The Letter

by Smoke Schaefer

Note: This story contains many references to "The Past is Past." You might want to read that first before getting into this one.

She walked through the streets of Harlem in a daze. The streets were crowded, and she was selling more papers than she ever had. Suddenly, near the docks, she saw something very unexpected.

“Jason? Jason Nichols?” she gasped, dropping her papers.

“Heya, Jess. I’ve missed ya,” he said, walking towards her with a grin.

“Get up! It’s time to go sell your papers! Get up!” someone shouted.

“C’mon, Smoke. Get up,” said Sketch, hopping down from her bunk above Smoke.

Rubbing her eyes, Smoke sat up and sighed. Jason wasn’t there, and it was all a dream. She stumbled to the washroom and began to prepare for the day.

“What’s wrong with you, Smoke? Usually you’re the cheerful one,” noted Verity.

“Oh, I’m fine, Ver. Just a bad dream, that’s all.”

“That’s what you get for staying out all night with Mess and drinking and smoking so much,” joked Ash.

Smoke shrugged. “Well, it’s ova’ now, right? Now c’mon, let’s go get our papes while there’s still some left, huh?”

“So ya really worked on a boat for a year?” asked Hammer. Smoke and Hammer had been out for dinner, and as the sun set, they decided to walk for a while and talk before heading to the theatre.

“Yep,” Smoke said with a nod. “I still stop by th’ pier t’see th’ guys every time their boat’s in. Outta be in again in a few days, if I rememba’ correctly. I keep tellin’ ‘em that if peddlin’ papes don’t work out, I’ll come back, but I think I like it ‘ere too much. There’re so many great people here that I couldn’t bear t’leave ‘em.”

“Yeah, I know what ya mean. I mean, I don’t like da money, but dere sure is a lotta nice people ta meet on da streets,” said Hammer.

Smoke agreed. “Eva’ since I got ‘ere…” She trailed off as she began to cough.

Hammer looked over at her and frowned. “You all right?”

The cough became worse, but Smoke simply nodded. “Fine,” she finally gasped a minute later. “I’m fine.”

“Ya really shouldn’t smoke if yer coughin’ da way ya do,” Hammer warned.

“Aww, I’ll be all right. Honest.” They entered the theatre and headed to their seats just as the lights went out and the performance of “Romeo and Juliet” began. It was about halfway through Act II when Hammer mustered up his bravado and took Smoke’s hand, noting the simple band of gold she wore on her left middle finger.

Smoke sighed happily. “Jason,” she murmured quietly.

“What?” he asked, confused.

Aww shit. “Nothin’,” she replied. “I said David.”

“No you didn’t, you said Jason.”

“Did not. C’mon, let’s just watch the play.”

“You did too!” he hissed.

“Can you please be quiet?” asked a man next to Hammer.

“Look, what’s it matter what I said? Let’s just watch the play, huh?”

“You said Jason. Who’s Jason?”

“Nobody. Somebody I knew in England. Why d’yuh care?”

“Will you two please stop talking?” asked the man, louder than the first time.

“Fine,” said Hammer testily. He crossed his arms across his chest, and Smoke did the same as she slouched in her seat.

I really do hate Jason, declared Smoke.

“Hello Smoke. Will you marry me?” asked Jason.

“What? Why are you here?” asked Smoke, clearly confused.

“Who’s he?” demanded Hammer. The newsgirls all stood behind him, pointing to Jason and laughing.

“He’s nobody! Nobody at all!” cried Smoke as she sunk to the floor in tears.

“Ohh, I wanna go back to sleep,” came a disembodied voice. Damn dreams, thought Smoke as she slowly climbed out of bed. She hadn’t quite woken up when she bashed her head into the bottom of Sketch’s bunk. Grumbling, she sat back down and rubbed her head.

“Good morning!” cried Ruby cheerfully as she climbed out of bed and began to dress. “How was the theatre, Smoke?”

“Go t’hell,” muttered Smoke, rubbing her eyes. She pulled on her blouse and gray skirt, then wrapped her sky-blue sash around her waist and tied it sluggishly before heading for the distribution center. A cart loaded with small rolls was sitting on the sidewalk outside the lodging house, and its owner was nowhere to be seen. She swiftly snached one, shoved it into her skirt pocket and headed off down the street as calm as she could be. But having gone for two years without practice decided to show a significant effect on her pickpocketing ability. The owner, a young and very fast man, appeared and began shouting for the police. Smoke tore off down the street and scrambled to the roof of a local tenement building, where she ended up hiding in a pile of garbage until the owner and policemen disappeared.

“Ugh,” she said in disgust, shaking the worst of the garbage off. She jumped from the fire escape to the sidewalk, landing in a pile of sewage. I can’t take this, she decided, giving the side of the building a good and firm kick before heading off on her way. At the distribution center, Hammer was just getting into the growing line as she walked through the gates. Just my luck today, she thought with a sigh. They went through the entire line without saying a word, and Smoke was thanking her lucky stars as she headed out of the gates, only to find Hammer waiting outside for her.

“Look, Smoke, I… I’m sorry.”

She nodded and sighed, mentally preparing her words before she said them. “It’s my fault. I’m stubborn. I shouldn’t’ve gotten so mad last night. Jason was just a guy I worked for, for about a month o’ so two years ago, in London. Everybody from London’s been on me mind lately,” she lied.

“Yeah, well, I’m sorry. I won’t get mad over somethin’ so stupid again.” Hammer smiled. “So, ya wanna sell with me t’day?”

“Actually, if yuh don’t mind, I gotta lot on me mind an’ I’d kinda like sellin’ alone.”

He nodded, looking rather wounded. “Then I’ll see ya later.”

“Sure.” She gave him a quick hug and kiss on the cheek, then headed off.

I oughta do it. I just ought to do it and get it over with. I’ll regret it forever if I don’t, she thought. Get over yer fear, Jess. Just do it. With a sigh, Smoke hauled herself up from her curled position on her bed and shuffled slowly over to the desk, where a girl sat writing. Her brunette hair had escaped its tie and was now hanging over her shoulders and into her face, but didn’t appear to be bothering her.

“Hey, ah, Quill?” asked Smoke awkwardly.

The fourteen-year-old turned from her rapid writing at the desk. “Yes, Smoke?” she asked.

“I wanna write a letter t’a, uh… a friend o’ mine back in London. Think yuh can help me?”

She set down her pen. “Of course.” She reached for a sheet of paper and handed it to Smoke.

“Thanks, Quill,” Smoke said with a smile. After swiping a pencil of Sketch’s, Smoke flopped down onto the floor and paused, tapping the pencil against the leg of the chair.

“Smoke?”

“Yeah?” Smoke peered up at the younger girl at the desk.

“Who are you writing to?”

