Ghost of a Chance

Ghost of a Chance         It had all happened so fast. One minute they'd been running their usual trick in Central Park, the next, Amelia was caught.
They'd been in the middle of their routine, but something had gone wrong, Amelia had been too slow, the man had felt her hand in his pocket and grabbed her, stopping her dead in the process of lifting his wallet.
        "Chloe, run!" she'd shrieked, desperately trying to jerk her arm out of his grasp as she aimed a kick at his shins.
        "You little thief!" he was sputtering in rage, looking around for a policeman even as he held her hostage. He was tall and broad-shouldered, and Amelia cursed herself at the foolish bravado that had made her think they could have picked his pocket and gotten away with it.
Taking one look at her sister's white face, Chloe turned tail and ran, darting through the crowd of people with the speed and agility honed from years on the street. She didn't stop until she was halfway to the Battery, when she finally slowed to a halt and leaned against a building to catch her breath. Anyone watching her would have thought they were seeing a thin, small-boned boy, but if one looked more closely, beneath the grime there was a pretty face set off by huge blue eyes and delicate features. A dirty cap hid a long fall of blonde hair, carefully bound up underneath. The disguise kept Chloe just that much safer from the many dangers that stalked females on the streets of New York in the first year of the new century, 1900.
Amelia and Chloe Cavanaugh had been on those streets for the better part of five years, since their mother had died of pneumonia one dark winter day when Chloe was eleven and her elder sister twelve. Since then, they'd been on their own, stealing to live and running from the consequences. Amelia, called Flip on the streets because of her sarcastic, quick tongue (how many times had someone said to her "don't be flip with me, girl!"?), was the arrogant, cocksure one who was responsible for the both of them. She was a stubborn, headstrong girl who always knew the best places to hide and the warmest places to sleep. Now, she had been arrested and for the first time in her life, Chloe was entirely alone. It was a frightening prospect indeed.
The next day, word on the street was that infamous pickpocket Flip Cavanaugh had been arrested and would be having her hearing at three o'clock that afternoon. Chloe arrived at the courthouse looking as different from the grimy urchin who had run from the police the day before as midnight from high noon. She'd dug through their belongings, carefully stored away in an abandoned building, and found an old skirt of their mother's, along with a simple shirtwaist and hat. Dressed in them, instead of in her usual uniform of boys' clothes, she looked like a fairly respectable young lady. She made her way to the courthouse with fear skittering around in her stomach.
It took her twenty minutes of standing on the front steps to get up enough nerve to actually go inside the opulent Manhattan Courthouse. She was thankful for the long skirts that hid her trembling knees as she walked into the courtroom and hid herself in a back corner.
She sat there on one of the wooden benches, nervously twisting small hands together in her lap, for over an hour before the bailiff called out "Case of Amelia Cavanaugh, theft and resisting arrest." Chloe jumped up and rushed to the front of the room as a guard led a handcuffed Amelia in.
"Heyah, liddle sistuh," Amelia grinned when she noticed Chloe. There was a nasty bruise on one high cheekbone and one blue eye was entirely black, evidence of her so-called resisted arrest. She smirked at the judge as the charges were read again and she was sentenced to three months in the State Home for Girls, the feminine counterpart of the infamous and now defunct House of Refuge. Her expression didn't waver once from its mask of arrogance; even the prospect of three months in one of the most feared institutions in the city didn't seem to daunt her. "Your honuh, could I at least say goodbye to me sistuh?" When the sentencing was over, Amelia smiled sweetly at the elderly judge and tilted her chin in Chloe's direction.
"Make it fast, move it along," he said, waving a chubby hand in dismissal. Amelia turned and leaned in close to Chloe, as if to kiss her cheek.
"Go to the Newsboys Lodging House in Manhattan, ask for Cowboy," she whispered in the younger girl's ear. "Tell 'im where I am and he'll get me out, all right?"
"How do you know he'll help?" Chloe whispered back. Amelia shrugged, tossing strawberry blonde hair off her shoulders.
"He owes me one," she murmured, and kissed Chloe on the cheek. "You be careful, kiddo," she added, loud enough for the guard to hear. She was still smiling as they led her away. Chloe watched her go and tried her hardest not to cry. Crying wouldn't help her now; she had a cowboy to track down.
