| It was the year 1892, in a little city called New York. Jack was twelve. Both of his parents were gone, his dad committed and his mother dead. He was on his own, but not totally alone. He had this band, called the Newsies. They sold the papers for Joseph Pulitzer and William Randolf Hearst for a penny a "pape". It wasn’t an easy job. It wasn’t a happy job either, but they got by, and had fun on the way. Little Jack had joined the newsies over a year ago, and had made friends with almost everyone at the lodging house. Good old Kloppman had taken the boy under his wing, and made sure that everyone treated him kindly. When he came to the lodging house, Jack was lost, shy, and afraid of everyone. In the short year that had passed, Jack was a rambunctious twelve-year old. It was obvious even then that leadership was his destiny. The childish dreams of Santa Fe seemed too far out of reach for the poor boy, so he adapted to live on the streets. One particular sunny June day, Jack Kelley was wandering the streets of Manhattan, having sold all of his papers already. He kicked a pebble with his right foot, his hands in his pockets, a cowboy hat strung around his neck. Before he knew it, Jack was at Sheepshead Racetracks. The little boy looked around in awe at all the grownups with their expensive looking suits on. I should remember this for later! I could make a fortune sellin’ papes heah! He thought. Jack pushed his way through the men toward the front. There, he saw horses lined up, dressed in all sorts of colorful cloths. Excitedly, Jack stared down at them, only to jump when the shot rang out. The horses all started running. They were fast and beautiful. As they ran, a voice, muddy with a heavy New York accent, rang out. "C’mon Shinin’ Silver! C’mon!" The voice had a body. It was a short boy who looked to be about Jack’s age. He had greasy black hair and a very unkempt air about him. His pants were plaid, along with his vest. A cigar hung out of his vest pocket. Jack approached the boy quietly. Suddenly, his meekness came back to him, and Jack was almost afraid of this character. "Hel…Hello." Jack stuttered. "Heya, kid." The boy responded, then looked back to the horses. "Darn it Silver! Move yer legs!" Jack looked out to the horses again, also. As the finish line was crossed, the black haired boy slammed his fist down on the table with a crumpled piece of paper in it. "Stupid, Harlem boys. Don’t know nothin’ ‘bout hawses." Jack turned back to him. "I’s Jack Kelley. Dat’s the name me muddah gave me." His shyness was slowly fading, yet again. The boy eyed him before introducing himself. "I’m Racetrack, but call me Race, its shortah." He spit in his hand and held it out expectantly. Jack did the same, and they spit-shook. For the rest of the day, Jack and Race talked, learning more about the other with each passing moment. Race was a loner, content to stay that way also. Jack, however, convinced him, with much begging and pleading, to come to the lodging house and become a newsie. The newfound friends then headed off for dinner. Weeks past, and the two remained friends, while Race was a tad more distant than Jack, they were always there for each other, such as one day. That day, in late July, the sun felt as if it were very close to the earth. New York was scorching. It was incredibly hot. Because of the heat, the two friends decided to skip selling for a day and go to Brooklyn to swim. By the time their little legs reached the swimming area, the sky had darkened and storms loomed ahead. They paid no heed to the looming weather, but stripped and headed out for a dip in the water. For a while, the weather held, but the clouds became evermore threatening. Again, the boys didn’t notice, but continued to play. No more than ten minutes later, the sky broke, casting torrents of rain upon them. It was hard to see, with the rain coming down so hard. Lightning flashed and the thunder rumbled. It growled menacingly as the boys searched for the dock, panicked. Race was never much of a swimmer and being in the state of alarm that he was, it was hard for him to stay afloat. The rain coated him, sliding down his throat during each breath. He struggled against the waves that tormented him. They rocked him farther from Jack and caught any sound that tried to escape from his lips. Jack, on the other hand, was nearing the dock. He had always been a fine swimmer, strong and well balanced. He reached the docks with no trouble other than seeing through the pouring rain. It was then that he realized that he didn’t know where Racetrack was. On the ladder up the dock, Jack looked around frantically. Race was nowhere to be seen. His grip tightened on the rungs, turning his knuckles white. Jack was scared and recognized, without a doubt, that Race must be scared too. It was time for Jack to decide what to do. He dove back into the water, hoping to find his friend. Race always lost when gambling, with any luck, Jack wouldn’t lose his friend, betting with the storm. Jack, being the twelve-year old that he was, crossed his fingers in the water. Hours passed, when only minutes had gone by. Race thrashed about wildly, trying to stay afloat. His arms worked madly in the water; his lungs begged for more air. Then, suddenly, Race caught a glimpse of his friend. "Ja…" Race was splashed in the face with a cold wave, cutting of his call. He tried again. "JACK!" This time, the water was too late, losing its chance to cut off escape. Jack heard his name called. He whipped his head around, only to see his buddy get thrown under the water. As quickly as he could get his muscles to move, Jack swam in the direction of Race. He reached him in no time at all. Reunited, Race threw his arms around Jack, begging silently to be taken out of the madness of the wild sea. Jack struggled under the weight, but managed to keep afloat and swim, slowly but surely, toward the dock. Yet again, only minutes later, Jack was climbing up the ladder. This time, though, Race was ahead of him. Jack had won. He beat the storm, saving his best friend. Up higher than the boys, the rain slowed and the clouds parted, letting a beam of sunlight fall upon the wet boys. The ray brought a rainbow with it, giving them hope, letting them know that it was going to be okay. |
| Jack's Gamble |
| Author: Emu |