Taking Care of Silence

Medda's place, Irving Hall, was one of the newsies' favorite haunts on slow days and happy evenings. Medda, the lovely red-headed owner, was a friend of the leader of the newsies from downtown Manhattan. None of the newsies really knew how the two of them had met, but they didn't really care one way or the other, so none of them ever asked. During one of their many celebrations in the Hall, the leader noticed a new face off in the corner. He asked Medda about it between numbers.

"Hey, uh, Medda, who's da doll dere in da cornah? I nevah seen 'er heya befoah" the brown-haired newsie wondered.

Medda looked over to the corner and chuckled. "Aw, Kelly, she's been here a long time," she began in her Swedish accent. "She'd been hiding out in one a the old boxes for a few days before Toby found her. She's been here ever since, six, seven months maybe. She hasn't spoken a word yet."

"She don't tawk! She dumb er somethin'?" the boy replied. (note: he's asking if the girl is deaf. In this day and age, the word deaf was not used by the general public, more commonly dumb was used to describe those who could not talk and/or hear.)

"Vell, I know she can hear me; she does what I tell her to. All she does is nod and go on her way. I've taken to calling her Lily—"

"How come?"

"She's an artist. While she was sleeping the first night, I looked through her things to see if I could find anything to vash. I found several books with white, unlined pages, each page filled with a drawing of some kind. They're really very good. She has charcoals and pencils, too. In many of her drawings, there're lilies. She even has a few pressed between the pages. She doesn't seem to mind the name. I think I'm the first person to show her kindness in a very long time."

"She's real perdy, Medda," an Italian commented.

"She's a vunderful vorker, too, Racetrack," she answered. "The best one I've ever had."

"What's she do?" a blond-hair teen asked, getting in on the conversation.

"Oh, she vashes dishes and sweeps the floor and cleans the tables and so many other things. I've never seen anyone put so much heart into cleaning before. I think she feels that she has to do vell or she'll be thrown out." She paused. "Say, vould you like to meet her?" she asked, excitedly.

"Yeah, shoah," the four boys answered, looking at each other and then back at Medda.

Medda smiled and moved across the room to speak to the girl. "Lily?" The girl looked up. "I'd like you to meet some friends of mine. Come," she said softly. Lily said nothing. She just walked closer to Medda. Medda turned and led Lily over to the table with the four boys. "Boys, this's Lily. Lily, these're my friends. That's Jack Kelly, Racetrack Higgins, Kid Blink, and Dutchy." Each boy nodded or waved when he was named. Lily just nodded to all of them once and looked at each of them.

"Hey, uh, Lily," Racetrack began, "ya evah been ta da races?"

"Aw, shuddup, Race," Jack and Kid Blink said in unison, tired of the line.

"What?" Race replied, not knowing why they were tired of it.

"Ya use dat line wit' every girl ya meet, Race," Kid Blink elaborated.

"I do not!"

"Ya do, too."

"Do not."

"Do, too."

"Will da both a ya SHUT-UP!" Jack intervened. The two boys silenced. He stood and put a hand on Lily's shoulder. She cringed a little. He removed his hand instantly, and she seemed to lighten up again. "Listen, Lily, if ya evah needs anythin' wese kin git it fer ya. Dere ain't nuthin' we can't do. If ya need anythin', jist ask," he said quietly.

Lily looked up at the tall boy in front of her. He was handsome with dark brown eyes that were a few shades darker than his hair. He looked sincere in his offer. She finally nodded, closing her gray eyes as she did so.

"Great!" Jack said happily. "Ya wanna have a seat?"

She looked at the other boys for a moment. She shook her head slowly as she took a step back. She took a last look at them and turned and went back to the bar. She disappeared into a door behind the counter.

"I'm sorry, boys, but I don't think she is comfortable vis men. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a show to do," she mentioned. She smiled and glided back to the stage.

The boys saw Lily a few more times that night. She cleared the dishes from the empty tables and wiped them clean, fixing the table back neatly again. She made sure that each tablecloth was perfectly flat on the table and even on all sides. She even kept the small vase of flowers in the very center of the table. She would carry the small bucket filled with dirty dishes back to the bar and wash each of them until they shined like freshly-polished silver. She used her small white apron to dry her hands and the glasses.

