How yous met

Jack:

"Extry, Extry, read oll about it! Criminal masta mind on da loose!" a loud voice yelled attracting a slight crowd of people. Before you knew it the boy in the cowboy hat was gone.

Well shoot! You thought. Aggravated with yourself for not busting threw the crowd fast enough, your dad would have wanted to read that story you thought on your way into work at the dry goods store that morning.

"Well if it ain't the little goodie two shoes." Bradly an obnoxious jerk who refused to leave you alone confronted you when you exited the dry goods store later that day.

"C-come o-on, l-leave m-me a-alone." you said trying to sound as tough as possible but probably sounding more like a frightened mouse.

"Aw, is daddy's girl afraid?" he chuckled sinisterly.

"N-no." you gulped as he backed you into an ally.

"Oh, really?" his evil grin spread wider.

"Help!" you screeched as loud as you could. But that caused Bradly to slap you across the face, and you whimpered in pain as you fell onto the hard dirt ground. You used your arms to scramble your way into the furthest corner. Bradly just laughed and loomed over top of you. "Help! Anyone, Help!" you yelled with all of your being.

"Shut up you retarded chipmunk!" He yelled at you kicking you with his heavy shoes. You whimper in pain, praying silently for the beast to leave you alone Pater Noster, qui es in cælis, (Our Father who art in heaven) He spits at you and you continue to pray, but this time aloud.

" Sanctificétur nomen tuum: advéniat regnum tuum fiat voluntas tua," (Hallowed be Thy name; Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done)

"Would you just jut up?" he shouts not liking what you are saying. So you continue, "Voluntas tua, sicut in cælo et in terra. Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie, et dimitte nobis debita nostra, sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris." (On earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread; and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.) The last fraise makes him freeze and he says:

"You ain't worth the time." And he walks out of the ally.

"Thank you Jesus!" you pray. Then you hear footsteps coming closer as if someone is running. Oh Lord, please don't let it be him.

"Any bodys in hea?" You heard the voice yell, it sounded vaguely like the voice that had been selling newspapers earlier that morning.

"Yeah," you muttered "qualcuno è in qui" (Someone is here) you finished slipping back into your native Italian. "I mean someone is here." You squeak realizing you had slipped up.

"Keep talkin', I's'll makes me way to yous." The voice spoke softly but firmly into the dark ally.

"God bless you!" you say, greatful that someone had found you.

"It ain't no biggie." He muttered sounding closer than before.

"I am glad that you were not Bradly deciding to come back." You say knowing your accent is sounding a little strong.

"Whos dat?" he asked.

"A guy who likes to pick on me." You say trying not to speak unkindly.

"Whys you so nice?" he questioned.

"I try to live by the golden rule." I informed him.

"And what mite dat be" the strange boy inquired.

"Fare agli altri ciò che vorresti fosse fatto a te." (Do unto others as you would have them do to you.) You tell him the fraise in your native tongue.

"What does dat mean?" you could see him now and his face was twisted in confusion.

"That's Italian for: do unto others what you would have done unto you." you smiled at him.

"Well dats nice, until somebody gets hoit!" he exclaimed looking you up and down.

"I will be fine in a few days." I tell him quietly. As he bends over and gently picks you up and caries you like your older brother carried his bride over the threshold of their new apartment. "Thank you kind sir." You giggled.

"Yous one strange goil." He deducted shaking his head.

"Why do you where the cowboy hat?" you asked as you exited the ally stepping into the light making you squint from the sudden lighting change.

"Because when I's saved up enough money, I's head'n out west ta Santa Fe." He told you.

"I think that means Holy Faith." You told him wondering where a town with such a fine name would be.

"What eva it means if it means I's can get outa dis rotten cidy I'sa goin." He informed you stopping suddenly. "Whares do yous lib?" he questioned.

"Well, thank you for the help, but if you could put me down, I can probably make my way home." you told him.

"Ok, strange goil." He said setting you down, but you crumbled to the ground still too weak from the beating. "Wells it looks like yous tell'n me wheres yous lib afta oll." He chuckled replacing you in his arms.

"I guess so," you sighed. "I live in apartment 350 on the third floor of the fifth tenement building on the east side of little Italy." you told him slowly so he could comprehend where he needed to take you.

"Well dats a mout full." He smiled. "An by da way, da names Kelly, Jack Kelly." He smiled wider.

