Christina

"I got 'em," Crutchie whispered in my ear while stuffing two red tomatoes under his vest from a vegetable stand that was selling in the streets.

We often stole food from stands because we barely ever got enough food from the orphanage. That explains why Crutchie and I are so skinny. They don't care about us there, but it's a roof over our head, so we don't have a choice. Also, the state would put us right back there if they found out we lived on the streets.

"Hey, you kids. Get back here!" the owner of the stand yelled at us. He must have spotted Crutchie grabbing the vegetables.

"Run!" Crutchie hobbled next to me, trying to maintain the tomatoes under his vest the best he could with one hand. Turning a corner, finally losing the owner, we sighed together with relief, panting as we tried to catch our breaths.

"Here you are," He handed me one of the plump red tomatoes. We both bit into the tomato like an apple. The juice dribbled down our chins and onto the cobblestone street beneath us.

"Mmm," I couldn't help but moan little bit. I was very satisfied with this trip. By the time we were done eating, both of us were licking our juicy fingers clean.

"We gotta make sure the coast is clear," he said, poking his curly-haired head around the corner. "I don't see anybody, but let's walk the other way just in case."

"Sounds good to me," I wiped my lips with the back of my hand. We walked the opposite direction of the stand. For some reason, boys holding newspapers kept greeting Crutchie as if they knew him. I didn't really think anything more of it. And then I saw the boy that I ran into last night in the hall.

"Crutchie," I said, trying to quickly get behind him so he would cover me up. "Don't let that boy see me."

Crutchie gave a little-humored sigh before saying, "Him?" he pointed at the anonymous boy. I nodded. "Hey, Jack!" Crutchie called out, cupping his hand around his mouth.

"What are you doing?" I whisper-shouted at him.

"Look, he's headed over here now." He readjusted his crutch under his armpit. Jack turned towards us, cigarette hanging from his pursed lips. He smiled as he walked towards us. I scoffed and rolled my eyes, giving up on trying to hide from him. I stepped out from behind Crutchie.

"Aye, Crutchie, how ya doin', kid?" He clapped Crutchie's shoulder.

"I'm doing okay, Jack. My pal here is wanting to meet ya." He joked as he pushed me forward a little bit.

"Hi," I said flatly. I didn't mean to say it like that, it just came out that way. I stared at Jack.

"Oh, I remember you. You're the one who went into me at the orphanage," He said, his cigarette bouncing with every chuckle. "I'm Jack Kelly. What's your name, hm?" He took a drag on his cigarette, blowing the smoke out of the corner of his mouth.

I shifted my weight to the other hip. "Albert Murray. But, I like bein' called Al," I crossed my arms uncomfortably.

"Nice to meet you, Al." Jack brought his palm up to his mouth, spit in it, and held it out in front of him like he wanted me to shake it. I only stood there, watching the slobber run down his hand, eyebrows furrowed.

"You're supposed to shake it," he said like I was dumb.

"No. That's gross!" I receded a small step, only to witness Jack and Crutchie let out a huge laugh.

Jack slapped his knee, obviously amused by my refusal to shake his nasty hand. "Ooh, that's a good one!" he spoke between laughs.

Crutchie's laughs died down to chuckles, and then he asked, "How many papes should I get today, Jackie?"

"If the headlines aren't lousy, then I'd say..." Jack paused to think, scratching the top of his head. "what 'bout fifty? Ya think ya can sell that many?" he had a teasing tone to his voice.

"C'mon, Jack. Ya know me. I can sell one-hundred-fifty papes a day, easy." Crutchie betted. Clapping his hands together once, emphasizing the 'easy'.

"Woah, Crutch, don't get too excited. We still gotta wait in line," Jack pointed out the end of a huge mob of boys.

"What's the line for?" I asked.

"That line is for papes." Jack answered, flicking his cigarette butt on the ground and mashing it with his shoe.

"Ya mean, like, newspapers?" I questioned.

"Yep. Want me to but ya some?"

"No, thanks. I don't sell papes," I replied. I didn't know how to sell newspapers. I always heard Crutchie talking about it, and he made it sound difficult and miserable.

"Alright, kid. Youse might as well wait in line with me and Crutchie," Jack persisted. The three of us stepped in line together. We were at the very back at first, but in no time we were second in line.

"Wow. That was quick," I commented.

"So, Jack. Who do we got here?" a boy caught our attention. He pulled a stubby cigar out of his small mouth and awkwardly scratched his eye.

"This is Al. She's a friend of Crutchie's," with this, Jack laid his thick arm around my shoulders. No matter how hard I desired to shake him off, I went with it.

The boy grinned and took off his cap. "I'm Racetrack Higgins, but ya can call me Race," He offered his hand for my hand. I chuckled a little bit and accepted his handshake. "How old are ya?" Race asked blowing out smoke from his cigar.

"Thirteen." I scratched the top of my head.

He made a tsk-tsk sound. "That ain't good. Say that you're eleven, okay?"

"Why?" I was confused.

"Younger kids sell more papes. People here in New York take pity on young ones," he explained. He then changed the subject. "Just ask Jack how he's doing at age fifteen!" Race snickered, earning a smack on the chest from Jack. "Ya gonna be selling today, Al, eh?"

"No-"

"Yeah, he is," Jack butted in. He then turned to the man at the counter. "A hundred papes, please,"

"Jack! I don't know how to sell," I told him. Why wouldn't he listen?

"Then," he lifted the papers off the counter and rested them on top of his shoulder. "I'm gonna teach you."

Hi again! The picture above is of Racetrack Higgins (the one with the hat) and Jack Kelly (the one with a red bandana around his neck). :D

I hope you guys are enjoying the story. Don't forget to ask any questions!!