Love and Lies
By Sarol
January 13, 2002

To my filthy rich family, I was Annabelle Madeline Harrison. To the world, I dreamed of one day being Rosalyn Thatcher, star of the stage and the flickers. To myself, I was Maddie Thatcher, which was what I told Medda my name was when I applied for a job almost seven years ago, when I ran away.
My family was always very strict. My parents wanted to bring me up as they had been brought up- with hard sticks and hearts and a motto that children should be seen but not heard. So I was always a bit shy- not at all like the loud, outgoing girls I had watched the newsies bring in to Medda’s ever since I was ten and Medda hired me as a maid, or to help out backstage. I think it was just because she felt sorry for me, but whatever her reasons for hiring me she gave me food and a place to stay, plus I got to be around her stage all day, which was my favorite place to be.
I’d had a small crush on a few of the newsies ever since the rally last year, during the strike. My biggest crush was Jack Kelly, the strike leader, who some of them called Cowboy. The only problem was that he didn’t know of my existence. I watched him gazing at Medda or whatever girl he might have brought in from my seat backstage, hoping that one day I might have a chance to meet him. Then he would kiss his girlfriend and all my hopes would be shattered.
Which was why I wasn’t looking forward to tonight. All the newsies were coming, which meant Jack too, and I would have to watch him with another girl.
I sighed and let my hair out of my bun. It spilled down my back and over my shoulders. I had mounds of thick chocolate-brown hair that twisted and curled all the way down my back, as I’d gotten very few haircuts since I’d come to Medda’s. Gazing into the mirror in Medda’s dressing room, I picked up her tortoise-shell comb and started to work through my mess of curls. When I had finally gotten it all brushed out, I gazed at my reflection. I wasn’t terribly ugly now that my hair was brushed out and shiny.
But it wouldn’t be enough to please Jack, I told myself. I picked up Medda’s powder-puff and brushed it all over my face and for a moment the loose powder hung in the air, making me sneeze. The powder was a big mistake. It had made my rosy cheeks look as white as Medda’s, even whiter because of my dark hair. You could see the loose powder all over my face, since I had put on way too much.
I picked up my white apron and tried to wipe most of it off, which stained my apron but made my face look a little better, but still pale. To try to add some color, I then picked up Medda’s favorite lipstick and slowly applied it to my lips. I did a nice job this time, not like the last time I had tried and had ended up with a red streak on my cheek, which no matter how hard I scrubbed with my apron didn’t quite come off.
I stepped back and reviewed my entire face. My eyes were okay without having me do anything. My eyelashes were long and dark, which I appreciated very much since the thought of putting a mascara brush that close to my eyes made me shudder. I couldn’t even begin to tell you what color my eyes were, as they were constantly changing, from hazel to green to blue to gray, and occasionally a rather unusual shade of violet. Tonight they were green, with little flecks of gold in them.
Now my only problem was my dress. It was burgundy and very plain, with small buttons running all the way to the top. The only interesting part of my outfit was the little flowers I had embroidered on the bottom of my apron behind stage one day. But my apron was ruined by the flesh-colored streaks of powder on the white fabric.
I sighed loudly, wishing I had prettier dresses. But I took what Medda bought for me without complaining, since she took me in out of the kindness of her heart.
“Maddie!” she was calling me, in her thick Swedish accent. “Maddie, the show is about to begin! Come on!”
“Yes, Medda!” I called back, though I wasn’t sure what kind of accent I had. It wasn’t like hers, or like the newsies’. It was proper, how my parents had brought me up to speak. At the thought of my parents, I wrinkled up my nose and resolved to develop a new accent, then I quickly replaced the lids on her make-up containers and picked the dark hairs out of her expensive comb.
I quickly ran down the stairs, where Medda was waiting with her hands on her hips. “Maddie,” she began, trying to look stern, “Have you been using my makeup again?”
I, too, was not to smile. I replied as innocently as I could, “Of course not, Medda. I never ever do anything you don’t want me to.”
“That’s too bad,” Medda told me, a devious smile on her lips. “I hear Jack Kelly’s coming tonight. But since you never do anything I tell you not to, how will he notice you without makeup? Maybe I’ll just have to point you out to him.”
I smiled, embarrassed. “I really don’t like Jack Kelly,” I lied. “He’s not my type.”
Medda raised an eyebrow. “Then who is?”
I was stuck. The truth was Jack, but I couldn’t say that now! Who could I say, Racetrack? Kid Blink? I knew all of the newsies’ names from listening to their conversations, and some of them were cute. But what if Medda tried to set me up with one of them? “Spot Conlon, I guess,” I replied after a moment, not meeting Medda’s eyes. Spot didn’t come nearly as much as any of the other newsies, so hopefully he wouldn’t come tonight, when Medda wanted to set me up with someone.
Medda laughed. “Oh, he’s a cutie! I think he’s coming tonight, I’ll have to point you out!”
I said some words in my head that my mother would have fainted had she known. My plan had backfired, and now I was going to be embarrassed, and I wouldn’t be able to go out with Jack! “I- I don’t know, Medda,” I said, hoping she would change her mind.
“Oh, come on, sweetie!” Medda hit my nose playfully with her feather boa. “You’re a very pretty girl, and any one of those newsies would be glad to go out with you. You just need to step out from behind the stage, show yourself off a little!”
I tried to smile back at her, but I had a terrible nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach. How could I go out with a newsie? I was too shy, and they were loud. They wouldn’t like me, and I’d make a fool of myself. “Medda,” I began, but she interrupted me.
“Maddie, don’t you want to be an actress?”
I shrugged, but on the inside I was screaming, Yes! I do!
“Then you can’t be so shy!” Medda gave a little laugh, then hugged me. “I’ll ask Spot out for you, and he’ll say yes. Everything will be okay! Now come on, everyone’s waiting for me!”