Smoke sighed and peered around the bunkroom. It was nearly empty. She sat up and leaned against the side of the desk, focusing on the wall across the room. She made a point not to make eye contact when she spoke. “Old boyfriend o’ mine. I can’t stop thinkin’ about ‘im, so I think maybe if I write t’im, that it’ll help. Just, y’know, say goodbye an’ all. Neva’ did.” She exhaled and coughed gently. “What should I write?”

“Well… I don’t know. I’ve never written anything like that. I’m not really good at that sort of thing. I’ve never… I don’t… I don’t know,” said Quill, rather flustered at the thought. “You should just… tell him that you’re sorry. I mean, if you are, of course. And tell him that you’re happy now and you’ve met somebody else, I suppose, since it is the truth.”

Smoke nodded. “Thanks Quill. If yuh don’t mind, I think I’m gonna go take a walk an’ think. I’ll see yuh later.” Shoving the paper inside her pocket along with the pencil and a pack of cigarettes, she crossed the room and climbed out onto the fire escape.

Smoke sat at a small table in the Brooklyn Bridge Bar. She wasn’t in the mood for company, really. In front of her sat a sheet of paper and a pencil. She was writing furiously.

Dear Jason,
You've probably forgotten all about me by now. I can't really blame you, I suppose. It has been more than two years since my time spent with you and your clan of pickpockets. I often think of you. I wonder how you and the boys are. I suppose I'm well. I am living in Harlem, part of New York City. I sell newspapers and live in a girls' lodging house. It isn't a particularly fine life. I'm only a bit better off than I was with you and the boys.

But I am writing to you for a purpose. I know that our last experience together was just a stupid, childish thing that I regret ever doing. I'm certain you feel the same way. After I write this letter, I will try to forget the experience forever. I want to start over, and I feel that I can't do that until I apologize for what I did. I know I hurt you in dozens of ways, but I want you to know that I am sorry for that. I hope that you can forgive me for it. I wish you and the boys the best of luck in the future.

Jessie Schaefer

“Ya need anymore beer, Smoke?” asked Dusty, pausing by Smoke’s table.

“Nah, but thanks, Dusty. I think I’ll be on me way now,” she replied absently, tossing a few coins onto the table. “See ya lata’.”

Dusty nodded in reply. “See ya, Smoke.”

Smoke’s next stop was the pier. Just as she had suspected, the Fellowship was in town and docked. She paused and surveyed the deck, and just as she expected, four of the five boys were sitting there drinking and playing cards.

“Heya boys,” she said cheerfully, climbing aboard.

“Well well well, who’s this gorgeous girl?” asked one of the boys jokingly.

“Theodore,” she said, shaking her head slowly. “Don’t tell me ya’ve forgotten good ol’ Smoke Schaefa’ already!”

“Smoke Schaefa’?” he mocked. “’Course not. Yer much too pretty t’be li’l ol’ Smoke.”

“Aww, Theodore, shut yer mouth an’ gimme a hug,” she demanded. “How ya boys been, huh?”

“Not too bad, an’ yaself?”

She shrugged. “I’m alive, ain’t I? Anyways, where’s Tommy?”

“Tommy?”

“Tommy, ya idiot. Tommy Springs, kinda new, brown hair, green eyes…”

“Ohh, Tommy,” Theodore laughed. “Yeah, he’s down in ‘is room, as always. Second one on th’ right. Why, whatcha want wi’ ‘im?”

“Ain’t none a yer business, Theodore,” she said coolly, turning and heading below the deck. She paused outside Tommy’s door and knocked on it with her knuckle. “Guess who?” she called cheerfully.

“I’d know that cheery voice anywhere,” came the voice from inside, accompanied by the sound of someone fumbling with the locks. “Well, if it ain’t Jessie Schaefa’. How ya been, Jess? C’mon in.”

“Ahh, th’ lovely cabins o’ th’ Fellowship. That’s one thing I don’t miss,” she said with a grin. “Oh, Tommy, I miss ya. Woncha just stay here wi’ me?”

He shook his head. “Life o’ a sailor’s th’ life for me, Jess, an’ ya know it. But you ain’t a girl who comes for chit-chattin’. Whatcha need? Money? Cigarettes? Or just some company in some cheap dive?”

She was about to protest, but realized he was right. “A fava’. An’ company. But a smoke would be nice,” she added.

“Ain’t got none, an’ ya know that I neva’ will. What’s th’ fava’?”

“When ya goin’ back t’good ol’ London?”

“We leave in three days, why?”

“Got a little somethin’ for ya t’deliva’ to an ol’ acquaitance o’ ours, by th’ name o’ Jason Nichols,” she said with a frown, removing the folded and wrinkled sheet of paper from her skirt pocket. “Don’t read it, or ya’ll be sorry.”

“Promise,” he said, tucking it into his own pocket. “What’s it ‘bout?”

“Oh, jest puttin’ an end t’some unsettled matters, is all. No reason for it, just thought I might feel betta’ if I did.”

Tommy nodded. “Well, I’ll deliva’ th’ note personally. Now c’mon, why doncha show me ‘round this grand city o’ yours an’ we’ll talk, alright?”

Smoke nodded. “Let’s go.”

“So what’s been goin’ on in yer life, girl? We hardly talk anymore, an’ yuh know yuh’ve known me longer’n anyone. Since yuh were ‘bout six years old, runnin’ ‘round lookin’ for someone t’play wi’ an’ I was about th’ same age. But now yuh’re sixteen – ”

“Seventeen, thank yuh,” she interrupted.

“Seventeen? Well, yuh’re seventeen an’ I’m eighteen. Yuh’re a newsgirl an’ I’m a sailor, an’ we don’t see each otha’ nearly enough. Let’s sit down somewhere quiet an’ just talk, Jess,” he pleaded.

Smoke gestured to a bench. “Quiet enough for yuh, Tommy? Yuh poor thing, bein’ cooped up on th’ Fellowship all th’ time wi’ those crazy boys.”

“Oh, they ain’t that bad, I suppose. They leave me alone wi’ me books enough, but I gots a lotta time t’meself, t’think.”

“I’m just th’ opposite, Tom. I’m always so busy talkin’ wi’ th’ girls o’ Hamma’ – ”

“Hamma’?” Tommy perked up. “Who’s that?”

“Oh, just a, uh, friend o’ mine, I suppose.”

“Jess,” he said warningly.

“Well, I like him, an’ I think he likes me, but I… oh, I don’t know if I can tell anyone, it’s so embarrasin’. It happened a long time ago, I know, but I still… Tommy, I don’t know what I liked more, him o’ it, and I don’t know if it was a mistake, o’ if it was meant t’happen, o’ – ”

“Jess, Jess, Jess, what on earth are yuh talkin’ ‘bout?”

She sighed. “Well, back when we were both pickin’ pockets for good ol’ Jason Nichols, I guess yuh could say that one rainy Septemba’ night, we decided we were quite fond o’ each otha’.”

“And…?” questioned Tommy.

Jessie shrugged. “It made everythin’ all weird. I started goin’ off by meself an’ thinkin’ all th’ time, not speakin’ t’nobody, stayin’ out late… I stopped givin’ th’ rightful share o’ me goods t’Jason, ‘cause I was just so mad at ‘im.”

