Get your own Free Home Page
About forty-five minutes later Jules stood on the docks of Staten Island. She glanced around at the men working around her, fishermen mostly. The light was waning, and she needed to be back at docks in two hours if she wanted to get back to Brooklyn. If she didn't catch the ferry, she'd be stuck on Staten Island all night, and that's something she didn't particularly want. Frankly, she wanted to be back in Harlem by midnight.
She started off toward the streets. She didn't know Staten Island very well, so she was looking for a newsie, any newsie. After several lengthy minutes of walking, she found a newsie selling on a street corner.
"Hey, kid," she called as she walked over to him.
The newsie turned around. "Yeah?" he answered.
"I'se lookin' fer Bubba."
"Who're you?"
"Jules Drachon."
"Nevah hoid a ya."
Jules wasn't surprised. Staten Island was a little cut-off from the rest of the area. "Kin ya eidda tell me how ta git ta 'is lodgin' house er show me where 'e is?" she asked, eyeing him scrupulously.
"Shoa, I show ya," he replied and led her down the street, all the time thinking of how amazing this girl looked and wondering who she was.
Several minutes later, the two arrived at the lodging house. The boy walked in first. Jules noticed Bubba leaning against the far wall. He stood up straight when he saw her walk in.
"Jules, uh, long time," Bubba greeted nervously. He was about five and a half feet tall, about the same height as Jules. He had fair brown hair and sky blue eyes. He was stocky, obviously well-fed. He wasn't all too bright, but quite strong and commanding.
"Yeah, Bubba, it's been a while," Jules replied, trying to keep him nervous. "Why ya messin' wit' Downtown?" she asked harshly, getting to the point of her visit.
"Dis ain't Harlem, Jules. Ya ain't got no powah heh'," Bubba replied, trying to keep himself above her.
"Nor d'ya got da right ta soak Jack's boys."
"Ya heh' ta fight?"
"Nope."
"Why ya heh' den?"
"I want both sides a da story. What d'ya gots 'gainst Jack's boys?"
"I hears dat ya joined up wit' Jack. Dat true?"
"Depends."
"On what?"
"On what ya tell me tanight. Why ya fightin' wit' Jack's boys?"
"What's yer angle?"
Jules knew she wouldn't get anywhere with that. "I thought a somethin' taday. A war on two fronts, Staten 'n' Harlem. Jack's in da middle. I dunno what ya want from Downtown, but I gots territory ta gain," she concluded.
"What 'bout Brooklyn?" he asked suddenly.
"Jack don't want no one but New Yawk fightin' on 'is side. He says it's a 'New Yawk issue'."
"No Brooklyn?!" Jules nodded. "Interestin'!" She nodded again. "I'll tell ya what I want from Jack's territery: powah."
"Bubba, ya kin git powah wit'out takin' ovah Jack's territory. Dere's somethin' else ya want. What is it?"
"Ya see, if I beats Jack, da newsies is all scared a me."
"Ya got delusions a grandeur, kid. Dat really ain't gonna git ya nowhere. Whatta ya really lookin' fer?" she asked, surveying him thoroughly.
"I don't gotta tell ya nuthin'!" he exclaimed.
"Den I ain't even considerin' joinin' ya!" she yelled and began to leave. His outburst had affirmed her theories.
Bubba grabbed her arm and yanked her back. Jules glared at him. "We need ja, Jules. Dividin' 'em up's a good idea. You'se real smawt. We needs dat," he pleaded.
"I gotta think 'bout it," she replied, wrenching her arm away violently and giving him an angry look.
Bubba paused for a second. "Ya been Downtown lately?" he asked, trying to get out of striking distance.
"Why?"
"No reason."
"Why?"
"Ya know why, Bubba. We soaked Race-" The child was elbowed in the ribs quickly by several benefactors.
Jules looked at Bubba. "What 'bout Race?" she asked, curious, as if she were a femme fatal.
"Ya dunno?"
"Should I?"
"Ain't you'se 'n' Race-"
"Dere ain't no Race 'n' Jules no more," she replied sharply.
"Den ya don't care dat Ziggy soaked Race?" the same child chimed in. Bubba glared at him.
Jules nodded and looked for Ziggy, "Dat was some real noice handiwork, Ziggy," she announced to the room.
"Thanks," Ziggy, a tall, strong boy called out, a little unsure but proud of his work.
"I mean it. Huntah tells me dat 'e ain't woke up yet. If ya really wanted ta hoit Jack 'n' 'is boys, ya done a good job."
"Ya ain't jist messin' wit' us. Are ya, Jules?" Bubba asked, getting nervous again.
"I'd nevah mess wit' cha, Bubba," she replied with a mischievous look in her eyes. "Now, I gotta be goin'. I got a ferry ta catch." She turned to leave again.
"Ya joinin' us, Jules?" Bubba called after her.
"I'll think 'bout it," she replied.
"We got a chance?"
"You'll see," she replied. She smirked and left the lodging house. Giggling, she walked back to the docks. She boarded the ferry and returned to Brooklyn, and, from there, back to Harlem.
The next morning, Jules awoke first. She was awake, dressed, and ready to go before anyone else was awake. She wasn't up for any reason in particular, just because she wanted some extra time to think. She sat on the window ledge and watched the empty streets. Hunter woke up about ten minutes later.
"Geez, Jules, you'se up eoily dis mornin'," he yawned.
"I needed some time ta think," she replied, still staring out the window.
"'Bout what?" he asked, turning the sink in the washroom on.
"I went ta see Bubba las' night-"
"Ya went ta Staten Island!? Alone!?"
She nodded. "Yup. I wanted ta tawk wit' 'im," she explained and stood.
"Why didn't cha bring no one, Jules. Ya coulda got hoit," he said, disappointed.
"I asked Spot if 'e wanted ta join me. He didn't. I'se fine, Huntah. Bubba didn't dare touch me."
"What'd ja tell 'im?"
"I told 'im I wanted ta hear 'is side, dat I ain't made a decision 'bout it."
"An' 'e 'bought it!?" She nodded. "Any one dere not?" he asked, getting a little nervous.
"Don't think so. I gots some real good infermation, too. I found out who soaked Race. Bubba didn't tell me what 'e wanted wit' Jack's territory, dough," she said.
"Who soaked Race?"
"A kid named Ziggy. He looks real tough. Race's obviously no match fer 'im."
"I'll moider 'im!"
"No, Huntah! Ya ain't no match fer dis kid neiddah." She paused. "He's mine." They both grinned.
About an hour later, all the Harlem newsies stood outside in a square, waiting for their papers. Jules stood on the edge of the crowd. She surveyed her kids quickly. They were strong and proud. They had the strength and the street-smarts to fare very well.
"Jules? Jules?" someone yelled as he ran down the street.
Jules turned to look at him "Yeah, Bugg?" she called back.
Bugg ran closer to her. "Jack wants ta see ya," he said, breathing hard.
Jules sighed with annoyance. "I'se nevah gonna git ta eoin no money wit' 'im bein' so helpless," she said and folded her arms across her chest.
"Sorry," Bugg apologized.
"It ain't yer fault, Bugg. I'd jist like ta have a decent meal one a dese days," she said with a laugh. Everyone laughed at that. Jules bought her papers and headed Downtown.
Jules arrived near Jack's corner a half an hour later. Jack was absent. Jules decided to go in search of him. She sold her papers on the way.
"Hey, Jules!" someone called.
Jules turned to face him. "Yeah, Dutchy?" she called back.
Dutchy ran up to her. "Jack's waitin' at da lodgin' house fer ya," he said.
"Thanks, Dutchy," she mumbled and headed toward the lodging house.
"Dere's somethin' strange wit' dat kid," she thought as she walked. "Dutchy don't usually tawk ta me at all; he's usually real scared a me. He must be scareder a somethin'- er someone- ta tawk wit' me. Hmm." She pondered the thought while she walked down the street to the lodging house.
Jules stepped into the front hall of the lodging house. As she walked into the lobby, she realized that it was really quiet. It made sense that it was quiet; the boys would all be at work, but she hadn't seen any on the streets. But it seemed too quiet, eerie quiet.
Jules looked around cautiously. She dared not call out for Jack. She had a terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach. There were some creepy vibes coming from the lodging house that morning. She crept to the stairs carefully. When she reached the landing outside the bunk room, she flattened herself against the wall. She peeked around the corner briefly. She could only see Jack and the rest of his newsies sitting around the bunks. She saw no one else in the room. She inhaled deeply and entered the room.
"Heya, Jack. Bugg tells me ya wanted ta see me," she greeted as she walked into the room. "Mornin', Bubba," she said, not turning around to see him as the door slammed shut.
"How's she do dat!?" Bubba exclaimed.
