What is the point of destiny? The point of fate? It seems like for most of us there's one enormous moment of change, where the path we were planning on running down switches dramatically, and we stumble along until we find a different path altogether. So is it something we do? Some mistake we make? Or do we have a choice? And what determines if that new path is a good one or not? We all know from experience bad things happen to good people.
Cress muddled through these thoughts in her sleep, tossing and turning as her body subconsciously made an attempt to calm down.
"Cress! CRESS. Where did you go? Come back Cress." Thorne was screaming into the night, pounding on the door to their room in the inn. Cress sat up in their bed, the first thing she noticed was that her hair had all grown back, tumbling over the side of the bedframe and laying in a tangled heap across the floorboards. She blinked in confusion, then opened her mouth to reassure Thorne when a huge hand clasped down over her mouth.
She let out a squeak of surprise, writhing to get off the bed. Whoever it was attacking her had come through the window, and Cress had the sneaking suspicion she'd never want to sleep near one again. The hand was grimy and covered in cold sweat, pushing harder and closer into her mouth with each kick she made.
"Cress are you in there?!? We have to leave, now, they've found us, I knew they would but not so soon. Cress? CRESS, OPEN UP!"
She ached at the sound of pain in his voice, wanting more than anything to comfort him. But the threat he was talking about seemed to already be here, so there wasn't much point to comfort now.
Cress jumped as a head lowered beside her ear, hissing into it with hot breath.
"Don't move, and your mother won't shoot your little hero." The voice revealed its owner simply from the way the refined quality tried to hide itself. This wasn't any burglar. This was a monster. This was her father.
Cress felt a stark wave of shock run through her, followed by raw fear that pounded through her blood. A squeak of terror left her, bouncing off the walls. Richard cursed, tightening the cupped hand over his victim's mouth once more, but it was too late.
Thorne had heard, and somehow that faint yelp was enough to convince him she was in trouble. With a roar the door gave a mighty bang as all of Thorne's weight slammed into it full speed ahead. Over and over he rammed into the wood, shaking up the dust in the inn and leaving Cress's eyes watery. With one last burst of strength the door burst, breaking into 12 pieces and flying every-which-way across the room. She squeezed her self together into a ball as one piece came flying at her, barely scraping the line of her hair before hitting Richard in the eye.
He howled and moved to cover his face; and that second Cress knew she wouldn't have another chance to escape. With shaky knees and a dizzy heart she leapt from the bed, practically throwing herself onto Thorne. But Thorne simply pushed her away and aimed for her collapsed father. She let out a hoarse cry of confusion, but Thorne was too busy giving Richard the beating of his life. Her father moaned with each strong punch, finally passing out after ten or so.
Then, at last, Thorne turned and acknowledged her with shining eyes and a faint smile. This was a dream, you see, and in dreams often times the person sleeping gets to see a brief glimpse of what they yearn for. Cress hadn't realized until now how much she wanted Thorne's smile again. Not just any smile, but his special smile, just for her. She was too far into the dream to realize there'd never been such a grin in real life.
They nestled together on the floor, each holding on like the other was a lifeline they couldn't survive without.
"I thought I'd lost you for a second." He mumbled into her hair, sending chills that erupted as goosebumps on the back of her neck.
"It's okay now Thorne. We beat him. You beat him."
"Well of course Darling. This dashing rapscallion never loses a fight." Thorne pulled away just far enough to grin widely at her, his teeth gleaming a beautiful white in the darkness. He really was quite handsome, and she blushed at the betraying thought.
His gaze drifted down from her eyes and she realized he was staring at her scarlet cheeks, causing her to flush even more. His eyes darkened, and slowly, ever so slowly, the back of his hand brushed across her face. Her lips parted and eyes fell closed. He was leaning in. Oh sweet mercy, he was so close to her. So, so close. His hand fell from her cheek to her neck, tilting her head and dragging her gently towards his lips. She fought back a shuddering breath.
It all happened so quickly. One second their mouths were a breath apart, the next he was slumped sideways, blood rushing through his jacket. The crack of the gunshot echoed through her ears, her screams dulled by the sight of her mother cackling.
With a gut wrenching sob, she ignored the witch and crumbled down next to Thorne's broken body, her vision tunneling before going completely, utterly--
Black.
Hands covering Cress's trembling pair was the first thing that registered in her aching mind. Her senses sharpened and defined, vision arriving in time to see Ben's concerned little frown hovering over her.
"Foist of all, what is youse doin heah? Secondly, whys was youse screaming?" She plastered a smile on her face before sitting up on the creaky mattress. It was still dark out, but she could hear the sound of newsies getting ready all around her. She'd never gotten up this early.
Ben was waiting expectantly for an answer.
"I...well, it's a bit of a long story, Ben."