“Wait, Jess, did yuh…?” Tommy paused awkwardly.

She blushed and nodded. “Right afta’, th’ next mornin’, I got up an’ left an’ didn’t come back till late, till Jason was asleep. I guess it was me own fault, but I wasn’t too proud o’ meself right ‘bout then. I s’pose that everythin’ would’ve been fine if I hadn’t left so early. Who knows, we might still be goin’ togetha’. But I just ignored ‘im, went on me own way ‘cause I’m so stubborn. An’ then you rememba’ what happened after that. He got mad an’ kicked me out. I worked at th’ docks for near a year, went all over th’ Atlantic, then saved me money, bought some new clothes, an’ came over ‘ere for good.”

“Wow… Jess, I had no idea. Was it… was it alright?”

“Ain’t had nothin’ t’compare it to. I mean, I like Hamma’ an’ all, but for some reason I kept thinkin’ o’ Jason. I had dreams that ‘e came back an’ all. So I wrote ‘im a letta’ apologizin’ for everythin’ an’ endin’ it for good. I hope it’ll help.”

Tommy nodded. “Guess I can’t blame yuh for not tellin’ no one. I mean, I wouldn’t. Then again, no girl would ever want me for a boyfriend t’begin wi’. I’m too shy.”

“Oh, Tommy, I know dozens o’ girls that would love yuh. It’s a shame that yuh’re travelin’ all th’ time.”

“Yeah, well, I like it. So tell me more about this Hamma’ guy.”

Tommy headed away from the docks, through the nicer parts of town to where the buildings got closer together and more run-down. He walked to where the sounds of glass beer bottles breaking and slurred, drunken words were all too common. He walked past children playing baseball with planks of wood in their bare feet, and he kept going. He finally came to where a filthy stream of water ran beside the path, where the old abandoned warehouses stood. They were square buildings with peeling gray paint and missing shingles. The silence surrounding them was eerie. A strange mix of nostalgia and fear crept over Tommy as he crossed the bridge where two young teenagers had sat, four years ago, waiting for a storm to approach. Jason’s warehouse, as he still thought of it, loomed ahead. He paused, swallowed, and bravely knocked on the door.

He was expecting a tall, thin, ragged-looking man of about twenty to answer the door. Instead, a small exuberant boy came to the door, looking eager and excited at the sight of company. His hair was brown, still cut raggedly, hanging loosely behind his ears. He wore a tattered pair of knickers, ragged shoes, and a shirt a bit too large for him. “Hullo, who’re yuh? Yuh ‘ere t’see Jason?”

“Are yuh Michael?” Tommy asked.

The boy nodded. “Yes sir, I am, an’ who’re yuh?”

“I’m Tommy, I worked for your brutha for a while. Is he ‘ere?”

“Oh, sure, Tommy, I rememba yuh! Sure he’s ‘ere. Ain’t he always? Jason! Jason, Tommy’s ‘ere t’see yuh.”

“Tommy who?” came a voice from further inside.

Tommy peered inside the dark warehouse. “Jason, it’s me, Tommy, yuh rememba?”

Jason nodded. “Yeah, Tommy boy, how yuh been?”

“Not half bad, an’ yaself?”

“Awful, Tommy, just awful. Me knee’s been gettin’ worse an’ worse. I’m walkin’ wi’ a cane now. I ain’t hardly got no boys pickpocketin’ for me no more. Ever since she left, it’s just been goin’ downhill,” he sighed, not getting up from his chair. He buried his face deeper into his hands. “I wonda how she’s doin’, sometimes.”

“Well, uh, it just so happens that I was in New York for a few days, an’ I saw ‘er,” Tommy said awkwardly, sitting across the small table from Jason.

He looked up. “Really? Good ol’ Smoke Schaefa’, huh? How is she? Prob’ly married by now.”

Tommy shook his head. “Not at all. She’s doin’ quite well. Workin’ hard, havin’ a good time, keepin’ ‘erself outta trouble most o’ th’ time.”

Jason nodded, looking a bit happier. “Hey, uh, Tommy, how long yuh in town?”

“Long’s Mr. Russell wants. I s’pose a week, b’fore we head down south an’ back t’New York. Why yuh ask?”

“Yuh need a place t’stay?”

“Well, not particularly, but th’ company would be nice. Just like old times, huh?”

“Yeah, just like ol’ times, buddy. Michael, stay ‘ere an’ make sure th’ boys come back, give their fair share, an’ stay away from th’ beer, woncha?”

The little boy nodded. “Sure thing, Jason.”

Jason and Tommy went out for a night on the town. They had dinner in an inexpensive restaurant, then ended up in a bar with cheap beer for Jason and sarsaparilla for Tommy. The two boys enjoyed catching up on things, but before long Jason became a bit tipsy and quite honest.

“Yuh know, Tommy ol’ boy, I really do miss Smoke.”

“Course yuh do, Jason. She’s a good girl.”

“But, yuh see, I liked her. I mean I liked her a lot. I wanted t’kiss her an’ love her, an’ I wanted her t’love me too, yuh see.”

Tommy just nodded, watching Jason become stupider with every sip of beer.

“But she had t’be all stubborn an’ leave. So I was thinkin’ maybe I’d just pay her a visit, see how she’s doin’ for meself. Maybe we can pick up right where we left off, huh?” Jason playfully punched Tommy and fell into a fit of coughing.

“Jason, I don’t think that’s such a bright idea. She’s goin’ wi’ this otha’ guy named Hamma’, she really likes him, an’ it might be serious, she didn’t tell me. But really, Jason, she’s goin’ wi’ somebody.”

“I’ll see if she’s goin’ wi’ somebody for meself, thank yuh,” he grumbled. “How much is a ticket t’New York?”

“’Bout three, four pounds I s’pose,” Tommy said with a shrug. “I dunno. Go find out down at th’ docks.”

“I think I will,” said Jason, setting down his mug and pulling himself to his feet. “I think I will, Tommy, I think I will.”

Tommy watched in silent amusement. “Why doncha wait ‘til mornin’, Jason? It’s near one in th’ mornin’, I really doubt yuh can get a ticket this time o’ night.”

“Yuh’re right, Tommy, yuh’re right. Let’s… let’s go to a bar.”

“We’re in a bar, Jason. Yuh’re smashed, let’s just get you back t’th’ warehouse an’ get yuh some sleep, huh?”

Jason shrugged wearily as he began to stumble for the door.

Much to his surprise, when Tommy and Jason stopped by the docks next morning, Mr. Russell was ordering his boys onto the ship that very moment. A sudden change of plans was forcing the Fellowship to head down to South America, and they had to leave quickly in order to be in port in New York City on time.

“Well, thanks for everything, Jason. I really do appreciate yuh puttin’ me up for th’ night, an’ I appreciate the company and th’ meal an’ everythin’.”

