All the Lonely People

I can hear the music, the laughter and the tinkling of fine china floating throughout the house. It's a party, the first one I've been to in quite a while. And it's in my house. My new house that is, in Boston. There's a sinking feeling in my stomach; I'm nervous as usual. You'd think I'd get used to meeting new people seeing that I have a lifetime of experience, but somehow, it's never that easy. I look at my reflection in the mirror one last time. Every strand of my hair is in its place. My new dress is perfect and all my jewelry is sparkling. I smile slightly, admiring the dress. It is truly beautiful, made out of the finest champagne colored silk. It was unthinkably expensive, imported from France. I know it's supposed to make me feel better about moving. I suppose it helps a little. Still, a dress will never be able to replace a person. I sigh, and turn away from the mirror, satisfied with my appearance. Taking a deep breath I stroll down the hallway and carefully descend the grand spiraling staircase to the ballroom.

I slowly glide my gloved hand along the railing. With each step, I feel dread pooling in my stomach. The room feels hot and hazy and it seems like everyone is staring at me. I wish...I wish that Jack were here. I imagine him magically appearing at the bottom of the stairs and whisking my away, back to New York. But that's not how things work. Turning my thoughts back to the present, I plaster a smile on my face and begin scanning the room.

"You must be Ms. DeLanci!" I nod automatically, catching myself before I make a pained face. A young man is standing in front of me, grinning like a complete fool. He has straw blond hair, slicked back and he's wearing a tuxedo. But then so is every male in the room. I groan inwardly. How do they find me?

"It's a pleasure to meet you." He practically purrs, the way he says it. I think I'm going to be sick. He takes my hand and bends down to kiss it. I really, really want to snatch it away, knowing that only a thin layer of fabric separates my hand from his slimy lips.

"My name is Darrel Hayward." Yahoo. Let go of my hand. Now.

"It's a pleasure to meet you!" I gush, my manners clicking into auto-pilot. Someone save me. My gaze flicks away from Darrel and begins to drift over the room. I'm vaguely aware of Darrel leading me around the room, babbling something about meeting his friends. I wonder if Jack has sold all of his newspapers yet. He's probably in the Lodging House right now, playing cards with his friends...

"Hey, Jack. Jack!" I notice a hand waving in front of my face. "Yeah, what?" I mumble. That's when I realize that I'm holding a handful of cards. I just can't do this.

"I'm sorry, Race." I say as I throw down my hand. "I-I just..." I shake my head and stand up, leaving the poker game.

"Jack, ya ok?" Race asked, scrutinizing my face, looking worried. I smile slightly. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." Race nods, looking unconvinced. I slowly trudge over to my bunk and lay down. I pull my hat over my face, trying to get some sleep even though the room is still brightly lit. I sigh raggedly, feeling sorry for myself. Angela's been gone only four days but I'm already going crazy. Every day it's just one pointless activity after the other, just trying to get through it as fast as possible, onto the next chore. But I'm not working towards anything. It's so purposeless. Nothing has been happening lately and my patience is wearing thin. But I have to put on a brave face, act like everything is ok. I'm the leader and there are more important matters than my problems. My thoughts are becoming distant and fuzzy; everything is fading into black. I roll over and slip into a restless sleep, thoughts of Angela still plaguing my mind.

Mr. Hayward, Ms. Haupt, Ms. Bernstein, Mr. Sutton, Mr. Jameson, Ms. Daws...the list is endless. And I'm all too good at matching names and faces, a fairly useless talent, at least in my mind. I'm standing around the punch table with the children of Boston's elite, having a truly...dull experience. They're perfectly nice to me, in fact, a bit too nice for my taste. I'm feeling rather suffocated at the moment. And I wonder if they really like me or if they're just being nice because of the party and the money.

"That is a lovely dress!" Natalie. Natalie Bernstein. She gushes. A lot.

"Oh it is! Where did you get it?" Jane, Jane Daws. She seems more genuine than the others, at least. I smile, "Why thank you! It's from Paris." This comment sends them into a tizzy and they all crowd around me to get a closer look at my dress.

"Is it silk?"

"Oh it's a marvelous color!"

"I love the style, it's so flattering!" I smiled and absently field the compliments, not particularly interested. Well, I can take comfort in the knowledge that I'm better dressed than the rest of them. But then, it is my families party, I should look nice. What a stupid thing to think about. I turn my head and start gazing about the room as the conversation turns to Emmaline Haupt's new gloves. A truly fascinating subject indeed. Finally, I can't take it anymore, and I excuse myself from their little clique.

