gone {open}

[The Entertainer]

The Entertainer sat alone on the steps of the Staten Island Lodging House. The cane Peep bought him laid in his lap, teetering on his legs. His usual cheery smile was gone. So many things had changed in just a short time. In one night. Who knew so much could happen in one night? He stared off at his feet, thinking about the night Irving Hall burned down.

He was having a great time with his friends. Singing loudly for them, dancing with them. Early on, he considered it to be one of the best nights of his life. Suddenly, it was mass chaos. Everyone began running in every direction, trying to get out of the burning building. He didn't know what was going on until he smelled smoke. The Entertainer pushed people aside trying to get himself to safety. A very selfish choice, and looking back he regretted it. People died in the fire. They were dead. Gone. What if he had helped someone? Sure, he helped some of his borough mates, especially the girls, making sure they were safe too. But the others? What if he had helped? Would they still be alive? Did that make him a murderer now? So many thoughts swirled through his head.

He pushed his brown hair out of his face, and propped his head up on his wrist. What was he going to do now? Irving Hall was gone, he was supposed to perform there. He had it all planned out. Someone important and famous would see him perform, and decide that he should be famous too. Then he would finally be the star he knew he was. He sighed. That would never happen now. Irving Hall was gone. Gone. Forever. He couldn't believe it. It was such a big part of all of their lives, and now it was gone. It felt like losing a parent, except no one's parents were buildings. Unless they were a baby building, but he had never seen a baby building. He wondered if Irving Hall was going to be replaced, or would it bring back too many memories? He had to give the Manhattan newsies credit. They had to live by the burned down building. Since that night, he stayed in Staten Island. Going to Manhattan didn't even cross his mind.

The Entertainer felt guilty. Lives were lost, people were hurt. One of his friends, Dancer, a borough mate, was hurt. Why was he thinking about his future career when there were more important things going on in the real world? He knew he did nothing wrong, but he felt bad. He felt guilty and selfish, and dirty. He was too selfish for his own good. If he would have helped someone in trouble, would they still be alive?

Not bearing to think about it anymore, he looked away from the ground. He felt so alone. A strange feeling for the boy who was always around people, always annoying them with his singing and what not. He didn't like this feeling, not at all.

--

Words: 514
Muse: FINALLY ALIVE!!

[Bloody Jack]

Heels clicked on the sidewalk. Click. Click. Click. They were forceful and obnoxious in the quiet. Silks rustled above them. It was Jacky Butler. Criminal. Murderer. English. These were the three words chosen by most to describe her. She was in Staten Island. She did not want to go near Manhattan. Brooklyn was off limits (you could only kidnap the leader's wife so many times), Midtown was boring, Harlem was useless, Queens was... insignificant, and the Bronx was full of loonies and mentals. No, Staten Island was perfect. Out of the way, quiet. No one would suspect cruel Jacky Butler in Staten Island.

She was nearing the Lodging House. Clean, neat, well organized and knowingly off limits to all criminals. The leader had made it clear what would happen. But she found herself drawn to the young man on the front stoop. He looked terribly sad and depressed. Jacky suppressed a grin. She loved to make people even more sad a depressed. Approaching him, Jacky stood above him and looked down at him. The shadow from her large and expensive hat (another gift from her older male friends) cast her face into darkness.

Trying her best to sound sincere, she put on a smile (which was really a grimace) and said in a fake and sappy voice, "Are you alright?" She bent down a bit, careful to keep her arms at a certain level. She didn't want her knife falling out of her sleeve. "You look quite sad... Is something the matter? Please, tell me..." She took on a begging tune, trying not to vomit all over him. "Jacky Butler." She said, straightening and introducing herself. If he was half as dumb as he looked, well, it would be alright. He wouldn't know who she was.

"That is a beautiful cane." She said finally, forcing the words from between clenched teeth. Oh wow. Who ever would have thought? Jacky Butler complimenting someone (if only a ruse, it still was hard to do). "Tell me what's wrong." It came out forceful, but Jacky was only human. She couldn't fake concern or kindness much longer.