The time finally came for the Hall to close. The boys left, Race reluctantly, and headed home to the lodging house. Dutchy had been silent most of the evening. He just walked along behind the other three. They arrived at the lodging house where the rest of the downtown boys were socializing, either in the bunk room or in the lobby. Dutchy walked over to his best friend.

"Hey ya, Specs," he greeted with a smile.

"Hey, Mush, ya should a seen dis girl. She shoah was a piece a work, a good piece a work," Race called across the room.

"What goyl, Dutchy?" Specs replied, wondering about Race's comment.

Dutchy smiled a little. "She's real perdy, but quiet. Her name's Lily. She's got real perdy eyes, gray I think, 'n' perdy brown hair. Medda says she likes ta draw," he explained.

"Hey, Jack, ya think if I show 'er ma drawin's she'd take a likin' ta me?" Race asked over his shoulder, playing a game of craps.

"Race, if you'se an artist, Skittery kin out-sell me!" Jack laughed. (note: sorry for those of you who like Skittery. For the purpose of this story, he's the worst seller of the lot. Remember "This'll bust me. I'm barely makin' a livin' right now."?)

"Hey!" Skittery exclaimed, offended.

"Sorry, Skit, but you'se da worst at it," Jack explained. Skittery rolled his eyes.

"Aw, c'mon, Jack. I kin draw. I jist gotta loyn how," Race mumbled. They all laughed.

Specs turned back to his conversation with Dutchy. "So, ya think ya got a chance wit' dis Lilly goyl?" he wondered.

Dutchy shrugged. "Well, she didn't really NOTICE anybody. She looked at all a us 'n' den went back ta woik. I think I might be able ta git ta tawk to 'er if I bring 'er a lily er somethin'. Medda said she's got 'em pressed inta 'er drawin' books," he commented.

Specs nodded. "Dat's a good idea. Ya should do dat," he agreed.

"Awright, boys. Lights out!" an elderly man yelled as he walked through the group of boys.

"Aw, c'mon, Kloppman. Cain't we stay up s'more?" a curley-haired boy whined.

"Nope, nope, nope," the old man mumbled as he shook his head.

The rest of the boys groaned and started to get ready for bed. Some of them washed; some of them brushed their teeth; some of them just stripped and went to bed. They all eventually found their bunks and nodded off to sleep. Kloppmon shut the lights off as he left the room.

The next morning, Lily sat at one of the tables in the main auditorium and drew in one of her leather-bound books with a stick of charcoal in her hand and a small knife on the table beside her. She had been drawing faces all morning. She'd filled almost half the pages of the book in the few hours she'd been drawing. She drew the faces of many of the customers of the previous night. Most of them were fairly small, but a few of them took up an entire page, pages about five inches by ten.

"Lily?" Medda called from backstage. Lily left her book open with the charcoal alongside and hurried off to help Medda, wiping her hands on her apron on the way. She came around the curtain to see a huge mess. She sighed. "Lily, help me out here. I've knocked over half the props," she chuckled.

Lily just began to clean up the mess. Medda tried, but she really wasn't quite sure how to start. Luckily, she didn't have to.

"Medda?" someone called from the main auditorium.

"You'll be alright?" she asked, looking at Lily. Lilly just nodded. Medda sighed and walked into the auditorium.

Lily continued to clean up the large mess quickly. She could hear Medda and a man talking on the other side of the curtain, but she couldn't hear what they were saying. She didn't really care. She had a mess to clean up. She finished up quickly since she was dedicated and had no distractions. She brushed her hands off on her apron and walked back out into the auditorium. Medda had just finished talking with Jack. He was on his way out the door. She headed back over to her table when she noticed that her book was gone. She hurried over to the table and looked all around. Her charcoal and knife were there, but her book was gone. She grabbed them and stuffed them into her pocket and ran out the door after Jack.