I slowly make my way through the crowd, taking in the scene around me. The ballroom is one of the most magnificent things I've ever seen. It has high, curving ceilings, and intricately inlaid wood floors, all warmly lit and pulsating with people. The far wall has huge glass doors that open onto a large terrace, looking out into a garden. I make my way to the open doors, feeling the cool breeze waft across the room. Piano music floats past my ears as I step onto the terrace. It's a beautiful night, with the sky a deep cobalt blue, dotted with silver stars. The terrace is bathed in moonlight and only a few people have chosen to come outside. I walk to the edge and lean against the cool stone railing, content with being alone. No, that's not true. I wanted to get away from the party, but not everyone.

I breath in deeply, enjoying the air. I glance around the veranda only to see couples enjoying the view, hand in hand. I sigh and study my hands, wishing Jack were here, knowing he would appreciate the wonderful night. I instinctively grasp my finger, a constant habit, expecting to find my ring. I often toy with it, twisting it around my finger. Only this time there is no ring. I purse my lips, remembering that Jack has it. I drop my hands, not having anything to fidget with. I place my right hand in front of my and study it. It looks oddly empty to me without the ring, like something is missing. And something is. But it's not just my ring.

Jack shifted his weight in the booth at Tibby's. It had been a spectacular day selling; he had sold 73 papers and it was only lunchtime. And although this acommplishment should have made him feel good-great, in fact, it didn't. He sighed again (he'd been doing that a lot lately) and absently stared at his fork. Presently, Jack noticed someone stride up to his table and sit down across from him.

"Hey, Jack." a voice greeted him breathlessly. Jack straighted and sat up in his seat. "Hey, Dave." he said flatly, leaning against the seat.

"So, how was selling?" David asked brightly.

"Pretty good." Jack shrugged, looking down at the table and sighing once more. David frowned at Jack. Lately his friend had had the personality of a wet dishtowel.

"So," David ventured, attempting to get some conversation going, "what's been happening lately?"

"Eh, well, Kloppman's neice, Clara's stayin' at da Lodgin' House now. And, uh, Lynn jus' brought some new recuits in." Jack answered dully. David looked at Jack concerned. This had to stop. David steepled his hands on the table. He stared at them briefly and glanced up at Jack. Jack was staring into space, a forlorn look on his face.

"Jack," David sighed in exasperation, "you've got to stop doing this."

"Doin' what?" Jack asked defensively, showing more interest than he had in weeks. David closed his eyes, a pained look on his face. He sighed and opened his eyes, looking directly at Jack.

"Everyday," he began, "I see you buy your usual hundred papes and start selling them. I've never seen you move papers that fast. I've never seen anyone move papers as fast as you've been moving them these past weeks. Jack, you go through the day in a haze, like you're on automatic. You're here physically but who knows where the rest of you is! You don't seem to enjoy anything anymore! You just wake up, sell the papes, and go to bed. Quit moping! You're borderline pathetic!"

Jack frowned at David's words. "I ain't mopin'." he mumbled. David looked at Jack exasperated. "Yes, you are. You know that as well as I do. It's been two weeks since Angela left for Boston. Start living you life." David finished solemly, standing up. "I've gotta finish selling." he said. Jack nodded, not looking him in the face. David shook his head and walked out of Tibbys. Jack watched David leave, contemplating his words. He propped his elbows on the table and clasped his hands. As much as he hated to admit it, he was beginning to think that maybe David was right.

Angela squinted in the bright afternoon sun. She gingerly picked her way through the crowd and stood near the entry gates to the campus. Angela sighed, impatiently waiting for Johnny to exit the school building. It was hot outside and she was agitated. It was the second week of school and Angela had soon lost any potential friends with her current sour disposition. She was sick of acting pleasant and nice and was quite satisfied with being nasty and wallowing in self-pity. She straighted, seeing Johnny crossing the lawn, chatting with some new friends. He strided over to Angela, noticing her annoyed expression.

"Why you're just bursting with sunshine today." he observed dryly. Angela rolled her eyes, and sighed, turning to walk home.

As they started down the street, Angela turned to her brother, "Tell me, why does it appear that Darrel Hayward is, um, how shall I say this...stalking me?" Johnny looked at Angela amused.

"He likes you." Johnny shugged. Angela gave him a withering look.

"I know that. I'm not blind, you know." Angela sighed and crossed her arms over her chest. They continued down the block in silence.

"He's everywhere."

"Hm?" Johnny turned to her.

"Darrel."

