Verity Fowler scowled at the book in her hand after losing her place on the page for the third time. Throwing The Prisoner of Zenda across the room did nothing to sooth her irritation. The thud only made Gypsy and Spider, chatting near the window, stare wide-eyed at her.
"I'm going for a walk." She stalked out of the bunkroom, grabbing her shawl and hat as she left. A moment later the front door slammed shut.
"I wonder what's bothering her," Spider said, hazel eyes reflecting her worry.
Gypsy shrugged. "Maybe Nyx knows. After all, they're bunkmates."
"Don't ask me," the redhead said, glancing up from her novel. "She's been preoccupied all week."
Out on the street Verity arbitrarily chose a direction and began walking, not caring where she ended up. It didn't make any difference as long as it was away from the lodging house for a little while. She knew the others had noticed the way she had been acting lately and didn't want to be pestered with "Are you all right?" and "Anything bothering you?" Especially since she wasn't all right and didn't know what was bothering her.
It wasn't that she was having a bad week; she was selling and average amount of papers and Shiner had even insisted on paying for her lunch the day before. There was something about it, though, that spoiled everything, frustrating her because she could not figure out what the problem was.
Intent on her thoughts, she paid little attention to the other people on the sidewalks. When Shiner called to her from the other side of Mt. Morris Park, in the boys' territory, she never even smiled, just kept on walking. He stared after her, mouth open. She usually said at least hello, even when she was in a hurry.
Townhouses gave way to business offices which gave way to theaters and elegant restaurants. Walking through a square in another business district, she was too absorbed in her thoughts to notice the little boys running on the path ahead of her. One ran into her, bumping her into the pedestal of a statue.
Wind knocked out of her, Verity leaned against the base while she caught her breath. Stepping back to see which statue "rescued" her, she almost tripped over her skirts in astonishment. Before her was Horace Greeley, in City Hall Park—all the way on the other end of Manhattan.
She tilted her head to one side, thinking. It was too far to walk back to Harlem and still make it to supper. But Andrew didn't live too far from the park now. Mind made up, she headed towards Pearl Street.
The dark haired girl standing near the door smiled at Verity as she entered the small restaurant. "He's in the kitchen," she said, motioning. "You can go on back."
"Thanks, Sophie."
Busy chopping onions, Andy had his back to her when she slipped in the door. Mama Nuss, stirring something on the range, winked at her and kept quiet.
Moments passed and he still hadn't noticed the presence of an extra person in the kitchen. She cleared her throat. "Aren't you even going to say hello to your sister?"
Andrew turned, knife still in hand. "Verity!" He held out his arms for a hug. "What are you doing here? Harlem didn't kick you out, did they?"
"Oh, you!" She laughed. "No, they didn't kick me out. Why would they, when I've been there almost as long as Blue and Flash?"
She leaned against the counter, watching as he pushed the onions aside and began dicing celery. Being in the kitchen reminded her of home, watching her mother cook, only now it was Andrew's long, slim fingers holding vegetables and the knife instead of Mrs. Fowler's. She pushed the thought of home away from her when the first wave of homesickness gently washed over her.
"You still haven't told me what you're doing here," he said, pushing the onions and celery off the cutting board into a salad bowl.
She toyed with an oyster fork lying on the counter. "Can't I visit my twin every once in a while?" She glanced up, meeting hazel eyes that matched her own.
"I know you better than that, sis. Now what is it?"
She made a face. "Just woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, that's all. Besides, I'm hungry."
"Get what you want, dear. It's on me." Mama Nuss winked again before sailing out the door to talk with a customer.
Perched on a stool, eating a bowl of oyster stew, Verity listened while Andrew told her about his latest gambling triumph. While literally winning somebody's pants was quite a feat, it was nothing compared to the time he bet Sophie in a game of billiards. She smiled affectionately at her twin. Only he would be crazy enough to make a bet like that.
"And speaking of bets," he said, finishing up his story, "what about ours?"
"What about it?"
"How have you been doing since I left Harlem?"
"I'm surviving."
"You know what we agreed on."
"I haven't forgotten." She set her bowl and spoon in the sink with a sigh. "If I can't make it on my own, I'm to come live with you here," she said as if she were reciting a nursery rhyme.
Leaning against the counter, he wiped his hands on the corner of his white apron. "And?"
"And I've been doing just fine. Averaging about fifty cents profit a day this week." She lifted her chin proudly. Paying 60 cents per hundred newspapers and fifteen for lodging, not to mention meals, didn't leave much extra money at the end of the day unless you sold over 200 papers. The refund on unsold papers helped some, but that didn't make a significant difference.
