September, 1897
Samantha Snyder let out a groan as she peeled her broken body off the bloodstained floor of the Refuge. Sitting up, the fourteen-year-old glanced at the kids who sat around her, some crying, others staring into off into space. A couple of the younger kids were curled up together or in the laps of the older children, fast asleep.
"Quite the dramatic entrance you took, Sam," a voice said beside her. She rolled over, her eyes meeting those of her best friend.
"What can I say Pete, I like to make my entrances in style."
"Blood covered and all," he flashed the girl a rare smile.
"How'd ya get it here again, Peter? I thought we decided once you were released that you'd stop stealing."
"How else am I supposed to eat?" The boy retorted, a frown on his face.
"Maybe try being a newsies for once. Or some other job. There's always the factories." Peter scoffed.
"Like I'd survive a day in there."
"You're right, you'd probably punch one of the guards once you see the shape the other fellas are in." As much as Peter tried to hide it from people, he had a protective nature. It didn't matter who you were, but if you were in pain he'd beat up the idiot who caused it. He had received numerous beatings from the Delancey's for jumping in between them and the other kids. Samantha had witnessed it one too many times.
The two of them had met over a year ago. Peter had been thrown in the Refuge after he had been caught stealing a loaf of bread from the bakery. Samantha had been completing her week of punishment for helping a Brooklyn newsie escape Snyder.
Samantha smiled as she recalled the first thing out of Peter's mouth when he saw her.
"Well you ain't no street rat."
"I don't even know what that's supposed to mean," she replied.
"Means ya pretty," the boy stated rolling his eyes. Samantha knew he wasn't flirting with her, but she couldn't figure out what he meant by those words.
"Yous saying no street girl can be pretty?" She asked sharply.
"Ain't neva said that. You've got a spark. Right-" he gestured to her blue eyes, the very eyes that she hated, being one of the few features she had inherited from her father "-dere."
"Yeah well you look like the Delancey's didn't beat ya hard enough. Wouldja like me ta give it a go?" she challenged. Peter smiled, a genuine smile.
"I think I'd like to keep my face as is, thank you."
"Smart boy," Samantha muttered.
"So, what really happened?"
"Saved a girl from being sent 'ere. Delancey's didn't like that very much."
"Who was she? Is she okay? What'd she do?"
"Woah slows down, ya gonna choke on your words. Don't know 'er. Never seen her around before. She had an older sister, pretty short with shoulder length brown hair. Definitely a newsie."
"The Manhattan goil?" Samantha had only seen the girl once but she had spent a week in the Refuge during the time the girl's brother had been in the Refuge.
"Nah, I don't think it was her. 'Sides, didn't ya say the 'Hattan goil has blonde hair?"
"Dirty blonde which in dark light can look almost brown. But that's beside the point. The goil?"
"Right. She was about thirteen, tough little thing, but made the mistake of trying to take the Delancey's."
"What?"
"They grabbed her first, don't have a doozy. She'll be fine, got back to her sister when the Delancey's hit me."
"Peter you know that I love protecting street kids as much as you, but didja have to go and get thrown in here again? It's been less than a year since ya got out."
"You're lucky it was that long. I'm escaping tonight."
"Peter no, you know how that went last time. Ya could barely move."
"Sam I can't stay here."
"I'm not da only one with a spark," the girl replied, pressing her index and middle fingers against his nose. He gently took them off his face and placed them back in her lap.
"I'll lose it if I have ta stay here. I don't know how you do it," he whispered. She scooted herself against the wall he was leaning on and laid her head on his shoulder.
"I lost it a long time ago Peter. I thought you knew that."
"Then how do you fight so well?"
"Because if I stop fighting what will become of me? Snyder will have won and I'll die before I let that happen."
"Don't you ever worry that you won't be able ta win?"
"Focus on the fight in front of you, not the entire war." Samantha cursed herself for not telling Peter, but she couldn't. Of course she was afraid of losing her fight. With each day she wondering if she would hit a point where she couldn't fight. Everyone had a breaking point, but there were numerous days Samantha wondered how far she was from hitting hers. But she refused to break, especially under her father's unwavering eye. If he ever saw her break, it would mean the end of the battle and this was a war she was unwilling to lose no matter what she had to endure.
"Well then my next fight is to escape this place."
"Peter that's not what I meant."
"Sam, I can't stay here! It might be the only place you've ever known but it's a nightmare for some of us."
"Really Peter?" Samantha asked harshly, pulling away from the boy. She could feel the anger burning in her chest, ready to set fire her next words but she pushed it aside, knowing that the room was full of kids who didn't need to hear about what she had endured. "It's a heck of a lot worse than a nightmare for me because it's my life."
"That was uncalled for. I'm sorry Sam," Peter apologized. But Samantha had never been an easy forgiver.
"Me too Peter. I need some fresh air. I'll see you later."
"Sam," the boy grunted, throwing his head back in frustration. "I said I was sorry."
"Sorry doesn't fix everything Peter. I just need a few minutes to cool off. Just let me go."