"Oh, yeah." Johnny replied vaugely.

"Everytime I turn around, he's just standing there, like he doesn't having anything better to do. He follows me around and he's got this creepy grin..." Angela shuddered.

"Dad seems to like him." Johnny said thoughfully.

"What?" Angela gasped and stared at Johnny, bug-eyed.

"Oh yeah. Dad thinks that he'd make a nice addition to the family, as, say, a son in-law." Johnny said smugly. Angela's eyes blazed at the comment. Gritting her teeth, she mumbled something obscene under her breath. Storming up the front steps of their brick town house, she flung open the door and stomped down the hall.

"What-you-how-Darrel Hayward?!" Angela sputtered, gesturing elaboratly with her hands. She stood in the parlor, her eyes wide, waiting for her father to respond. Richard DeLanci slowly lowered the newspaper he was reading and calmly looked up at his daughter.

He frowned slightly. "Darrel is a very nice young man. The Haywards are also very nice people." he added. Angela stared at her father incredulously.

"No...no..." she said, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Angela, you're nearly fifteen." her father warned.

"Oh, I see-planning for the future, huh? Find some rich family and just marry me off. What a great plan!" Angela crowed sarcastically, throwing her hands in the air.

"Don't talk back to me like that..." Mr. DeLanci said tensely.

Angela shook her head in disgust. "I'll talk however I like." she scoffed.

"Well, tell me now, what is your plan for the future?" Mr. DeLanci said, becoming agitated. Angela narrowed her eyes in contempt.

"No, don't let me stop you! Please, do tell!" Mr. DeLanci cried, rather amused.

"Just leave me alone." Angela hissed under her breath, turning to leave the room.

"What? Come now, don't tell me you were planning to marry that street boy from New York?" his voice oozed anger and sarcasm. Angela whirled around and stared at her father, amazed and disgusted. Finally, she turned on her heel and stalked out of the room. Pausing at the doorway, she turned her head over her shoulder.

"I'll tell you this much," Angela said, measuring her words out carefully, "I will never, ever marry Darrel Hayward." With those final words Angela left the room.

"Wooo! Medda!"

"Medda!"

The crowd at Irving Hall erupted into cheers as the last notes of the closing song drifted into silence. Medda stood in the center of the stage, bathed in a spotlight, in full pink attire. She beamed and blew the crowd a kiss, accepting the flowers being thrown at the stage. The velvet curtain slowly slid across the stage; the show was over.

"Whew," Race said, fanning himself for effect, "dat was some show tanight!" he grinned and raised he eyebrows and his compainions for the evening.

"You said it, Race." Jack nodded in agreement.

"Man, Medda sure looked good!" Blink exclaimed, running a hand through his hair before putting his hat back on. The guys laughed heartily at Blink's comment; they knew exactly what he meant.

"Great night, eh?" Mush said contentedly, as the four friends strolled down the street. Jack, Race, and Blink nodded , sharing a moment of silence. Race reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigar. He cocked his head thoughfully and popped it into his mouth. He slyly fell into step behind Mush, who was completly obivious to his new shadow. In an instant Race reached out and grabbed Mush's hat right off his head.

"Hey!" Mush cried, spinning around. Race laughed and took a step back from Mush, dangling the hat in the air.

"Why, I outta..." Mush took a step towards Race. Race looked past Mush and motioned with his head.

"Heya Blink! Catch!" Race cried and flung the hat through the air. Blink reached up and snatched the hat out of the air. This game of keep-away continued until the boys finally came to the Lodging House doors. The four friends burst through the doors, Jack and Mush still mock fighting even though Mush had gotten his hat back. As the group walked past the front desk, Kloppman looked up.

"Hey. Cowboy." Jack turned away from his friends, surprised.

"Ya got a letter." Kloppman said simply, placing an envelope on the table. Jack frowned and slowly picked the letter up off the table. He studied it briefly, turning it over in his hands.

"Heya Jack, what is it?" Race asked, looking at his friend. Jack didn't respond.

"Yo, Jack, you awake in there?"

"Oh, sorry." Jack said distractedly. He turned and headed up the stairs to the bunkroom, not explaining further. Race, Mush, and Blink exchanged puzzled glances but dissmissed it. Jack hadn't been quite the same since Angela had left. The three boys headed over to the parlor, ready to join the nearest poker game.

Jack reached the top of the stairs and glanced around the bunk room. To his dismay, it was not deserted.