I smiled to make her happy. “Okay.”
She smiled back at me. I guess I was a good actress, I fooled her that I liked Spot and that I was okay with her asking him out for me. “Good.”
She gave me another reassuring smile and stepped out on stage, smiling even bigger at the newsies. Her music began to play, and she sang to the screaming crowd.
I walked over to Beatrice, Medda’s cousin, who was playing the piano, and sat by her, turning the pages.
I closed my eyes and pictured myself up where Medda was, singing to the enthusiastic crowd in a beautiful silk dress. I pictured myself going to the premiere of my first movie, arriving in a carriage with Jack as my escort. I imagined my beautiful house with lots of maids and all my beautiful clothes.
Suddenly Beatrice hissed at me, “Come on!” I had missed turning the page, and she was playing the music by memory, which wasn’t very good.
I quickly turned the page, and Beatrice’s good playing resumed. Medda cast a quick glance backstage, a warning glance that said not to do that again.
I sighed loudly, a bit too loudly, and Beatrice elbowed me in the ribs. I resisted the urge to elbow her back, since I didn’t want her to mess up again and ruin Medda’s show. I stopped daydreaming and paid attention, this time turning the page when Beatrice needed me to.
After an hour, Medda glided off the stage, and I massaged my sore neck, dreading what was about to follow. The newsies would stay for an hour or two longer, laughing and talking. Everyone would have a great time, except for me, because I would be hiding behind stage, wishing I wasn’t so shy. If I had only gone out to meet them when I was younger, everything would have been okay. Now I had waited too long, and they’d wonder what was wrong with me if I introduced myself now.
I collapsed in a padded chair and selected a book from my small shelf in the corner. After half an hour, I was still on the first page since I couldn’t make myself concentrate. The newsies were having an especially good time that night; every thirty seconds there was a fresh peal of laughter. I sighed and placed my book back on the shelf. After that I just sat there daydreaming, and wishing the time away. After the newsies left, I could go up onstage, like I did every night, and sing. I could act out parts from books, sing Medda’s songs, imagine the room was full of people cheering for me, Rosalyn Thatcher, anything for a few hours until I went to bed. That was what made my job worthwhile, having the stage all to myself for a few hours every day. I closed my eyes, and heard the crowd chanting my name.
“You Maddie Thatcher?” I heard someone ask, and my heart skipped a beat. I opened my eyes, and Spot Conlon was standing in front of me. What could I say to him? Did we have anything in common? Spot wasn’t bad looking, but I really didn’t have a crush on him! What did Medda say to him? My thoughts were running at a mile a minute, then I realized Spot was waiting for an answer. Feeling like an idiot, I nodded.
“Hey,” he said. “I’m Spot Conlon.”
“I know,” I said softly, not meeting his eyes. This was so awful.
“Say, do ya wanna go out sometime?”
This was the moment I had been dreading. I had to say yes, because Medda told him I liked him. She had put him up to this, so I couldn’t say no, even though that was what I wanted to do. I shrugged. “I guess so.”
“Great,” Spot said, trying to smile at me.
I could tell he was uncomfortable with this, and I knew I would be too if I were him. What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I just talk?
When I didn’t say anything else, Spot went on. “How about this Saturday?”
Saturday. Today was Thursday. That would give me two days. “Saturday’s fine,” I replied.
“Okay, where do you want to go?” I could tell Spot wanted to get back to the party with his friends, and I was holding him up.
When he got back to the newsies, he’d talk about me and I’d sound stupid. Then Jack would never want to go out with me. A lump rose in my throat. This was the first time anyone had ever asked me out. It wasn’t supposed to be like this! “I don’t know,” I replied, and I really didn’t. I spent most of my time at Medda’s, so I didn’t know where people usually went.
“Fine,” said Spot, getting impatient. “Why don’t ya meet me at Tibby’s for lunch? It’s where most of the Manhattan newsies go."
“Tibby’s?”
Spot nodded. “You know where that is?"
I shook my head.
“Fine, I’ll meet you here,” Spot said, rolling his eyes.
“Okay.” I gave him a small smile and he left me sitting there, feeling like the biggest idiot in the world. I’d always thought that it would be wonderfully romantic the first time someone asked me out. I’d always assumed it would be Jack, and that he’d ask me out because he wanted to, not because Medda asked him to out of pity.
The newsies finally left an hour later. I peeked out from behind the curtain to make sure there was nobody still there. I watched Medda go upstairs, to her house above the stage. She pretended not to notice me. I knew she knew that I sang and acted every night, but we never talked about it.
Finally the room was completely empty and I stepped out on the stage, looking at the rows of empty seats. There had been a lump in my throat ever since my conversation with Spot, and it wasn’t going away. Still I began to sing, my voice cracking and tears running down my cheeks. “My lovey-dovey baby, I boo-hoo-hoo for you…” I stopped singing and sat down on the stage, letting myself cry.
When I was done, I stood up and wiped the tears from my eyes, recalling my thoughts from earlier that evening. My eyes are green with little flecks of gold. Jack was supposed to notice the flecks of gold. He was supposed to ask me out, not Spot. I wasn’t supposed to make a fool of myself in front of the toughest newsie from Brooklyn. What did he tell the others about me? My chin started to quiver, and I forced myself to think pleasant thoughts. I was an actress, I was famous, and Jack was my boyfriend. One day I would be an actress.
Then a disturbing thought struck me. If I couldn’t even talk to Spot Conlon, how could I get up on a stage and act for many, many people? How could I appear in a movie? For one second, I believed that I would never become an actress. Then I banished that thought entirely from my head and forced myself to stand up.