His frown was replaced by a grin. "'Ey, youse remembered my name!"
She let out a little laugh at that.
"Of course, I could never forget you!" That seemed to be exactly the right thing to say, and with a beaming smile, Ben forgot all about his somewhat vital question and scampered off to boast about her to his friends. Cress giggled at his sweetness before stretching out of bed, yawning as she pushed the remnants of memory from the dream out of her mind. They only seemed to be getting worse, almost as if her subconscious knew something she didn't...(If that isn't obvious foreshadowing I don't know what is.)
The second she stood, the memories of what had actually happened last night came flooding back, and she gasped a little at the surge of disappointment that hit her. Thorne wasn't the man from her dream, he was the man who'd slammed her friend against the wall, the man who'd walked away without an explanation, the man who'd left her. She didn't need to be worrying about him when he wasn't worrying about her, right?
Something was just off about him that night, he wasn't himself, she tried reassuring herself.
But the uneasy pounding didn't cease as she combed through her hair with dirt-smudged fingers. Everyone else seemed to be awake and gone, so with a fast tug of her boots, she was off, skipping down the rickety steps and heading to the front entrance.
Coin and Bat stood waiting for her, their matching hats shadowing their expressions. She warily waited at the threshold, unsure of what to do.
Their arms were full of fresh newspaper, and Cress could see the bright ink already smearing onto their clothes.
"Is youse coming? Peony and Ben al'edy explained it, and we's needs to be hoppin if we don't wanna eat our papes."
"You would EAT your papers!?!" She exclaimed, already feeling anxious. Coin guffawed, adjusting the papes on his back before turning away from her.
"'Course not, but we's have to waste them if we's don't sell 'em. So com'on, we'll show ya around the fair streets a Brooklyn." With a giggle from Bat, they were off.
"Foist stop, the printin press. Dis is where we's go ever' morning before sellin."
"I see. And when do you eat breakfast?" The boys jolted to a stop and kind of stared at her in awe.
"Youse eat breakfast?" Coin said timidly, not able to make eye contact.
Cress felt a sharp intake of breath cut through her. These poor boys!
"Nevermind that, tell me how many papers I should get."
Bat took over, his chest puffing out with smugness at finally being the boss around.
"I's always sells fifty a day, but since youse is an amatuer, youse is gonna sell twenty."
Cress shrugged, not really having a response to that. She was clever enough to know that pretending to understand at this point would only make her look more the fool than she already appeared to be. Her strategy to gain knowledge was the same as it had always been; quietly observe until you are positive you can achieve it without help.
She'd had to learn this way of course. It wasn't like anyone was offering to help her anyway.
The sun was only just now starting to peer over the tips of the sky. The chill and mist from the dawn shifting through the air. Cress shivered, pulling the folds of the button-down tighter around herself as they ran through the empty streets.
"Shouldn't it be crowded with newsies by now?"
"Naw, theys is always early. Youse probably won't get many papes anyways cause the best newsies know youse havta be der right aways." Coin said this like it wasn't a big deal if you didn't get enough, like it didn't matter if you went without food that day, but Cres could see Bat's shoulders slump almost imperceptibly at this comment. These boys had clearly seen days without a bit of bread to help.
The printing press was a massive building at the end of a street, big and dark and thick with the smells of sweat and ink and the heat of the machinery. Only a few young newsies stood outside near the old counter window.
"Get yer papes, step up now 'an get'em. Price will be up tomorra'." Cress was surprised to hear the man's speech was just as bad as the younger boys. Maybe this adult had once been a newsie too.
She stepped right up to the counter, telling herself to remember to pretend. You are a fearless boy, she thought nervously, who is new but confident. You know what to say and know who to be. You aren't a scared young girl, like Thorne thinks you are, no, you are a newsie. And with that, she plopped her change onto the counter, staring at the man defiantly.
"Twenty papes, sir." The accent felt foreign and weird under her tongue, and she had to work at restraining her lips from biting down out of habit. The vendor seemed to glare at her for a moment, then grabbed the pile of coins and handed her a stack without even counting. She gave him a small smile, which seemed to make the man's day, before scampering off the ramp to join Bat. Coin was on the other end of the alley, sweet-talking a young girl about his age who had a teddy bear in tow and a lollipop in mouth. Cress couldn't really remember herself ever being that young. Had she ever been given a stuffed animal or sweet? Hm.
Bat was talking to her, tugging on her trouser leg.
"Youse have gots to pay attention, Cress!" He said exasperatingly, looking up at her through his lashes. She blinked out of her trance and gave him a laugh, crouching down to his level.
"Alright Bat, what should I know? You're obviously the best newsie around." The child's anger ceased to exist.
