New Wings

Chapter 5

"Hey you. Yeah, youse with the blondy next to ya." They turned to see a teenager emerging from a corner that had been in the shadows.

"What do you want?" Wolf asked, emanating his nickname rather fiercely. Cress was very grateful he was on her side at that moment.

"I knows someone who can help youse. Lemme guess, da rally didn't go too well, eh?"

Cress stepped out from her hiding place behind Wolf, nodding timidly.

"Would you be so kind as to help us?"

"Miss, we don't even know this kid. We can't trust children off the streets."

The boy's eyes darkened, and Cress noticed he was older than she'd originally thought.

His head reached Wolf's collar bone, but stood firm through the glare he was getting. A dirty sling tied his right arm tightly against his chest. Splotches of bruising poked out from underneath the cloth. His skin was a dark tan, and strands of light brown hair poked out from under his navy cap. Suspenders hung carelessly from his waist, all of his outfit muddled and simple. He was a skinny thing, fit but nothing much else to him.

He certainly didn't look evil or untrustworthy.

"Sir, I may be poor, I may be nothing but a newsie to youse, but I ain't no child. Now, do youse want me help or not?" (Picture a 1910's Brooklyn accent)

Cress interrupted Wolf's retort.

"Yes please. I apologize for my friend's temper." Wolf growled again, and she smiled sweetly at him before following the newsie's back into the alley way.

He walked fast, and they had to pick up the pace. It was a good thing she was wearing trousers, or this would've gotten difficult very fast.

The darkness crowding the path didn't last long. After one right, three lefts, and about nine stumbles on the uneven brick later, the area opened up, and they were in a different city square. Cress looked up as sunlight filtered through layers of clotheslines hanging above her, covered in all kinds of colors and fabrics. Noise grew, but it was the shouts of papers for sale and fresh bread. Children were playing in the puddles, mothers were knitting on their doorsteps.

It was humble, and most likely very unhygienic, but it felt safe to Cress. She was glad she had trusted the boy.

"Dis here's me home and youse is welcome." The newsie stopped in front of a red brick building on a corner, a hand painted wooden sign hanging above the door;

"Brooklyn Newsboys Lodging Quarters." Ze'ev read aloud, just as the door burst open and a few younger boys ran up to Cress's new friend.

"Ey Cinda!"

"Where's youse been?"

"How was the rally? Any of da feds poke a fight?"

"Did you getta lick anybody?"

"LICK?!" Cress's shocked voice caused the boys to stop and turn, staring at her with their mouths hanging at the hinges. She flushed and backed up by accident into Wolf.

The first newsie, apparently "Cinder" smirked at her outburst.

"It means to fight. And no, Bat, I didn't even make it to de rally. Dis two showed up and I's decided to help dem."

Bat?

Cinder caught her bewildered expression and this time burst out laughing, bending over to rest his hand on his knee.

"Ha, we call each odda nicknames. Dis here's Bat, Coin, Click, and Ben." She looked questioningly at the one deemed Ben. He shrugged.

"I didn't want no silly nickname. I'm just ol' Ben." He was the smallest of the bunch, with red hair sticking out in all directions and bright eyes. She grinned and nodded, and the poor boy went red at her smile.