"Heya Lynn. Pokey, Lightin', Clara." he nodded to each of them before crossing the room and pushing open the window. He climbed onto the fire escape and climbed up to the roof. He sat down, his legs dangling over the edge. Jack carefully slid his finger under the envelope's flap and tore it open. It was dusk outside; the sun had nearly set. Still, it was light enough for Jack to read his letter. A cool autumn breeze tumbled past his face, whipping his hair. Jack shivered slightly as he unfolded the paper.

Dear Jack,
How are things in New York? I hope the selling is good. Anything interesting going on? I'm sure you have lots to keep you busy; there's always something to do in New York. As for me, I'm doing all right. I just started at my new school, Durham Hall. It's only a block away from my new house. I haven't really made any friends yet although there have been a lot of parties to attend. I miss New York. I hope I can visit over the holidays. Write back soon! I miss you.

Jack pursed his lips and frowned as he carefully folded the letter and slipped it back into its envelope. He felt a twang of guilt as he ran the envelope between his fingers. Angela didn't sound particularly happy in Boston. But what made him feel worse was the face that he hadn't even thought about her in days. He'd been having too much fun with this friends to be sad. He'd been having fun, just like...just like old times. Going out for a night on the town, without a care in the world, nothing tying him down.

Tying him down? Jack frowned, becoming confused. Was this relationship with Angela really tying him down? He hadn't really spent much time with his friends over the past few weeks and he had been spending the rest of his time moping over Angela. What had happened to ‘the good old days' anyway? David had told him to stop moping, so he did. And now he was having fun, just like he used to.

But wait...just like he used to? That wasn't true...he had had fun with Angela. It was just, well, different. Jack sighed heavily. He felt guilty about not even thinking about Angela lately. But it was because he was having a good time with his friends. And he was starting to feel guilty about that too. But why should he? Why should he feel guilty about having fun? It wasn't like having fun was a crime or something...But saying that felt like he was somehow devaluing his relationship with Angela. But on the other hand, why should his relationship with Angela be more important than his relationship with his friends?

Jack ran a hand over his face; he was beginning to feel sick, he was so confused. He rolled his eyes up at the sky, as if it could somehow provide him with an answer to his problems. He sat there, staring at the stars for a long time, just studying them. The night is like a blanket, filling the sky, filling your thoughts, your mind. Seeping into all the little recesses and corners, somewhere deep inside. Closing in, slow and heavy; dark. Jack slowly exhaled, tipping his face downward, back to earth. He stood up and solemnly made his way back down the fire escape.

"Angela." Angela paused in the doorway, holding her books to her chest. She felt a rush of wind as the other students filed past her, out of the classroom.

"May I have a word with you?" Angela sighed and walked back to the teacher's desk. Ms. Hallwell smiled slightly and indicated for Angela to sit down. Ms. Hallwell was a pretty young women, popular with the students. She had the ability to make her students excited about their work, a rare quality. However, she hadn't been able to excite Angela.

"Angela, you have tremendous capacity as a student and as a person," she began, "however, you are not preforming to your maximum capacity. You're a smart girl," Ms. Hallwell said gently, "I've reviewed your records; your past work had been outstanding. But currently you've been doing mediocre class work." Angela looked at the desk and shifted her weight a little, refusing to meet her teacher's gaze. She knew that Ms. Hallwell was right and she knew that Ms. Hallwell wanted to see her do well. Angela swallowed, feeling guilty for letting her teacher down. Ms. Hallwell sighed and studied her hands.

"Angela, the schoolwork isn't hard for you, is it?" Angela looked up and shook her head. Ms. Hallwell nodded. "I didn't think so. Maybe...maybe it would help if you told someone what's wrong," she said quietly. Angela pursed her lips, not wanting to disclose any information to her teacher. She opened her mouth to refuse but then paused. She hadn't told anyone her problems and well, what harm could it do?

Angela looked up and met her teacher's gaze. "Ok." she said. Taking a deep breath, Angela launched into her story. "My family just moved here from New York. Well, moving is nothing new, we're always moving with my father's job. And I've always hated but well, it was a way of life, you get used to it. We hardly lived a month in New York but I loved it. I mean, I actually made friend there."

"Don't you normally make friends?" Ms. Hallwell asked carefully. Angela smiled wryly.

"None that I ever get close to. We always move away, so what's the point? But this time, in New York...well, it was different. It was someplace I felt safe, at home," Angela smiled slightly, then her face darkened, "but then the inevitable happens. We move yet again. I had terrible fights with my father and my brother over moving. We still own a house in New York," Angela added, her voice brightening slightly, "Hopefully, I'll be able to visit. My father's job will be taking him back and forth between Boston and New York. But I have to stay here most of the time, because of school." Angela sighed, feeling a little better after telling her story.

