Pieces

The Trolley Strike

Henry always made sure he was last on line for his papers. It gave him more time with Morris. Sometimes, he'd notice Morris was looking towards the back of the line, trying to see where Henry was. He'd get excited every time he saw Henry. Then, when it was finally Henry's turn, Morris would always grab one of the papers and show Henry the weather page, making sure he saw it before putting the paper back.

If Morris was still at the lodging house when Henry got back, they'd go to Jacobi's together. Jacobi always started getting extra snacks for Henry, and if he wasn't there one day, Morris would make sure he got it somehow.

Most of the other newsies didn't like Morris very much. Not for the reasons Wiesel and Oscar didn't, though. They didn't mind him being different. But, they all hated Wiesel and Oscar for obvious reasons, and some hated Morris by association. And, yeah, he wasn't the nicest person in the world, but he was certainly nicer than Oscar and Wiesel.

It had been three weeks since the news of the trolley strike was first reported. The cops had been trying to shut it down since, but there wasn't much they could do. And one day, one of them asked Oscar for help.

"So...what do you want from me?" Oscar asked.

The cop smiled. "Well, I was hoping you and your brother could show those guys who's boss. Beat 'me up for us, will ya?"

"Me and my brother?" Oscar repeated. He turned to look at Morris, who was standing behind him. Morris was nervous, pulling at his sleeve, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He didn't like cops very much. Oscar wasn't sure he'd be able to beat up the trolley workers. Getting him to touch a newsie was hard enough. "So, uh...what do ya say, Mo?"

Morris quickly shook his head. No fighting. Fighting is wrong. Fighting makes people hurt, and that makes them not happy. And they should be happy.

"We'll pay ya. $3.50. Each," the cop said.

Oscar agreed immediately. $3.50 could buy him a lot. And it was more than he made working at the window.

Morris thought about it. He didn't need the money. He didn't get paid as it is, Oscar collected his half and he didn't see a penny of it. And he got by. But Henry could use it. So he agreed.

The next morning, after selling papers to the newsies, the brothers would go to the trolley worker rally and do the job.

Henry stepped up to the window. The last person. He smiled. "Hey, Mo. Doing anything fun today?"

"Yeah!" Morris smiled. He had finally started opening up to Henry.

"Oh, yeah? What's that?" Henry took his papers and opened the top one to the weather.

"We're gonna go to the trolley strike!"

"That's fun! Maybe I can stop by, yeah?"

"Yeah!"

Henry chuckled, closed the paper, and put it in his bag. "Alright, I'll see you in a bit." He smiled and left.

"See you in a bit!" More repeated, happy flapping. Wiesel immediately grabbed his hands. Morris frowned and watched Henry leave. "Love you," he whispered.

Oscar took Morris's hand and led him to where the strikers were. They looked around. It was a lot of people. A lot of work. Oscar immediately got started. Morris stood on the sidelines, watching. He looked around at the workers. Then he saw someone familiar. His father, who had abandoned him ten years earlier.

At first, Morris could do nothing but watch. He wasn't sure if Oscar had noticed yet. Then, finally, he got the courage to run up to him. "Dad?"

He turned around. "Morris? Is that you?" He looked closer. "Morris, my boy!" He pulled Morris into a hug,

Morris didn't like this. He didn't trust his dad, and he didn't want to be touched. Why did his dad, who abandoned him because he was different, suddenly love him? It was weird. Bad weird. He pushed him off as hard as he could, then started fighting, doing what he'd seen Oscar do.

Finally, when they'd done enough, Oscar grabbed Morris's hand and walked him home.

"Morris, I have a question..." Oscar sighed. "It's a very important question, and you need to be completely honest, alright?"

Morris nodded.

"Was that dad?"

Another nod.

"What did he say?"

"I went over to him, and then he said 'Morris, my boy!' and he hugged me."

"You went to him?" Oscar asked. "Mo, he's bad. You know that."

"But I wanted to see him..."

"You can't. You put yourself in danger. You put us in danger. Understand?"

Morris nodded. "I understand. I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't cut it. You never do that again, got it?"

"Got it." A pause. "Can I have my money now, please?"

Oscar nodded and gave Morris the money. This was the first time he'd ever asked.

"Thank you. I'm going to the lodging house now. Bye."

Before Oscar could argue, Morris left.