With a Little Help
From My Friends

"I can't believe this! What are you talking about?! You don't understand!" Angela's shrill voice thundered through the empty house. Johnny leaned his head against the dim hallway wall, trying to make out the conversation on the other side of the door. His was face tense and worried, straining to hear. Father's voice was a low growl, slurred into one long, angry sound. A higher voice, Angela's, rose and fell, suddenly bursting into enraged screams.

Johnny sighed and slowly sat down, sliding his back against the wall. He looked haggard and despondent. Slowly, Johnny ran his hands over his dark curls and put his face in his hands. He had been upset but he knew Angela would not take it as well. He had just shut up and choked it down, as he always did. Always. As if it were a way of life, something he lived with everyday. A silent demon, laying dormant, ready to raise its ugly head at any moment.

Angela stormed out of the room, slamming the door with an violent crash. Johnny looked up at her in surprise, studying her tear-streaked face and red eyes. Angela was not one to cry very often. She stared at her brother briefly, a frightened look on her face. She started to take a shaky breath but her lip began to quaver and she erupted into sobs. Johnny stood up to comfort her, his forehead wrinkled with concern. "Oh, Ange..." he said sadly. Angela gasped and shook her head, backing away from him. Her face was red and contorted, her breathing short gasps. She bit her lip, still shaking her head, she turned and ran down the hall.

The tears keep coming and I can't make them stop. There's no point in even trying anymore. I feel numb. This isn't real. This isn't happening. It can't happen. I keep telling myself it's impossible. I keep telling myself...

Everything feels hazy, like a dream. But my worst fears are coming true and I can't wake up from the nightmare. I can't make myself wake up. But it's really happening. It's real. I feel sick. Violently sick. I was happy here. Happy. I was really and truly happy. But not anymore. How could this happen? I feel cold and empty. Alone. So alone. God, help me. What am I going to do?

I want to help her. Desperately. But I don't know how. She's there, just our of my reach. It's like I can't quite touch her...

She's like a time bomb and I've never seen her so emotional. Maybe I should have warned her. Perhaps that just would have made things worse. She was so happy here. Jack, everyone, they meant a lot her. They meant a lot to me. This place, this city, New York, it felt like home. For the first time, it felt like...home.

Home. What is home? The word seems foreign, far away. I've moved so much I can't even comprehend it anymore. I don't have a home. This was home. My home is now Boston. But it won't be home. This is my home and nothing can replace it.

"I-I don't know." Angela said, her voice quiet and defeated. Jack frowned at her. Angela never behaved like this. "We're not moving permanently, just..." she trailed off, unable to verbalize her thoughts. "Me an' Johnny have to go to school in Boston. We'll come back in the summer...and we'll visit. It's not..." Angela sighed and shook her head. There were no tears left. No emotion left. There was nothing. She was tired and drained.

Jack didn't speak. He felt as though someone had just smacked him in the head. He didn't know what to say. He couldn't comprehend it, he was so shocked.

"When?" Jack slowly uttered. Angela stared at her feet. "Soon. In a few days." she said carefully. "Why...why didn't ya say somethin'?" He sounded hurt. Angela looked up, studying his strained face. "No one told me," she hissed bitterly. "Do you think I wouldn't tell you the second I found out?" she cried in anguish. The anger and hurt had been building up inside and had finally burst. Jack sighed sadly. "Sorry." Angela muttered, turning away, ashamed at losing control. "I'm so sorry." she repeated sullenly. Jack's face softened. "It ain't yer fault." he said, taking a step towards her. Angela glanced at him and nodded vaguely. "Mmm, I know. I know." she said, her tired voice dropping to a whisper.

Jack gazed at her, a pained look on his face. He felt so helpless. Angela seemed to be slipping away from him before his eyes. Jack reached out and put his arms around her, hoping to comfort her and also trying to reassure himself that she was still there. For now anyway...

Angela closed her eyes and leaned against Jack. She thought she had finished crying but it was soon apparent the tears were just beginning. She sighed, too exhausted to fight the emotions, tears streaming down her cheeks, soaking into Jack's worn shirt.

I reach out and put my arms around her but she doesn't respond. I'm holding her but she's miles away. She doesn't say anything; she just cries. It's the scariest thing I've ever seen. They're these silent tears, the kind that just come and don't wanna stop. It scares me to see her like that and I'm desperately fighting back my own tears.