"Not, bad," he said, pride showing in his voice. "So what's the problem?"
Verity didn't know whether to laugh or throw something at him. He did have a point. Even though she was older by six minutes, sometimes Andrew acted like the older one. When he put it in those terms, there was no reason for her to be upset. Still, it didn't explain what had been bothering her all week.
"I don't know," she said truthfully.
"Okay. How are the girls?"
"Nobody's died yet." She had to laugh at the look he gave her. "Well, it's true. No fights, no run-ins with the bulls, no minor disasters. It's been a very calm week."
Andrew nodded. "And how is Caleb?"
"About the same. This time the black eye is from the banister knob on the second floor landing." Shiner, as he was commonly known, usually sported a black eye, not always from fighting. "Yesterday he paid for lunch." She shrugged.
Sophie, setting a tray of dirty dishes by the sink, smiled knowingly at her. Verity shrugged again and made a face.
"Speak English, please," Andrew said, looking from face to face. Both girls burst into giggles.
"Oh, it's nothing," Sophie said, still laughing. "You wouldn't understand."
The rest of the evening flew by quickly. As the little restaurant closed for the night, Sophie insisted that Verity stay with her for the night. "After all, it's a long way to walk this late at night."
"Really, how are things between you and Shiner?" Sophie asked after they said goodbye to Andrew and entered the Priscilla Hotel for Single Young Ladies.
"What things?" Verity slid the gate to the lift shut. "We're just friends. I wish people would understand that."
"There's nothing wrong with just being friends." The lift jerked to a stop at the fourth floor and the two girls stepped out. "If it's meant to be, things will work out."
The two didn't talk much as they got ready for bed, Verity borrowing a nightgown from Sophie. Sitting on the end of the bed, she braided her hair in silence.
"Do you always want to be a waitress?" she asked suddenly.
"No." Sophie set her hairbrush on the dressing table. "Why?"
Verity shrugged. "Just curious. What do you want to do, then?"
"Get married, have a family." She blushed lightly. "Nothing special. What about you?"
"I don't know. I do know that I don't want to work for another newspaper ever again." She paused, eyes gleaming mischievously. "Although I wouldn't mind writing headlines we could actually use without improving."
Sophie grinned. "I'm sure you could do much better then the ones who write them now."
"Maybe I could work in an office somewhere. Just as long as everyone has normal pasts."
"So that's what's been bothering you," she said softly. "Your past."
Resting her chin on her knees, Verity thought for a moment before replying. "Last week some of the others were talking about their lives before becoming newsies. Orphans, pickpockets. And then there's me. I'm the only one with any kind of normal family." She took a deep breath. "Do you know why they call me 'Lady V?'"
"I know why Andrew does."
"It has nothing to do with play-acting this time. When we first started living at the Harlem lodging house, people said I was 'too much of a lady to sell papers.' That was almost four years ago and the name's still stuck."
Sophie raised her eyebrows. "Four years? I'm impressed."
"Yeah. I'm so tired of it, and... and... I don't know. I just feel like I don't realy belong sometimes."
"Why not?"
"Look at all they've been through!" she said, gesturing with her arm.
"So?"
"I could never do any of that."
"Look at what you have done." Sophie moved next to her on the bed. "You left a good home and family in order to take care of your twin, living from day to day selling newspapers. For four years." She smiled. "I'd say you have just as much courage and determination as the other girls."
"It doesn't seem that way." She sighed.
"You might be surprised."
Somewhere a clock rung out the hour-midnight. Yawning, the two girls slid underneath the bed covers. Sophie blew out the lamp.
"Goodnight."
"You, too."
Tired as she was, Verity stayed awake long after Sophie's breathing turned even with deep sleep. She had a lot to think about now that Sophie gave her a new perspective on the situation. Was she just overreacting to her lack of a dangerous, exciting past? She realized, looking back, that the frustration had been slowly growing ever since the discussion the previous week. She just had not wanted to admit it.
Turning on her side, Verity mashed the pillow under her head into a ball. Everyone had been surprised that she had survived a single month on the streets, including herself. Now she had four years under her belt, and a little money in the bank as well. That was more of an accomplishment for her than overcoming any sort of life-threatening danger.
Take that, you doubters, she thought, mentally sticking her tongue out at those long ago faces. I lasted longer than you thought I would.
At peace, she drifted off to sleep.
While they were getting ready the next morning, Sophie asked, "What side of the bed did you wake up on this morning?"
Verity laughed. "The right one."