***** The Lodging House was a large ramshackle old building in lower Manhattan. The paint was peeling and the sign over the door that read "Newsboys Lodging House" was faded and chipped. Chloe stood in the lengthening shadows on the opposite side of the street and watched the activity going on there. So far, not much had happened. An old man had swept off the front step, then went back inside. A few boys, younger than Chloe herself, had gone in; one had come back out and headed off down the avenue. Other than that, all was quiet. As much as she wanted to saunter over, knock on the door and ask for the one called Cowboy, she wasn't sure if she should. Years on the street had made her canny and suspicious, and a lone female didn't just stroll into a house filled with boys she didn't know if she could help it. So she watched, and she waited.
Night fell. More boys returned to the house. Some girls too. Their presence gave Chloe a small measure of courage, but still she held her peace. By now her stomach was growling with hunger and her knees were cramped from huddling against the brick wall behind her. It was time for action.
Pushing off the wall, she slipped through the darkness and around the side of the Lodging House. A black iron fire escape twisted up one side of the building, and Chloe started up it, towards the window that was lit with the warmth of lamplight, with voices pouring out into the night air.
"I'm tellin' ya, Sunshine, I didn't cheat dat time!" a boy's voice protested.
"Yeah, and me ma wears purple knickers! Youse a cheata, Racetrack!" came the sarcastic reply.
"Like you nevuh cheat, Sunshine," another boy laughed.
"You knows I nevuh 'cause I always wins anyway."
Chloe sat down on the iron steps that led to the roof and leaned close to the edge of the window so she could hear. From their words, she assumed the inhabitants of the house were engaged in a card game of some kind. The curtains were ragged and threadbare, and she didn't dare peer too close to them for fear someone might see her. She wasn't quite ready to approach them yet, so she huddled on the fire escape and strained her ears to listen.
"Hey, youse know what I heard?" a new voice broke in. "Dat Flip Cavanaugh got herself arrested."
"Really?" a girl's voice now.
"Dat's whatcha get when ya pick pockets for a livin', she oughtta do some honest woik like da rest of us," someone commented, and Chloe bristled in indignation. That was so unfair! Amelia would work honestly, if she thought she could make any money at it, but they had both gotten so good at their routine that they barely ever thought about doing anything else. It wasn't that they were bad people or anything…. Angrily, Chloe surged to her feet, curious now to see who was talking about her sister. She grasped the windowsill and peered over the edge, straight into a pair of blue eyes behind wire-framed glasses.
"Hey!" there was a yelp, but Chloe was gone practically before the word was out of the boy's mouth, instinct sending her fleeing down the fire escape and into the safety of the shadows below. "Dere's somebody out dere!"
"What? What are you talkin' about? Dere ain't nobody out dere." A rustling like curtains being moved
"Dere is too! I saw her! It was a goil!"
"Dere ain't nobody dere, Dutchy, I'm shoah of it."
"But dere was!"
"Maybe you saw a ghost," one of the girls snickered and Chloe buried her face in her hands. How was she ever going to get her sister out of jail if she spent all of her time skulking around on fire escapes? She couldn't do this, she just couldn't do it. Too embarrassed to even consider approaching them tonight, she slipped away to find a safe place to sleep. *****
The following day dawned bright and clear, with the scent of spring in the air. Chloe crept out of the abandoned building where she and Amelia had been living recently and stretched. She had barely slept at all, lying huddled against the wall, listening to the sounds of the rats rustling in the darkness. Now, in the light of morning, she felt completely ridiculous about the night before. Chloe Cavanaugh was no coward; she was just used to having her sister take care of everything for her. All right, maybe she was a bit of a coward, she admitted to herself as she made her way back towards the Lodging House. Only a bit, and a girl alone on the streets had to be at least cautious. Ok maybe not that cautious, but better safe than sorry, as her mother used to say.
She made her way through lower Manhattan to the New York World Distribution Center. She had decided she was just going to march right up to one of the newsies there and ask for Cowboy. Easy as pie, right?
     Wrong.