She's not leaving forever but it feels like it. I can't even imagine a day without her, without always knowing she'll be there for me, someone to count on. It had felt so right. I don't know what I was thinking. I thought I had everything, like my life was finally going somewhere. I had something. I had Angela. What the hell was I thinking. Just too stupid to realize that life won't ever be good to someone like me.

She's gonna go off to Boston and return to her high-class life at some private school. And what do I get? I'm left here in the dusty streets of New York with a hole in my heart. Breaking my back over some lousy newspapers. What's the use anymore? People like me don't get lucky. I just...I just thought that maybe I had.

I pick the deck of cards up off the table and start absently shuffling them when Jack comes in. He's hanging his head and walking so slowly and deliberately that I know something must be wrong. He doesn't say anything, not a word. He's just dead silent. Something is very wrong.

He collapses in a chair to my left and closes his eyes, putting his face in his hands. He looks exhausted. I'm scared. I don't know what could make him so upset and I don't really want to. I ask anyway, "Jack, what's wrong." It's more of a statement than a question, my voice comes out so flat. He sighs tiredly.

"Angie," he says. I can see he's fighting back tears. I've never seen Jack like this. It frightens me. I don't know what to do. I desperately want to help him but I don't know what to do. I wait for an explanation. "She's leaving. Gonna go ta school in Boston now." he slowly murmurs. He's trying real hard not to cry but the tears come anyway. It scares me, almost more than anything, that Jack could sound defeated, so lost. I want to do something. I have to do something. My mind is reeling. I can't think straight, can't think of anything...

I feel awful. I'd seen this coming. When Jack first met Angela I'd seen this coming. I'd been so afraid that she'd move and hurt Jack more that she could ever comprehend in her high-class world. I'd been right. But what could I have done? Something...something about them...it just seemed right.

I look up at Jack's glassy eyes and his blank stare. I'm so mad at the world. Why should all this happen to Jack? To me. I can feel the tears starting and I try to fight them but it's too hard to think about all this and keep my emotions under control. I glance at Jack and I see the tears running down his face. He looks at me but he's not really seeing me. He stands up abruptly and stumbles out of the room. I turn away. It's all too much to handle. I put my face in my hands and sob.

I wipe the dirt off my hands and step back to admire the pink flowers I had just planted. I've been roasting in the sun all afternoon and I sit down under the shade of the giant oak tree in my yard. I've only been sitting here a few minutes when I notice Lynn and Mush walking down the street. Mush looks scared. Lynn has been crying. Lynn never cries. Her face is red and so are her eyes. "Lynn, what's wrong?" I ask, wondering if I really want to know. Lynn doesn't answer. Mush looks at me and shrugs helplessly. I grab Lynn's arm and take her to the back steps, leaving Mush to walk back alone.

"Lynn, what happened?" I quietly ask, my voice serious. Lynn looks at me for a moment but doesn't speak. Tears begin to well up in her eyes. She doesn't even try to fight them. I look at her sadly, wanting an explanation. Lynn looks up at me, and for a moment she looks like she's about to speak but then she just turns away, shaking her head.

"Angela's movin' away." she finally says. Her voice sounds so tired and flat. I'm confused. I vaguely remember the name Angela but I don't understand what it has to do with Lynn. I shake my head and frown. "I...but I thought you didn't like Angela." I say confused. Lynn sighs, exasperated. "I don't know...she an' Jack..." she trailed off and shook her head. "It was right. Dey were right. I don't know...they just were." Right? What is that supposed to mean? I want to ask her more questions but I don't dare. She looks like she's been through a lot. She doesn't need that right now. I take a closer look at Lynn. She glances at me then quickly turns away. She's acting like she's guilty. But of what? What could she have done? I don't understand.

Head hanging, Johnny pushed open the French glass doors and slowly stepped into the house. It was late, past dinnertime and dusk was falling. He was sort of expecting a greeting from someone. Anyone. Questioning him, asking why he'd missed dinner, yelling at him. But there wasn't anyone. Instead, the only thing to greet Johnny was the sound of more fighting. He could hear the muffled voices floating downstairs through the floor. It had been going on nearly non-stop for two days. Johnny shook his head in disgust.

Dragging his feet, Johnny slowly ascended the stairs to his bedroom. He was sick of the unceasing battle between his father and his sister. Angela would scream until she was hoarse, getting herself worked up into such an emotional state she was near collapse and in turn, his father's angry voice would grow so loud the entire house shook. The rage was like some terrible, frightening monster, ripping and tearing at Johnny's sanity.

Johnny paused at the landing, listening to the argument intensify. He was growing continually fed up with it. The grating cries, the caustic remarks, it had all been ebbing away at his consciousness, weakening his self control.

