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By Rhythm O'Lay
The Queens' refugee had a completely different flavor to it. Instead of being dark, and gloomy, it was rather cheerful, and bright. That fact alone made Rhythm want to scream bloody murder, but what really got on her nerves was the constant snickering of the constable. He was rather pleased with himself that he had landed the ex-thief no one else had ever been able to catch, including Brooklyn's finest officers. Cursing herself for being so stupid, Rhythm allowed one last plea for help to pass her lips, and then, silence.
It was so eerie that for once Rhythm doubted her own creativity. She usually was put in with the other thieves that graced New York City with their brilliance, but not this time. Constable Jeffrey Bishop was clever enough to know of Rhythm's connections with her fellow peers, and because of this, he had actually locked her up with the newsies. What else could possibly go wrong?
"You're new?"
Glancing over at the girl, Rhythm smiled, but said nothing in reply. Boy, Sunny Cook, her old boss, would laugh at this one, not to mention Shy and Boots. It wasn't that she didn't like the newsies, Shy and Boots were her best friends, but this was hopeless! These newsies were complete strangers to her, and probably had no clue of who she really was.
"The name's Birdie Kelley, and this’s Screech Owl."
"Rhythm."
"Just Rhythm?" The strange girl with the white hair asked. Looking keenly at her. Rhythm noticed she looked somewhat familiar. The girl had mysterious blue eyes that seemed to look deep into one's soul, but what was rather odd was the leather glove she wore on her hand.
"Just Rhythm."
The girl didn't seem to believe her, but that wasn't Rhythm's problem. The problem was the newsie beside her that obviously was the leader. She was observing Rhythm's every move, and for a moment, Rhythm was reminded of Shy. Shy was the kind not to trust until proven otherwise, and perhaps the same went for Birdie Kelley.
"Nice to meet ya both, and yeah, I'm new." Smiling politely, Rhythm allowed herself to relax, and sit down on one of the beds. It was kind of hard, and stiff. Not made for comfort, that's for sure.
"Welcome to Queens and the newly decorated refuge," Birdie Kelley said. Her voice held a command to it that seemed to be given to all great leaders of the world, and Rhythm instantly straighten her shoulders in respect.
"Thanks. Newly decorated, ya say? Well, this refuge is sure mighty grand to Brooklyn's dump, that's all I could say!" It was the truth. Brooklyn's refuge was one to remember, with it's caged up windows, and dim lights, and the crying! Boy, the crying of the little ones could get to ya in the late hours of the night!
"You're from Brooklyn?" Once again, Screech Owl was curious. "Yeah, born, and raised there, ya could say."
"Rhythm!" The booming constable's voice cut deep into Rhythm's fears. Swallowing back a curse, Rhythm stood up, and faced her doom. Constable Bishop, the famed man that wanted only to help the poor and weak, was truly the dirtiest, most hideous man on the face of the Earth. Even Birdie Kelley flinched when he grabbed Rhythm through the bars, and pushed her tight against them, but only for a moment. The leader of the Queens Newsgirl Lodging House quickly took action, and before anyone could blink, Bishop was down on his bottom, without a notion on how he got there.
Helping Rhythm up, the newsie held a smug look of triumph on her face, and a twinkle in her eyes. Noticing the pale ribbon on the girl's long, auburn hair, Rhythm hastily formed a plan to get her and the others out of refuge before Bishop really lost his temper.
"Watch it, Birdie, or else, and as for you, Rhythm, just wanted you to know that Sunny Cook's on his way." With those words of warning, he left.
All color drained out of Rhythm's face with the sound of that name. Fear made her heart pound faster, and without a moment's hesitation, Rhythm snatched the ribbon from the newsie's hair with muttered thanks, and made her way to Screech Owl's bunk.
"What do you think you're doing?" Birdie yelled.
"Listen, I want out of here. Sunny Cook's bad, and from the look of Screech Owl's face, I'll say ya heard of him.” The white haired girl nodded weakly. "I need your help. The ribbon you're wearing, combined with this glove is our ticket out of here."
"Trust me on this one!" Trying to speak volumes with her eyes, Rhythm looked over at Birdie uncomfortably. Somehow in the short time Rhythm knew of this leader, she wanted the girl to be a friend. With a nod towards Screech Owl, Birdie gave her consent. Rhythm immediately set to work. The glove was made out of hard leather, the type of leather that could take a beating without much damage being done to it. Putting it on, Rhythm climbed towards the window. Unfortunately, it was barred, with just about enough room to work with. Using a small stone from her necklace, a gift from Boots, Rhythm tied the ribbon to it.
