she was in either of those moods. And no one wanted to cross her when she was like that.
As Jules curled up in her bunk, she thought about what could happen. "What if Mush dies? What if dis's what Bubba wants? He's been tryin' ta git me fer months. What if dis's what 'e wants? What's gonna happen if Bubba gits Harlem? Is dis decision gonna kill me? Is Bubba gonna try anythin' wit' Harlem? Wit' me? What've I gotten meself inta? What's gonna happen ta Race?" she thought and curled up into a tighter ball.
The next morning, Jules was woken violently. Whoever woke her up pretty much threw her off her bunk. She jolted awake and looked for her assailant.
"Ya bettah wish ya'd nevah done dat," she warned as she untangled herself from the sheets.
"Sorry, Jules, but we couldn't git cha awake no odder way," he replied nervously.
Jules stood up fully and took a deep breath. She looked at her assailant. When she saw who it was, she calmed down a little. "Don't worry none 'bout it, Spritz. It ain't yer fault," she mumbled and brushed past him towards the washroom. On her way there, she stopped and leaned in toward the wall to get a hold of herself. Every ounce of tension and anger exploded in her at that moment. She screamed with rage and thrust her fist through the wall. Everyone in the room jumped. Jules sighed one more time and walked into the washroom. She stripped and stepped into the shower. Needless to say, everyone was a bit shocked.
"Ya know what's wrong wit' 'er?" Spritz asked, turning to Hunter.
"Not entirely," Hunter replied, staring off into space.
Jules stepped out of the shower and dressed a few minutes later. She shook her hair out and pulled it back into a thick braid. She grabbed a hat and stuck it on her head. Then she headed out of the bunk room and the lodging house. The rest of the kids followed, bewildered.
"Huntah," began a younger boy, "what's wrong wit' Jules?"
"I dunno, Gnat; I dunno," he replied.
Later that afternoon, Jules returned to Downtown, New York. She needed to see Race again, even if just for a moment. Contrary to popular belief, and the knowledge of most of Downtown, she still did care for Race.
Jules stood next to Race's bunk and watched him sleep peacefully. She spoke to him quietly. "I dunno if ya kin hear me, Race, but I gotta say dis. I know ya'se mad at me fer what I did. I'se sorry; I nevah meant ta hoit cha. I know we ain't tageddah no more neiddah, but I do still care fer ya, Race. I love ya, 'n' I can't stand seein' ya hoit like dis. Jack asked me ta join you'se guys 'gainst Staten. Aftah I saw ya lyin' 'ere las' night, I had ta help. I know ya hate people in'erferin', but I gotta. I love ya, Anthony," she said and kissed his forehead softly.
She lingered in the room for a second. Race began stirring as Jules was leaving. His eyes fluttered open as she descended the stairs. He turned his head toward the door to see if she were still there. She wasn't.
"I love ya, too, Juliann," he whispered. His lips turned up into a small smile as he stared at the open door.
Jules walked along the street away from the lodging house. She walked slowly but confidently. As she walked, one of the Downtown boys strode up to her.
"Jules?" he said cautiously.
"Yeah, Blink?" she replied.
"It true?"
"What?"
"Ya really joinin' us 'gainst Staten Island?"
"Yup."
"How come?"
Jules hesitated in telling him. She stopped walking and turned to Blink. "Race," was all she said.
"Ya seen 'im?" he asked, a bit worried.
"Yeah," she replied quietly.
"He ain't so good. He ain't woke up yet."
"I know, Blink; I know." She paused. "Look, Blink, I gotta git ta da Dodgahs game. I'll see ya latah," she said and headed toward Brooklyn.
"Dodgahs? Why's she goin' ta a Dodgahs game now? Dis ain't no time ta go ta no baseball game," Blink said as he watched Jules walk away.
Jules sat in the stands of the Dodger's field in Brooklyn. All she could see were little ants running to and from little white specs on a brown and green field from her seat, but she still cheered for her favorite players. She was waiting for someone.
About ten minutes later, a boy with red suspenders, a slingshot, and a gentleman's cane sat down next to her. He had blond-brown hair and gray eyes. He was taller than Jules by a few inches. He was strong but skinny. He carried himself well, like he was a very important fellow.
"Aftahnoon, Jules," the newcomer replied.
"Spot," Jules replied.
"I ain't seen ya in a while. How ya been?" he said, looking over at her with a somewhat sly smile.
"I been good, Spot. You?"
"I'se good." He paused. "Ya seen Race?" he asked and took a drag on a cigarette.
"Yeah, I seen 'im," she replied after a short pause.
"He woke up yet?"
"Nope."
"I hears dat ya's joinin' Jackey-boy 'gainst Bubba from Staten Island."