The sight of so many noisy, boisterous people scared the nerve right out of Chloe as she peered around the edge of the gates into the Center. There was so many of them, and from their words last night, less than friendly-minded towards her sister. This so-called Cowboy would probably laugh in her face if she asked him for help. Chloe slouched against the gates and watched the group begin to trickle out. Every age from five to twenty, girls and boys, all had piles of newspapers grasped in grimy hands. There was a great deal of laughter and shouting, spirits were plainly high that morning. Just as she was feeling completely morose and helpless, Chloe caught sight of something that seemed promising: a tall handsome boy who wore a red bandanna around his neck and a black Stetson hat resting on his back. If that wasn't Cowboy, she'd eat her own hat.
The group began to break up as everyone went off to their own selling spots. Chloe followed the boy with the bandanna at a safe distance, waiting to catch him alone. He was with three other people, another boy his own age, a child of about ten, and a small, slim girl in boy's clothing. Catching him alone was going to be harder than she had reckoned.
Finally, the other three went off to sell elsewhere, and the tall boy stopped on a corner to open and look inside one of the newspapers he carried. Taking her opportunity, Chloe slipped out of the shadows and approached him.
"You Cowboy?" she asked. She was right in front of him before he even noticed she was there, and he jumped at the sound of her voice.
"Yeah, what's it to ya?" he looked her over curiously, but his question was friendly, not belligerent.
"Me sistuh said to find you," Chloe replied.
"Who's ya sistuh?" he asked, pausing to effortlessly sell a paper to a passing businessman.
"Flip Cavanaugh," she answered, poised for flight if he so much as batted a hostile eyelash.
Cowboy looked at her calmly. "Flip's ya sistuh, huh? She in jail?"
"Yeah, three months at da State Home, she said you'd help get 'er out."
"Did she?" Cowboy grinned. He seemed quite amused. "Why'd she say dat?"
"She said you owes 'er one," Chloe replied, and the boy shrugged.
"Yeah, I guess I do. What's yer name kid?" he asked, again selling another paper without turning his attention away from their conversation.
"Chloe," she said, and his eyebrows shot up.
"No kiddin'," he whistled softly, taking a better look at her face. "Youse a goil."
"'A course I's a goil, whatdja expect?" Chloe muttered.
Cowboy shrugged again. "All right, ya know here da Lodging house is?" he asked. Chloe nodded. "Come dere tonight, and we'll get ya sistuh out of da State Home, ok?"
Chloe nodded, relief making her knees weak.
"All right." *****

"Do you really think this is a good idea, Jack?" one of the other newsies, a dark-haired boy named David, was saying in a quiet voice as they made their way to the State Home for Girls late that night. Chloe had shown up at the Lodging House an hour earlier, scaring the socks off of one newsboy named Skittery when she'd popped up unexpectedly outside the front door as he was heading inside. Jack had recruited several more of the boys and they had all set off for the jailbreak.
"I mean, you just got out of trouble with the police, if you get back in…." the boy named David was going on, and Chloe's hand itched to smack him.
"Don't worry about it, Dave," Cowboy, whose real name, Chloe discovered, was Jack, was replying, shifting the rope he was carrying over one arm. "Dis is da easiest t'ing you ever did, trust me."
"That's what I'm afraid of," David sighed as they hid in the shadows against the huge old building. Chloe flattened herself along the wall and glanced around. There were six of them altogether: herself, Jack, David, two other newsboys named Mush and Blink, and a newsgirl, Sunshine, whose presence didn't seem necessary, but she had insisted on joining them anyway.
"'Sides, I owe Flip dis much," Jack muttered as they waited for a chance to slip inside the gates. Chloe glanced at him, curious despite the terror that gripped her.
"What'd she do for ya?" the one called Blink asked. He had blonde hair and a patch over one eye that was probably the source of his name. Jack shrugged.
"Long story, I'll tell ya about it sometime," he said, then the gates swung open to let out a carriage, obviously one of the guards returning home from duty. "Now!" Jack hissed into the darkness, and the group slipped quickly through the open gate and onto the grounds.
Several minutes later, they were on the roof.
"Is this gonna work?" David asked as Jack tied a rope around his midsection.