Once she was in the street, she saw Jack down the block. She hurried to follow him. When she got a little closer, she could see that he was carrying a book. She couldn't tell if it was her book exactly, but it looked about the right size. He turned a corner, but she kept up with him. He sped up his pace when he neared some iron gates. He began to open the book. She hurried before he could look at any of the sketches, but he was faster than she.

"Hey, Race," Jack called as he walked up to him, the book open to one of the sketches. Race stepped up to Jack.

"What's up, Jack?" he asked, curious.

"Look what I gots 'ere. I think dey're Lily's drawin's. Look at dis one. Dese're da folks from las' night. An' dis one, dat's you. It really looks like ya," he answered as Race looked over his shoulder at the sketches.

Lily came up on Jack's other side and took a firm hold on her book. She tried to pull it out of Jack's hands, but she couldn't. She yanked it harder and finally got it. She slammed it shut and pulled it close to her chest.

"Look, Lily, I'se sorry 'bout da book, but it was out in da open fer ever'one ta see," Jack apologized.

Lily just looked right at him, anger and hurt in her eyes. They watered slightly, but she didn't cry. She just glared at him for several seconds. Jack looked away. She looked around and saw a huge group of teenage boys watching her. She became very nervous and backed away from them. She bumped into someone and spun around, backing away again. She backed into a wall and slowly lowered to the ground. She tried to keep the images in her mind's eye from flashing before her, but she couldn't. They were so real to her that she could almost feel the sting of a fist on her face. She pulled herself into a tight ball against the wall, trying desperately to stop the images.

"Lily?" Dutchy asked softly as he knelt before her. She didn't respond. "Lily?" he asked again, reaching toward her and touching her arm lightly. She jumped, and he pulled away quickly. Her vision cleared, and she saw only Dutchy. She blinked. "C'mon; I'll take ya on back ta Medda's," he offered and stretched his hand out toward her.

She watched his eyes for a moment. Her hand shook as she released her grip on her book and lifted her hand to Dutchy's. She hesitated but decided to place her hand in his anyway. He helped her to her feet. She still clutched the book to her chest. He led her through the crowd of boys slowly. She stayed close to him, clearly terrified. He led her all the way back to Irving Hall and into the lobby. Medda was waiting, very worried.

"Lily, darling," Medda cried when she saw the two enter the lobby. She hurried over to them and wrapped her arms around the girl. Lilly gasped and patted Medda on the back. She finally let her go. "Thank you, Dutchy."

Dutchy nodded and looked to Lily. "Lilly, if ya ever need me, I sell at da lowah pawt a Central Pawk, along 57th. I'll see ya latah, hm," he said and turned to leave. Lilly watched him.

"Looks like ya made a friend," Medda mumbled after Dutchy had left.

Lilly hadn't heard Medda's words. She hurried back out the door and followed Dutchy back to the iron gates and waited across the street, out of sight. He came back out a few minutes later with a stack of newspapers under one arm. He fixed his hat on his head and walked off toward Central Park. Lily followed.

In Central Park, Dutchy put most of his papers down and began to hawk the headlines that he'd read on the way over. Lily moved to a space where he couldn't see her, but she could see him. She opened her book to a fresh page and took out her knife and charcoal. She sharpened her charcoal and began drawing. She drew Dutchy on several pages. She chose the best image and tore it out of the book carefully. She signed her name to the bottom of the page. She put her knife and charcoal into her pocket and started to walk over toward Dutchy.

"Extry! Extry! Pigeons attack local business!" Dutchy yelled over the din of the crowd. He turned and noticed Lilly walking toward him. He tucked the papers under his arm and waved to her with his free hand. "Hey ya, Lily!" he called.

Lily hurried up to him. She licked her lips and handed him the drawing. "Th— Th— Thank you," she whispered, learning how to speak again.

He blinked and looked right at her. She looked at her hands. "Yer welcome," he answered, watching her in amazement. She turned to walk away. "Wait!" She turned back around. "Thanks fer da drawin'. It's real good. I wish I could draw you dis good," he said with a smile. She smiled. "Den I'd have a pitcha a you," he mumbled.

She blinked and glanced up at his face. He was blushing. "I have… to go to work," she stuttered. She backed away from him and headed back to Irving Hall.