"Well my name is (Y/N)(Y/L/N). It is a pleasure to meet you signor Kelly." You giggle.

"Signor?" He asked you scrunching his face up real cute like. Wait, cute? Yeah, he was kind of cute.

"It means Mister." You told him once again giggling.

"Well what means weirdo?" he asked sticking his tongue out at you.

"Strambo means like wacky," you told him smiling.

"Well you is strambo." He said not exactly pronouncing it right.

"Close enough." I muttered.

"What'd you say?" He asked playfully.

"That you pronounced it close enough." you informed him.

"Well den, miss strambo, I tinks wes need to meet up again sometime." He looked deep into your eyes making you want to melt. "How was me prenoncein dis time?" he asked you.

"Much better." You whispered.

"Well, wes hera." He said rapping on your family's door.

"chi è contro la porta?" (Who is at the door?) you heard your mom yell.

"She wants to know who could be at the door." You told Jack what your mom had said when you saw his face twisted up in confusion.

"Oh, should I say who I is?" he questioned.

Then you heard her yell: "Danny, andare a vedere chi è alla porta!" (Danny, go see who's at the door!)

"No, she just told my brother Danny to come see who was at the door." you informed him as the door opened and you saw your twin brother open the door.

"Cara Madre di Dio! Cosa ti è successo?" (Dear Mother of God! What happened to you?) He exclaimed with wide eyes.

"English Danny." You told him.

"What happened (Y/N)?" He repeated the second half of what he had said the first time.

"Bradly, decided to attack me on my way home from the store." You informed him.

"Well thank the Lord you are ok!" He exclaimed loudly sending the rest of your large family to the door. You two were met by so many questions both in English and Italian you could not keep them all strait.

"And who is this?" your father boomed overtop of the chaos sending everyone into silence.

"Papa, this is Jack Kelly, he saved my life, if it was not for him, I would still be lying in some ally." You smiled at him.

"Well in that case! Come on in boy! Enjoy dinner with us!" he laughed ushering Jack and I into the room.

"Just set her down on one of the mattresses and nonna (Grandma) will take care of her." Your momma said. So Jack laid you down and then stood there looking at you.

"Go on, enjoy yourself." You told Jack.

"Ok, but I's knows where yous lib so I's mite drop in ebry once in ah while." He smiled at you.

"I will count on it Signor Kelly." I chuckled.

"You betta, strambo." He laughed a deep laugh from his belly before leaving you and your nonna alone.

"Che bravo ragazzo. Ma perché strambo?" (What a good boy. But why Wacky?) your nonna smiled.

"Sì, lui buono. Lui mi chiama strambo perché sono un po 'diverso." (Yes, he's good. He calls me wacky because I'm a little different.) You smiled at her thinking about your knight in a cowboy hat.

Davey:

"If I could write a magic song, that everyone could sing. I would write of love, of hope, and joy and things that peace could bring. And when we sing my magic song, all hate and war would cease. If I could write a magic song, I'd write a song of peace. One song for all of us, one song could bring us peace; one song could make a miracle, for all of us, a song of peace. In just one song, my magic song, that everyone could sing, we could sing of love, of hope, and joy and things that peace could bring. And when we sang our magic song all hate and war would cease. With just one song, our magic song, our world could fill with peace. One song for all of us, one song could bring us peace; one song could make a miracle for all of us, a song of peace. One song could make a miracle for all of us, a song of peace. One song of peace, a song of peace, a song of peace."

You sang in Central Park. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, and it is snowing. If you and your family want a roof over your head for Christmas, you need to make the rent. But it was already getting dark and before this song you still needed one of the six dollars it cost to pay for the rent of the two bedrooms and a kitchen tenement apartment. You picked up the jar and counted. 96 cents! All you needed was four more cents! You deposit the money into your pocket not wanting anyone to steal your can. So you started singing once again.

"Oh, little town of Bethlehem how still," but were interrupted by a bull coming up to you.

"Ma'am, do you have a permit to sing in the park?" he asked.

"Since when do you need a permit to sing?" you questioned.

"Just a day or two ago." He sighed.

"Come one officer, I just need four more cents to pay for my family's rent this month, please since it is Christmas time, let me finish this one song." you pleaded.

"I let you sing long enough, you'll just have to do something else for the money." The man informed you.

"Yes sir." You sighed and picked up you're can off the ground. The snow started to fall more quickly and the wind picked up. You tightened your shawl around your shoulders, put your head down and trudged for home.

