“Excuse me, miss?”
Verity Fowler, pausing on the steps of the Harlem Newsboys Lodging House, turned to see a neatly dressed young man, obviously well off, holding his hat. “Yes?”
“I was just curious as to what a lovely young lady like you is doing slumming around here.”
“I could ask the same of you,” she said coolly, ignoring his question.
He opened and closed his mouth a few times. “I… well, uh… I…”
“I thought so.” Verity opened the door and paused. “As for what I’m doing here. I live here.” She smiled sweetly and slammed the door behind her.
“WHY do those pompous dandies think I need to be protected and escorted away from here?” she said, storming into the main room. “I can take care of myself!”
Andrew glanced up at his sister, an amused smile on his face. “Another one?”
Verity stalked up and down the floor, skirts swirling around her. “It’s the third one so far!”
“Maybe you should dress like a boy. Lots of other newsgirls do.”
She stopped pacing for a moment to glare at him. “That defeats the whole purpose. I’m ‘too ladylike’ to sell newspapers, remember?” A month before, when the two first moved to the Harlem lodging house, she had been told she was too ladylike to be successful at selling newspapers and wouldn’t last more than a month. Naturally, she set out to prove everyone wrong, with very little success so far.
“Flash and Blue Skies do,” he said, idly shuffling the cards in his hand.
“Yeah, well, no one says they’re too ladylike. If I don’t wear skirts while selling, it changes everything.”
He laughed at the primness in her voice. “I don’t think it would change a thing.” Before she had a chance to react, knowing she would, Andrew continued. “Don’t forget Violet’s coming over tomorrow night. She really wants to meet you.”
“I won’t forget.” Verity flopped into a chair, straightening her skirts afterwards. “You’ve been talking about her all week.”
He tilted the wooden chair back, a dreamy smile on his face. “You’re going to love her. She’s wonderful. Big blue eyes, golden hair, sweetest thing on earth.”
She picked up the nearest book, hiding behind it so he wouldn’t see her roll her eyes. Her twin waxed poetic over every new girl he met, never becoming serious about any of them. Some of them she liked, some she didn’t, but none stayed around more than a month or two. Based on what a few of the guys had mentioned when Andrew wasn’t around, Verity wasn’t sure she was going to like Violet Merriweather very well.
Big blue eyes, yes. Golden hair, yes. Sweetest thing on earth? She was having a hard time believing that one.
Ever since walking into the lodging house, Violet had been ingratiatingly sweet, the kind of sweet where you’d do anything to get what you want, even if it kills you. Andrew, blinded by the dazzling smiles she constantly sent his way, didn’t notice. Not that Verity expected him to. After all why pay attention to earthly things when an angel hung on your every word?
“Oh, it must be simply dreadful, living with all these boys everyday,” she gushed, eyes wide. The two were sitting on a couch at Violet’s insistence that they talk and become the very best of friends.
“Oh, it’s really not that bad, just like having a score of brothers. Besides, I’m not the only girl living here.” Verity eyed the book sitting on nearby windowsill. If only she could read, or beat her over the head with it…
“There are others?” Her already wide eyes grew even wider, much to Verity’s amazement. It wasn’t natural for eyes to do that.
Verity nodded, wishing they would walk in the door at that moment and rescue her. “Blue Skies Costello and Flash McAllen,” she said, omitting their first names. Maybe she’d be horrified enough at the use of nicknames that she’d leave her alone.
No such luck. “They go by nicknames?” Violet put one hand over her heart. “That’s not lady like. I can tell you are a true lady because you don’t use one.”
“Oh, I have one, too. ‘Lady V.’ My brother gave it to me, in fact.” She smiled sweetly, hazel eyes twinkling mischievously, not bothering to mention that it came from playing pretend when they were younger.
The blonde didn’t seem to know what to say. Her precious Andrew giving his own sister a nickname! Fortunately for both girls, Andrew chose that moment to invite her to watch a poker game.
“I’d be delighted to see you play, although I’m not sure what the rules are. Would you explain them to me?” she asked, eyelashes batting innocently. When he nodded she turned to Verity. “Would you excuse me, please?”
She nodded, breathing a sigh of relief as the couple joined the other newsies around the table. Too bad the other two weren’t here, she thought, reaching for the book. I would love to see what they think of her.
The sounds in the room, laughing conversation from one end, poker sounds from the other, and street noises slightly muffled by the windows all faded away as Verity became more engrossed in Silas Marner. She had just reached the discovery of Effie when screams and shrieks interrupted her. A page later, she couldn’t concentrate any longer, and, annoyed, looked up to see Violet standing on a chair, one hand on her heart, the other pointing at something on the floor, shrieking as if a ghost had walked up kissed her, and greeted her by name. The boys sitting around the table sat watching her like they had never seen something so entertaining before in their lives.
The object of Violet’s hysteria was a harmless daddy-long-legs slowly making its way across the wooden floor, oblivious to the scene it was causing. No one else moved to do anything about it, so Verity set aside her book, picked up the offending creature, opened a window, placed it on the outside ledge, and sat down to read again as if nothing had happened.
Violet instantly hushed. Silence reigned until Stitches Baranski snickered. The snicker was infectious and soon everyone in the room, except Violet and Verity, was laughing at the sight of Violet standing on a chair, scared of a harmless little critter.
Face flushed, she glared at Verity, who was engrossed in her novel again, before turning furious eyes on Andrew, who was trying his hardest to keep a straight face. “I will not be made fun of by your sister!” She clambered down from her refuge on the rickety chair and haughtily stuck her dainty nose in the air. “I want to go home.”
“All right.” Andrew stood as well. “I’ll walk you.”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort! I never want to set foot inside this wretched place again!” With that she burst into tears and dashed from the room. The front door slammed behind her.
A moment later fresh laughter rippled through the room, Andrew laughing as hard as the others. Red Anderson, the newsboys’ leader, slapped him on the back. “Tha funniest thing I’ve seen in a long time!” he said between chuckles. “That sister o’ yers can stay as long as she wants ta!”
“Ain’t no common girl,” someone else interjected.
“Hear that, Ver?” Andrew pulled her off the couch, swinging her around in a circle. “You did it!”
“Did what?” The only things that came to mind were rescuing the daddy-long-legs and making Violet angry, neither of which merited celebrating in her opinion although some of the others might celebrate the later option.
“You passed the test!”
“Test?” She looked from her brother to Red and back. “I put a bug outside and made Violet mad, and you call that passing a test?”
“Like ‘e said,” Red replied, nodding at the black headed boy shuffling cards, “you’re ain’t a common girl. You can do that, you can make it here.”
Verity rolled her eyes as she picked up her book from where it had landed on the rug. “If that’s all it took, I would have done that weeks ago.”
He laughed. “Didn’t know ya weren’t afraid of bugs. Most girls like you are.”
“I grew up with Andrew. What did you expect?”
Red shrugged. “Ya just look so…”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it all before.” She waved him off with a hand. “Now leave me alone, I’m trying to read.”
He laughed again good-naturedly, still amused at the sight of Violet Merriweather shrieking her blonde head off, and went back to his poker game, leaving the newest Harlem newsgirl to read in peace.