Dutchy watched her walk away. Her skirt swayed as she walked, the apron along with it. Much of her hair had fallen around her face. A good portion of the charcoal had made it to her brow. He laughed as he remembered the image of her face smudged with charcoal. He looked at the drawing once more before tucking it into his shirt, folding it in half first. He smiled again and returned to selling his papers.

Lily began running back to Irving Hall. She snuck in through the stage door and tried not to disrupt the performance. She crept between the curtains into the main auditorium. She tried not to attract any attention as she tip-toed around the edge of the room and behind the bar. She put her book down some place safe and returned to work. She noticed that her apron was fairly dirty and switched it with a clean one.

Dutchy had left his selling spot and gone to a restaurant for lunch. His best friend was sitting at a table eating his lunch when he walked in. He hurried over to him, dropping his papers on the table as he plopped down in the seat.

"Specs, guess what!" he greeted enthusiastically.

Specs blinked and looked at his friend. "Well aftahnoon ta you, too," Specs replied.

"Hey, Specs," he mumbled in passing. "Guess what!"

"Someone gave ya a dollah fer a pape."

"Naw, guess again."

"Uh, ya saw a perdy goyl."

"No— well, yeah, but dat ain't it. Look at what Lily gave me," he said quickly as he pulled the drawing out of his shirt. He handed it to Specs.

Specs set his fork down and took the drawing. He looked it over closely. "Wow, dis's really good. Who'd she git ta draw you?" he answered.

"She drew it," he said, amazed that he didn't know already.

"She drew dis?! Da way she acted dis mornin' I nevah thought she could do nuthin'," he commented.

"Aw, no, she does a lot," he corrected as Specs handed the drawing back to him. Specs nodded and continued eating.

After lunch, Dutchy went back to Central Park. He finished selling his papers as fast as he could. When he was finished, he hurried to find a flower shop. He found one and walked inside. A woman came to help him.

"May I help you, sonny?" the elderly woman asked, adjusting her glasses on her nose.

"Uh, yeah, I'se lookin' fer a lily," he answered, looking at her and trying to be as polite as possible.

She nodded and turned around. She waved for him to follow her. "Any type in particular?" she asked over her shoulder.

"Dere's more 'an one?!" he exclaimed.

She laughed. "Oh, yes, there's quite a few. Each has its own special meaning. Who might the flower be for?" she replied.

"Oh, well, I knows dis girl. She don't tawk, well, not till a li'l while ago anyway. We calls 'er Lily cuz she gots 'em pressed inta 'er drawin' books. I nevah seen 'em, so I dunno which ones she gots. Which one ya think I should git 'er?" he answered.

The old woman stopped in front of several tall buckets filled with cut flowers. She looked over them. "You like this girl a lot?" she wondered.

"Yeh," he answered, smiling.

She mumbled something inaudible and looked over her flowers. She smiled and picked one out of one of the buckets in the back row. "Here, this one, she'll like this one," she said as she showed the lovely orange blossom to him.

"Wow. I nevah seen nuthin' so perdy, well, 'cept Lily," he commented. "What's it called?"

"A Tiger Lily. I'm sure it'll pale next ta this girl a yours. Tell her so; she'll love you forever," she advised, grinning. "Let me put a ribbon around it, and you can be on your way." She continued to smile as she stepped back to the front counter. She took out a white ribbon and tied it around the stem carefully. When she finished the bow, she rubbed her arthritic hands carefully. She handed it to him.

He handed her his money. "Thanks, ma'am. If you'se evah need anythin' dat's hawd gittin'. Jist ask da newsies fer Dutchy. Dat's me," he said with a happy grin.

"Nice to meet you, Dutchy. My name's Maggie. You're welcome in my flower shop anytime," she replied with a smile. He left the shop and headed for Irving Hall. "He must be one of Frankie's boys. He's too polite to've been raised by anyone else," she commented, watching Dutchy walk up the street. She chuckled and returned to work.

Dutchy showed up at Irving Hall about ten minutes later. He walked into the main auditorium and looked around for Lily. He saw her over behind the bar, putting glasses away. He took his hat off and straightened his hair as he walked over to her.