"Awe, youse is just sayin that cause youse is a Birdy." Cress froze at the sound of the nickname. Only Thorne called her that. How did this boy...? He seemed to see her shock, because he was hastily explaining.
"Ya know, a bird is small and neva causes trouble, an' a birdy is pretty too..." He flushed at the end of this, but Cress was too busy mulling over the definition to pay attention to that. Is that what Thorne thought of her? No, birds were also scavengers, and pests, and that was what made sense. This was just a sweet little boy trying to make her feel better. So coming to a decision, she gave him a motherly kiss on the cheek and stood, letting him lead her towards the docks.
Despite Thorne screaming her awake that morning, Cinder had never had a better night. The bed seemed to sink in around her body, enveloped in soft sheets that reminded her of a cloud. She was gone in a deep dreamless sleep the second she gave Thorne a weak excuse as to where Cress had gone. Hopefully that issue would all be solved in the morning. Cinder had suspected him of being drunk anyway, so most likely he wouldn't even remember.
But his scream happened to come in the middle of a gorgeous dream about a feast, full of apples and roasts smothered in sauces and topped with garnish, filled with stuffings and seasonings, with several sides of---
"GAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!!" She yelped in harmony and sat up, blinking the wonderful sleep out of her eyes. The sight laid out before her was somehow one she knew she was never going to forget. Thorne was standing over her bed, near the far left corner. His blindfold was askew, almost hanging off his nose, with his hair equally unbalanced. He was shifting back and forth on either foot restlessly. But that wasn't the unnerving part. The man was holding a frying pan.
How in the world had a blind man gotten a frying pan without waking anyone up? And more importantly, why?!?
"Thorne..." He jumped at the sound of her voice, whipping the frying pan around and barely missing the corner of the dressing table. She bit back a curse of surprise.
"H-Hello, hi Cress," So this must mean he didn't remember last night, perfect, "I was, a, just looking around. Cause..." He gave a sigh, his shoulders drooping.
"I saw a bug. Well, I mean I didn't see it, but um, I might've woken up to have a bug crawling across my neck and panicked, because I....I hate cockroaches." His entire body shuddered, and he readjusted his grip on the frying pan before creeping towards his pile of blankets.
Time for him to snap out of it. This was gonna be a bit of a shock.
"Thorne, youse ain't gonna get a bug if you cain't see nothin." He dropped the pan in shock, and with a mighty crash it hit the floor. They both winced, but Thorne recovered first.
"What are you doing here? And most importantly, where in the world is Cress?!"
"Calm youse fire, boy. I's happen to have forgiven ya for beatin mes up yestaday, but as payment youse gotta promise not to do it again afta I tells ya what Cress has gotten herself into dis time."
She watched as a series of expressions flitted past his face, finally ending in his trademark smirk.
"Alright blondie, you've got me convinced."
They didn't have time for this.
"My 'air is dirty blonde, an' Carswell, I just watched youse get terrified of a bug. Don't be playin that crap with mes." He coughed a little, then stood up straighter.
"Right. Oh and for the record, blondie," *loud groan* "I would never hit a lady. I may be a rogue and terribly handsome mischief maker, but I don't hurt women. At least, not physically. Sometimes accidents happen, you know?" His smile did nothing to phase her.
"You don't rememba it 'cause youse was a deadbeat drunk las' night, but youse slammed me inta da wall. No one knows why." His smile wavered. "To be honest, youse didn't know Is was a goil."
"No, I'm afraid you're mistaken. I think I'd remember a beauty like you, darling."
"Carswell, you can't see me."
"Exactly love. Now why don't you explain this messy little situation over a spot of tea, shall we?"
This time Cinder didn't bother hiding her groan. This man was a piece of work.
This newsie thing was tough. She'd already been spit on, almost run over, and shouted at at least three times. But Cress discovered something wonderful.
She loved it.
There was something about being surrounded by the bustling energy that filled the streets, lifting her voice when all her life she'd been taught to keep quiet, and earning money for it. Now she wasn't just living off of payment she didn't deserve, she was earning her way into the world. She didn't have to feel guilty any more. It was like in some ways, Cress was giving back to society for spoiling her in rich clothes and fancy trinkets all her life. Now she was worth something, right?
Ben had caught up to their little group and was surprised at her enthusiasm.
"Da last time wes had a newcomer, it took him weeks ta like dis kinda life. Who is youse, lady?" She laughed it off, playfully swiping his hat to drop onto her head.
For once she felt at home. Like she could truly be herself here with these boys.
By lunch they were closer than family, watching out for each other and circling around Cress protectively in darker areas of the streets. And with every comment or concern they showed on their sweet, smudged faces, Cress fell a little bit more on love with this kind of life. The freedom, the effort, the fun.
It didn't seem like this would all go so terribly, awfully, horribly downhill so quickly.