More Than A Degenerate (Riff X Character)

Chapter 3

The mess in the market didn't change your day as much as you hoped it would. Other than George and Thomas rising early to get the stand suitable for the customers, you went about the day like any normal day.

You watched your siblings as you normally do, keeping them safe and cared for inside the apartment. Though you welcome the comfort that a routine brings, you found yourself partially wishing that something would happen to cause you to leave again.

You love your younger siblings greatly, but there was something entertaining about getting to spend your day in the market. You liked interacting with the customers and running the risk of seeing a friend.

Or possibly the Jets.

But nothing happened. You stayed upstairs where your mother and George insist that you are more needed. Your work of cleaning, cooking, and babysitting is apparently a skill that they feel only you can handle.

You disagree, but it's not up to you.

As your day comes to a close, you're relieved that your siblings go to bed with ease. Your mother and George claim that they're exhausted from the long work day and head to bed early.

That leaves only you and Thomas awake in the dimly lit kitchen.

"Could you mend my shirt?" He asks, pulling at his gray shirt to point to the hole that is now forming just under his arm.

"What did you do?" You ask as you squint and lean forward to see it better.

In the typical teenage boy fashion, he shrugs. "I don't know. I think I got it caught on one of the stands while we were fixing them this morning."

You hum and stand from your place at the dinner table. You head to the living room and scan for your mother's sewing kit. Neatly tucked on the shelf next to her rocking chair, you find the purple tin.

"I'll see what I can do." You say as you sit at the table again. Without needing to be told, Thomas removes his shirt and tosses it to you.

He leans against the stove to watch you work. "As long as the hole doesn't get bigger, I really don't care how you do." He says.

You wish you had the same sentiment. You're sort of a perfectionist when it comes to things you're expected to know. You suppose it has something to do with your mother's expectation of you being the family's homemaker, but it makes doing little tasks like sewing a bit more stressful than they need to be.

Rather than sit in silence, you try to find a conversation to hold. "Any of your friends thinking about going to the dance?"

Thomas shakes his head. "Maybe Baby John. But the rest of us are either working or helping out the family."

You let out a snort. "Baby John?" You repeat with a raised eyebrow.

A smile plays on your brother's face. "Stupid name, right?"

You don't comment on it. Because it is pretty stupid, but it's catchy, you got to admit. "When did he start going by that?"

"When he joined the Jets."

You lock your jaw. Part of the reason why George let Thomas begin working in the market was because your mother feared that he might join one of the gangs in West Side. This job was meant to keep him too busy to even think about hanging around those boys.

You thought it was a bit extreme at first. You didn't think they'd want anyone Thomas's age hanging around them.

So hearing that John is now a part of the Jets is sort of a shock to you.