Jules turned around slowly. "I take it da rest a yer boys is used ta dat slimy, creepy-crawly feelin' den," she replied with a smirk.
"What slimy feelin'?" he asked, offended.
Jules approached him. "Da one dat sits in da bottom a yer stomach when you'se in a room. It goes outta yer stomach 'n' festers inta a gross 'n' disgustin' lacahration on ever'thin' in yer body. It's da one dat makes ya feel disgustin' jist by thinkin' 'bout cha, Bubba Hoyt. It's a feelin' so ovahwhelmin' dat it makes ya sick. Dat's da slimy feelin', Bubba. Dat's da disgustin' feelin' I'se tawkin' 'bout," she said with a completely emotionless face.
A murmur circulated the room. Bubba just stared at her. He could think of nothing to say in response.
"Shut up!" Bubba suddenly yelled.
"Well, Bubba, it's cleaya dat ya'se da one dat wanted me 'ere. Whatta ya want?" Jules asked bluntly.
Bubba grinned. "I want Downtown AND Harlem," he said, staring right at her with cold eyes.
"What d'ya want wit' Downtown 'n' Harlem? It ain't like we'se intrudin' on yer territory." She began to walk around the room. "Ya don't want da territory, Bubba. Ya want da powah dat comes wit' beatin' Jack 'n' me. Ya want us ta pay ya fer sellin' 'ere. Ya want a free ride, Bubba. Ya don't wanna be sellin' papes no more. Ya want odders ta sell dere papes 'n' give ya dere money. Ya want us ta pay yer way," she said with her mischievous grin.
"How's she do dat?!" Bubba asked again, this time turning to Ziggy.
"I know ya, Bubba. I know how ya woik. I know what cha want," she replied with an icy glare.
"An' what d'I want?" he asked.
"Ya want somethin' only I kin give ya," she replied and stepped closer to him.
Bubba looked at her, shocked. "How d'ya knows dat, Jules? No one nevah knows nuthin' 'bout what I want," he sneered.
"Dere's only one reason ya'd send Ziggy aftah Race," she said with an amused look in her eyes.
Jack was intrigued. He knew that Jules had a plan. He didn't know what it was, but he knew she had one. He knew she knew things. He knew that she knew that Bubba was there before she ever saw him, and she was right on all accounts.
Jules suddenly started giggling. Bubba looked at her like she was insane. She wasn't; it was all part of her plan.
"Whatta ya laughin' at?" he exclaimed.
"I'se jist thinkin' 'bout what it'll look like when I splatter yer brains on da wall," she replied with a monotone voice and an evil look in her eyes. Her words and tone scared everyone, including the Downtown boys.
Bubba stepped away from her. "Now don't do nuthin' rash, Jules. I- I- I- I didn't mean nuthin', really. I- I won't cause no more trouble," he stuttered nervously. He began to run out of the room. Jules slammed her hand on the wall, nearly through the wall, in front of him. "Jules, I didn't mean nuthin'. Really," he pleaded.
Jules looked at him icily. "Ya don't git outta dis dat easily, Bubba. Yer gonna pay, mostly fer what ya did ta Race," she warned, controlling her temper.
"I didn't touch 'im! Ziggy did it! It's all Ziggy's fault!" he screamed, trying to save himself. Ziggy's eyes flared angrily.
"Don't worry, Bubba. Ya'll all be repaid," she replied.
"Please, Jules, don't kill me," he pleaded.
"Oh, I won't kill ya, Bubba, but I ain't lettin' ya leave dis island wit'out somethin' ta remembah it by," she said with a blank expression.
With that, she pulled out a small knife and slid it down Bubba's face slowly, slashing a long cut into his flesh. She took the bloody knife away from his face and surveyed her handiwork. The gash would heal, but it would also scar terribly. There was no way Bubba could prevent it, as was Jules' intent.
Jules let her hand off the wall and stepped out of Bubba's way. She ushered him past her. Bubba didn't think twice; he ran out of the room and the lodging house as fast as he could. The rest of the Staten Island crowd followed him. She watched them all leave.
Once they'd all gone, Jack stood and walked over to Jules. "Thanks, Jules," he said; "you'se a real big help dere."
Jules was about to respond when she noticed Race, awake and staring at her. All she could do was look at him. She couldn't even breathe.
"Jules," Race said, still staring at her.
Jules didn't say anything. She just continued to stare at him, a faint look of surprise on her face. She took a single step back. After a few more seconds, she suddenly turned and left quickly. Race and the rest of the boys watched her leave. Once she'd reached the street, she began to run. Where? She didn't know, nor did she care.