"A' course it's gonna woik, done it a million times," came the reply. Chloe, kneeling by the roof's edge, heard her sister's own cocksure attitude in his voice and almost smiled. The plan was this: apparently the bars on the Home's windows were quite easily removed from the outside, so two of the boys, Jack and Blink, would be lowered by two separate ropes over the edge of the roof to the window. Jack would remove the bars, using Blink to hold whatever he couldn't while he worked until he got the window open so that Amelia could climb out. Another rope would help her climb to the roof.
"I still think this is a bad idea," David muttered as they got to work lowering the two boys over the edge. Neither of them weighed too much, so the task wasn't as difficult as expected, also the ropes were tied securely to chimneys so even if someone lost their grip they wouldn't fall.
"Would you shut up?" Sunshine hissed, smacking David lightly on the back of his head. "This is gonna woik."
It seemed like a long time before the bars were off, and below them, Jack knocked lightly on glass. There was the scratch of a window opening, and a female voice saying "Heyah Cowboy, you here for Flip?"
"You bet," Jack answered. "She around?"
"Course, she knew you was comin' for 'er."
"Well, it's about bloody time, Cowboy, whadja do, stop for a nap on da way?"
Chloe felt faint with relief. Her sister's voice was filled with its usual arrogance and not a bit of humility.
"Stop yer bawlin' and get out here, Flip," Jack replied. More scratching noises, and a short, agonizing while later, Amelia's red/blonde head appeared over the edge of the roof. Chloe rushed to her and helped her over the ledge.
"Heyah, kid," Amelia smiled and hugged her sister as she got to her feet. "Good goin'."
Blink and Jack both made it back to the roof and the group slipped quietly away into the night.
Hey, t'anks a lot, Cowboy," Amelia stopped at Horace Greeley Square and nodded in the opposite direction of where the newsies were going. "We gots ta go dat way."
"Yeah, thank you very much," Chloe added in a soft voice. Jack frowned slightly.
"Why don't you two come on back to da Lodging House wit' us?" he suggested. Amelia's eyebrows shot up.
"And do what?" she demanded. "Sell papes wit'chu?"
"Why not? It's a good idea," he replied and Amelia began to laugh.
"No, t'anks, Cowboy, I ain't no good at hawkin' headlines," she said.
"How do you know? You ain't never tried it," the girl, Sunshine, muttered. Amelia's smile faded.
"So what? I'm good at what I does."
"Can't be that good, you got arrested, didn't you?" David commented, and Chloe had to grab her sister's hand to keep her from hitting him.
"But if you sell papes, you don't gotta steal no more," Mush pointed out.
"Yeah, den ya wouldn't have ta worry 'bout endin' up in jail again," Blink put in. Amelia rolled her eyes.
"Oh, gimme a break," she sighed.
"You oughtta t'ink about ya sistuh," Jack added. "What if she went ta jail? She wouldn't be able to handle jail." Chloe bristled in indignation at this, although deep down she knew he was right.
"Oh, look, Jacky-boy won his liddle strike so now he t'inks he can save da woild," Amelia snorted. "Listen Cowboy, I 'ppreciate what you done for me, but I didn't ask for your approval, I don't need it, and I coytainly don't want it! T'anks for helpin' me, now we's even." She turned away, grabbing Chloe's arm. "Les' go home, Chloe."
With that, the two of them headed off into the night. Chloe nearly had to run to keep up with hr sister's long, fast strides.
"Amy, why are you so mad?" she finally asked as they turned into the alley that hid the entrance to the abandoned building where they made their home.
"I ain't mad," Amelia snapped as she led the younger girl inside.
"Yes, you are, you're real mad," Chloe took her hat off and sat down on the dirt floor.
"What's so bad about bein' a newsie anyway?"
Amelia sighed heavily.
"It means ya lose your freedom, ya gotta be at a coytain place at a coytain time, and ya work ya butt off for only a liddle money. It ain't for me. Besides," she added. "It means ya gotta look at da Delancy Bruddas every single day, and dat's enough to make me not wanna be a newsie. Now go ta sleep."

*****

       It was two days later, and life was back to normal.