“Aww, don’t mention it, Tommy. Put it a good word wi’ Smoke for me, woncha?” he said casually.

Tommy nodded suspiciously. “I will. See yuh, Jason. Tell Michael I said goodbye.” He hurried up the plank to the deck and waved cheerfully before disappearing beneath the deck.

Jason Nichols watched his old friend leave his sight, then cooly turned to the ticket desk. “Yeah, one ticket t’New York City, please.”

“So how are ya, Rags, really?” asked Mess as the pair headed down the street near the docks.

She shrugged. “Not too bad, I guess, an’ you? How’re things wid you an’ Ash?”

“Dey’re gettin’ bettta’, I guess. I really like ‘er an’ all.”

“Extry! Extry! Read all ‘bout it! President due t’take trip ta city! Extry, extry!” Rags shouted over the hubbub of the streets.

“I’ll take one,” said a voice with a British accent. A tall and strangely hansome man by the name of Jason Nichols stood there, leaning on a beat-up looking cane. “How much?”

“Jest one penny, sir. T’ank ya very much,” Rags replied, handing him a paper and tucking the coin into her pocket.

“Wait, before yuh go, d’yuh happen t’know a girl named Jessie Schaefa’? Used t’go by th’ name o’ Smoke. ‘Bout sixteen o’ seventeen, curly blonde ‘air, bit shorter’n me, very pretty an’ sweet…?”

Mess turned to the man, vaguely remembering a story Smoke had once told him about a sailor she knew. Figuring this had to be the same person, he nodded. “Yeah, shoah, she’s a nice goyl, huh? Yer her friend from England?”

Jason nodded. “Yessir, that’s me. Can yuh please tell me where I could find ‘er?”

“Harlem Newsgoyls’ Lodgin’ House on 125th Street. It’s a pretty long walk from heah though.”

“That’s alright, I’ll take a cab. Thank yuh,” Jason said, walking away quickly.

“If dat boy takes one more cookie,” muttered Imp as she stomped up the stairs. “Swear I’ll soak ‘im!”

“Who ya plannin’ on soakin’, Imp?” asked Mess cheerfully as he entered the house.

“Cole! Keeps eatin’ all our food like he’s some kinda starvin’ alley cat! Why can’t he go ta his own house an’ eat all da food dere?” Still grumbling, Imp stalked over to her bunk and flopped down on it discontently.

“Mess!” cried Smoke happily. She leapt up from her bunk and ran over to greet the boy with a hug. “How yuh doin’?”

“Not so bad. Met a friend a yers today,” he said. “Down by da docks in Greenwich. I was down dere wid Rags when some guy asks if we happened t’know Jessie Schaefa’. Described ya poifectly. Guess it was yer sailor friend.”

“Brown ‘air, green eyes, tall an’ skinny…?” asked Smoke with a grin. She was always glad when the Fellowship was in town unexpectedly, but she was shocked at their sudden return and wondered if something was wrong.

Frowning slightly, Mess shook his head. “Nah, he was tall an’ skinny alright – looked near starved t’death – but he had blonde hair an’ his eyes were more brown than green.”

“Don’t know who that is. Yuh say he described me?”

“Yep. Knew yer name an’ everything. Asked if I knew Jessie Schaefa’, said dat she was ‘bout sixteen er seventeen, blonde curly hair, shorter’n him, pretty…” Mess grinned. “Guess ya got a secret admirer, Smoke.”

“Yuh don’t think it’s…” She gestured vaguely towards Ruby’s occupied bunk.

Mess scowled and shook his head. “Nah, it wasn’t him. Guess Hamma’s got some competition, huh? I’m puttin’ my money on Hamma’, though.”

“Yeah, yeah, get out if yuh ain’t gonna be nice.”

“I’se goin’.” He got to the doorway before he turned around. “Oh yeah, Jess? Da guy was walkin’ wid a cane. He was limpin’ real bad, like his leg was botherin’ ‘im.”

Smoke’s mouth dropped open. “Jason…” she whispered.

“What’s dat, Smoke?”

“I know who yer talkin’ about, an’ ‘e’s th’ last person I wanna see right now. What’d yuh tell ‘im, Mess?” She looked at him in distress.

“Well, I figured it was yer saila’ friend, an’ he seemed like a nice enough guy. I told him dat ya were stayin’ at da newsgoyls’ house in Harlem, an’ he said he’d take a cab. He seemed pretty eager ta see ya. Why, ya think he’d cause some trouble?”

“I dunno, but I sure’s hell don’t wanna be here t’find out.” She stood up and began pacing.

“Come wid me, if ya don’t mind sleepin’ on da floor.”

Smoke sighed with relief. “Yer a lifesava, Anthony. Remind me t’do somethin’ nice for yuh someday.” Her things were quickly bundled up into a shawl and thrown over her shoulder.

“Where are you two going?” inquired Ash, giving Smoke a worried glance.

Smoke glanced around the bunkroom. It was beginning to fill up and everyone was too distracted to notice one private conversation. Smoke dropped her voice nonetheless, so as not to worry everybody. “A guy I know is in town, an’ ‘e might come lookin’ fer me ‘ere. I ain’t afraid; I don’t think he’d cause no trouble o’ nuthin’, but I just don’t really wanna see ‘im. I’m crashin’ at Mess’ place tonight. Yuh don’t mind, do yuh?”

“No, not at all. But why not the Bronx or Lower Manhattan, or a girls’ house somewhere?” questioned Ash.

“Too obvious. Don’t worry, it’s just for a night o’ two at th’ most. If he asks, jus’ say I’m spendin’ th’ night with a friend, alright? An’ don’t tell nobody. I don’t want nobody tellin’ this guy otherwise.”

Ash nodded. “Be careful,” she called after her friends as they headed out of the bunkroom.

The crew of the Fellowship stood up to pay for their meals. Tommy reached into his pocket to pull out a few coins and felt a small, folded piece of paper. He set a coin on the table and unfolded the paper. It was filled with a girl’s neat, curly handwriting. “Aww shit,” muttered Tommy. “This can’t be good.”

Jason Nichols was standing in an alley across the street from the Harlem Newsgirls’ Lodging House. He watched several girls enter through the front door, but it seemed that most of the boys were entering by going up the fire escape and knocking on a window. When it appeared that nobody was coming, he limped slowly across the street and began his slow ascent up the fire escape. After what seemed like hours, he finally reached the top and tapped on the window.

“Who’s dat?” asked Imp, peering out the window.

Sketch hopped down from her bunk and walked over. “Who’re you?” she demanded.

“I’m Jason. Is Smoke here?”

Sketch turned and looked around the bunkroom. “No.”

“Well, could yuh maybe tell me where she is? I really need t’find her,” said Jason.

“Anybody know where Smokels is?” shouted Sketch.

“She’s spending the night with a friend,” announced Ash, coming to join Sketch at the window. She glanced Jason over.