With a final scream, Angela burst out of the room and plowed down the hallway. She was in an enraged haze, agitated beyond reason. There was fire in her eyes and her entire body was tense, her teeth gritted, barely allowing air through. She stopped short and stared at Johnny, surprised and upset.

Johnny's face twisted and contorted in disapproval as he peered at her through tired, blood-shot eyes. "Why," he started, "why do you keep doing this to yourself?" he asked anguished. Angela stared at him, her eyes growing wide. She was far beyond rational and certainly not in control of her emotions. As her breathing quickened, she fixed Johnny with her eyes. "Doing what?" she growled, narrowing her eyes. Johnny let out an exasperated breath and gestured towards her. Angela shook her head in revulsion. "Just leave me alone." she muttered. "You wouldn't understand." she added scornfully, turning away.

Johnny's mouth dropped open. He reached out and grabbed Angela's arm, spinning her around to face him. " What do you mean, I ‘wouldn't understand'?" he said, his voice low and tense, his eyes burning. Angela looked at him, her eyes wide. She had never seen Johnny like this. What was happening? Angela shook her head and tried to squirm out of his grip. "Let go!" she grumbled. Johnny kept staring and her, not appearing to have heard anything she had said. "Do you think I'm stupid or something? Do you think you're the only one with problems? How do you think I feel? Huh? Did it ever occur to you that I have feelings too?" Angela struggled to free herself from his grip. She desperately wanted to get away from him. It wasn't Johnny anymore. This was someone else, some part of Johnny that she had never seen.

"Let me go!" she cried. Johnny shoved his face in closer to Angela's and lowered his voice. "I am so sick and tired of this. The world doesn't revolve around you. Things happen. Things change! It's beyond control! You can't do anything about it. Not a damn thing!" he crowed. Johnny seemed to find this fact hilarious, as if something inside him had snapped. Angela's eyes darted about the room, wide and fearful, her breathing labored. "What's wrong with you?" she gasped. Johnny threw back he head and began to laugh, tightening his grip on her arm. Angela twisted around, trying to break his hold. "Let go of me! I said LET GO! You're hurting me!" she screamed. Johnny just gazed at her with a condescending look on his face. "Stop it!" Angela whispered frantically, fighting back tears. She took a step backward and swung her free hand as hard as she could at Johnny's face.

A loud smack echoed through the hallway. Johnny released his grip and took a step back in shock. Angela staggered away from Johnny, frightened tears blurring her vision. Johnny slowly reached his hand up to his face and looked at Angela, aghast. What had he done? He parted his lips but no sound came out. Johnny looked down at his hand, as if he couldn't believe it was real. There was blood on it; his face was bleeding. Angela stared at him, shaking. She gasped and turned, stumbled down the stairs and ran out the front door.

I can hear Johnny yelling my name. I have to run, get away. I can't see where I'm going. I don't even know where I'm going. It doesn't matter. I just have to go. Get out of that house. Get away. Get away from everything, everyone. What's happening to me? What's happening to everyone? I have never been afraid of my brother. Never. But back there...I was terrified. It was like something else had taken over. Someone, something else. He was hurting me. But he would never do that...would he? Yet, I was truly afraid that he would hit me. But instead I hit him. I hurt him. He was bleeding. I cut his face with my ring. I don't know what I'm doing anymore. I feel so lost. I don't know what to do. I just keep running.

No one cares. The people in the street, they must think I'm some silly girl, running off somewhere. Well, perhaps I am a silly girl. But I don't care. I don't care how where I'm going or where I end up. I don't care how many people I bump into or how many children I push aside. I want to be impulsive. Live for the moment. Forget about the consequences.

"Uff." I've hit someone. I pause for a second. But only a second. It's a newsie, Kid Blink. He's with a girl. She's small and has dark blonde hair. I look and her for a moment. She stares curiously into my eyes. No, I have to go. I turn and keep running, fresh tears blinding me. The crowds are beginning to thin until finally I'm running through deserted streets and alleys. I can hear a bird call in the distance; it's forlorn cry, a single note, hangs frozen in the air.

I stop short, my side aching. I'm gasping for air. I don't know where I am but I've come a long way. I look up. I'm standing on the Brooklyn bridge. I grip the railing, trying to catch my breath. I don't even want to guess how many blocks I've traveled. All I know is that it's getting dark and I have no idea how to get home. So now what am I supposed to do?