Even though I didn’t want to, I made myself sing. I made myself dance. I made myself look lively and picture the cheering crowd, though it seemed silly to me. What was wrong with me? I lived for this. I lived for the hours where I could imagine everything away and my life would be perfect. How could it be silly? Finally, I had sung every song I knew. My throat was sore, either from singing so much or from holding my sobs inside. Finally I let a few hot tears squeeze through my eyelids, and began to turn out the lights in the theater. I took a long time, pressing each light switch one by one, until finally there was only one left, next to the door that led to my room upstairs. I flicked it out and climbed the stairs slowly, taking them one by one.
My room was dark, but I didn’t bother turning on the light since I was going right to bed. I bumped into my dresser, hurting my shin. I felt my way over to my bed, then pulled the curtain back from my window to examine my shin in the moonlight. There was an ugly purple bruise already starting to form on the front. Groaning, I pulled the curtain shut and rolled over, closing my eyes. Suddenly, the thought of my date with Spot came back to me. I wasn’t worried about what to wear- Medda would find me something. I was worried about what I’d say, however. The conversation we’d had when he asked me out lasted five minutes and was torture. So the conversation during our date would be twenty times longer and twenty times worse. At the least.
Then I realized I’d be able to look at Jack for however long we were there. Spot did say we were going to the Manhattan newsie meeting place. That thought calmed me down, and I closed my eyes, eventually drifting to sleep.
The next thing I knew, Medda was standing over me, lightly shaking my shoulder. “Maddie!” she whispered loudly.
I rolled over. “What?” I mumbled, my eyebrows furrowing together.
“Did everything work out with you and Spot?” she asked, a twinkle of mischief in her eyes.
I wiped my hair off my face. Why had she waken me up, after it took me so long to fall asleep, over something so trivial? I tried to smile, to make her happy. “He asked me out, if that’s what you mean.”
Medda nodded. “Oh, I know he asked you out. He said he would. What did you say back? Give me all the details.”
“I said sure, he asked me where I wanted to go, I said I didn’t care, he said how about Tibby’s, I said I didn’t care, then he said he’d pick me up here Saturday at noon.” The conversation sounded even more depressing when I said it aloud.
“Then let me guess, you said you didn’t care,” Medda said, raising an eyebrow. “Come on, Maddie, you’ve got to talk more! Aren’t you going to be an actress? You can’t be shy like this!”
I rolled my eyes. How could I not be shy? It was how I was brought up.
Medda noticed and changed the subject. “Well, at least you can go out with him. Tell me, what are you going to wear?”
I yawned. “Medda, can’t it wait? What time is it?”
“Nearly noon!” Medda told me, pulling back the curtains and letting the sunlight spill in the room.
My hand snapped to my face to block my eyes. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I should have gotten up before now, but I couldn’t get to sleep.”
“Oh, I know how that goes.” Medda smiled at me. “You’re so excited that he finally asked you out, and…”
I let Medda ramble on about all her romantic notions, wishing I had told her I liked Jack instead of Spot. Suddenly Medda said something that made my ears perk up.
“So today I’m going to take you to get a new dress! What do you think- any ideas?”
I was starting to get excited. All my dresses since I ran away had been hand-me-downs from Beatrice- old work dresses she either ruined or grew out of. If I got a pretty new one, I could wear it onstage, and then Jack might finally notice me! I hugged Medda. “This is so wonderful!” I cried, then began to list all the details of the perfect dress I’d been dreaming of for so long. “I want it to be made of flowing silk, with no sleeves, and a little low-cut. What color do you think it should be?”
Medda opened her mouth and closed it again, a little smile on her lips. “I was going to say the color of your eyes, but that wouldn’t work too well.”
That was true. We both knew that no dress would match my eyes for more than five minutes. “How about sky blue?” I suggested after a moment.
“That sounds lovely,” Medda told me, and we set off to find my perfect dress. We had no luck at the first three stores we tried, then Medda brought me to the expensive shop where she bought hers.
The second the little bell chimed when we walked in, I spotted my dress. It was silk and sleeveless like I’d wanted. It really was sky blue, except for the bottom, which gradually darkened into a light shade of violet around my shins. To top it off, it came with a silky violet shawl for over my shoulders.
It was more than I’d hoped for. I tried it on and immediately fell in love with it. Medda bought it for me, and it wasn’t until we were halfway down the street that something occurred to me.
“Medda- I can’t wear this to Tibby’s for lunch!”
Medda smiled at me. “I know. You’d look ridiculous. I think you should wear your green dress.”
“But Medda!” I protested. “Why did you buy this for me?”
Her smile broadened. “You had to have something to wear for your show tonight.”
My mouth actually dropped open, and for a moment I was too stunned to speak. Then my voice returned to me and I started babbling. “My show? Medda, what kind of show? I haven’t prepared anything, and what if people don’t like me…”
“Hush, Maddie.”
I did and looked at her, waiting for an explanation.
“I’ve heard you sing,” she told me. “Your talent is amazing, and I know your dream is to be a famous entertainer. So tonight is your night to follow your dreams.”
I stopped walking and hugged her. “Thank you, Medda!”
Medda smiled at me and we started walking again. “I knew you had potential when I took you in seven years ago.”
“Thank you,” I told her again, realizing for the first time why she had taken me in. It was to give me a chance to pursue my dreams- a chance I never would have gotten had I stayed with my family. Medda was my real family- she was like an older sister in that she took care of me and gave me advice, but more than anything she was my friend- my best friend.
Medda sensed what I was thinking and changed the subject. “I want you to sing ‘My Lovey Dovey Baby.’ You can be the opening act at tonight’s show.”
Suddenly a terrible thought occurred to me. “What if I do badly?”
Medda rolled her eyes. “You won’t. And if you’re really worried about it we can practice for the rest of the afternoon.”
We did exactly that. I already knew the words, so Medda taught me a little dance to go with it. I was starting to feel comfortable with it until Medda told me it was 6:30- a half hour before the show.