“Who? Is it that… what’s his name… Hammer?” asked Jason, disgusted at the thought of Smoke dating someone.

“Smoke’s spendin’ da night wid Hammer?” crowed Imp. “Aww, she’s neva’ gonna heah da end a dis!” The entire bunkroom began to chatter about the new bit of gossip.

“What’s dis I heah ‘bout Smoke an’ Hamma’?” asked Blue Skies, pushing her way over to the window. “She’s spendin’ da night dere?”

“Yes. Yes, she is, I believe,” replied Ash easily, trying to send Blue Skies a silent message with her eyes. “But it’s her business, and I don’t think we should worry about her. She can take care of herself.”

“So where does this Hammer live?” interrupted Jason.

“Down da street. Harlem Newsboys’ Lodgin’ House,” replied Blue Skies. “Ya know Smoke?” When he replied affirmatively, she added, “Well, if ya see her, tell her ta get herself down here if she wants ta see da light a day.” Jason nodded and headed off, leaving Blue Skies muttering to herself. “Dat goyl don’t know right from wrong, I guess. It’s a disgrace, she just met him!”

Sighing, Ash retreated to her bunk to listen to the rumor spread throughout the bunkroom.

“So who is this guy anyway, Smoke? Huh?” asked Mess, tossing a blanket and pillow across the room to her.

She caught them and began making up a bed on the floor. “Yuh want th’ long version or th’ real short one?”

“I got time.”

Smoke curled up on the floor, absently toying with her blonde curls. “Well, I worked with a band o’ pickpockets back in London, ‘bout a year b’fore I came ‘ere. That guy, Jason, was our leader, an’ we was sorta goin’ togetha’. Then things got real weird an’ we stopped talkin’, an’ he got real mad at me ‘cause I’d been cheatin’ him outta money that he didn’t deserve t’begin wi’. He kicked me out an’ I hadn’t seen ‘im since.”

“How on earth did he know that yer here?”

“Well, I kept thinkin’ a him lately, an’ I dunno why, so I wrote him this letter apologizin’ for everything. I gave it to me sailor friend, an’ he was s’posed to give it to Jason. So I guess he did, an’ I’m bettin’ Jason’s mad ‘bout somethin’, so I’m thinkin’ I shouldn’t see ‘im.”

“Ya think he’s trouble? I mean real trouble?”

“If by ‘real trouble’, ya mean Forlani-style trouble, then no. He ain’t gonna kill nobody, an’ I doubt he’d beat anybody up like Stevie did. He just gets real mad, an’ I don’t see no reason t’talk t’him when I ain’t got nuthin’ t’say.” She fumbled in her skirt pocket and lit a cigarette. “I mean, I coulda stayed at th’ girls’ house, but I just… yuh know how it is. Seein’ yer ex-boyfriends ain’t th’ best feelin’ in th’ world.”

Mess nodded sympathetically. “Well, ya’ve gotta get up early. Go t’sleep, Schaefa’.”

“Yeah. ‘Night, Mess. Thanks again.”

She was wide awake, and her eyes flittered anxiously to each face in the crowd, looking for something she hoped she wouldn’t see. She reached the Journal’s distribution center in Harlem and sighed with relief. Jason ain’t here, she told herself as she reached into her pockets to pull out a coin. “Twenty-five, please,” she requested, sliding the coin across the counter. She took the stack of papers and headed out the gate again.

“Smoke! There you are!” said Ash happily as she entered the distribution center.

“Heya Ash. Did, uh, anybody stop by last night?”

Ash nodded. “Think you’ll be spending the night there again tonight?”

“Yeah, if he don’t mind,” replied Smoke.

“Ohh, can’t get enough, huh Smoke?” snickered Imp as she approached the two girls.

Smoke raised an eyebrow. “What’s that, Harris?”

“We all know you were spendin’ da night wid Hamma’ last night!” Imp burst into laughter. “Ya know this means that you can’t make fun a me an’ Cody no more, right?”

“What? Imp, I didn’t –” sputtered Smoke. She looked to Ash for an explanation, but received nothing. “Imp, that’s not where I was last night at all! I was… well, I was… I was –”

“Save it, Schaefa’. Yer neva’ gonna heah da end a dis one. An’ ya betta’ have somethin’ good ta tell at lunch.” Still snickering, Imp walked off, only to be replaced by three more girls.

“Smoke, love, is it true?” asked Ruby, laying a hand on Smoke’s shoulder. Ruby’s look was sympathetic and comforting compared to Fingers’ glare and Angel’s wide-eyed, excited expression. “I mean, if ya don’t care ta tell us, it’s all right, but for goodness sakes, don’t do something you’d regret.”

Smoke rolled her eyes. “Ya know what…” She stalked off, grumbling. She decided to take the corner of Amsterdam Avenue and West 123rd Street, and began hawking the headlines from there.

“Extry, extry, read all about it! Smokels is spendin’ da night at da boys’ house!” called a voice jokingly. “’Least dat’s da woid on da streets.”

“Ya’d betta’ shaddup, Gwen,” warned Smoke.

“So can we be expectin’ ta be aunts soon?” asked Gwen’s companion, Sketch.

“Shaddup Sketch!” shouted Smoke, her voice echoing in the street. The two younger girls shrunk back, and Smoke sighed. “Sorry. Jus’… please, jus’ leave me alone?”

The girls glanced at each other and headed off. “Geez, some people sure is crabby,” muttered Sketch as they walked away.

Well I got every reason to be, justified Smoke.

I wonder if I can get over to the girls’ house tonight, wondered a certain newsboy who was selling seven blocks away. “Extry, extry! Read all about it!” Hammer Brown waved his newspaper high in the air, hoping to draw some attention to himself.

“Heya Brown,” said a cool voice.

“Well if it ain’t little ol’ Blue Skies. How ya doin’, huh?” asked Hammer.

“Not half bad, but dat ain’t what I’se heah about.” Blue looked Hammer straight in the eye. “Is it true what I’se hearin’?”

“Depends on what yer hearin’,” commented Hammer as he collected three pennies and nodded to his customers. “An’ I don’t exactly keep up on da latest rumors, so I don’t think I’se really da person t’ask.”

“Seein’ as ya experienced this one first hand, I’d think ya’d know what I’se talkin’ about.” At Hammer’s blank look, Blue raised an eyebrow. “Ya still don’t know?” He shook his head and she sighed in exasperation. “Did you boys have any female company last night?”

“Beats me, I wasn’t at da house las’ night. I was out. But I heard Venus from da Bronx stopped by.”

“So Smoke wasn’t at da guys’ house last night?”

“Nah, I think I woulda heard ‘bout it.”

Blue Skies looked puzzled. “She wasn’t wid ya? Not at all?” She paused. “Some guy comes lookin’ for her last night, an’ Imp said she was wid you. She never came home, so some a da goyls got ta assumin’ dat she… well, dat she was wid you. But she wasn’t… so den where da heck was she?”

“She missin’?” asked Hammer.