I'm bleeding. My cheek stings. I can't believe Angela would hit me. Injure me. But what's worse is that fact that she felt she had to. I drove her to it. I did. My fault. What's wrong with me? What have I just done? My God...what have I done? I was out of control. I lost control. Just...lost it...

I stumble down the stairs in a haze. Everything feel surreal, like a dream. I follow Angela but I'm too late. She's gone. I call her name. It echoes hollowly through the deserted garden. I run to the front of the house in a fruitless attempt to somehow catch her. I keep calling her name. over, and over, and over. But no one answers my calls. I have to find her. Tell her. Tell her...what? Just tell her something...I don't know. Something. Anything. Apologize maybe. I need to talk to her. Now more that ever. Why did I do it? Why-how...how could I have ever hurt her? What's happening to me? How could I have done this? I have to fix things. I need to. While I still have the chance.

I nearly crash into James as I round the front of the house. I step back, shocked. Slowly, the scene in front of me begin to sink into my foggy mind. James is loading a traveling case onto one of our carriages. There are two more already strapped to the carriage. I stare at the trunks in horror. I keep shaking my head, though it makes no difference. I close my eyes and pray that when I open them the carriage, James, the trunks, everything...everything will be gone.

I slowly open my eyes only to be greeted by my father's strained face. He says he's leaving for Boston tonight and that he will send for me and Angela in a few days. His voice sounds small and far away. The words, they aren't real. They can't be. It's not taking hold in my brain. I open my mouth several times but I can't seem to make any sound come out. Finally I look at my father and deftly nod.

Angela pressed her hands against the metal railing, making her finger tips turn white. She sighed, exasperated, and stepped back from the rail. She looked up and down the bridge, but it was no use. She was hopelessly lost. She hadn't even lived in New York for a full month. Angela paced up and down the bridge. With each step she grew continually angrier with herself. How could she have been stupid enough to run off and get lost like this? Finally, she let out a shriek of rage and rammed her fist into the metal railing. She gritted her teeth in pain and cursed herself for punching the stupid railing. Giving up, Angela sighed and leaned against the rail, gazing out at the horizon.

"Ain't chu out a little late?"

Angela looked up, surprised. A thin boy with piercing blue eyes was looking at her suspiciously. He wore red suspenders and condescending smirk. Angela's eyes drifted over his face and came to rest on the elaborate gold-topped cane he carried. She sighed, her eyes flicking back to the horizon. She didn't have the time or patience to deal with him.

The boy studied her pensively. She was small, with light brown eyes and wavy black hair. Her face was pale, with high cheekbones and full lips. She wore expensive clothes and jewelry and looked very out of place leaning against the Brooklyn bridge. Finally he said, "Youse Jack's goyl."

Angela straightened and turned to face him. "I have a name, you know." she said, irritated. The boy snorted to himself. Still, he figured that if she was all Jack said she was he might as well give her a chance.

"A thou'sand pardons. Da name's Spot Conlon." he said, sweeping off his hat with a bow. Angela turned to face him. The name was familiar. He was friends with Jack. She smiled a little in spite of herself. "Angela DeLanci." she said, extending her hand.

"A pleasure to meet'cha." he smiled. "Now," his face grew serious, "would ya mind tellin' me what you're doin' hea' in Brooklyn in da middle of da night?" Angela's face clouded over as her gaze shifted to her feet. "It's...I-I'm..." Angela shook her head. Spot leaned forward ever so slightly and squinted at her. Jack said she was real smart, so why couldn't she explain? He looked at her promptingly.

Angela sucked in her breath and parted her lips, finally ready to speak. "My family-we're moving to Boston. And I had a fight with my dad about it. Then I had a fight with my brother and I ended up hitting him and cutting his face. So I ran out of the house. I had to leave, ya know, just get out of there," Angela frowned, "But now, now I'm here. And I can't go home. I don't want to go home. Besides, I couldn't find my way back if I tried." she added sheepishly.

"So basically, youse pretty screwed, ain't cha?" Spot observed.

"Yeah, pretty much." Angela admitted. Spot frowned. He couldn't just leave her here. It was far from safe, no matter who you were. And she was Jack's girl. He couldn't just leave her there. He and Jack were friends and he felt a certain responsibility to her.

"Hea', Angie, you're comin' wit me." Spot turned and started down the bridge. Angela looked a him, surprised. "Well? C'mon, what're ya waitin' for?" he asked looking over his shoulder at her. Angela contemplated the possible dangers of going with Spot. She really had no idea who he was, aside from the fact that he knew Jack. On the other hand, what was she going to accomplish staying on the bridge? Angela sighed and fell into step behind Spot.