Nervousness exploded in my stomach, and I felt like I was going to be sick. Medda led me to her own dressing room, where I slipped into my new dress, the cool silk making me shiver. This time Medda put the makeup on me and I looked a lot better than I had last night.
She gave me one final hug, whispering, “You’ll be great,” in my ear, then I left so she could get ready.
So for the last fifteen minutes, I sat backstage in my chair, silently praying that both Jack would be there to see my new dress, and that he wouldn’t be in case I did badly.
Too soon Beatrice was pulling me up, hissing, “C’mon,” in my ear. She pushed me out onto the stage, and then played the short introduction, the announcer from backstage calling out, “Miss Rosalyn Thatcher!” while I took my place on the center of the stage.
I gave a quick glance backstage, where Medda was holding her thumbs up. I desperately looked out in the audience. Jack wasn’t there. Suddenly I realized that I had missed my cue and Beatrice was playing it again.
I quickly came in, but I was a beat late. I sang quickly to catch up, my voice shaking. “My lovey-dovey baby. I” Dear God, what were the words! I remembered two beats late, and sang them hurriedly, my voice cracking once. “I boo-hoo-hoo for you.” I couldn’t remember any more words, let alone the dance. So for two terrible minutes of absolute torture, I walked around the stage, making up the words I could and humming the rest. I was so totally humiliated I couldn’t meet their eyes, so instead I stared at my feet. I had too much pride to run off the stage.
My song was over, and the room was deafeningly quiet. Finally, someone in the back started to clap slowly, and almost everyone joined in. Hot tears were running freely down my face as I gave a clumsy bow. They felt sorry for me. This was my first performance; my big debut and they felt sorry for me.
When I got backstage, I collapsed into Medda’s arms, sobbing loudly. Beatrice played some cheery transition music to cover it up, but I didn’t care if they heard me. I was never going onstage again.
“I’ve got to go now,” Medda whispered, and I nodded, tears still running down my cheeks. The crowd was chanting Medda’s name, and she couldn’t disappoint them just to comfort me.
So I took my seat by Beatrice, turning the pages and holding back my tears so she couldn’t see them. Which was hard, now that my every hope, dream, and ambition had been shattered mercilessly in front of hundreds of people.
Medda did better than usual, in contrast to my terrible performance. When she was done, she came backstage and sat by me, trying to comfort me. She didn’t tell me I’d done well, or even okay like I’d expected her to. We both knew the truth. Instead she told me horror stories of her own first performances, some even worse than mine. “So,” she concluded. “Whenever I messed it up, instead of feeling sad or embarrassed, I used it as motivation to work harder and do better the next time. And if this is truly your dream, or if you have any pride at all, you’ll do the same.”
Her words made sense. I nodded slowly, inwardly resolving to practice double the time I had before, starting that night.
“Good,” Medda said, standing up and walking toward the door that lead upstairs. “I’m going to bed,” she told me, but I knew why she was really leaving so early. She wanted to give me the opportunity to spend extra time practicing.
I gave her a small smile and wiped away my tears before she left me, dragging Beatrice behind her. The theater was empty, all except for me. I stepped on the stage, suddenly remembering my date the next day with Spot. I realized that I really didn’t care anymore. My dream wasn’t to impress him, or any guy for that matter (except for Jack, of course) so I didn’t have to worry about it. My dream was to be an actress, so that was what I needed to dedicate my energy to working on.
I closed my eyes and tried to imagine the audience back in their seats. I left my eyes closed throughout the performance, hearing Beatrice’s cue and coming in on time. I sang loudly and expressively, hitting the dance moves on the right beat. When I was done, I started to hear thunderous applause in my head, but it was interrupted by a single sound from the outside world. Someone was sitting in the very back, clapping for me.
I gasped and started to run offstage.
“Wait!” he called, running down the aisle to the front of the stage.
I peeked out from behind the curtains and looked into the face of Jack Kelly, my crush for the past seven years, actually talking to me. My heart skipped a beat.
“That was much better,” he said in his thick New York accent, hoisting himself up onstage and walking toward me.
“Better than what?” My voice was shaking.
Jack’s smile, which I had come to fall in love with spread across his face, and I realized he’d been in the audience the whole humiliating time. Oh, God, I thought. He’d never like me now.
“Your eyes are amazing,” he said, gazing into them so deeply my heart stopped beating, or at least it felt like it.
“They are?”
“Yeah, they’re blue. Except for a little bit of purple, right around the edge of the blue. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Sounds ugly.” I wrinkled up my nose.
“Nah, beautiful. You new around here?” he asked me. I suppose he didn’t know of my existence, after all my years of hiding.
“Yes,” I lied. How could I tell him I was afraid to talk to him? I’d done my share of lying since I’d come to Medda’s; lies about my rich family, who’d I’d always said were poor and died before I came; lies about my real name. So this lie came easily. Talk more! I silently yelled at myself. “I’m from Rhode Island.” It was the first place that came to my head. “My name is Rosalyn Thatcher.” I’m not sure why I said Rosalyn instead of Maddie. Like Rhode Island, it just came out.
“Hey, Rosalyn,” Jack shook my hand, and I thought I was about to faint. “That’s a beautiful name. I’m Jack Kelly.”
I resisted the urge to say that I knew, and instead just nodded.
“I’m a newsie,” he went on. “I’ve been living here all my life.”
“Really?” I asked, sure I sounded incredibly lame.
Jack nodded, and there was an awkward pause where we were both just looked at each other, then Jack’s face was once again lit up by that adorable smile (which caused my heart to skip yet another beat). He laughed, then I laughed, and soon we were talking. And when I said we, I meant me, too. I told him about how I wanted to be an actress, how I worked for Medda, and made-up stories of my life in Rhode Island, where I told him my mother and I worked as seamstresses until she died of pneumonia. For once in my life, I wasn’t just nodding along like Maddie Thatcher or keeping my eyes politely downcast around my family like Annabelle Madeline Harrison. The only problem was that this new, outgoing girl was Rosalyn Thatcher. She wasn’t me. I was finally talking to Jack, but he wasn’t talking to me. He was talking to Rosalyn. I was simply playing a part.