"Ya got good sources, Spot. I gotta git me some a dem."
"Ya got some a dem awready, Jules."
"Dey ain't so good as yers, Spot. Huntah, Gnat, 'n' Quicksilvah's da best I gots. Ya got da whole a Brooklyn. My kids is good, Spot, but dey ain't dat good."
"Maybe dey ain't, Juliann, but dey gots one hell of a leadah," he replied with the famous Conlon smirk.
"Yeah, dat's me, a great leadah. One dat nearly gits 'er boyfriend killed from sellin' out. Yeah, a great leadah," she said with a low voice and a twinge of guilt.
"Come on, Jules. Ya cain't blame yerself fer dat. Ya made da right decision at da time. Ya didn't know dey'd soak Race dat bad. It ain't yer fault, kid," Spot consoled.
"Not directly it ain't, but I made dat decision. Dey wanted me ta fold. Dey got me ta do it by attackin' da thing I hold most precious. Dey attacked Race," she explained.
"Ya didn't know dey'd do dat, Jules," he said again.
"I shoulda known dough, Spot. I shoulda seen it. I'se more observant den dat. I shoulda known," she mumbled.
Spot put an arm around her shoulders. "He don't blame ya fer it no more, Jules. Dat was last year. It's a long time ago. He fergives ya, Jules," he said.
Jules was quiet for several minutes. She was neither crying nor anywhere near crying. She'd just felt so much guilt for far too long. She turned her attention to the game for a moment. The Dodgers were winning by a few runs.
"Why'd ja wanna see me, Spot?" she suddenly asked.
Spot turned to look at her. "I wanted ta see how ya's doin'," he replied.
Jules was silent.
"Jules, listen ta me." Jules looked at him. "You'se a strong kid. Ya'se a real important part a New Yawk City. If ya'se weak, da city's weak. Hell, wit' yer leadahship skills, ya should be runnin' da city. An' I don't mean jist da newsies. Don't tell no one I said so, but ya could even run Brooklyn!" Jules chuckled. "Ya got da skills, Jules. Ya got da powah 'n' respect, too. Da kids in New Yawk fear ya. Dey even fear ya here in Brooklyn! I cain't say nuthin' 'bout Queens er da Bronx, but, Staten Island, dey's jist stupid. Dey dunno what dey're gittin' demselves inta. It ain't smawt ta be messin' wit' da leadah a Harlem, especially when it's Juliann 'Jules' Drachon," he said with a sly smirk.
Jules smiled. "Ya awways did know how ta make me feel bettah, Spot Conlon. Thanks," she said, looking him right in the eyes and smiling.
Spot grinned. "Anytime, kid," he replied.
They both turned their attentions to the game. It looked like the Dodgers were down a run. They watched in silence for two innings. Then Spot spoke up.
"Ya know," he began, "I think you'se da only one around dat ain't scared a me." He chuckled.
Jules laughed, too. "Pro'a'lly cuz I'se a goyl, 'n' ya can't soak me fer not bein' scared a ya," she suggested.
"Naw, dat ain't it. I'd fight cha. Shoa, you'se a goyl, but ya kin fight," he said.
"Cuz I knows ya so good?"
"Naw, dat ain't it neiddah. Jackey-boy 'n' me's real good friends, 'n' I make 'im scared still."
"Well, ya jist don't scare me!"
He shrugged. "Maybe," he said and smiled.
They both laughed and finished watching the game. The Dodgers ended up loosing by four runs. Spot was somewhat disappointed, but he'd get over it; he was truly a patriotic Brooklynite.
As the two leaders left the stadium, Jules spoke. "Spot, I'se goin' on ta Staten. Yer welcome ta join me," she offered, glancing off down the street.
Spot stopped and looked at Jules. "Ya ain't goin' ta Staten Island," he declared.
"Gimme a reason why not."
"Cuz it ain't safe-"
"Yer da one dat told me dat I'se powahful!" she replied with a laugh.
"Well, yeah, but-" he tried again.
"Dat's what cha said, Spot. Ya can't change it now," she said with a mischievous smile.
"I cain't change yer mind, den, hunh?" She shook her head. "Foine, go on. Go tawk wit' Bubba if ya gotta," he said and waved her off.
Jules smiled. "Thanks, Spot," she said with a sparkle in her eyes. She started toward the ferry for Staten Island. She picked up her step to get there faster.
Part 2
It was June in New York City, and the newsies were out and about selling their papers, several more prominently than others. Jules Drachon stood on her corner and called out the headlines to passers by. Jules was like every other newsie, but not. She was strong and smart, and she was actually quite alluring. She was also very important in Harlem. True, Harlem wasn't very large, but they were powerful.
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