"You guys know how to sing, I'm sure."
While the newsies were singing loudly, Rhythm threw the stone at the window, and used her gloved hand to shield her eyes from the shattering glass. The steel bars were next. Shaking them gently, Rhythm smirked. Boy, oh, boy, things were looking up! Taking off her shoes, the sound of pieces of metal falling filled the air. Thankfully, the newsies were still singing. Grabbing a strange looking devise that looked remarkably like a miniature handsaw, Rhythm started sawing away contently. It took a good hour to finish the job, and once again, Rhythm had to thank the newsies in keeping the constable busy while she did her work. Unknown to Rhythm, Birdie had used her own tricks to get information outside of the refuge that they needed help. Voices calling out in protest and Bishop screaming could be heard, and Rhythm wondered what on Earth the newsies were doing to make Bishop so mad. Whatever it was, it had to be good.
Resisting the urge to flee, Rhythm helped Birdie herd the newies to freedom, one by one. Finally, it was her turn. Breathing in the cold air, Rhythm had no choice, but to follow the others. Things went rather smoothly after that. Birdie was not doubt a natural born leader, and in a matter of minutes, everyone was heading home, including the newsies that had kept Bishop so busy.
"Thanks!" Rhythm said to Birdie, who was following another newsie that seemed to have authority in his blood as well. He was tall, and had dark hair and eyes.
"I should be thanking you." The leader smiled, and took back her ribbon. Spotting Screech Owl, Rhythm took off the glove, and handed it to her. Slipping away from the others wasn't too much trouble, but for the first time ever, Rhythm felt guilty in leaving without an explanation.
A week later, Rhythm found herself being chased by the bulls again. She ran hard in whatever direction she could muster when a hand came out of nowhere, and hauled her to safety. Breathing hard, Rhythm stared into deep, dark eyes that seemed bottomless and familiar.
"You must be Rhythm." It wasn't a question.
"Yes."
"Name's Mac, leader of the Queens Newsboys."
"Hi!"
"Birdie Kelley wants to talk to ya. You better go and see her." With that, he took off, and left Rhythm dumbfounded.
Finding the newsgirl lodging house proved to be difficult, and finally, Rhythm gave up, and asked two newsies selling papers where it was.
"The name's Mystic." One of the girls held out her hand, and Rhythm took it. She was a friendly sort of person, with long, raven hair that was pulled into a bun, and soft black eyes.
"Rhythm."
"I'm Reflections. Birdie told us about you. You better go and talk to her. She was kind of upset that you left without a word." The other said. She had brown hair, and looked to be a year older than Rhythm.
Following the newsgirls' directions, Rhythm reached the lodging house just before noon. Humming a tone nervously, she went in and stared. Laughter bounced off the walls, and the sound of Billiards being played brought a smile to Rhythm's face.
A girl with shoulder length brown hair, and dark blue eyes came up to her and asked if she wanted to play Billiards.
"No, thank you. I was wondering if you could point out where Birdie Kelley is, if you don't mind."
"Polite one, aren't ya? Name's Patches."
"Rhythm."
"Azure, where's Birdie?"
"Upstairs, talking to Faith," a girl with black hair, and freckles on her nose said. Walking up the stairs slowly, Rhythm reached the top, and hoped with all her might that the Queens leader wasn't too mad.
Birdie Kelley was talking to a lanky girl about Shy's age. She had long, very straight brown hair, and the calmest eyes Rhythm had ever seen. Not wanting to disturb them, Rhythm held back, and lingered.
"Come over here, and meet Faith, Rhythm."
"Hello." Rhythm said while stepping forward.
"So you're the famous Rhythm that broke out of the refuge!"
"The one, and only."
Laughing, Faith left the Queens leader, and ex-thief alone to talk. "Screech Owl told me about you. Said she remembered rumors flying about that you were once called Spot's Rhythm, and the best spy he had until you chose to work for Sunny Cook, I believe that's his name, isn't it?" Allowing the girl to defend herself, Birdie waited.
"Yes, but I don't work for Cook anymore."
"I know. Word spreads, Rhythm, and, believe me, I listen. Shy wrote me a letter asking me to keep ya. Now, the question is, will I?" Staring at the younger girl, a slow smile appeared on the leader's lips. "You're buncking next to Dancer."
And the rest, you could say, is history!
© 1999 by Keya. The characters in it belong to her and the other girls in this lodging house. A few of the names mentioned belong to Disney and the real-life people who once used those names as their own.
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