When Jack was about to leave, I gave him a kiss. Sure, that wasn’t anything I, Maddie Thatcher would do, but it was something Rosalyn would do. And since I was Rosalyn I kissed him right on the cheek, and he pulled me closer and kissed me on the mouth. It was my first kiss, and although I knew it really didn’t belong to me I kissed him back, and he left me alone, feeling completely torn.
At that moment I liked Rosalyn better than Maddie, but the truth was I wasn’t either of them. They were both lies. My life was a lie, and only the people I’d run away from knew the truth. Maddie would never admit her lies; she’d be too embarrassed. And Rosalyn wouldn’t because she would enjoy the excitement. But like I said, I was neither of them. For the rest of my life, I knew that I was doomed to live a lie, play a part, or live backstage. And it hurt to know that I couldn’t just be myself.
I turned off all the lights and crept up to my room. I changed into my nightgown, then finally turned out my light, gladly letting the darkness engulf me. My head ached with thoughts of this eventful day and of tomorrow’s date with Spot, but still I couldn’t fall asleep. Instead, I lay awake, mercilessly tearing into myself for lying to Jack and being too timid to tell him the truth.
I suppose I eventually managed to fall asleep, because the next thing I knew birds were chirping outside my window, and the sunrise was peaking through some cracks in the old curtains. I tried to go back to sleep, but was unsuccessful, and trudged out of bed. I put on my green dress like Medda suggested, and when I looked in the mirror to braid my hair up I noticed that my eyes were green as well, though this time they were missing the flecks of gold.
I tried to eat some breakfast, but gave up after a few bites and went out to the stage where I cleaned up the mess the audience had left the night before.
Sooner than I liked, it was quarter to twelve. I put a white bonnet over my bun so Jack wouldn’t recognize me, and a matching white apron over my dress. I looked nice, but not beautiful. I walked back to the main entrance of Medda’s, where Spot was supposed to meet me, coaching myself on how to behave. Don’t be outgoing Rosalyn. She’s just for Jack. Don’t be shy Annabelle. No one likes her. Be Maddie, only be talkative. That didn’t make sense to me, but I was hoping and praying it would by the time I got to Spot.
“Hi, Spot!” I said cheerfully when I saw him by the door. “How are you?”
“I’m fine,” he said. I think he was surprised to hear actual words come out of my mouth, but if he was he disguised it. “You ready to go?”
“Yep,” I told him. Talk. “Listen, I’d like to apologize for acting like that when you asked me out. You see, I’d had the flu for a few days, and I was just starting to recover, so I didn’t have a lot of energy.” Another lie. How many was that now? I had a feeling I would be a very good actress one day.
“No problem,” he said, and I think he was relieved that I wasn’t going to be incredibly shy. I suppose he would have been embarrassed to bring a girl like that- like me- to Tibby’s with the other newsies.
So once again I kept up my end of the conversation, but this time I was truthful. I didn’t tell him I was so shy I hid behind stage, but I did tell him I’d been at Medda’s since I was ten when I ran away. And I was Maddie. I was the same Maddie I was around Medda. I didn’t have to lie, and I found that I was actually enjoying myself.
When we got to Tibby’s, Spot introduced me to the other newsies, and I pretended not to know who they were. Which wasn’t really a lie since Spot didn’t ask me if I knew them; he just assumed I didn’t.
To my complete surprise, the newsies actually liked me. They teased me like I’d heard them tease each other so many times before, and when I began to feel more comfortable with them I teased them back. Fortunately, Jack wasn’t there so I didn’t have to worry about dealing with him. I could just be Maddie and not Rosalyn, who at this moment in time I disliked quite a bit.
I insisted on paying for my own lunch (A very Maddie thing to do.) Then Spot walked me home, holding my hand. I found my heart skipping a beat when our skin touched for the first time, though I wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like I was attracted to Spot. When we got to Medda’s, he asked me if I’d go out with him again sometime. I was about to say no, since I really liked Jack, but somehow, “I’d love to,” slipped out of my mouth, and since I was Maddie I couldn’t take it back.
“Good,” Spot said, and for a moment I thought he really liked me. “How about next Saturday? We could make this a weekly thing.”
“I’d like that.” And I would. Spot was a great guy, a lot of fun. And this way Jack might not find out. Spot walked back to Brooklyn, and I went inside Medda’s, not being able to keep the smile off my face.
Medda noticed, but said nothing, instead just smiled.
I performed again that night, this time wearing a blue-green dress of Medda’s. I noticed that my eyes were blue again, but I didn’t notice any traces of purple. I was starting to think Jack made that up.
My performance was wonderful. I sang one of Medda’s songs in the opening act, dancing a dance I knew because of all the times I’d watched Medda dance it herself. I came in at all the right times, and didn’t mess up once.
And guess who was watching from the front row.
When I was done, Jack jumped out of his seat, and ran to the front of the stage, handing me a bouquet of pink and white roses. “Roses for Rosalyn,” he told me, then as I was walking offstage he called after me to wait for him when Medda was done.
I just smiled and gave him a little wave, Rosalyn’s teasing way of saying okay.
I couldn’t concentrate- or rather Rosalyn couldn’t- on turning the pages as Beatrice played, as that was what Annabelle or Maddie did. I was a few beats late at first, then she started reminding me, and that was okay because then I didn’t have to pay attention.
When Medda was done, I met Jack on the stage, where we talked for hours. Since I was Rosalyn we flirted and laughed, and when we were done he kissed me again. Before he left, he asked me to come with him to Tibby’s the next day to meet the newsies.
