I'll Always Look Out For You

15 | Loss | 9 Years Old

I...can't. Did I really do that in the last chapter? Again. I'm so, so sorry. But Ray wasn't around for the strike, right? Like 1984 by George Orwell said, it's easier to create a dead person than a living one. I still don't like myself for that last chapter though.

This is December of 1892. Antonio has been 9 years old for a really short time. Unfortunately, this won't heal much heartache. But the newsies still push on, and grow closer. For what it's worth, for what you can... Enjoy! :,)

For a month now, Antonio has been 9 years old. Not that he cares. It's been three months since Ray passed away. And they would all love to say that they've moved on. But they haven't. They really haven't.

True, they've had to keep on selling.

But throughout September, they barely did anything but sit by Ray's grave.

Some have had questions, questions that they want to ask, but know better than to vocalize. Questions like; Who is going to lead us now? or Did Ray really have to go to the factory? and others, mainly just questions with no tact whatsoever. Luckily, they all know to hold their tongues. Talking about Ray is very sensitive. Ray's like a martyr, and rightfully so. No one wants to tarnish his name.

The truth is, they have no clue if there is going to be another leader of their Manhattan newsies. They haven't given it much thought. No one really wants to replace Ray. They fear that if they try taking on the mantle, they'll completely fail. No one wants to associate leader of Manhattan with anyone who isn't Ray. And so, they choose to be leaderless. It's what Brooklyn did back when Stargazer passed away, and it's how they are now. It's not common for there to be a leader anyway. They just all miss Ray. A lot.

Everyone handles grief in their own way. Some move on easier than others. Some think about Ray every waking moment. Others will just think of him once or twice, or when something comes up--a memory or a little reminder of Ray. 

Antonio hasn't talked.

In the three months since it happened, Antonio has barely said fifteen words. Sometimes he'll mumble a simple yes or no if they really prod at him a lot. But he's managing to get by. He gets food by himself, sells by himself, doing pretty much everything by himself. He spends some time with others, but not that much.

Most of the time, he's underneath the stair way. It's safe there. It's lonely. But not a bad lonely. It's a safe space for him. One that no one else can really fit under. Sometimes, someone will come and sit right next to him from the outside, trying to coax him out, or at least to talk.

But he's too far in his head.

Ray would have sit with him through all these prolonged not-talking times. Ray was the only one who was ever patient to wait for Antonio to talk again. Everyone else gives up and leaves, deeming Antonio a lost cause. He's okay with that, though.

It's just him and his thoughts. And that's how he wants it.

At least, that's what he tells himself he wants.

And so he stays there, hugging his knees to his chest, rocking back and forth, and doing whatever else he needs to do to stim.

In time, he'll get better. When he finds a reason to talk, he will.

Until then, here is where he'll be.

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Jack sits upon the roof in the chilly mid December air, knees brought up to his chest. He looks up at the stars. He remembers Stargazer. Stargazer, who was constantly looking up at the sky. He's among the stars, Jack is sure of it. And with thoughts of Stargazer, Jack thinks of Ray.