"Ma'am, ma'am," You heard a male voice yell from behind you, so you turned around and could see nothing threw the veil of white snow. "Wait right there." The voice once again shouted over the wind. Maybe I am just hearing things. You even thought. But then you made out a figure heading towards you. What if it's a murderer or a thief? You questioned yourself.

"Are you the girl who was singing in the park today?" The voice asked as it drew closer.

"Who wants to know?" you asked just to be on the safe side.

"David Jacobs." Was the response you received. Well that doesn't sound like the name of a murderer or a thief. You thought.

"Yes, it was me. Why do you want to know?" You shouted back. But by this point the lad probably seventeen or so stood right in front of you.

"You had a beautiful voice and I was wondering why you were singing out in the cold." He sounded concerned.

"My dad got fired three weeks ago, and can't find another job. Since, I'm the oldest of the fourteen kids in our family, it is up to me to make the rent now." You informed him.

"What about your mom?" he questioned.

"Died last year in childbirth with what would have been the youngest." You sadly told him.

"I'm sorry for your loss." He replied dejected.

"Thanks." You mumbled.

"How much more do you need?" he asked you.

"What?" you asked not sure if you had heard him right.

"How much do you still need for rent this month?" He clarified.

"Four cents." You muttered.

"Here, take this." He said pressing a dime into your hand. Your eyes open widely.

"Thank you! How can I repay you?" You exclaimed.

"How about accompanying me to this Christmas party tomorrow night?" he smiled brightly.

"Where is it?" you asked excited you had never been asked to a Christmas party before. Then your common sense took over. "Wait, how do I know you aren't some kind of murderer or thief?" you asked boldly.

The boy, who called himself David, laughed. "You are funny miss," he trailed off.

"(Y/L/N), (Y/N) (Y/L/N)." you informed him shivering.

"Well miss, (Y/L/N) I can assure you I am neither one of those things." He bowed exaggeratedly laughing and you giggled. "The party is at Medda's," he informed you.

"Where's that?" you asked.

"You know what, I'll come and pick you up tomorrow evening say around 6?" he asked.

"Do you know where I live?" You asked worried.

"No, I do not, but if you told me, then I would." He chuckled.

"Well, I live, are you sure you're not a murderer or a thief?" you asked once again.

"Yes, I'm sure." He chuckled.

"Fine, I live three blocks down 76th street in apartment number 239." you told him.

"Great, I'll see you then!" he smiled.

"Oh and by the way, I need to be back to St. Jean Baptiste's at 11:30," you informed him.

"That'll be great, I will see you then." He smiled, and then he turned and left.

"There you are! How did it go today?" your dad asked as you entered your family's apartment and hung your shawl on the hook by the door.

"Well I made the rent." You smiled.

"That's amazing!" Your dad exclaimed.

"And, I got invited to a party tomorrow evening." You said in a sing song voice.

"By who?" Your dad asked getting all over protective.

"This really nice boy." you replied dreamily.

"You cannot go to a party with a boy you just met." He stated.

"Dad, he's coming over so you can meet him." You informed him.

"If I don't like him, I will forbid you to go, you hear me young lady."

"Yes Sir." You replied a little aggravated.

So you went into the room you shared with your sisters, changed into your nightgown and slipped under the blankets. Bernadette, who was seven, snuggled up next to you as you drifted off to sleep. That night all you could dream about was the mysterious boy named David Jacobs.

Kid Blink:

"You know what?" One of your closest friends asked.

"What?" You answered. You two were on your way home from school and as usual were talking about pretty much nothing.

"The weather has been awful, every time you turn around, more rain. It keeps ruining my hair." She complained. You sighed.

"Yeah, I feel badly for the newsies, the rain must make selling newspapers just horrible." I voiced a concern I had been having since it started raining this spring.

"Don't tell me that you, the daughter of the mayor of New York City, think about those ratchet street urchins." She scoffed.

"How could I not?" you questioned her.

"They are all thieves and vile little creatures." She claimed.

"Did you ever think it might be life circumstances that drove them to thievery?" you probed.

"What could ever make someone steal?" she asked haughtily.

"Hunger, cold, and plenty of other things." You declared.

"I would never steal anything." She huffed.

"What if you had no food, no money, no family, and no place to call home? Then you see this nice juicy apple sitting on a cart. Your stomach growls, then the merchant turn his head, what would you do?" you challenge her knowing that feeling all too well.