"So how do you like Boston?" Angela looked at Ms. Hallwell thoughtfully, studying her eyes. She had kind eyes. "Honestly? I hate it here." she said bluntly. Ms. Hallwell frowned and started to speak but Angela cut her off.

"At least I'd have my brother to talk you, you know," Angela said, her voice tight and pained. "At least there was someone to talk to...Sometime we had tutors, not school. But now I have school. And I have no friends. And I'm not saying that made and effort to make friends, because I admit, I didn't.

"Most of the people that go to school here, well, they're filthy rich and like to talk about their new clothes and playing tennis and golf and the like.... Well, I don't like to talk about any of that. It's so frivolous! So stupid. They just live these sheltered little lives, gossiping amongst each other as if it were the most important thing in the world. Well, I don't want to be friends with people like that. I have no idea if they really like me for who I am or if they just like because I have money. And I wonder if they really like anyone, even themselves." Angela put her face in her hands and sighed.

"Who were your friends in New York?" Angela looked up and smiled. "Newsies." she said simply. Ms. Hallwell raised her eyebrows, realizing that coming across a person like Angela was pretty rare. "And you could...talk to them?" Angela nodded, "Yes, yes, I could. And used to be able to talk to Johnny too, but well, we had a fight recently and things really haven't been the same since."

"What about your mother? Can't you talk to her?"

"Yeah. Sure I can. She's just not going to answer back." Angela murmured sarcastically. Ms. Hallwell looked at Angela confused. Angela sighed. "My mother's dead." she said flatly.

"Oh, I'm so sorry." Ms. Hallwell said genuinely. Angela managed a wan smile and shook her head. "It's ok, I don't even remember," Angela paused, "Well," she said, standing up, "thank you very much but I need to go now. My brother is going to wonder what happened to me." Ms. Hallwell sighed sadly as she watched Angela walk out the door.

"What's that?" a sing-song female voice queried. Jack nearly jumped out of his skin. He spun around to face Clara, who looked up at him, wide-eyed.

"Uhh, it's nothin'." Jack muttered, folding Angela's letter and shoving it into his back pocket.

"Aren't you supposed to be selling newspapers right now?" Clara asked, her brow furrowing.

"Um, yeah. Yeah, I am. I jus'...forgot somethin'." Jack fibbed. Clara nodded brightly. She glanced around the bunk room, her eyes casually flicking back to Jack's face.

"Is there somethin' I can do for ya?" Jack asked, confused that she hadn't left the room yet. Clara smiled at him and didn't answer immediately. She looked over at the sizable stack of papers at Jack's feet.

"How many papers does a normal newsie sell?" Clara asked, showing unusual interest.

Jack shrugged. "Prob'ly 30 to 50." he ventured.

"And how many do you have there?" Clara indicated at his newspapers.

"Hundred." Clara's eyes widened.

"Wow. You must be some newsie," she breathed. Jack grinned, not being able to resist the compliment. Clara beamed back at him. Jack's smile suddenly vanished as he realized that he had been smiling at her a little too long.

"Well, I gotta go sell my papes." Jack said abruptly and picked up his stack of papers.

"How do you sell newspapers anyway?" Clara inquired. Jack paused in mid stride, already halfway across the bunk room. He shifted he weight and turned around to look at Clara.

"Well...I..." Jack hedged. Clara looked at him expectantly. She was used to getting what she wanted for the most part.

"Aww, fine, you can come watch me sell." Clara grinned and followed Jack out the door.

"What took you so long?" Johnny asked as Angela stepped out of the school building. Angela just shook her head, distracted. "Nothing," she mumbled, starting to walk down the street.

"Hey, hey! Where are you going?" Johnny asked, jogging to catch up to Angela. "The house is that way," Johnny said, pointing in the opposite direction that Angela was walking.

"I know that. I'm not going home." she said flatly.

"Well, then where are you going?" Johnny said, exasperated. Angela shrugged and shook her head. "I'm just not ready to go home yet." Johnny rolled his eyes and followed his sister down the street.

"Would you slow down?" Johnny said after several blocks. Angela suddenly stopped and turned to face her brother, who nearly crashed into her. Finally, Angela sat down on a nearby park bench, not knowing what else to do. Johnny flopped down next to her.

"Ange, what is with you?" Angela didn't answer. She just stared at her hands for a long time. Johnny looked at her, concerned. "Ange, ya hear me?"