"Sam-"
"Stop Peter. I'm not having this fight, not here, not now." She quickly strolled out of the room, ruffling a young boy's hair on her way out when he threw he a concerned look. She found her way into the only room with a window, managing to avoid all the guards.
Living most of her life in the Refuge meant that she knew the guard schedules like the back of her hand, allowing her to go almost anywhere in the Refuge without being seen. She liked to leave during the night and spend her time wandering the streets, covering young street kids in a warm blankets and listening to the nighttime noises of the city that never sleeps. She would have kept herself out of the Refuge entirely when her father sent her to it for punishment, but if he ever found her gone he would keep a chain around her neck. And there were the kids too. She couldn't leave them alone all the time.
So that's how Samantha spent the night, breathing in the city air, rubbing her exposed arms as goosebumps danced along them. With fall approaching, the nights were growing colder.
Despite the cold it brought with it, Samantha loved winter. She loved watching the pure white snow as it descended from the fluffy white clouds that hung in the sky. She loved playing in the compacted piles of never-ending whiteness, and the smile that played across her lips as a flake landed on her cheeks. She loved the feeling of being wrapped in a cozy blanket, curled up against her mother's side as they warmed their numb fingers by the fire after spending hours in the snow.
The snow reminded her of when times were better. Those few moments when all seemed right with the world were the ones she clung to when the memories and nightmares grew too strong to bear. The snow reminded her that there was still beauty in the world and she held onto that hope with everything she had.
Samantha had been so lost in her thoughts that she didn't see the poor boy she had run into until she was lying on top of him, his back pressed against the cold city street. She held in a curse, knowing that now she'd have to talk to the boy. She hated talking to people outside of the Refuge because people were curious and people hated on those they deemed different than them.
But she covered her annoyance with a worried gasp as she lifted herself off the boy.
"I'm so sorry, I wasn't even watching where I was going. Are you alright?" She held out her hand for the boy to take. He slipped his hand into hers and allowed her to pull him up.
"I'm fine. Are you alright?" His eyes scanned her body, but not in an invading way, more so out of concern that she had been left unharmed.
"'Course, I had yous as my landing pad," she smiled at him. He let out a small chuckle and Samantha took a quick moment to take in his appearance. He had dark brown hair that was stuffed under a newsboy cap, a few pieces escaping the confinement that the rest of his hair was enduring. He looked to be about the same age as her, maybe a little bit older but with his light-hearted smile it was hard to tell. His chocolate brown eyes shone in the moonlight, but as Samantha ran her eyes over the dirt marks covering his cheeks she couldn't help noticing the tears stains that left a pattern in each one. He could pull his best smile but nothing he could do would remove those tear stains from his cheeks.
She wanted to ask him if he was alright, reach out, but she was knew reaching out meant that she would have to be open. And she was a complete stranger. There was no way he would open up to her. Samantha knew that she would never do such a thing.
"What's a goil like you doing out here so late?" He asked, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his patched pants.
"What's a boy like you doing out here so late?" She countered.
"Fair enough. Truth for a truth?" Against her better judgement, Samantha's lips tipped upward in a faint smile at the look on the boy's face. Curiosity danced in his brown eyes, along with something else. Samantha recognized it as want. Want to have something to replace the lingering thoughts that danced around in his mind. She had seen it enough times in her own eyes.
"I'spose. Just needed some fresh air. Where Is come, the air gets pretty tense sometimes. Needed a break. Now you're turn." He hesitated before opening his mouth.
"Don't deal with confined spaces very well and needed to escape. Is heading to da nunnery." Samantha lowered her brows in confusion.
"Why there?"
"Dat's where I grew up," he replied.
"Must have been nice, living with the nuns, always having people to care for you." Samantha internally snapped at herself. Now the boy was going to get curious. She should have just kept her mouth closed.
"I guess. At times. It's harder than you would think, though."
"Ya coming from da Newsies Lodge?" Samantha asked, gesturing to the hat that was perched on the boy's head.
"Yeah." The boy glanced down at the ground, an awkward silence falling over the two kids.
"Is should be getting back," Samantha said. The boy glanced up, a look of sadness flashing through his eyes before disappearing. She wondered if she had imagined it in the first place.
"Jojo," the boy said, thrusting his hand out to her, his motion filled with nervousness making it rather rough, but it brought a smile to Samantha's face.
"Amara," she decided on. She never told people her real name. It was an unspoken rule that she had made for herself. If no one knew your real name, no one could find you. Peter was one of the very few who knew her real name. And Amara had always been her favorite. After all it had been what her mother wanted to call her. Jojo narrowed his eyes, as if trying to fit the girl before him with the name he had been given.
"It's pretty," he remarked.
"Thanks, I got it for my birthday." The smile was back, the one that lit up his eyes. And Samantha returned it, feeling like she had accomplished something great. She shook off the feeling before pulling her hand away.
"G'night Jojo."
"G'night Amara."
They met!!! What do you guys think of Peter? I know he was in Dreams Change but I'd like to hear what you think of his personality with Sam.
Proverbs 18:24- One who has unreliable friends soon comes to ruin, but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother.