POV: Brooklyn
I sneak off the ferry boat and New York hits me like on slap in the face. The air smells like dust and sweat. People are walking around in a hurry as young kids are playing in the streets.
I step off the dock with my hand clenched tightly in my raggedy pocket. I hold onto my only earnings as I wander around the chaotic city.
I walk up to a stand that sells bread and milk. The man's first words to me are, "Ey, I don't give to scavengers! Get lost girl! " He looks me up and down.
My shoeless feet are blistered from all my running. My ragged dress is baggy on my frail bony structure. My blond wavy hair is in a knotted mess since it lacks proper care.
I have dirt on my face from my nights in the forest. I guess really I do look like a dirty scavenger.
"Sir!" I say in a small groggy voice.
"How much for a carton of milk and a piece of bread...I have some money." I lift my fist from my pocket.
His face softens slightly.
"25 cents," he grumbles.
I place two dimes and a nickel on the small counter and he hands me my milk and bread. I thank him and start on my way. I need to find work. I don't want to be looked at as a scavenger for the rest of my time here.
I wander aimlessly through Manhattan for while until I come across a heard of boys. They are running through the streets smiling and waving their caps playfully while laughing with one another.
They are news boys. Some look around my age and I'm pretty sure they make ok money.
I follow them until they cross the street to a large building. The sign reads, "NewsBoys lodging house". It has to be close to noon so they must be done with work.
I feel a tap on my shoulder, "Excuse me miss... buy me last pape?" a slim blonde boy with an eye patch asks.
He has a thick New York accent. I smile and give him a nickel.
He tips his cap at me and begins to walk away.
"Wait!" I shout.
The newsie with the eye patch turns around.
I quickly exclaim, "I am looking for work. I just came to the city from New Jersey. Do you think there is any possible way...if you have room-"
He cuts me off with a huge smile.
"Of course! Follow me! I'll intraduce ya to everyone!"
And with that, we walk across the street. We make small talk and I tell him where I'm from.
"By the way, names Blink. I've been sellin papes since I was a boy."
"I'm Brooklyn. Nice to meet you," I say as I shake his hand.
As we get closer to the lodge house, some of the boys start to look up. They're hanging out outside of the house smoking, playing cards, reading the paper, and talking.
"And what do we have here Blink?" A tall boy with a red bandana around his neck asks with a grin.
"This is Brooklyn. She's from New Joisey. She's gonna be our new Newsie!" Blink answers.
More boys begin to look up from what they're doing.
The boy with the bandana smiles and shakes my hand. "Nice to meet ya Brooklyn. Names Jack. Jack Kelly."
"Nice to meet you Jack Kelly," I reply.
Jack leads me over to the porch where he had been sitting with a bunch of his friends. Blink follows and sits down. The boys sit around a small wooden table playing cards.
A boy with the strongest New York accent I've ever heard is yelling at another kid who's shaking his head. The boy with the accent, who clearly won, wears a massive grin plastered across his face.
"That's bullshit Mush! Pay up! I win." he triumphantly yells taking a thick brown cigar out of his mouth.
The boy, who I'm assuming is Mush, expression drops as he flips over the top card of the deck.
"Whopped ya again, didn't he Mushy?" Jack asks.
"I really thought I had a shot today. Ya could neva beat Race at a game of BS. Impossible. " Mush answers, glumly smacking the rest of his hand on the table.
The boy who was yelling at him picks up his winnings in the center of the table with one hand and shakes my hand with the other.
"Names Racetrack. Racetrack Higgins best gambler in all of New York. Call me Race. I hoird yous da new newsie?" he looks me right in my eyes.
I smile and blush. He is cute...very charming.
He has dark brown eyes, slicked back brown hair and a smile that creates butterflies in my stomach.
"Brooklyn...Just Brooklyn." I decide to keep my last name private.
"Well just Brooklyn-wait... I's like that name. Brooklyn! Like da Brooklyn Bridge!" a smile forms on his face as he slaps his buddies high fives.
One by one they all begin to shake my hand.
"Names Skittery, nice to meet ch'a!"
"They call me Crutchy! Pleasure!"
"Call me Boots!"
The rest of the newsies come over to introduce themselves as well. Soon, I'm swarmed by boys all wanting to shake my hand. Very polite.
"I'm Specs. Very nice to meet ya."
"Call me Albert."
"Nice to meet ya Brooklyn. Call me Buttons"