"Ha, I forgot you were one of them, before the mayor scoped you up off the streets." She scoffed. You shook your head in pity.

"I pity you." You whispered and continued on at a faster pace. You lost her quite easily.

"Miss, would ya buy me last pape? I's got tree yunga bruddas an sisstahs dats needen ta eat." A handsome looking lad with an eyepatch over one of his eyes asked.

"Yeah, I'll buy your pape, but I's higly doubtn yous got da siblins yous claimen." You said slowly slipping back into your old accent. You watched his eye brows shoot up and his eye widen in surprise.

"Well den miss, yous got me dere." He replied smirking a little.

" 'nd I's assumin' dat ain't yous last pape eda." You called his bluff crossing your arms and raising your left eyebrow.

"Dang yous good." He smiled.

"I's been in da business befoh." You smirked.

"A prim n proppa tin likes yous?" He laughed.

"I's not always been dis way?" You sighed.

"I's believes ya dere." He nodded looking sad.

"Well, heas foa da pape," you said handing him a nickel. He searched around in his pocket and you heard jingling in his pocket. Your left eyebrow shot up as he said "Sorry, ain't got no change." frowning.

"Yeah right, but I's was gonna let ya keep it anyways." You rolled your eyes.

"Yous a crazy goil, is dea any way I's'll see ya again?" He questioned.

"I's don know, maybe you's will, and maybe you's won't." You smirk backing away from the attractive boy you most defiantly plan on seeing again.

Spot:

"There's only ein ting a German hates more dan having a dishonor plashed upon hish family, and shtat es un Irishman." Your older brother tells you at the dinner table, slamming his fist on the table.

"vhat es so vong vit de Irish?" you questioned slipping into a strong German accent that only manifested itself when you are extremely frustrated. You were so frustrated at how he was reacting to the news of the boy you liked.

"You are a girl, you vould not undershtand!" He slammed the table once again.

"Spot es a goot boy!" you argued.

"He es Irish!" He reiterated.

"He shaved mein life!" You yelled.

Earlier that week...

"Wie kommen Sie sprechen Englisch so gut?"(How come you speak English so good?) your coworker at the bakery you worked in asked.

"Practice makes perfect." you grunted as you kneaded some dough.

"Was?" (What?) She asked confused.

"Übung macht den Meister." (Practice creates masters.) You translated.

"Ach, das macht Sinn." (Oh, that makes sense.) she responded

"Ich werde an die Front zu gehen, um zu sehen, ob Herr Weis Hilfe braucht." (I'm going to the front to see if Mr. Weis needs help.) You told the other girls once you were done with all of your duties in the back.

"Ah, (Y/N) I was just thinking about you," Herr Weis stated as soon as you entered the front. His English was better than yours and he was teaching you how to sound more American.

"What can I do for you Herr Weis?" You asked in your best English.

"At least one of my employees cares to take the time to not sound like they are fresh off the boat." He huffed.

"Not to be disrespectful Herr Weis, but most of them are." You reminded him.

"Very true. You are a smart girl (Y/N)." he smiled at you not creepily or anything, but like a father would.

"Thank you Herr Weis." You beamed at his compliment.

"Would you mind taking the trash around into the ally?" He asked.

"Not at all Herr Weis." You responded cheerfully beginning to lug the trash can behind you.

"Well whats do wes hab here?" You heard a sinister voice ask.

"It's just a goil." Another voice replied. You looked around to see where the voices had come from, but saw nothing.

"Wh-ho is there?" you asked nervously.

"Aw, is da goil nowvis?" The first voice cooed.

"I tink she es." A third voice agreed. Then you saw four figures emerge from the shadows. They were huge! You turned to run back out of the ally, but you saw three more ginormous boys. You were trapped.

"What do you want?" You asked in your strongest voice trying to sound American because you knew you could show no weakness.

"Hows 'bout you?" One boy, the first one who had spoken, grinned evilly.

"Hows 'bout yous leave da goil alone." you heard a voice from above demand.

"Is yous gonna make me?" The first boy asked.

"Yeah, I is." The voice from above responded. Then you heard one of the seven boys cry out in pain. "Anybody else wana feel some pain?" The mysterious voice asked.

"I'ts Spot! Run!" The first boy yelled causing his cronies to scramble out of the ally.

"Dat's right Queens! Now stay outa Brooklyn!" The mysterious voice yelled after the boys. Then you heard a thud and felt a hand on your shoulder and you screamed.