He never knew what hit him, Chloe snickered to herself as she dashed down an alley, checking over her shoulder to make sure no one was in pursuit. She had just hit an older, obviously wealthy gentleman, relieving him of his pocket watch, his wallet, and one set of gold cufflinks, all at once. She was feeling pretty proud of herself as she ran out of the alley, turned a corner, and barreled straight into someone.
"Hey!"
The impact sent them both flying to the ground and Chloe let out a cry as her newly acquired prize ended up in the dirt. She scrabbled for the gold pocket watch even as she heard someone say her name. Looking up, she recognized one of the newsboys from the Manhattan Lodging House. In fact, she recognized those blue eyes a little too well; they'd been the very same ones she'd found herself staring into that night on the fire escape. She'd briefly been introduced to him the night they had broken Amelia out of the State Home, but in her agitation that night she hadn't realized then that it had been him she'd seen through the window.
"You all right?" he asked, holding a hand out to her. Stuffing the watch away into her own pocket, she accepted his hand and let him help her up. What was his name again? She struggled to remember it. "You're Chloe, Flip Cavanaugh's sistuh," he said. Chloe nodded. Dutchy, that was it.
"Yeah, sorry 'bout dat," she said. His newspapers had gone flying when they'd collided, so she helped him gather them up.
"Dat's all right," he smiled at her, and Chloe found herself smiling back. "You runnin' from someone?"
Chloe shrugged her thin shoulders. "Nah."
"Just runnin'?"
"Sorta. I'm meetin' me sistuh," she explained, nodding in the direction of the nearby crowd. A boxing match was going on, and people milled about everywhere. It was exactly the perfect place for a pickpocket to work. The newsboy nodded, golden blonde hair flopping across his forehead.
"Uh, hey, listen, a bunch of us is goin' to Medda's latuh, ya wanna come?" he asked, scuffing at the dirt ground with one foot. Chloe blinked at him in mystification.
"What for?" she wanted to know. He shrugged.
"I dunno, just ta see da show… ya don't have to if ya don't wanna…"
"Well, all right, I'll ask my sistuh," she said.
He smiled a sweet, sunny smile and nodded, and the two of them wandered over to the square where the boxing match was in its eighth round already.
"Hey, Dutchy!" someone called out of the crowd, and Chloe looked up to see Jack, Racetrack, a newsboy named Crutchy (she only remembered because of the wooden crutch he leaned on), and a newsgirl called Matchbox, approaching them.
"Heyah, Chloe," Jack grinned at her as the group exchanged greetings. "Where's Flip?"
"She'll be heah in a minute," Chloe answered, looking around for her sister. No sign of her, no doubt she'd pop up in that unexpected way that was a family trait.
"I invited Chloe to come to Medda's tonight," Dutchy put in and Jack nodded.
"You oughtta," he said cheerfully. Chloe smiled, ducking her head to hide the blush that lit her pale cheeks. She'd never had friends before, Amelia had always insisted on a solitary existence for the two of them, and she definitely liked having other people in her life.
"Heyah fellas," Amelia appeared out of the crowd, materializing beside Racetrack. She smiled at them, the disagreement they'd had two nights prior plainly forgotten in her capricious nature.
"Hey Flip, you comin' to Medda's tonight?" Race wanted to know. Amelia shrugged as she held out her hand for the result of Chloe's day's work. Chloe handed over the wallet, pocket watch and cufflinks, and her sister whistled in admiration.
"Maybe. Hey Race, what time is it?" she grinned at him, looking up from her inspection of the stolen items. Racetrack reached into his vest pocket and let out a yowl of surprise.
"Me watch! Where's me watch?" he demanded, searching his pockets. Amelia was snickering and Chloe almost groaned out loud. Her sister had the most twisted sense of humor.
"Flip, give 'im his watch," Jack sighed and Amelia laughed.
"Jus' wanted ta see if you was awake," she said, handing over the watch. Racetrack snatched it from her and stuffed it back in his pocket.
"Dat ain't funny," he muttered as the others laughed.