"I don't want to go to school. I'm not saying I don't want to learn...I just don't want to go to school." she said quietly.

Johnny frowned. "What?!"

"What don't you understand?" Angela said, her voice becoming agitated. "I don't want to go to Durham Hall. I don't want to go to school. I don't like it. Do you understand?" she said irritably.

"So...you're saying you want to quit?"

"Yes. I'd prefer a tutor."

"No!" Johnny said, shaking his head vigorously.

"No, what?!" Angela said, confused and upset.

"No, you can't just quit!" Johnny cried in exasperation.

"Johnny, it's my life, I can do what I want." Angela replied, narrowing her eyes as if she were speaking to a child. "I hate it! I have no friends! I don't want to be friends with the people there! I want to leave!" Angela thundered.

"Angela, you can't quit." Johnny said quietly.

"Why not?" Angela hissed.

"Because," Johnny sighed, "it's just not your style. You don't do that. You're not a quitter." Angela rolled her eyes. "I know you think that I'm just your stupid brother and that I don't know anything, but I know you're not a quitter. You don't quit. Whenever I feel like quitting, I remind myself that you wouldn't quit, so neither should I. You're supposed to be a role model, remember?" Angela opened her mouth and looked at Johnny helplessly. Johnny shook his head. "You don't remember."

"Johnny, I..." Angela didn't have anything to say. She sighed, "Johnny," she turned to face him, "you're right. I don't remember." she said, defeated.

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe I'm your friend? That maybe you can talk to me? That maybe you can spent time with me? You always go off by yourself or with someone else. You only do stuff with me if you're forced to." Johnny said quietly. It was obvious that Johnny's feelings had been hurt.

"I'm sorry. I really am. And I know that saying that doesn't really help much, but it's the truth," Angela admitted.

Johnny nodded. "All right. Just don't quit on me, ok?"

"Ok." Angela smiled.

"Where are we going?" Clara asked, strolling down the street behind Jack.

"Boxin' match."

"A boxing match?" Clara said uncertainly.

"Yeah. There'll be lots of people."

"And that's good, right?" Clara said, slightly confused.

Jack turned to Clara and smiled weakly. "Yeah, it's good." Clara grinned at Jack, her big green eyes sparkling. Jack managed to smile back at her. He then turned and plunged into the crowd at the boxing match, yelling headlines like mad.

"Jack! Wait!" Clara struggled through the crowd to keep up with Jack. He was moving through the crowd quickly, selling a large volume of papers. He worked methodically, left to right, starting from the back and working towards the front, making sure to take advantage of every selling opportunity. Clara pushed her way towards Jack, being shoved and jostled by irate spectators who didn't want to be interrupted by a young girl trying to get past.

"Jack," she said breathlessly, "slow down."

Jack shook his head absently. "Ya can't. Wastes time." he said bluntly and returned his attention to yelling headlines.

"Oof!" A portly businessman in a black suit shoved his way through the crowd, knocking Clara into Jack.

"Hey!" Jack yelled angrily after the man but he didn't respond. In an instant the man was swallowed up into the throng of spectators. Clara placed a hand on Jack's arm to steady herself and slowly looked at him.

"Are ya ok?" Jack asked, concerned. Clara nodded, her eyes wide. She was taller than Angela, Jack noted. Her eyes were nearly even with his, while Angela was a good half head shorter. Jack sucked in his breath as Clara stared into his eyes. Her eyes were a deep shade of green, strong and vibrant. Jack blinked, breaking his gaze. He exhaled, growing uncomfortable. Clara still stared into his eyes, the wind blowing her long golden hair around her face. Jack frowned, not wanting to admit that he thought she was very pretty like that. Clara's gaze slowly moved from his eyes down to his nose and lips and finally his neck.

"What's that?" she asked playfully, reaching out her hand.

Jack's hand went to his throat, expecting to feel his bandanna. Angela! The realization hit him like a brick wall. Angela had his bandanna. And on his neck...Jack swallowed hard as he felt the small object...on his neck was Angela's ring. Jack swallowed again, his mouth suddenly dry. His mind was reeling and he felt a wave of dizziness wash over him.

"Jack? Are you ok?" Clara frowned. Jack looked at her wide-eyed and vehemently shook his head. "'Scuse me." he said said and turned to leave the boxing match.

"Darrel!" Angela turned around and was nearly eyeball to eyeball with Darrel Hayward.

"Hello, Angelina." Darrel bent to kiss her hand. Angela grimaced and prayed that it would be over soon.