"Uh, Lily?" he said as he stepped up to the bar. She turned around and smiled a little. "I got ya dis," he began, handing her the flower. "I figured dat since we calls ya Lily, I might git ya one, but it don't compare ta you none. You'se way too gorgious." He blushed.

Lily smiled and took the flower from his hand. She closed her eyes as she smelled the flower. She smiled and sighed as she took the flower away from her nose. She looked back at Dutchy. "Thank you," she said, visibly pleased. "I— I've nevah gotten a flower before," she added, looking back at it.

"Well, yer welcome," he answered, glad that she liked his gift.

Over the next two weeks, Dutchy and Lily spent a lot of time together. Every time Dutchy went to Irving Hall, he brought her a Tiger Lily. She did the same thing every time he gave her the flower. She closed her eyes and inhaled the fragrance as deeply as she could. She'd saved all the flowers in her drawing books. Occasionally, they would end up falling asleep when they were talking till all hours of the night. The other newsies bugged him about it all the time. He just scowled at them and then told Lily about it later. They laughed about it.

One evening on one of Dutchy's many visits, Medda approached him before he could enter the main auditorium. "Dutchy, my boy," she began.

"Evenin', Medda. Lil' busy?" he replied, very happy and carrying the lily.

"She's never too busy to see you, kid. Before you go see her, I'd like to tell you this. You're the only one she speaks to. She just does as she's told and says nothing. If I ask her a question, she just looks at me. Do you think you can get her to talk to anybody else?" she said, hopeful.

Dutchy scratched his head under his hat. "I kin try, but I don't think she'll tawk ta nobody else," he shrugged.

Medda nodded. "I need to get back to my customers. It's a slow night; tell Lily to take the rest of the evening off. You two have a good time," she commented and glided back to the stage.

Dutchy nodded and walked over to Lily. She had her back to the room, so she didn't see him at all. "Lily," he began with his customary grin. She turned and smiled brightly. "Look, Medda says ya got da rest a da night off, on account a it's slow. C'mon; let's go find us a place ta tawk," he said.

She nodded happily and untied her apron. She hung it up on the hook in the back and dried her hands. She walked out from behind the bar and up to Dutchy. "Where we gonna go?" she whispered.

"I knows a good place," he answered with a smile. She watched him as he led her out of the Hall and down the street. He brought her to the fire escape of a tenement building and helped her up to the roof. Once they were on the roof, he gave her the flower.

"This's a wonderful view a the streets," she commented, looking around before taking the flower. She smelled it ritualistically.

Dutchy sat down on the edge. "Kin I ask ya somethin'?" he wondered.

She turned to look at him. "Sure," she replied softly.

"Why didn't ya tawk fer so long?"

She sighed and sat on the wall a few feet away from Dutchy. "I neva told anyone 'bout it," she mumbled.

"It's awright, Lil'. Ya don't gotta tell me," he commented.

She didn't hear him. "I suppose the last time I ever spoke was 'bout five years ago," she began. "I was livin' with my father and brother. They fought with each other every day. My mother was dead. She had been fer years. Father was always drinkin'; that was his way of dealin' with her death. Victor, my brother, hated it when Father drank. He never really beat us, only once er twice, but 'e was never sober enough ta work. Victor managed ta get a job deliverin' groceries fer ol' ladies 'n' the nuns. He insisted I go ta school 'n' teach 'im everythin' I learned there. He'd only gotten ta the seventh grade before havin' ta drop out 'n' find work.

"One day, I came home 'n' found the flat in shambles, more so 'an usual. There was a letter stuck ta the door. I read it. They were askin' fer their money. I found out later that Father'd borrowed money from the mob ta buy 'is liquor. He was overdue on 'is payments. I started to clean up as fast as I could before Victor got home, but I didn't finish. Victor was furious when he came home. Father 'n' him got inta a fight again that night. They were yellin' at each other when the mob came. I was in the bedroom, listenin'. I heard two gun shots 'n' ran out the windah 'n' up ta the roof. I stayed up there fer hours.

