Lady of the Bronx- Newsies

Chapter Fifteen

Pov:Bambina

"No." I say, biting my lip in an effort to keep myself from laughing. 

"Is it, sono una ragazza?" Smalls says, his pronunciation way off.

"You're trying to say ragazzo. Ragazza means girl." I translate. 

A blush grows on his face. Sono una ragazza- I am a girl.

Smalls and I are working on his basic Italian; things like: Wheres the bathroom? I'm hungry. I am tired. Whats the weather? 

Or, as of right now, the sentence: I am a boy.

Its taking a bit longer than expected, but its a relief from whats going on right now...

Once again, Smalls and I are sitting on the roof. We're trying to unwind, or at least get a few laughs. Today was a bad selling day, as was yesterday, and the day before that... 

The new price is killing us.

I know it, Smalls knows it, even Danny and Hector do. But, most importantly, Pete knows it.

Manhattan is trying to recruit more boroughs, but without Brooklyn- they're screwed.

"Ugggg!" Smalls groans, "How am I going to learn this?"

"By practicing, Ragazzo magico." I tease.

He huffs, "I don't want to keep practicing. I already learned english."

"Fine, fine. We'll be done...for today."

"Thank god! Let's do something!" He says, jumping up from where we were sitting. 

I give him a look, "Smalls, it's almost sundown."

"Cela ne semblait pas avoir d'importance la dernière fois ..." He mutters in french.

I raise an eyebrow.

"Look, that's not the point. We're teenagers for goodness sake! And all the other borough leaders let their Newsies out after dark!" He explains, sounding like a kid arguing about curfew. Which, essentially, he is. But we don't have parents to complain to- we have Pete.

"Look, you can ask Pete to go out late. I, on the other hand, would like to live."

Pete is very kindhearted, but also very strict. He loves us all, and does everything in his power to keep us from getting hurt. And, in The Bronx, people get hurt after dark.

"Oh come on, Deer! Isn't there something you want to do? I'm so booorrreeeddd."

Immediately, a list of things flash in my mind.

I want to meet Katherine again. I want to finally go back to Little Italy- I haven't been there in a year. And, of course, part of me wants to see Spot Conlon again.

"Didn't you just say a few days ago that we were never going to sneak out again?" I counter.

"Yes, but if we tell Pete then it's not sneaking out."

"Pete is barely letting me sell my papes alone in broad daylight. What makes you think he'll let us go out tonight?"

"It's my birthday?" He says.

"It is not your birthday, Smalls." I say knowingly. It's the middle of July right now, his birthday isn't until October.

"But does Pete know that?"

I snort, "Of course he does. Every October fourteenth you run around telling everyone."

Bronx Newsie birthdays are an odd thing. We're dirt poor, and we can't afford to not work that day. But, we all pool some extra cash to get three of four gifts for the birthday boy. To be honest, I don't celebrate my birthday.