“I’ll go check her sellin’ spot. If ya see her… Hammer, what’s goin’ on?”

He shrugged. “Ya don’t think it’s Forlani, do ya?”

“I sure’s hell hope not. I’ll see ya lata’, Brown.”

“See ya, Blue.”

She nodded curtly and stormed off down the street. Why the hell can’t things ever be calm, wondered Blue Skies. And why don’t half of my girls have the common sense they were born with? As she rounded the corner of 123rd Street, she bumped into Gypsy.

“Heya Blue. Heard the latest rumor? Word is, Smoke was at the boys’ house last night, but she’s denyin’ it. Think you can get the truth out of her?” asked Gypsy eagerly.

“It ain’t true, Gypsy. She wasn’t at the boys’ house.”

“How do you know?”

“’Cause I just talked to Hammer. She wasn’t at da boys’ house, she wasn’t wid him at all, an’ she wasn’t at our place. What’s that leave?” Thoughts were racing through Blue’s brain.

Gypsy looked at the Harlem leader with wide eyes. “So she’s missin’?”

“I’m hopin’ otherwise.” Blue looked skyward. “Lemme know if ya hear from her, woncha? Oh, an’ if you see… well, if ya see anybody dat ain’t supposed t’be in Harlem, get one a da guys. Don’t go gettin’ yerself into no trouble, hear?”

Nodding, Gypsy turned away and the girls headed in opposite directions. As Blue Skies headed further east, she noticed a girl with blonde curls hawking papers on the corner. Aww, she’s gonna get it, thought Blue as she quickened her steps.

“Smoke! Wheah da hell were ya las’ night?” demanded Blue.

“Nice t’see you too, Costello,” said Smoke with a roll of her eyes. “Why d’yuh wanna know?”

“Look, Schaefa’, it’s my job t’keep track a my goyls. Ya weren’t heah, an’ ya weren’t at da guys’ house like we all thought ya were. Where were ya?”

“Why’s it matta’? I’m fine now an’ I don’t plan on gettin’ into too much trouble. I didn’t do nothin’ illegal an’ I’m still alive.” The two girls stared each other down for a moment. “Look, Blue, I would tell yuh, only I can’t. I ain’t in trouble, I’m just avoidin’ someone an’ I don’t want him findin’ me. He ain’t dangerous, he ain’t gonna kill or hurt nobody, an’ as long as yuh ignore him an’ don’t tell him where I am, it’ll all be okay an’ it’ll blow over in a couple o’ days.”

Blue frowned. “I don’t like dis, Smoke.”

“I don’t like it either, Blue. But trust me when I tell yuh, I’ll be alright. I’m stayin’ wi’ a friend o’ mine, an’ this friend don’t mind me stayin’ there for a few days. So don’t expect me tonight or tomorrow. But I think I’ll be joinin’ yuh for lunch.”

“Good. An’ ya’ve heard da rumors, right?” When Smoke nodded ruefully, Blue grinned. “I’ll try ta get ‘em stopped, alright?”

“Thanks, Blue. I’ll see yuh at lunch.”

As soon as Smoke entered the Matthews Family Restaurant, the room fell silent. All the eyes turned to her in sympathy and regret, but she tried to brush it off. “Heya guys. How’s th’ sellin’ goin’?” she asked cheerfully, taking a seat at a table with Quill, Gwen, and Angel.

“Not too bad, Smoke. How is it for you?” asked Quill politely.

Smoke shrugged and placed her order with the waitress. “Goin’ well enough, I s’pose.”

Imp approached the table awkwardly, fidgeting with her shirt cuff. Her eyes were glued to the ground. “Hey, uh, Smoke? I’se sorry. I mean, I didn’t mean ta start dat rumor, an’ I shoulda just shaddup an’ listened ta what really happened, an’… I’se sorry.”

“Aww, don’t worry ‘bout it, Harris. I mean, I tease ya enough about Cody, I think I got me fair share.” Smoke smiled. “It’s all right, Imp, really.”

Imp smiled. “So is it true? I mean, c’mon, you can tell me!”

Smoke laughed and pushed the girl away. “Yuh’ve gotta sick mind, Harris.” As Imp headed back to her own table, the door opened and in walked Hammer, along with Needle and Memphis. Oh, he’s heard, thought Smoke, her stomach sinking. The fact that the rumor wasn’t true didn’t help much. She felt her face turn a bright pink, and she bowed her head to let her curls cover her face.

“Hey, whatcha doin’ hidin’ ova heah?” asked a voice. Hammer stood behind her, smiling. She turned in her chair and gave him a slight smile. He kissed her on the forehead. “Yeah, I heard, but it ain’t true an’ most everybody knows dat by now.”

“Yeah, but still, it’s embarassin’ an’ kinda weird.”

He nodded in agreement. “So how’s yer day been? ‘Sides from dat, I mean. Seems like everybody was pretty worried last night. Everythin’ okay?”

She gave him a look that clearly said “We’ll talk later.”

“So what’s goin’ on, if ya don’t mind my askin’?” The pair had finished lunch and was heading to the distribution center.

Smoke sighed and fumbled for a cigarette in her pocket. “Ex-boyfriend o’ mine’s in town. I don’t wanna see him, so I’m stayin’ with a friend o’ mine until he goes away. I ain’t scared, I just don’t wanna… it’d be weird…” She looked at Hammer anxiously as she took a long drag. “Yuh get it, don’t yuh?”

He shrugged. “So who ya stayin’ wid?”

“A friend.” She exhaled. “Don’t worry, but I ain’t tellin’ nobody who I’m stayin’ wi’. I don’t want word gettin’ out t’Jason.”

“Well, as long as yer alright.”

“I am, I promise.” She exhaled slowly and coughed twice. “But I don’t gotta be back there any time in particular. Ain’t got no curfew like I do at th’ girls’ house.” Smoke began coughing again.

“Ya still got dat cough?” asked Hammer, raising an eyebrow.

She nodded and shrugged. “I’m fine. Fifteen, please,” she requested, dropping an odd assortment of coins onto the counter. “I’ll see yuh later?”

Hammer nodded shortly. “Yeah.” Taking his own papers, he headed out of the distribution center without another word. Smoke watched him leave silently, then stormed off in the other direction. Why can’t things always just be alright, she wondered, kicking at the sidewalk angrily.

Millinger’s was very crowded that night. Every bar stool was occupied, and the air was heavy with smoke. Mess reached for the door and held it open for a moment, letting the music and laughter from inside spill out into the relatively quiet street. He sighed and made his way inside, pushing through the crowds of people until he reached the bar. Smoke sat on the end, an ever-present cigarette between the fingers of her right hand.

“Smoke, c’mon, ya’ve been here all night. Ya said ya’d be home by two an’ it’s three now. And ya gotta go sell in four hours.” When she didn’t turn, Mess grabbed her shoulder and spun the stool around. “C’mon.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Geez, yuh’d think yer me fatha’,” she slurred. Smoke reached in her pocket, pulled out a handful of coins, deposited them on the table, and hopped down from the stool. She almost immediately lost her balance, but Mess was quick to help her up and outside. As the pair shuffled out the front door, Smoke began to cough horrible, deep coughs that shook her entire body.

