Brothers

Looking first at the newcomer, and then at the NYC newsies who looked to 16 year old Jack as a leader and big brother, he showed obvious disappointment at their apparent lack of consideration. Not wanting to embarrass the boy, Jack pretended to ignore him and join the game. He then quietly scolded the others.

"What is it with you guys?" he asked with the strong New York accent he'd acquired from several years on the streets.

Attempting to make an excuse, Skittery, still looking at his cards, said, "He just walked in, tossed his stuff on the empty bunk, and attached himself to the wall."

"Yeah, Jack," Racetrack added. "He didn't ask t' join th' game."

Rolling his eyes, Jack responded, "I don't guess you guys ever thought of askin' him." Directing his attention to another newsy, he went on, "Specs - I don't remember seein' y' hop right in th' middle of th' group when y' first got here."

Specs' eyes went to the floor in shame behind his glasses. Seeing that he was getting his point across, Jack continued. "In fact, I think I saw you sit down in th' corner, starin' at us," he said, suddenly looking at Snipeshooter, one of the youngest newsies.

Finally, Jack addressed the one member of the group who wasn't playing - a crippled boy who'd been with them for almost three years. "Crutchy, I'd think you'd've been the first t' talk t' him."

All of the newsies just looked at each other, then at Jack. He put down his cards, stood up, and approached the boy, who had turned his back to the group when Jack sat down.

"First of all, I wanna apologize for these jerks - sometimes they don't know how t' handle situations right." Then, holding out his hand, he moved around in front of the boy, introducing himself. "Jack Kel -"

Jack stopped short when the boy raised his head to look at him. "Joey?!"

"Frank?"

Noticing that the newsies appeared to have gone back to their game, he put his hand on Joey's shoulder and led him down the hall, where they could talk without arousing the interest of the others.

As soon as they were away from the room, Jack asked, "Is it really you?"

Smiling, Joey responded, "Yeah! Man, Frank, I thought I'd never see you again!"

Suddenly becoming somber, Jack said, "I thought you were dead."

Fourteen year old Francis Sullivan sat eating supper with his mother and his thirteen year old brother.

"You'd think he'd at least eat with us once a month," Frank mumbled angrily. "Maybe we could get 'im to if we served it with cheap wine and a loose blond."

"That's enough, Francis," his mother responded coldly.

Increasingly unable to control his temper, Frank threw his fork down on his plate and stormed to the bedroom he and his brother shared, slamming the door behind him. Pounding his fist on the wall, he began to cry. He didn't care what they said about men not crying - it killed him inside to see the way his father treated his family.

Frank was soon aroused by a knock on the bedroom door; when he glanced at the old pocket-watch he kept by the bed, he saw that an hour had gone by. He hadn't intended on falling asleep. Getting up, he groggily walked over and unlocked the door.

Joey stuck his head in the room. "Mom wants to talk to us," he said quietly, and he added in a whisper "Pop's home."

Frank took a deep breath and headed out the door. "Lost in Santa Fe again?" Joey asked, referring to the dime-store novels Frank always bought.

"Hey, I got more of a chance to get t' Santa Fe than you do of joinin' Long John Silver's crew." Joey had practically lived in his pirate fantasy when he was younger.

The brothers started jabbing at each other with half-hearted punches.

"Joey, Francis - come over here."

They walked into the kitchen and sat down. Their father sat drinking a beer as their mother began to speak.

Choosing her words carefully, she began, "Frank, we'll need the money you get from those papers even more now."

Frank had been a newsy since he was ten years old. His father had never been able to hold a job, spending most of his time at bars and dance halls. That left Frank to take care of the family. Now he sat there, silently listening to his mother, praying that his father would for once in his life show some concern for her.

"Oh, honey, the bank found a new cleaning woman?" Michael Sullivan asked his wife sympathetically. A little too sympathetically, Frank thought. "Only you could pull off a con job like this, Mike," he said to himself, laughing without realizing it.

"Is somethin' your mother's sayin' funny, Francis?" his father yelled.

Joey flinched, but Frank just stared icily at his father, his hazel eyes unblinking as he emotionlessly answered, "No."

His mother continued, "The doctor thinks I should stop working - at least until after I have the baby."

Both boys got up and hugged her, but Frank kept an eye on his father. When he saw Michael get out of his chair, he subtly moved in front of his mother and brother.

Michael initially headed for the door, but he suddenly turned and walked towards them. "What're we supposed t' do without that money?! We're barely gettin' by right now."

"Why don't y' try livin' on food insteada booze?" Frank asked.

"Don't sass me, boy!" Michael shouted, raising his hand to hit Frank. Frank immediately and deftly deflected the blow, landing a well-aimed punch in the pit of Michael's stomach. While Michael tried to catch his breath, Frank told Joey and their mother to get into the bedroom.

"But…"

"I'm fine!" Frank yelled, "Just go!"

