poor ➭ darcy l.w greeley

three

July 16th, 1899

Pre-strike,

I sat in the hospital bed, extremely unamused. "You've been- cranky ever since you came here, is there anything I can do to fix your boredom?" He asked. 'Make out with me!' I thought. I shook my head and shrugged my crossed arms, his back fell backwards onto the chair, messing up his posture. He sighed. "I could- read you a book." He suggested. "I'm not seven." I frowned. "Yes. But it's a nice, non-straining, activity." He replied. "I guess." I shrugged, he half-smiled. "Give me a minute- I'll be back here in a bit." He told me. He stood up and walked out, I frowned and crossed my arms.

-

"After a moment the window brightened as if the four panes of it had been stained with blood, and a quick ear might have been led to imagine the fire-imps calling and calling, clan joining clan, gathering to the colors. From the street, however, the house maintained its dark quiet, insisting to a passer-by that it was the safe dwelling of people who chose to retire early to tranquil dreams. No one could have heard this low droning of the gathering clans." He read to me. "You're a good reader, I'm terrible at reading." I told him. "Don't you know how to read?" He asked, genuine confusion laced his voice. "Do I?" I asked. "I- I'll teach you." He sympathetically smiled. I felt my heart flutter, I looked from his eyes to my feet. "Why won't you guys let me walk? Look, I can walk!" I said. "No- (your name), please don't try-" He tried to tell me. I didn't listen and got out of the bed, my legs immediately gave in and I fell into his arms, I looked up into his eyes. His hands were under my armpits, he picked me up and put me back onto the bed. "Look, just admit it; you need help and you're weak right now. It might not be fun to admit but it definitely is the truth." He told me. I shook my head. "I'm sure I'll be out by tomorrow." I assured him. "No, at the least like- three days. You got beaten pretty badly." He replied.

"Who did this? I can get a lawyer and get them arrested-" I interrupted him, "Why do you care so much- about me?" I asked. He took a second or two for him to open his mouth. "You're a person. Like any of the other newsies, like me and-" I shook my head slightly. "Yes, but I'm- poor." I told him. "That doesn't give you any less value as me. Anyone can learn how to get rich, but not everyone can learn how to be wise." He explained, calmly and carefully. His slightly blue-green eyes giving me life, I sat there, arms crossed- my bottom lip pouted out. "Look, I know you're weak right now and you don't like it, when I'm sick I don't either. But this happens to everyone. Not getting beaten up but like- I think you uh- get me." He chuckled.

"You know what'd be nice?" I asked. "What?" He replied, eager to make me happy. "If you could teach me how to read." I told him. He replied immediately, "I'm sorry, I forgot. We were just-" He apologetically frowned. "That's really fine." I told him. "Now go get a book!" I chuckled.  He quickly nodded, happily.

-

After two hours of reading I could read simple sentences, Darcy needed to leave, though. Whenever I was underlining what I was reading and Darcy was holding up the book- occasionally our hands would graze. And it was amazing. Oh god, I sound like a creep.

I felt my eyes slowly shut, i fell into a deep slumber.

Flashback dream

I felt my back press against the cool brick wall, I held in a sob. A boy with bright orange hair walked up to me, a concerned look overwhelmed his face. "Is you's okay?" He asked. I shook my head and he took my hand, "I'm Albert. I can sell papes with you in the morning." He smiled. "You're a newsie?" I asked. "Yeah. And now you are too."

I smiled, he guided me through the grey New York streets, I'm not alone anymore. I can be happy with them. I can be happy with the Newsies.

End of dream

I opened my eyes to Darcy quietly waking me up, the small, hushed whispers that my brain made out as white noise while asleep.

"I quickly came to say good night."

"Good night, then, Darcy." I smiled. I wiped the sweat from my palms onto my crinkled pants.

"Do the newsies know I'm here?" I asked. "I'm sorry, I forgot to tell them." He looked down at his dark brown/black (I really can't tell) shoes. "No- no. It's okay. You're a busy man." I excused him. "While you tell them, can you go under my lodging house bed, you'll see a small, round box with carvings on it. Can you bring it to me?" I asked. "Yes. Of course." He proudly smiled.

He left the room. His blindingly shiny shoes tapping on the ground.

Darcy

I took a stroll down the city, everyone looking at 'the rich boy'. After my dad died a year ago, the Trib was given to me. I'm more of an editor, less of a writer. But I write to support my family, my mom, little brother and older sister. Until she can find a suitor, of course. Adelaide. My sister. She took care of her greiving brother, I wish she could stay. It would make life easier and better for everyone.

I glared at the tall, brick building. In all of it's depressing glory, I walked inside, the floor boards creaking. I looked around the large, wooden room that was too large.

I looked at the large bank full of coins that I've never seen before.

I took a few steps up the stairs, to what looked like- around thirty boys lying on beds. One sat up and looked at me.

"Who 'da hell are you?"
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