"I climbed back down the fire escape 'n' made like I was comin' inta the building fer the first time that day. I found the cops in our flat. They were pickin' Father 'n' Victor up ta bring away. I wouldn't let 'em take Victor. The cops picked me off a 'im 'n' dragged 'im out. They dragged me on down ta the police station ta ask me questions. They don't really take too kindly ta little kids. When I didn't answer their questions, they locked me up in jail. One a the dectectives'd come by every day ta see if I'd talk. I never did. They finally quit sendin' 'em by. Eventually, they let me out cuz they didn't have any reason ta hold me nomore. I left 'n' found my way ta Medda's," she explained, watching the sun set off in the distance.

"I'se real sorry yer bruddah 'n' faddah died," he commented quietly.

She looked over at him. She'd forgotten he was there. "Father bein' dead doesn't bother me as much as Victor. Before 'e died, he was the only one I really, really talked to. When 'e died, there was nobody left who cared 'bout me. I didn't even have any friends at school. There were a couple a kids in jail who tried ta be nice ta me, but, when I didn't answer 'em back, they quit talkin' ta me, too. None 'v'um saw any point to it," she mumbled.

Dutchy was quiet for a few minutes; he just watched her. "What's yer real name, Lil'?" he suddenly asked.

She looked over at him. "What's yers?" she replied.

"Jonathon Kipke, Johnny," he answered, hoping he'd tell him hers.

"Drusilla Ann Strausse," she mumbled.

"Dat's nice," he complimented.

"I'd rather if ya jist call me Lily. Victor called me Dru," she said quietly.

He smiled. "Sure, Lil'," he complied. He was quiet again for a little while. "Say, ya wanna go do somethin'?" he suddenly asked.

She looked at him. "What?" she wondered with a slight smile.

"C'mon; I want ya ta meet somebody," he said quickly as he stood and grabbed her wrist. They ran to the door of the roof and down the stairs. "Kloppman!" he yelled.

The old man walked into the lobby. "Yeah?" he called back, looking up the stairs. Dutchy came bounding down with Lily right behind. "Who's zis, Dutchy?" he inquired, looking the girl over.

Dutchy landed in the lobby and stepped over to Kloppman. Lily nearly slammed right into him. "Kloppman, dis's me friend Lily. Lily, dis's Kloppman. He runs da place," he introduced.

"Nice to meet ya, me dear," he greeted, nodding politely. She smiled and just looked at him.

"Hey, Kloppman, kin Lil' stay heya fer a bit? I gotta go git somethin'."

"Sure, sure."

Dutchy ran out of the building as fast as he could. He ran through the streets until he got to Maggie's shop. The door was locked, but there was still a lamp burning inside. He banged on the door. "Maggie?" he called.

Maggie hobbled to the door slowly. "Gracious, child. You could wake the dead out here. What you doin' back so soon?" she asked as she opened the door.

"I need a flowah dat'll fit da name Drusilla," he said excitedly.

"You get a new girl?" she asked as she walked back to her flowers.

"Naw, same girl, but 'er real name's Drusilla. She's da most goigious goyl I ever seen."

"Do I ever get to meet this wonderful girl?"

"Aw, shoah. Ya wanna meet 'er right now? She's wit' Kloppman."

"I'd love to, dear. Let me close up here, and we can go," she agreed with a smile as she picked out a few flowers, two for Lily and two for Kloppman. She wrapped them up separately and ushered Dutchy out of the store. She locked the door and followed him back to the lodging house.

They got to the lodging house about ten minutes later. Maggie had to walk fairly slowly on account of her injured leg. They walked in and found Lily and Kloppman playing cards. Lily sat on the desk while Kloppman leaned on it. Dutchy handed Lily the flowers and kissed her cheek. She blushed and smelled her flowers. Dutchy turned back to Maggie.

"Maggie, dis's Lily. Lily, dis's da lady I git da flowahs from, Maggie," he introduced.

"It's an honor to finally meet you, Lily. Dutchy talks about you non-stop when he's in my shop. I was beginning to wonder if you were a real person the way he talks about you. An angel he calls you," she greeted with a bright smile.