"Shoah it is," Amelia snickered, then poked her sister in the ribs. "Dere's a good one," she remarked, nodding over Chloe's shoulder towards the crowd. Chloe turned to look and shook her head as the man her sister had pointed out moved around to watch the boxing match.
"Can't we just call it a day, Amy? I'm hungry," she said. Although she never would have admitted it, she was beginning to feel somewhat ashamed of what she and her sister did for a living, and didn't wish to call attention to it in front of the newsies.
"One more, promise!" Amelia grinned, slapping her hat onto her head. She winked at Chloe and the others and slipped off into the crush of people.
"So do ya think youse gonna come ta Medda's tonight, Chloe?" Matchbox asked. Chloe lifted one thin shoulder in answer.
"I dunno, I guess so." She snuck a glance at Dutchy and prayed her cheeks weren't as red as they felt.
"Ya oughtta, it'll be fun" Jack put in.
Chloe nodded, but she wasn't listening anymore. Jack's voice seemed very far away, and an unfamiliar feeling of foreboding had crept over her. Frowning, she turned around to look for Amelia. There she was, near the edge of the crowd, by the brick wall of the factory, about to hit the man she'd pointed out. Chloe craned her neck to get a look at the victim. He was short and stocky, barrel-chested, with the narrow, ruthless eyes of a reptile. He was a dangerous man; that much was obvious just by looking at him. Whatever had possessed Amy to hit him? Some strange sixth sense sent a chill shooting down Chloe's spine, making her fingertips tingle in fear, and she opened her mouth to call out to her sister, a move that would effectively abort the hit. The words never left her lips.
It all happened in slow motion. Amelia slipped up behind the man, her hand creeping into his pocket quickly and cleanly, but from where she was standing across the square, Chloe saw his expression change and realized that he knew what was happening to him. His eyes narrowed into cruel slits and he turned swiftly; there was a flash of silver, and Amelia's eyes went huge in surprise. Her mouth dropped open, and she looked down as if confused.
     "AMY!"
Chloe's cry reverberated across the square, as she began to fight her way through the crowd to her sister. The man was already gone, slipped away into the throng of people. Amelia took a step back, staggered, then crumpled to the ground, her expression one of astonishment at the crimson blossoming on her shirt. "Amy, oh my god," Chloe dropped to her knees beside the wounded girl.
"The dirty bastard stabbed me," Amelia put a hand to the blood spreading across her midsection. "He actually stabbed me." She sounded more amazed than hurt as she held up a slim hand covered in blood. "Dat wasn't supposed ta happen," she added, her head falling back against the ground as if it weighed too much to be kept upright.
"What do I do, Amy?" Chloe sobbed, yanking off her vest and pressing it to the wound. God, the blood, there was so much blood.
"Get a doctor, somebody's hurt ovuh heah!" someone yelled from behind them and a figure skidded to a halt and dropped down beside Chloe. "It's all right Flip, jus' hold on." Jack pressed his fingers to Amelia's throat, checking her pulse. His expression was dire as he looked over his shoulder at the others.
"Cowboy," Amelia's voice was weaker. "Listen, I knows we's even now, but can ya do me a favuh? I'll have ta owe ya one." Jack nodded as he leaned his head down to hear her better.
"Whatever ya want, ya got, Flip," he promised. Amelia coughed, a bright crimson bubble coloring her pale lips as she struggled for a breath.
"Take care a' Chloe for me" she murmured, closing her eyes.
"Amy, Amy!" Chloe gasped, terror robbing her of a louder voice. Her sister opened her eyes, but her gaze was vacant. She smiled very slightly, as if that simple motion took a great effort.
"It's gonna be all right, Chlo," she whispered, and coughed again.
         Then she was still.

*****

Amelia Mary Cavanaugh, better known as Flip, was laid to rest in the pauper's cemetery outside the Convent of Our Lady of Charity. There was no funeral, as there was no money to pay for one. All that was left of the most infamous pickpocket in Manhattan was a small cross bearing her name. No one came to mourn her, and no flowers decorated the bare earth. It was a lonely sight indeed.