"Shh! It's ok, Is won't hoit ya." The boy cooed. You turned around to see a boy not much older than you're 15 years. "Let's get outa dis ally, it's giv'n me da creeps." He smirked gesturing for you to exit the ally. Once out, you looked up at the boy, who had just saved you from a horrible fate, and into his vibrant blue eyes.

"Danke!" (Thank you!) You smiled at him. A slight confusion flashed across his eyes. "It means," you started to explain but he cut you off.

"I knows what it means," He said a little sharp. And shook his head and replaced his frown with a smile.

"My name is (Y/N), what is your name?" You asked extending your hand.

"Conlon, Spot Conlon." He accepted your hand and shook it. "And yous welcome. Hopes I'll be see'n you around." He commented before getting lost into the busy Brooklyn streets. You sighed dreamily. Spot Conlon, he is so hot!!!

Crutchy:

"You are crazy, you know that?" Your older sister told you as you both exited the shirtwaist factory where you both worked

"Obviously." You chuckled

"I still cannot believe you cursed him out!" She laughed.

"Well, what is the use of having a language that most people do not know if you do not use it to your advantage every once and a while." You rationalized.

"Like I said before, you are crazy." She shook her head.

"Oh, I am completely aware of this." You shrugged.

"As much as I hate to change topics, because I love discussing your apparent insanity, how is your hand doing?" she asked sympathetically.

"I love discussing it as well sister, but my hand, it has seen much better days." You responded chuckling.

"I wish you didn't have to keep working because I worry about you constantly." She frowned.

"Hey, no need to worry; I'm better with one hand than most of the others in there. And besides, we need my salary." you reminded her. But the conversation brought back painful memories of a few months earlier. You had been trying to prevent an accident with a younger co-worker, but instead of no one getting hurt, you lost all function of your left hand. Now most folks would think that it was fortunate that it was your left hand. But not you, for you are left handed, so things were a little difficult.

"Yeah, I know this, but you need to be careful and make sure Mr. Fitzgerald doesn't catch you." She cautioned. "Not to mention he is already prejudiced against you because you are not Irish."

"Ha, even though this is true, he wouldn't fire me to save his life; I'm quicker at my job than anyone in the factory." You bragged.

"Don't be so sure of yourself you goof, nothing in this business is certain except for the fact that there are hundreds waiting in line to fill your job, most of them Irish." She brought you back into reality and you shuddered to think about that.

"Yeah, ok, I'll be more careful from here on out." You assured her.

"That's more like it, and as amusing as it is, no more cussing him out ok." She sighed from relief.

"Tak, mem." (Yes, ma'am) you rolled your eyes. Burkotun You thought. (Killjoy)

"Hey miss, would ya buy a pape?" you heard a voice ask. You turned to see a tall happy looking very handsome boy supporting most of his weight on a crutch.

"velykyy, khtosʹ namahayetʹsya vzyaty moyi hroshi."(Great someone trying to take my money) Your sister rolled her eyes at the boy.

"Anna," You slightly shoved her "That is not nice, he needs to make a living too." You reminded her.

"Sorry but we barely got enough for ourselves." Anna told the boy.

"Anna, but we do have enough to spare one penny." You prompted her, your Ukrainian accent spilling out a little. You had been born in the United States, but your parents hadn't so you spoke their native language at home.

"Fine, ale z vashykh hroshey ne z moyikh hroshey." (Your money, but not my money.) She agreed hesitantly.

"Thank you." You hugged your sister.

"Like I said, your money." She shook her head at me.

"I would love to buy a paper from you; I can read it to my Papa tonight." You smiled addressing the handsome curly haired lad.

"Thank ya miss! An yous got a beautiful accent." He smiled even wider than he already was.

"Your welcome, but normally don't have one." You informed him.

"It's a shame cuz its real pridy." He proclaimed.

"You are sweet," You chuckled.

"Dey call me Crutchy, whats use name?" He asked with a sparkle in his eyes.

"Mene zvaty (Y/N), that means my name is (Y/N)." You informed him.

"Mene zvaty?" he questioned actually pronouncing it quite good. You giggled. "What language is dat anyways?" he asked curiously.

"Ukrainian," You told the boy called Crutchy.

"Dats unique, it seems like a beautiful langige." He chuckled.

"It is quite unique and beautiful, but so is your name." you raised an eyebrow at him. He started laughing at your comment.