“Christ, when ya gonna stop smokin’?” grumbled Mess as he held her up and attempted to move down the street as fast as possible. After a few minutes, he realized that her hacking wasn’t subsiding and began to worry. “Aww, geez, Smoke, yer really scarin’ me! Ya alright?” At her lack of response, Mess steered her towards a bench on the sidewalk. The pair sat for a moment until her cough finally began to dwindle. She rubbed at her eyes sleepily and took a deep breath.

“Sorry. I’m fine now,” said Smoke. “Let’s go.”

“Smoke! Ya damn near scared me ta death! Ya gotta stop smokin’, ya hear me?”

Smoke nodded sleepily. “Yeah, yeah, I hear yuh. Let’s go.”

“Heya girls!” called a cheerful voice up the stairwell.

“Well look who’s joinin’ us again,” retorted Angel. “Welcome back Smoke.”

“Thank yuh,” she said, setting her bundle down on her bunk. “How was sellin’ for yuh today?”

“Pretty good.” Angel came across the room and sat down on the edge of Smoke’s bunk. “Where were you anyway?”

“Stayin’ wi’ Mess.” She fumbled in her bag and pulled out a cigarette. She lit it quickly and took a long drag. “He won’t let me smoke no more at his place. So if Skies o’ Flash ask, it was Breathless.”

“What’s this?” demanded Breathless as she came out of the washroom.

“Nothin’,” replied both girls, grinning. Smoke exhaled and began to cough.

“You alright?” asked Angel after a long moment of coughing, beginning to worry.

Smoke slumped against the post of her bunk and dropped the burning cigarette in her hand to the floor. Breathless was quick to grind it out, but she was more concerned about the hacking girl in front of her. “Geez, Angel, go get a glass of water.”

“I will,” she replied, running down the stairs. She stumbled on her bootlace on the bottom stair and tripped, but managed to catch herself on the railing and swung around towards the kitchen.

“Goodness, Angel, what’s wrong?” asked Mrs. Evans.

“It’s Smoke,” she said, fumbling for a glass. “She’s coughing and coughing again.”

Mrs. Evans handed Angel a cup before heading straight for the bunkroom. She found Breathless pacing in the bunkroom, toying with a dark curl that had escaped the pinned-up mass and looking as if she might burst into tears at any moment.

“Mrs. Evans, she’s scarin’ me so much! Whaddo I do?” cried Breathless.

“Dear, Siobhan, just calm yourself down now. We’ll bring her some tea and she’ll just need to rest and stop that awful smoking. It will stop soon enough”

Twenty minutes later, Breathless was still crossing her fingers and Mrs. Evans was beginning to doubt her ability to help Smoke. Gwen and Gypsy had also arrived in the bunkroom, and sat by to watch in fear.

“It’s never been this bad before,” noted Gwen needlessly, fiddling with her glasses.

Suddenly, Smoke’s eyes became very wide. She held out one hand, and everybody in the room noted the specks of blood dotting it.

“I suppose one of you had better run for the doctor,” said Mrs. Evans quietly with a sigh.

“I’ll go,” offered Gwen, running from the room before anybody could notice the tears beginning to form in her eyes.

“Oh, geez, sorry Gwen!” called a voice from the stairwell. “What’s wrong with her?” asked Ash as she entered the bunkroom with Hammer and Sketch. Then she gasped. “What’s wrong with Smoke? Oh goodness…” Ash slumped onto the nearest bunk in shock.

“She’s been coughin’ for near half an hour,” told Breathless. “I’m scared, an’ Mrs. Evans just sent Gwenny for the doctor.”

Ash nodded simply, extended her arms into a hug, and pulled Breathless to the bunk beside her. Sketch climbed up onto her own bunk and began to draw furiously, glaring at anyone that approached.

The doctor looked up at the assembly of newsies, then turned to Mrs. Evans. “She isn’t well,” he said.

“No shit,” muttered Hammer, earning himself a glare from the doctor and a simpler look from Mrs. Evans. “Sorry,” he added sarcastically, staring at the floor.

“It’s from her smoking, of course. She needs to stop that. And she needs to rest. No selling papers outside in the cold for at least two weeks. It simply isn’t healthy. You must be more strict with her, Mrs. Evans, or else things will only get worse.”

“Thank you, Doctor. I will try, but it is hard to control every aspect of the lives of so many young girls,” said Mrs. Evans as she and the doctor headed for the door.

“Idiot,” muttered Sketch. “No kiddin’ she’s sick.”

“Last time I saw her, we weren’t real happy with each other,” Hammer said to nobody in particular. “I just wanna apologize.”

Gwen sighed. “What should we do?”

Ash sat up and rubbed her eyes wearily. “She’s got friends that are sailors, and I think they’re in town.”

“They are. Would you tell them?” asked Smoke weakly.

“Oh, you’re awake!” cried Gwen happily, running over to the bed and kneeling beside her on the floor. “How do you feel?”

“Tired,” she replied simply. “Would someone go and tell Tommy?”

“I will,” offered Sketch proudly. “And so will Gwen.”

“What’s the ship called? And where is it?”

“The Fellowship. Docks down in Greenwich.” With that, Smoke leaned back against the pillow and promptly fell asleep.

“Tommy! Two girls t’see yuh!” shouted a voice. It echoed throughout the narrow, short hallway that led to the boys’ cabins.

“Comin’, comin’,” he shouted in reply, running a hand through his hair. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he took the stairs up to the deck three at a time and looked around. A rather short girl with glasses and cropped blonde hair stood next to a girl about Smoke’s height, with unkempt brown hair. “Can I help yuh?” he asked politely.

“You’re Tommy?” asked the brunette, narrowing her eyes.

He nodded. “Yes ma’am, an’ you?”

“Gwen Minton; that’s Sketch Meeks. We’re Harlem newsgirls, friends of Smoke.” Gwen paused.

“Aww geez, what’d th’ girl get herself into now?” snickered a boy as he passed by.

“She’s sick. Real sick,” said Gwen sadly.

“Her own fault. She smokes too much,” added Sketch, crossing her arms and scowling.

“How sick? She in the hospital?”

Gwen shook her head. “Too expensive. She’s staying in Mrs. Evans’ room at our place. But she said to come and tell you that she wasn’t well. You should come and visit her. She’d like to see you, I think,” suggested Gwen, smiling.

Tommy sighed. “Give me five minutes to talk t’me boss. I’ve got an idea. Then yuh can show me th’ way to this newsgirls’ place o’ yours.”

“So everything’s alright now?” asked Hammer, looking at her hopefully.

She nodded. “I’ll try not t’be so mean anymore,” she said. “Yuh’ll come an’ visit, right?”