A siren went off in my head. I met the newsies earlier that day! They would recognize me, and know that I was cheating on Jack and Spot! Rosalyn would never turn down a date. “Sure,” I said. “But I doubt any of them are as cute as you.”
Hearing myself say that almost made me sick, but Jack liked it and we kissed some more.
When he left, I had no idea what I was going to do. There was no doubt in my mind the newsies would recognize me. Sure I would talk and act differently, but I would look exactly the same!
Then I realized something. My hair was my best feature, and the newsies had never seen it. I had it pulled back in a bun with a bonnet, so they didn’t even know what color it was. Surely if I had it loose I would look different. And I would wear a silk dress, and I wouldn’t let them know I was just a maid. I was a good actress; I could pull it off.
I was still a bit nervous, but I managed to fall asleep. I woke up early and snuck to Medda’s dressing room, slipping into a red dress. She’d had it for years and had only worn it once or twice, so I figured she wouldn’t notice. I put a note on her table telling her I was out with Spot (she thought he was my boyfriend and I didn’t want her to think I was cheating on him) and that I’d be back in the afternoon.
I stepped out into the cool morning and walked briskly to Tibby’s. Jack wouldn’t be there for about two hours, but I didn’t want Medda to see me leaving in this dress. I asked for a glass of water, and sat there stirring around the ice with my straw, staring out the window and watching the people walk by.
Kid Blink and Mush walked in first. I glanced at a clock on the wall. Jack would be there in half an hour. I hoped I wouldn’t have to talk to the newsies before then.
“Hey, Maddie,” Mush said, slapping me on the back. “Is Spot coming again?”
Had I said the words I was thinking to my parents, I would have been locked up without supper in my room for a week. They recognized me. “Excuse me?” I asked, silently praying that it would work and they’d leave me alone.
“Where’d you get that dress?” Kid Blink asked, taking a seat next to me.
“D-do I know you guys?” I stuttered lamely, knowing they knew who I was.
Mush gave me a confused look, then noticed my eyes. Please let them be a different color. Apparently they were, because he took a closer look at my hair, then my dress, and a bit of pink rose in his cheeks. “Oh, I thought you were someone else.”
“Me, too.” Kid Blink rose from his seat, and he and Mush sat at a table at the opposite side of Tibby’s.
After that, I stopped looking at the people walk by and buried my face in a menu, resolving to break it off with Spot before I got into any real trouble.
I didn’t look up again until I noticed someone sit down in the seat in front of me. I set down my menu and looked up at Jack, preparing myself for another performance. “Hey, Jack,” I said, raising my eyebrows ever so slightly.
Jack smiled at me, making my heart melt. “Hey.” Then he called to the other newsies, who had gathered on the opposite side of Tibby’s. “What are you guys doing over there? C’mere!”
They did, as I knew they would. They gathered around a few booths, and Jack began to introduce me. I couldn’t believe my luck that he just said Rosalyn and not the Thatcher. Because I knew the newsies wouldn’t be stupid enough to ignore that Rosalyn and Maddie had the same last name when they looked so much alike.
For the next two hours, I was Rosalyn. I flirted with all the newsies, hoping to make Jack jealous, which I think I did. It was so fun to be liked by all these guys, and I didn’t understand how I ever could have enjoyed being Maddie.
When Jack walked me home, we stood outside Medda’s kissing passionately for a few minutes before he finally walked away. Had I been Maddie, I would have been way too embarrassed to try something like that. But since I was Rosalyn, and I was with Jack… Before he left, he promised to be at tonight’s show, if I wore this red dress. I told him it was all right, knowing that Medda would probably let me keep it for all she cared.
When he left, I rushed to my bedroom to change into a plain work dress. Then I snuck to Medda’s dressing room, where I placed the red dress back on its hanger.
When I went to the theater, Medda was on the stage, practicing a new song. When she saw me, she stopped singing and ran over to me. “How was your date with Spot?”
Her words immediately made me feel guilty. They were both nice guys, and if I kept this up someone was bound to get hurt. But since I didn’t want her to know what I was doing, I said that my date was wonderful, and how much I loved Spot.
I practiced with Medda for the rest of the afternoon, and when I was getting ready for that night’s show (I put on the red dress, of course) I looked in Medda’s mirror and noticed a pattern. As a child, when I lived with my parents my eyes had never changed color. Annabelle’s eyes remained a constant, boring hazel. When I was being myself, like when I was with Medda or Spot, they were green. And when I was performing or with Jack or just being Rosalyn, they were blue. So when my personality changed, so did my eye color, which was fortunate because of all the disguises and lies I’d told recently.
I brushed my silky hair until it shone and curled softly, and smiled at my blue eyes; glad I’d finally figured them out. I performed well, and like I had the two times before flirted with Jack for a few hours afterward.
“Jack Kelly, do you come to these shows to see Medda or to see me?” I asked, when he handed me another bouquet of flowers, this time a few white lilies.
“Medda,” he said, and I pretended to look hurt. To ‘comfort’ me, he pulled me close and kissed me. I suppose had I been watching other people act like this I would have been disgusted, but since I wasn’t watching and I was one of them, it was actually quite fun. Except for the fact that I knew that I was just playing a part and when I was done I’d go back to being Maddie- myself.
Anyway, after he promised to come back the next night, and left after giving me a long goodnight kiss, which like the other fifty didn’t fail to give me a heart attack.
When I’d turned out all the lights, I started up towards my room. To my surprise, Medda was waiting for me at the top of the stairs. “I thought you were going out with Spot.” She looked disappointed with me, and it stung quite a bit.
I opened my mouth to defend myself, but I found that I couldn’t. I was wrong and I knew it.
“Look,” Medda said, her tone not harsh and not friendly, but unreadable, which hurt more than anger would have. “Jack and Spot are both nice guys, and I don’t want either of them to get hurt. I know this dating thing is fun and new for you, but really Maddie, don’t you think you’re taking this a bit far? I’m worried about Jack or Spot getting hurt, but more than that I’m worried about you. So please, take it easy, okay?”
