| Iced Over, part 3 |
| Martie walked up to the window and gasped. The other three had similar reactions as they saw the spectacle before them. Where newsies normally laughed and joked around, snow billowed and piled up. The door was barred by a snowdrift 3 feet high. The four looked at each other, shocked. "Well, then," Anita said, "I suppose we'll have to stay here until this bloody snow melts." "S'pose so." Martie walked over and sat down in front of the fire. She was amazed that she, of all people, was trapped with the Delanceys. "So, girls. You wanna play a game a cards?" Oscar smirked and flipped the deck between his hands. Martie grinned. She knew that he had no idea what kind of player she was. "Sure. You playin', 'Nita?" "Not against you, I'm not!" Anita shook her head at Oscar. "She'll win the pants off of you, that one will." "We'll see about that..." Morris yawned and said, "I'm starved. Hey, Os, I'm gonna see if Uncle Wease has any food around here." Martie watched Morris and Anita disappear into the next room, then she turned and grinned at Oscar. She flipped a nickel onto the table. "Deal me in." }}i{{ Three hours later, Martie hadn't won the pants off of Oscar. However, she had won his extra pair of socks, his vest, a scarf, and half of his paper money. "Care for another hand, Delancy?" Martie chuckled at his annoyed expression. Oscar threw down his cards. "Where'd you learn to play like that?" Martie stopped smiling and looked down. "Just... from somebody I used ta know... Hey, where's Anita an' Morris?" "I dunno. They never came back from the kitchen." Martie and Oscar walked through the library to the kitchen door. It was noticeably colder over here, although they were barely 20 feet from the fire. Martie tried the doorknob, but it wouldn't move. Oscar banged on the door. "Don't bother," came Anita's voice from within. "It's frozen shut, at the hinges. We'll have to wait until the air warms up." "Not that I mind bein' stuck in here, so don't do nothin' ta get us out, a'right? I found some blankets in da closet, so we'll be OK." Morris paused, as if thinking. "Youse two could get some food from out da pantry in da basement. If the rats haven't got to it yet." "Um, OK." Martie glanced at Oscar. He shrugged and motioned for her to follow him. The basement door was a little stuck, but it opened. The air was stale and seemed heavier than that upstairs. Oscar walked past Martie and as he did, his hand brushed her's. Martie started to pull it back, but something about the shadows in the dark, cold corners made her take it. The steps creaked in protest as the two made their way downward. The flickering lantern made every part of the room dance as though it were teeming with life. Martie shuddered to think of all the blind crawling things that must live there. "You good, O'Graidy?" "Yeah, I just..." Martie didn't finish her sentence, and Oscar didn't ask her to. Oscar opened the metal icebox and something fell off the top. They both jumped back, and Oscar reached down to see what it was. It was an old cowboy hat, dusty, but still in good condition. "Jack?" Martie asked. Oscar nodded, and then shone his lantern inside the icebox. He pulled out a chipped bowl; it may've been red at one point, but now it was rust colored. A square cloth had been stretched over the top and tied on with a length of twine. Someone had taken a piece of charcoal and scribbled on the top, Meet , October, 1899 "Still fresh." Oscar turned around. "It's only January." }}i{{ |
|