[The Entertainer]

He looked up at the sound of a woman's voice. Standing in front of him was a young lady, pretty from what he could see. The large hat she was wearing made if difficult. The usual spark he got in his eye whenever a woman was around was gone. A sad grin crossed his face as he shrugged, "Yeah, I'm okay I guess." He said before he turned his attention back to the cane in his lap.

"Jacky Butler."

"The Entertainer." He said, looking back up. "I haven't seen you around before, are you a newsie?" The Entertainer asked as he fidgeted with the top of his cane. A habit he had required since Peep gave him the cane.

"That is a beautiful cane."

Her comment brought his spark back, he beamed. "Really?!" He exclaimed. "It's the nicest thing I own. Peep got it for me. He's one of my best friends, and he's the greatest leader too. Well, I don't really know that since I don't know how the other leaders are. But, I bet he's one of the best." He stated.

"Tell me what's wrong."

"Well, you know how Irving Hall burned down?" He asked. Without waiting for an answer, he continued. "It's affected everyone around here. Nothing's the same, everything's changed. I don't like that." He said with a frown. "I was supposed to perform at Irving Hall, that's never going to happen now. I'm going to be stuck as a newsie for the rest of my life." He sighed, and glanced away. "I don't really like being a newsie. I love the people, but I hate selling papers. The yelling strains my voice. And I need my voice to become famous." He swallowed before looking back at Jacky. "I don't want to be stuck as a newsie for the rest of my life."

[Bloody Jack]

Jacky scoffed. "You guess." She shrugged. "Guess whatever the bloody 'ell you want." She winced as her Cockney accent slipped through. "The... Entertainer...?" She asked, quirking an eyebrow. "What is with you newsies and your nicknames." She did not have much room to talk. Jacky was a nickname, but she had adopted it as her real name. She smirked widely, "No. I am certainly not a newsie." Realizing this could be a long conversation, Jacky removed her hat and sat down on the stoop next to him, smoothing her dress.

She winced at the loudness of his voice. "Peep...?" She pointed vaguely at the LH. "Ah him. Blonde, nosy?" She wondered aloud, tapping her chin. If she remembered correctly, he was the one who had saved Doll after she had kidnapped the bird. "Eh. Don't like him." She shrugged, begging indifference.

Surprised to see the direction the conversation had turned, Jacky raised her gloved hands in innocence and said, "I have nothing to do with it." For she didn't. She had not burned the Hall down. She had not even known it burned down until a couple days ago. She was out collecting money from some people who owed her. Needless to say, her dress had been ruined. Blood does not wash out of silk very well.

"I could imagine how being a newsie could be dull. Maybe you should look into other sorts of halls. Irving Hall's not the only performing area." Jacky said, glancing at him dryly. "See, there's this place in Midtown, in an old warehouse. A crowd is there, but no performers." She yawned, her back straight, and held her hand in front of her mouth. "Entertainer, you are not very entertaining so far." She said simply, watching a man across the street.

She then looked at him and her mouth lifted up into a Chesire grin. "And I do not like people."

[The Entertainer]

The Entertainer shrugged as she questioned the newsies' nicknames. "I don't really know. When I joined, everyone else had a nickname, and I was given my nickname shortly after." He said, "No one really knows why we have nicknames. I guess it's so the ones who are hiding from their parents stay hidden." He shrugged again.

A frown crossed his face when she mentioned that she didn't like Peep. How could she not like him? He was one of the best guys he knew. He was a nosy individual. He wanted to know why. "Why?" He asked, voicing his thoughts.

His eyebrows raised, and then furrowed in confusion. "Well, that's nice to know." He mumbled. "As far as I know, no one knows who did it." He hated mysteries. It started with his parents' murders. He still didn't know who did it. It still bothered him. Who would kill someone for fun? He didn't understand it.

The Entertainer scowled at her comments. He couldn't perform in any other halls, he had no way of getting in. Who would listen to a street kid? No one would believe that he was talented, no matter what he said. Her last comment stung, he looked away from her and didn't say anything. He couldn't think of anything to say. Not entertaining? That who he was. He was The Entertainer.

He looked back at her. "How does one not like people?" He asked in confusion. He loved being around people.