I could see her bracing herself for my argument, and I was about to give her one. But then I realized that she’d called me Maddie. To Medda I was Maddie. Maddie wouldn’t argue, especially with someone she knew was right. And I was playing a role, so I couldn’t defend myself. “I know, Medda. I’m so confused!” That was the truth. I let a tear run down my face, but it wasn’t fake. I really did feel bad.
Medda’s face softened, and she held out her arms. “It’s okay, Maddie,” she whispered soothingly. “But tomorrow I want you to break up with one of them, okay?”
“Okay.” I went to my room then, and Medda went to hers. I decided to break up with Spot when I saw him again on Saturday. Sure, that would mean the end of Maddie except around Medda, but Jack was in love with Rosalyn. And I was in love with Jack. So that meant if I wanted Jack to love me, I had to be Rosalyn, even though I wanted to be Maddie. All this made no sense to me whatsoever, but I managed to fall asleep and forget all about it for a few hours.
The rest of the week went on like that. Jack would come to my performances, and we’d flirt and talk and kiss afterward. I went to Tibby’s with him on Wednesday, and on Thursday I even walked with him for an hour while he delivered the papers. I was starting to become familiar with Rosalyn, so I didn’t have to stop and think about what she’d say as much. It was like second nature to me. Which also meant that I had to get rid of a lot of Annabelle and Maddie’s instincts, but I didn’t care as long as Jack loved me.
Medda noticed the change in me, and I can’t say she was pleased. She liked me as a polite, well-bred girl, not a loud, outgoing flirt. I tried to be Maddie around her, but it was so hard to keep changing, especially because Jack kept dropping in more and more.
By Saturday, I had forgotten all about Spot. I was wearing a regular work dress, sweeping the stage and humming to myself when suddenly Spot came in.
“Hey, Maddie!”
I jumped at the sound of my real name. Only Medda called me that anymore, and it was strange to hear a deeper voice. “Hey, Spot!” I tried to smile and be Maddie, but Rosalyn was interfering. “I missed you so much!”
I gave him a big hug, and resisted the urge to kiss him.
“Yeah, me too.” Spot seemed surprised at this warm welcome, but he didn’t say anything about it.
I ran up to my room, and grabbed a pale pink bonnet to match the pink in the thin vertical stripes of my red work dress, and the pink apron I wore over that. Then I ran downstairs again, and Spot and I left together toward Tibby’s. I tried to hide the nervousness I was feeling about meeting the newsies again. Now they had seen me as Maddie and Rosalyn. Surely they were going to figure this out soon. There was only one thing to do, and that was to break up with Spot before we got there.
“Spot?” I asked, and he stopped talking and looked at me. “I don’t think this is going to work out anymore.”
Spot stopped walking and we sat down on a bench. I think he was starting to like me a lot, because he looked almost hurt, despite his efforts to keep his tough look on his face. “Why not?”
Oh, God, what could I give as an excuse? “Because, I” I had never broken up with anyone before. It was hard, and a tear slid down my cheek. I quickly brushed it away. “I don’t know, I, don’t you think we’re moving too fast?” I’d read that line in a book before. As soon as I said it, I started to laugh. We’d gone on one date a week ago, and I told him we were moving too fast.
Spot gave me a strange look. “You okay, Maddie?”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “I’m sorry, I’ve just had a rough week.” Another lie.
“Well, are you okay now?” I nodded again. Spot put his arm around me, and we walked off toward Tibby’s.
So much for breaking up.
I could never explain why I hadn’t broken up with Spot that day. It was strange, and I know it was totally selfish on my part, but I liked myself better when I was with Spot. I liked Maddie much more than I liked Rosalyn, and I couldn’t give that part of myself up, even if it meant going out with two guys at once. I knew that this wouldn’t last forever, that eventually Jack and Spot would find out. But I was okay with them getting mad at me and dumping me. Just as long as I could have Jack love me and I could be Maddie, even if only for a few weeks.
So that’s how it went for the next three months. Somehow the newsies didn’t realize that I was both Maddie and Rosalyn. Sure, they recognized that there was an uncanny resemblance, but other than accidentally calling me the wrong name here and there, they basically didn’t make a big deal about it.
Jack didn’t recognize that I was Maddie, either. I’m not sure why, but he kind of ignored me when I was with Spot. Maybe it was because he was in love with Rosalyn and didn’t want to look at other girls. Or maybe he recognized me and didn’t want to admit it. Whatever his reasons, he left me alone, and Spot and I had wonderful Saturdays. After Tibby’s, we usually went on long walks and just talked. And I was myself. I didn’t have to lie (much) and when I did they were minor ones. I was at peace with the world when I was with him, and I never wanted our dates to end.
Then they would, and I’d be Rosalyn again, loud Rosalyn who flirted with Jack and basically every other guy who could talk. And all the while I would hate it and wish that it were Saturday so I could go back to being myself for a few hours.
One day, when Spot walked me back to Medda’s, he kissed me. I was being myself, and someone actually kissed me! I was so excited that I kissed him back, my heart racing.
Then something happened that made my heart melt. “I love you,” Spot Conlon said to me. “These past weeks have been so great. I look forward to these Saturdays all week long.” He stopped talking and looked at me. I knew he expected me to say that I loved him back, but did I? I loved Jack, didn’t I? Not Spot!
“M-me too,” I mumbled, then to avoid further conversation I kissed him again. It worked, or at least for the time, and Spot left when we were done kissing.
But it didn’t work in the long run.
Because that night, when I was done performing, Jack asked me if I would go on a double date with Spot and his girlfriend. My mouth was completely dry, and I couldn’t speak. ‘Rosalyn doesn’t turn down dates!’ My brain screamed. ‘You’re going to get hurt!’ My heart screamed. I listened to my brain. “I’d love to.”