Jules found herself on the Brooklyn Bridge. She leaned on the railing and watched the water flow beneath her and the bridge. She wasn't at all thinking of jumping; rather, she just liked the view. She just watched the water for a while.
"Jules, I hear ya scared Bubba outta 'is skull."
"Ya hoid right, Spot," she replied, staring off down the river.
Spot joined her on the railing. "Ya ain't thinkin' 'bout jumpin'. Are ya?" he said, glancing at her sideways.
She laughed. "Naw, Spot. It's jist a nice view. Ya know, Spot, ya runs da best pawt a dis place. Ya gots da best view 'n' da strongest kids. Ya really is lucky, Spot Conlon," she replied with a half smile and a distant look in her eyes.
"But I don't got you," he commented.
Jules chuckled a little. "Yeah," she mumbled.
"Ya know ya gots a real great place, too, Jules. Harlem's a real great place. Ya'se strong 'n' smawt. Ya'se a real great leadah fer dose kids. You'se lucky, too. Ya jist don't got da bridge. Dat's da only thing dat ya don't got dat I got, Jules. Ya gots more 'an me, too. Ya'se so much smawtah 'an me. Ya gots all ya'll evah need, Jules Drachon," he said.
"I know, Spot, but I coitenly don't feel like it," she replied with a sigh.
"I takes it Race's awake," he concluded quietly.
"Yup," she replied, staring off toward the horizon.
"How's 'e doin'?"
"He looked good. A bit foggy, but good."
"What'd ja do ta Bubba?"
"Nuthin'. When I threatened 'im, 'e ran outta New Yawk 'n' back ta Staten 's fast 's 'e could."
Spot laughed. "What'd ja threaten 'im wit'?!" he asked, still chuckling.
Jules laughed, too. "Splatterin' 'is brains on da bunk room wall," she replied with a smirk. They both laughed again.
"What'd 'e do?" he asked, still laughing.
"He ran outta dere faster 'an a scab from a soakin'!" she replied. They both exploded into hysterical fits of laughter.
After several minutes, they both stopped laughing enough to speak. They just leaned against the railing, chuckling.
"I tol' ja you'se strong, Jules," Spot suddenly said.
"I guess I is, Spot. I guess I is," she replied with a smile. "But I'se still thinkin' 'bout Race. I still care fer 'im a lot, ya know, but I don't really love 'im no more."
"Jules, ya gots a lot goin' on now. Don't worry 'bout it none. If Race wants ya back, he'll find ja. Race'll do what 'e needs ta foist. Aftah dat, we'se'll see. Jist go on wit' cher life, Jules," he said.
Jules smiled. "Ya know, Spot, yer reputation's got nuthin' ta do wit' cha. Yer reputation says you'se all tough 'n' real smawt. Da smawt I ain't arguin' wit', but da tough.... Shoah, ya kin soak pretty much any kid in da city, but ya gots some real great advice. Da kids dat don't know ya like me's scared a ya. But, me, I knows ya. I ain't scared a ya," she said with a mischievous grin.
Spot made an annoyed face. Jules giggled. Spot had an idea. Jules laughed and backed away from him. Spot stepped toward her. They both laughed. Jules turned and started running away, still laughing. Spot laughed and ran after her. After a minute or so, Spot caught up with her and grabbed her by the waist. They both fell to the ground, laughing. They wrestled for a few minutes until Jules pinned Spot to the ground.
"Dat ain't fair!" he exclaimed, struggling a bit.
"Why not!?" she replied, sitting on his torso.
Spot sat up a little, pushing her back to his legs. "Cuz ya ain't s'posed ta beat me," he pouted.
Jules laughed. "I nevah said ya could soak ever'one in da city; I jist said most kids," she replied with a grin. Spot laughed, too. They both stood.
"I gotta git goin', Jules, but I'll see ya agin soon." Spot said, brushing himself off.
"Shoah, Spot. Good seein' ya agin. You'se a real good friend. We'se should git tagedda more often," Jules replied, looking at him.
Spot spit in his palm. Jules did the same. They shook hands. "I might stop by den," he said, smirking and shaking her hand.
Jules nodded and smiled. "See ya, Spot," she said and headed off toward Harlem.
"See ya, Jules!" Spot yelled after her. He lingered in the street for a moment, then he headed back to Brooklyn.
© 1998/9 Birdie Kelley
Get your own Free Home Page