"And how are you doing today?" Darrel smiled. Angela laughed slightly and smiled at him witheringly.

"Not so good, I'm afraid." Angela shook her head.

"Really?" Darrel raised an eyebrow.

"Nope. But would you like to know how you could help me?" Angela asked sweetly, taking Darrel's arm and leading him down the hallway.

"I'll try to help you any way I can." Darrel obliged. Angela smiled at Darrel. She stopped and turned to face him, putting her face near his. Narrowing her eyes, Angela lowered her voice.

Jack impatiently banged on the back door of Irving Hall. He sighed and leaned against the building, running a hand through his hair. He sighed again and began banging on the door once more.

"What is it?" An older woman with curly red hair flung the door open. When she saw Jack her face softened. "Kelly! What are you doing here? It's late!" Medda looked at Jack concerned.

"Yeah, I know," Jack said apologetically, stepping inside. "See-I-well, this thing-" Jack gestured frantically with his hands.

"Whoa, whoa," Medda said soothingly, "slow down kid. Now, what is it?" Medda led Jack over to a little sitting area backstage with a few chairs and a small sofa. Jack sat down heavily and sighed. "I got a problem." Jack said, looking at Medda.

"Pour your heart out kid," Medda said, gesturing with her hand, "I'm all ears."

Jack smiled. "Thanks, Medda." He leaned back in the sofa, trying to collect his thoughts. He wasn't having much luck. Finally he turned to Medda, "Ya eva' been in love?"

Medda threw back her head and laughed. "Sure kid, lots of times," she said, understanding. "Which girl is this time?"

"Her name's Angela." Jack replied.

"Hmm, that's a new one. What's she look like?" Medda said, thinking.

"Pretty. Black hair, brown eyes. Nice smile, makes ya feel good, ya know?" Jack looked at Medda. She smiled and nodded. "Laughs a lot. Easy to talk to." Jack said wistfully.

"So how come you never bring her around here?" Medda asked.

"I can't. She moved to Boston a few weeks ago." Jack said softly.

"Mmm, I see. And you think you love her?" Jack stared at the ground, his brow furrowed. "Medda, how...how d'ya really know? That ya love someone. How do ya know that fer sure?"

Medda sighed. "I don't think that's something anyone can tell you," she said gently, "maybe it sounds silly but when you love someone, you'll know it. In your heart."

Jack sighed. "I'm so confused!" he said, frustrated. "I mean, I thought I was positive that I loved Angela an' that ev'rthin' was great, ya know? But now that I don't see her... I've been spendin' time with me friends, not even thinkin' about her! And then, today..." Jack trailed off and put his head in his hand.

"Oh," Jack groaned, "today, Clara wanted to come sell papes with me. So I let her. An' she was lookin' at me real...well, I could tell she liked me an'... an' she was real close ta me and-Medda, I thought she was real pretty an' fer a second-" Jack looked at Medda, very upset, "fer a second, I thought about kissin' her." Jack whispered. He closed his eyes and leaned back in the sofa, his face pained.

"Oh, boy, Kelly. This is some mess you're in." Medda said wryly.

"Yeah, don't I know it." Jack pressed his lips together and nodded.

"Well," Medda said, "the only thing I can think of is that you figure out if you love Angela. If you don't, you better end it there and pursue something else. But if you do love her, don't lose her. She sounds like a great girl." Medda smiled encouragingly.

Jack nodded. "She is. Thanks Medda. Thanks a million."

"No problem kid. Now go home and get some sleep!"

The shrill bell echoed through the halls, signaling the end of the school day. Angela slowly slid out of her seat and headed down the hall, following the rest of the student body who were eagerly streaming out of the building. Angela stopped by the front doors, staring out the window. It was gray and dark outside, the heavy clouds threatening to rain soon. She reached out and lightly brushed the cool glass with her fingertips.

"Angela." Johnny said breathlessly, touching her on the shoulder. Angela turned, startled.

"Hey, Ange, umm..." Johnny hesitated, feeling guilty, "I'm going over to Carl's house. He invited me to dinner." Johnny said apologetically. He felt guilty about spending time with new friends when Angela didn't have any.

Angela shrugged slightly. "Ok. I'll tell Dad when I get home."

"Oh, Dad's not home." Johnny said surprised.

"Well, where is he?" Angela looked at Johnny expectantly.

"He went on some business trip," Johnny said, rolling his eyes, "he'll be back tomorrow night." Johnny turned to go, his friends were waiting. Angela turned back to the window, staring out absently. "Probably went to New York." she muttered under her breath. She sighed and pushed open the front doors, venturing out into the gray afternoon.