“Good.” Jack kissed me. “I like showing you off.”
“I like being shown off.”
“I know. Why do you think I show you off?”
We kissed some more. Looking back on those conversations, I get nauseous.
That night when I went to bed, a thought kept on nagging me. Spot loved me. I thought back on all my conversations with Jack, and I realized that he never said he loved me. How could he not love Rosalyn, who wore beautiful dresses and was talkative and popular with all the guys? I had thought that everyone would love her, even though I didn’t. Yet Spot had fallen in love with Maddie, who was plain and honest. I liked being Maddie more than anyone else. So why couldn’t I be Maddie around Jack? For a long time, I lay there thinking about these past months, and I realized that I’d enjoyed myself more when I was with Spot. Not so much that I liked myself more when I was with him, because although I did, I realized that I also liked Spot more than Jack. I liked Spot, who went out with me even when I was too shy to talk to him at first. Spot who I could be myself around. Spot who loved me. And Spot whom I loved back.
With that thought, I went to sleep, and woke up the next morning feeling silly. I didn’t really love Spot- did I? I didn’t know until he surprised me later that day. I was sweeping the stage, and he walked in.
“Hey, Maddie!” he called.
“It’s not Saturday,” I said, dropping my broom and running over to hug him.
He hugged me back and gave me a quick kiss. “I know. Any objections to my being here?”
“Of course not.” I tried to look cheerful, but it was hard since I knew why he had come- to ask me on a double date with Jack and Rosalyn.
“Good,” he said, “Because me and Jack wanted to know if you’d come with us to a flicker tonight.”
“Who’s us?” I tried to look innocent, like I didn’t know what was going on.
“Me, Jack, and his girlfriend, Rosalyn. You two ever met?”
“No, I don’t think so.” I tried to look like I was thinking about it. “Has she ever come to Tibby’s while I was there?”
Spot shrugged. “I dunno. But tonight how about I pick you up here at 8:00, then you can meet her?”
My heart was pounding so fast. What could I do? Spot was expecting me to say yes, and I couldn’t disappoint him. Because suddenly last night’s thoughts weren’t so silly. “That sounds great.”
“Good,” Spot smiled, and my heart melted. Just like it used to when Jack smiled at me. We talked for the rest of the afternoon, and I forgot all about the broom I’d dropped carelessly on the stage, until Medda walked in, right when I was about to kiss Spot goodbye.
She didn’t say anything until Spot had left. Then she got angry, angrier than I’d ever seen her. “Madeline Thatcher!” I don’t recall she’d ever called me Madeline before that. “You’re going out with Jack! I thought you’d broken off this thing with Spot months ago! What’s wrong with you?”
What was wrong with me? How was I supposed to know? I couldn’t answer that question when I asked it, so how could I possibly begin to explain it to her?
“Answer me!” Medda was looking at me coldly. She expected an answer, and I had to give one. But I couldn’t tell the truth. Not yet.
Instead I quickly thought up another lie, which I was becoming quite good at. “Jack dumped me yesterday!” I started fake bawling, which apparently I was good at because Medda hugged me. “Spot came here to comfort me, because he felt sorry for me! Medda, I’ve never been dumped before! It hurts so much!”
“I know, sweetie, I know.” Medda stroked my hair. “Do you still feel like performing tonight?”
I swallowed and nodded slowly.
“Are you sure?” Medda asked, and I nodded again. “Do you need to talk about anything?” I shook my head, still not saying anything, and Medda left me alone.
Then I sat down on the stage, my head in my hands, and cried for almost an hour. I realized how pathetic and selfish I had been. Tonight I would lose both Jack and Spot, plus Rosalyn and maybe even Maddie. I would probably go back to being Annabelle, which hurt to think about, but not as much as the thought of losing Spot. I loved him so much now, and he loved me back. He had no idea what I had done to him.
I made a decision. I knew what I was going to do as soon as Jack and Spot both came to pick their girlfriends up.
After that I made myself get ready, but half-heartedly. When I looked in the mirror, I saw that my eyes were green. I smiled at how symbolic this was. I was giving up Rosalyn, which meant also getting rid of my blue eyes.
I put on a burgundy dress, the color of the dress I had worn the day I met Spot, although this one was silk. I let my hair down, because I was performing, after all. Then I went onstage, and sang a new song. This wasn’t just one of Medda’s. This was one I’d made up while crying on the stage. This one came from my heart. And the thing that gave me the courage to sing it was that Spot was sitting in the front row, right next to Jack.
“I love you, but love made me lie,” I started to sing, looking right at Spot, my voice shaking. “I never wanted to hurt you; I’d rather die. But since I lied I hurt you. I didn’t mean to.” I don’t think Spot knew who I was, or that I was talking to him, but it would all make sense to him soon. There was a little musical section that I told Beatrice to play, and then I finished singing. “I don’t deserve forgiveness. Please forgive me anyway. Because you know I love you. Please love me too.” I was crying. I must have sung well, because everyone was clapping loudly. I think Jack sensed that I was upset, because he went through an alternate door backstage and met me there.
“Do you want to talk about anything?” he asked, with a look on his face that would have made my heart melt just a few weeks ago.
Instead I shook my head. We didn’t stay for the rest of Medda’s show, and at eight o’clock, Jack, Spot, and I went to the front entrance of Medda’s.
“Where’s Maddie?” Spot said aloud, mostly to himself.
This was the moment I’d been dreading. “I’m here,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.
They both heard and turned around. “Maddie?” and “Rosalyn?” they said at the exact same time.
I nodded. “Yes.”
They both just stared at me, and I knew I had some explaining to do. Taking a deep breath, I opened my mouth, and began to take back all the lies I’d told.


To Be Continued In Maddie’s Second Story…