Frank held his father off as long as he could, but Michael was eventually able to overpower the fourteen year old by pushing him into the radiator. Though Frank ignored the burn and went after his father, it was too late. Michael had already grabbed his wife and used all his strength to throw her to the floor. Frank gasped almost unnoticeably as he saw her head hit the corner of the nightstand.

"The last thing we need is another kid!" Michael yelled as he left the apartment.

"She's not moving," Joey said shakily as blood slowly trickled from his mother's temple. He stared at Frank, his blue eyes filled with shock.

For a second, Frank didn't know quite what to do. He didn't want to leave Joey alone in a situation like this, but he knew that if he didn't leave someone there, Michael might be back to get rid of the body - maybe even the apartment.

"Maybe I should get the cops or something," Joey said, looking from Frank to his mother and heading for the door. Two policemen then entered, followed by the Sullivans' upstairs neighbor, Emma Shipton.

"I heard the noise and thought you might need some help."

"Thanks, but it's too bad y' couldn't've called a few seconds earlier," Frank said cynically as he put his arm around his younger brother.

"Well," Emma excused, "I didn't want to seem a bother if it was strictly a family problem."

"Y' got no problem stickin' your nose in everyone's business when nothin's goin' on."

Emma indignantly turned and left the apartment as Frank's hardened gaze followed her.

After Mrs. Sullivan's body had been removed, Frank cleaned up the apartment a little. Then, grabbing only his copy of Western Jim, his red bandana, and his cowboy hat, he took Joey and left.

"What're we gonna do, Frank?"

"Don't worry, Joey," Frank responded. "If I have to peddle papes for Hearst and Pulitzer, I'll take care of ya. I'll always take care of ya."

As the cold New York wind came up, the brothers sat huddled together in the corner of an alley. Joey slept soundly, but Frank looked longingly at the poster across the way. It advertised the latest installment of Western Jim.

"Someday," Frank said to himself, "we're gonna get t' Santa Fe."

Frank woke up the next morning to find Joey gone. He picked up the chloroform soaked cloth on the ground next to him. "Joey!" he called, alarmed. "Joey!" No answer. Frank spent the entire day searching the streets of New York City, finding nothing. He leaned back against a wall, crying in frustration. He forgot Santa Fe, he forgot the paper; the only thing going through his mind was that he'd broken his promise to his brother, the promise he'd made only last night.

"Frank, you OK?"

Suddenly jolted back to the present, Jack responded, "Um, yeah - fine." He put everything in the back of his mind, where it belonged. He laughed, "Ain't ya a little old to play Captain Hook?" With a slight smile, he began grabbing at the patch.

"Frank, don't…"

But Jack had already removed it. His laugh disappeared when he looked at Joey's left eye - or, rather, what was left of it.

"S-sorry…" was all Jack could say as he handed the patch back to Joey, who put it back on.

"Hey," Joey responded smiling, "no problem. You didn't know."

"What happened?"

"That night in the alley, someone shoved this handkerchief over my face, and I passed out. When I woke up, Pop was coming at me with his pocketknife."

"Tryin' t' get rid of the witnesses, huh?"

Joey nodded. "He was so loaded, his aim was less than perfect; didn't exactly end up in the heart area," he laughed.

"How'd you get away?"

"He passed out," Joey responded. "Just keeled over. I heard the cops got him, though."

Jack smiled as he thought about the day he'd read that in the paper. He sold even more than usual that day, just using that story. Then, remembering what else had been in the article, he said, "The papes said they found a body they thought was yours."

"I knew that - I just let it go. When I heard about you and the Refuge, I knew you didn't need any more problems; the last thing you needed was to be stuck with a half-blind little brother."

Jack leaned against the wall, somewhere between upset and relieved. Smiling, he said, "Well, at least you waited until I was takin' care of half the orphans and runaways in New York City."

Joey laughed, then told Jack, "Well, maybe I'd better go…"

"What?"

"If he ever gets out of jail, he's gonna look for two brothers in places like this."

"He's gonna be lookin' for Francis and Joey Sullivan."

Suddenly understanding the initial introduction, Joey said, "So that's why you…"

Putting his hand out, Jack said, "The name's Jack Kelly."

"Everyone calls me Kid Blink," Joey replied.

Leading him back to the room, Jack said, "Remember, now, you're just another newsy. No playin' favorites or nothin'."

"Got it," Blink said, smiling.

"Hey, Newsies, listen up!" Jack yelled, entering the room. "Y' got a new partner here, Kid Blink. I wanna see you guys start over again, understand?"

Racetrack was the first one on his feet. "Hey, Kid, good t' know ya!"

The other newsies followed suit as Jack eyed his group from the doorway. Soon, Blink and Race were involved in a game of Blackjack.

It would be a few years before anyone found out about Jack and Blink. Even though they almost never saw Jack without Blink at his side, none of the newsies gave it a second thought. After all, he was just another brother carrying the banner.