Angela slowly sauntered down the street, ignoring the cold rain that had begun to fall. She would be home soon enough. She hurriedly crossed the muddy street and walked to the corner where her house was located.

"Extry, extry, Mayor's house goes up in flames! Many killed!" A small boy cried, waving a soggy newspaper in the air. Angela paused at her front door to stare at him. He was selling right in front of her house, not the most profitable location. It was cold and raining and the street was deserted. Angela walked back down her front steps and over to the small newsie.

"Here. I'll buy a paper." The little boy smiled gratefully and removed a newspaper from his rather sizable stack. Angela smiled and handed him a nickel, figuring he could use the tip.

"Thank you, miss."

"You're welcome," Angela said, frowning at she wrestled with the water-logged newspaper. Angela studied him. "How old are you?" she asked.

"Nine," the boy said, staring up at her with sad brown eyes.

Angela narrowed her eyes. "I already bought the paper, you can drop the act. How old are you, for real." The newsie squinted at her in the rain, somewhat baffled at her reaction.

"I'm eleven," he said truthfully. Angela nodded. "Fair enough. I'm Angela." she said, extending her hand. "Robbie," the boy said, shaking her hand.

"And your friends call you?" Angela looked at him expectantly.

The newsie looked at her strangely. "Split. They call me Split," he said warily.

"So Split, ya wanna come inside and dry off?" Angela offered. At least there would be someone to talk to.

"Sure," Split grinned, happy to get out of the rain.

"Jack!" David cried in surprise as he opened the door the his family's apartment. Jack smiled at his friend. "Come in! We were just about to start dinner." David offered.

Jack shook his head. "Aww, no I can't. I jus' need to talk to ya fer a minute." Jack looked at David seriously. David nodded, understanding. He stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind him. "What is it?" David said quietly.

Jack sighed. "I gotta...I'm goin' ta Boston."

"What?! How are you going to get there? Jack, you can't afford a ticket, let alone-"

"I need ta talk ta Angie about some stuff." Jack said, cutting David off.

"Like what?" David looked at his friend skeptically. Jack looked at the floor and fidgeted a bit. "I gotta..." Jack sighed, "I need to find out..." Jack looked at David imploringly. David sighed and nodded.

"She means that much to you?" David asked, tired.

Jack shrugged helplessly. "That's what I gotta find out."

David nodded. "All right. C'mon, go, get outta here!" David smiled.

Jack grinned. "Thanks."

Jack slowly slid the window open and climbed into the dark Lodging House bunk room. He winced as he attempted to climb through the small window as silently as possible. Once inside he carefully shut the window and crossed the room to his bunk. He slid he hand along the bottom of his mattress, looking for the familiar tear in the fabric. Reaching inside, he removed a small tin box that had once been a home for small hard candies, long ago eaten. Flipping it open, Jack removed several objects from the box. On top lay Angela's letter, folded several times to fit inside. Jack shoved the letter in his back pocket. He also removed a single ten dollar bill, and a shiny new silver chain from the box. Slipping the money into his pocket, he reached up and grasped the string around his neck. He gave it a sharp tug; it snapped easily. He carefully slid Angela's ring off the string and placed it on the chain, fastening it around his neck. Replacing the box, Jack surveyed the room of sleeping newsies. With a final sigh, Jack grabbed his jacket and hat, climbed out the widow and down the fire escape, into the night.

By the time Jack had reached the train tracks the sky was brightening into a translucent gray blue, cold and uncaring. Jack walked through the deserted train yards, his eyes on the ground. Eventually, he spied an older man hunched on the ground, tinkering with a nearby boxcar.

"Excuse me, sir." Jack said, coming up behind the man. The man slowly turned around and looked up at Jack.

"Well, it's awful early for you to be up, isn't it?" he drawled. The man had graying hair and a dark moustache peppered with gray. He had shining blue eyes and a thick southern accent.

Jack smiled slightly. "I was wonderin' if ya could tell me which train leaves for Boston?" Jack ventured. The man put down his tools and stood up to face Jack.

"Well, this train right here leaves for Boston in half an hour," he said.

"Um, is dere anyway I could get a ride on it? I mean, I can pay an' all and-" Jack added nervously. The man held up his hand, cutting him off. He smiled kindly at Jack.

"Don't worry about it. Hop right on," the man held out a hand indicating the boxcar.

"Thanks," Jack grinned and climbed into the boxcar.