The newsies took Chloe back to their Lodging House, and that was where she'd been for the past two days, since that awful afternoon in the square. She'd barely said more than a few words and hadn't even cried yet. All she could do was sit by the window and stare out, her expression as vacant as Amy's had been as life fled her body. It would have been a minor injury, except that the knife had sliced into one of Amy's lungs, causing her to drown in her own blood. No one knew the man who had done it, and it was unlikely he would be punished for the murder of a street urchin named Flip.
"You gonna sit there all day again today?"
Chloe looked away from the window to see Jewel, in the process of braiding her hair, frowning at her. "So what if I is?" Chloe muttered, turning back to the window. It was first thing in the morning, the bunkroom was alive with activity as the group readied themselves for a day of selling newspapers.
"Ya can't just sit dere for the da rest of ya life, ya know," Jewel sighed.
"What's it to ya," Chloe mumbled. Jewel rolled her eyes.
"Nothin'," she said, looking around at the other girls for help.
"You need to snap out of it," Sunshine announced unsympathetically. "You need to get on with things."
Chloe ignored her. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Amy was dead, that was all that mattered.
"C'mon, come learn how to sell papes wit' us," Matchbox put in. Chloe finally looked away from the window at them.
"Fine," she said quietly, standing up. She brushed past them and headed for the door.
"Where youse goin'?" Jewel wanted to know.
"Away, back to my own life," Chloe muttered. She was getting sick and tired of these obnoxious harpies sticking their noses in where they weren't wanted.
"You ain't got a life no more," Jewel informed her brutally. "All youse got is dis, and you're luckier den you t'ink."
Chloe paused and turned to look at her. "What are you talkin' about?" she asked. Jewel sighed.
"You lost your sister, dat's tough, but you got a chance heah, a chance for a new life an' a new family. You can start makin' an honest livin'," Glory put in earnestly.
"I made a livin' just fine, " Chloe replied. Anger was beginning to penetrate the cement wall of numbness that had been surrounding her since that afternoon in the square.
"Yeah? Look at what dat livin' did to ya sistuh," Jewel shot back.
"Don't talk about me sistuh," Chloe warned the other girl in a low voice.
"Why not? She ain't gonna stop me, is she?" Jewel goaded her. "She's dead, Chloe, she was a lousy thief and it got her killed -"
Chloe let out an inarticulate cry of rage and swung at the other girl, hitting her directly in the left eye. She tackled her, and they fell to the floor, punching and kicking and yelling for all they were worth.
"What's goin' on?" The boys came running at the first sound of the fight to find the two girls in the process of tearing each other apart.
"Hey, break it up!" It took the combined efforts of Jack, Blink and Mush to pry Chloe off of Jewel.
Chloe jerked away and turned her back to them, struggling to get a hold of herself. It wasn't working. Jewel's words had ripped a gaping hole in her tight control, and her precarious grasp on her emotions was slipping dangerously.
"Chloe, you all right?" someone gently touched her shoulder, and the dam burst.
Burying her face in her hands, she sobbed like the heartbroken child she was, crying for the sister she had lost, for the tragedy of it all, and especially for Amy, who would never see the culmination of the many hopes and dreams she'd had. She cried for the loneliness, for the sorrow, for the pain, until she couldn't cry anymore. The tears petered off, fading to watery hicoughs, and she looked up at the person who had held her the entire time she had been crying.
Dutchy gave her a lopsided smile as she stepped out of the circle of his embrace. "Feel bettuh?" he asked. Chloe wiped at her face with her sleeve and looked around. The room was empty, the others had already gone ahead. "So, ya gonna come learn how to sell papes?" he asked. Chloe took a shaky breath. She could almost hear her sister's voice in her ears, what have ya got to lose, kid?
"Yeah, I guess so," she managed to say in a wobbly voice. Dutchy nodded and smiled that sunny smile.
"Ya need a newsie name, ya know," he said and Chloe shrugged. "I gots one for ya too," he added with a grin.
"What is it?" she whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Ghost," he answered proudly. "'Cause a' dat night on da fire escape."
"You knew that was me?"
"A' course," he grinned. Chloe looked at him for a moment, and found herself starting to smile back. He held a hand out to her, and she placed her fingers in his grasp. "It's gonna be all right, Ghost," he said.
And it was.

The End