“’Course,” he declared.

“Oh, didn’t know anybody else was in here,” said a voice from the hallway, blushing at his untimely entrance.

Hammer looked up. “No problem. I’d better be goin’ anyway, but I’ll check in tomorrow.” He gave her a quick and somewhat awkward kiss on the forehead, then rushed from the room, becoming tangled up with the young man in the hallway before speeding off. The second boy entered the room slowly.

“Tommy,” Smoke said with a grin, her voice cracking and scratching as she spoke. She sat up and took a sip of the water from the mug on the bedside table.

“Jess,” he said simply, pulling out a bundle of daisies from behind his back and placing them on the bed. “Geez, I knew yuh smoked too much but I wasn’t expectin’ this.”

“Me neither,” she replied wryly. “Thanks for comin’. I was gettin’ pretty bored.”

“Oh, yuh won’t be so glad. I got bad news.”

“What’s that?” she asked curiously.

“Well, I was in London, and I did see Jason. He said he likes yuh, an’ I told him yer seein’ somebody, but he was bein’ all weird. He’s doin’ just awful over there. But I, uh… well, I forgot to give ‘im th’ letter. I meant to give it to him th’ next day, but Mr. Russell made us leave earlier’n planned, an’… I’m sorry.”

“He’s here, Tommy. Looked for me, but I avoided him pretty much. I have a feelin’ he’s still around, an’ it’s scary.”

“Geez, I’m sorry ‘bout that. But I’ve got good news that could solve that problem,” he said with a smile, pulling a nearby chair over to the bed. “So I talked to Mr. Russell, right? Told him that yer sick. Gwen an’ Sketch told me that all yuh need is rest, no medicine. Well, we’re headin’ down south next, to th’ islands tonight.” Smoke sighed jealously and rested her head on her hand, thinking of the beautiful islands near the equator. “An’ since warm open air might be just th’ thing yuh need… Mr. Russell says he wants yuh t’come.”

“Really?” cried Smoke as best as she could, sitting up straight.

“O’ course! Pack yer bags, Jess. We’ll let yuh rest an’ eat good food an’ just see how beautiful it is. On th’ condition that yuh ain’t smokin’ more’n two cigarettes a day.”

“Oh, I can do it long’s I get t’go!” she cried. “I can’t believe it! I knew I liked Mr. Russell!” Just then, Smoke felt another coughing fit coming on. She collapsed to the bed, coughing and wheezing.

“Jeez, Jess, yuh alright?” Tommy asked nervously. “Hey, uh, Mrs. Evans!”

The woman quickly came into the bedroom. “All right, Jessica, just drink this water. Should I call the doctor back?”

Smoke shook her head. “Nah, it wasn’t as bad as the other ones.” She took a deep breath. “But guess what, Mrs. Evans? Tommy said that Mr. Russell wants me t’go down south ‘till I’m better! Ain’t that wonderful?”

Mrs. Evans laughed. “It’s all right, Jessica; go on and pack. Here, you may borrow my brown carpetbag. It should fit your things quite nicely.”

Smoke climbed up the stairs as quickly as she could, with Tommy not far behind. She pulled out her shawl and other clothes, tossed in two pairs of cigarettes and some money, then shut the carpetbag. “I wanna leave the girls a note. Hold on.” She grabbed a sheet of paper and the pen, then began scribbling away, her handwriting becoming sloppy in her haste.

Girls-

I'm off to the islands down south until I'm better. Don't know when I'll be back. I'll miss you. See you soon. Save my bunk.

Smoke

“Smoke!” cried a voice, grabbing her wrist. Jason pulled her a bit closer and leaned over to give her a kiss.

“Get off me, Jason!” she shrieked, shoving him away.

“Aww, c’mon, yuh know yuh miss me,” he said, attemping a kiss again.

“I do not!” She twisted away, then turned to face him, her hands on her hips. “Look, I’m sorry I was rude back in London. I’m sorry to hurt your feelings, and I’m sorry we even did anything. But I’ve started a new life, Jason. I’m datin’ somebody else, I like him, an’ I don’t wanna spend the rest o’ me life wonderin’ ‘what if.’ So I’m gonna forget about you, an’ yer gonna forget about me.”

“Jess, c’mon!” cried Tommy, beckoning her on.

“But Jess – ”

“No, Jason! Just forget about it!” Tommy came over and handed Jason the crumpled sheet of paper. “That explains everything, Jason. Now I gotta go. An’ trust me when I say – I neva’ wanna see yuh again.” At that, Smoke and Tommy walked away and continued down the street.

Jason opened the paper and began to read. After reading the whole thing three times, he ripped it half, tossed the pieces into the gutter, then turned to the wall and plowed his fist into it. Smoke watched him do so, and just smiled.

“Shh!” hissed Smoke as she stumbled through the door of the Harlem Newsgirls’ Lodging House.

Mrs. Evans nodded and rushed over to help the girl set her things down. “They’re upstairs,” she whispered as she greeted the girl with a hug.

“Thanks!” she replied. “These are for you.” Leaving one burlap sack on the floor, she picked up the other and the suitcase and continued on up the stairs. She heard the normal cheerful banter from the bunkroom.

“I think I’ll be goin’, ladies,” said the voice of Cole Bailey.

“Good!” retorted Imp’s voice.

“Aww, won’t yuh stay for a few more minutes?” asked Smoke with a wide smile as she squeezed through the bunkroom door.

“Smoke!” cried half a dozen joyful voices. Several of the girls launched themselves at her, forcing the carpetbag to clatter to the floor. The room filled with loud chatter as Smoke stood in the doorway, trying to hug all the girls with one arm.

“Can I at least set me stuff down b’fore I hug y’all?” she asked, making her way over to her bunk, where she placed the bags. “All right, now,” she said with a grin.

“How was your trip?” asked Quill curiously, sitting down on the end of Smoke’s bunk and bringing the kitten with her.

“Lovely. The water’s so blue, the islands are so pretty…” Smoke untied the brightly-colored shawl wrapped around her waist and retied it. “I got this down there from one o’ the girls livin’ right on the shore. She was so nice an’ pretty!”

“You look nice an’ pink,” commented Sketch. “Did ya bring the cat a fish?”

Smoke shook her head and laughed, causing her blonde curls to tumble out of their kerchief. “But I brought somethin’ for all you girls an’ guys.” She opened the tie on the burlap sack and held it out.

“Oranges!” said Ash with a smile, taking one and handing it to Cole.

“Yeah, they just fall off th’ trees down there,” Smoke told, helping herself to a smaller one. “Brought a bag for Mrs. Evans too, so we’ll be havin’ ‘em for a while.”

“Smoke? Whatever happened with that letter you wrote?” asked Quill.

Smoke stopped dead in her tracks, then recovered and took a bite of her orange before replying. “He got it.”

“And?” Quill raised an eyebrow.

“An’ everythin’s fine now,” she said calmly. “I’m just sure o’ it.”