Lily blushed and glanced at Dutchy, who was trying very hard to hide his beet-red face. She turned back to Maggie. "Nice to meet you, too, Maggie," she whispered with a tiny smile. Dutchy's jaw dropped. She'd never spoken to anyone but him. He was shocked.

Maggie turned to Kloppman. "Hello, Frankie. It's nice to see you again. It's been a long time," she said.

"Yup, great ta see ya agin, Maggie," he answered with a smile. He stepped toward her, and they hugged each other.

"I brought you somethin' to adorn the place with. Running a lodging house, you don't usually keep flowers around, but I thought you'd like them," she said.

"Did Dutchy tell ya I ran da place?" he wondered.

"No, not a word from him. All he told me about himself was that he's a newsie. He's too polite to be anyone else's boy," she commented with a laugh.

"I try, but some 'v'um get away from me," the old man laughed back. "Come; come. Let me show you something." He gestured for Maggie to follow him. She did.

Dutchy turned back to Lily, an excited expression on his face. "Ya evah been ta Brooklyn?" he asked hurriedly, taking hold of her hand.

"Brooklyn?!" she exclaimed as Dutchy began to pull her toward the door. She hopped off the desk and hurried after him as he ran out the door. "Why're we goin' ta Brooklyn?" she called up to him.

He slowed down and waited for her. When she caught up to him, he took hold of her hand again and pulled her along with him. "I wanna show ya somethin'!" he answered ecstatically. He laughed and kept running until he got to the Brooklyn Bridge. Lily slammed into the railing to catch her breath. "Well, dis's it, da Brooklyn Bridge."

Once she'd caught her breath, she looked around her. She didn't say anything as she spun in a circle to take in the entire bridge. "If I could draw this bridge, I'd never do it justice," she whispered, fearing that if she spoke too loud, the bridge would collapse.

"Aw, ya could draw it way bettah, Lil'," he complimented.

She looked back at him, smirking. She suddenly became very aware of the time. "I need to get home. G'bye, Dutchy. I see you tomorrow," she said quickly, kissed his cheek, and ran off into Manhattan.

"Bye," Dutchy called after her.

Lily ran all the way home. When she got there, she pulled out a completely blank drawing book, her charcoals, and her knife and began drawing. She sat on her bed with a candle burning for hours into the night. When the candle burned down, she lit the oil lamp in the kitchen and brought it back into her bedroom and continued drawing. When the sun began to rise, she glanced over at the window. She closed the book with her knife marking her page. She went to wash up and change into something more suitable. She braided bits of her wet her back and tied them together with a blue ribbon behind her head. She put her shoes back on and went to find her roll for her charcoals. She packed her knife and charcoals into it and rolled it up and tied it shut. She took a red ribbon and marked her page, shutting the book again.

She climbed out onto the fire escape and hurried down to the street. She ran back toward Brooklyn, crossing the bridge and looking for a good place to sit down and draw the magnificent bridge. She found a space near a pier and began to sketch the foundation and the steel cables. She added the buildings and water after she finished the bridge.

She turned to one side and saw a perfect specimen for her next drawing. She began drawing the regal newsie with the pink suspenders. He eventually noticed her after she'd finished drawing the image of him. She turned back to the bridge sketched it a little differently than before, this time with the bridge as the focus of the image, not the skyline. The boy crept up behind her and watched her draw by looking over her shoulder. She ignored him and continued drawing. He was about to ask her something when she began to pack her charcoal back into the roll. She stood and jumped when she saw her observer. She curtseyed a little and hurried off back to Manhattan.

She did the same in Manhattan, drawing various newsies she recognized. Since she drew one or two sketches of each, the pages quickly became filled. She turned back to the first page, which she'd purposefully left blank.

	Newsies,

		Please take these sketches as an apology for my 
behavior the other day.  I should not have been so rude.  You 
will always be welcome at Irving Hall and by me.  Dutchy has 
informed me that you meant no harm by it, and I trust his view 
of all of you.  No matter what I feel toward you, he knows you 
all better than I do.  I trust that his faith in you has not 
been ill-gotten.

				Yours truly,

					Lily

© 1997 Birdie Kelley

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