"Would you two stop flirting? (Y/N) we need to get home." Your sister rudely interrupted.

"Wells I hope to be see'n yous around (Y/N)." Crutchy said with a voice full of anticipation.

"Yeah, that sounds good." You encouraged trailing after your sister.

"What was that?" Anna asked you.

"What do you mean?" you inquired faking ignorance.

"You know Papa is the one who picks who you see in the boy department." She reminded you

"This is America, not the old country." You protested.

"We will see." She mumbled.

You were aggravated, if you liked the attractive boy named Crutchy, you should not be stopped because of bronze age traditions. But none the less, you knew your sister spoke the truth. Regardless, you could not stop your brain or your heart from going back to the kind and cheerful Crutchy.

Mush:

"So what's the problem with your dad having you go on a date with his business partner's son? He's wealthy right?" Your close friend asked over lunch in you two's school courtyard.

"That's the problem, he's wealthy. He has no morals and is only interested in me because of my dad's power." You complained.

"Who isn't?" She muttered.

"Ok, that's it, I'm sick of all of this and your last statement was the last straw!" you shouted and started to pick up your lunch.

"What are you doing?" the girl who you no longer considered anything more than an acquaintance questioned.

"I'm leaving." You declared firmly. So you took off and wandered through the chaotic streets of Manhattan. Unfortunately, you had no idea where you were, or what you were going to do.

"Where the heck am I?" you asked yourself aloud scratching your head.

"Whas you needin ta be?" you all of the sudden heard a male voice ask.

"Nowhere in particular." You answered sounding slightly dejected.

"Do yous hab a place to stay?" The voice asked again, but this time you could see the face that went with the face. He was devastatingly handsome with his almost kinky brown hair and powerful looking chocolate eyes. Not to mention the fact that he looked well built.

"Likes what ya sees?" The boy smirked.

"Not especially." You lied through your teeth.

"Well pardon me miss hoity-toity," The boy said getting all defensive.

"To answer your first question, I am in the market for a place to stay." You told him.

"Yous ain't frum dis parta town is ya?" He looked at you like you were some rare object.

"No, is it that obvious?" you inquired.

"Yeah, it is." He answered bluntly.

"Where am I exactly?" you asked the boy who you had just noticed was toting a stack of newspapers.

"Bout tree blocks frum little Italy." He responded looking annoyed.

"Sorry for bothering you." You huffed started to walk away but were stopped by a strong hand being wrapped around your upper arm.

"Let me go!" you demanded.

"Look at mes!" He commanded rather harshly. So you looked up at him.

"Da streets of New Yoik ain't da place fois da like of yous." He sighed heavily. "I can't put ya up, but I's gota friend whos can." He went on to say.

"You don't have too, I can look after myself." You huffed.

"An dats why yous lost?" He snorted. As much as you hated to admit it you knew he was right.

"How do I know you can be trusted?" you asked crossing your arms over your chest.

"You don't." He points out. "Now, do yous what a place ta stay o not?" He inquired.

"That would be great." You smiled, knowing that this guy had no obligations to help you.

"Why da sudden change in attitude?" The boy questioned.

"You are being sweet helping me and I just realized it, sorry for being a," You started to say jerk, but he cut you off by saying:

"Asshole?" He smirked.

"Not exactly the adjective I was going to use, but, that is probably more accurate." You chuckled.

"What's yous name? I likes you." He chuckled with me his chocolate eyes lighting up making you slightly weak in the knees. Wait what is happening to me? Well whatever it is, I can't tell him who I am. You thought.

"What's your name?" you asked trying to change the topic of discussion with a bright smile plastered to your face.

"I asked yous foist, but if you don't wanna tell me, I's'll undastand." He smiled back.

"Me name is Mush, and I'll call you Sunshine, cuz when yous smile, yous whole face lights up." He smirked. You scoffed.

"Sunshine?" You questioned lifting an eyebrow at Mush.

"What?" he asked looking all cute and innocent.

"I guess," you smiled again. At least it's better than him knowing who I real am. You thought.

"Well, wes 'ere." Mush announced. You were not even aware you had been walking.

"Thank you Mush," You whispered as he knocked on the door.

"It's a cobblers. I tink deys lookn foa help, don't tank mes yet." He chuckled.

"Yes, who is it?" You heard a big booming voice ring from the other side of the door.

"It's me, Mush." Mush emphasized his name.

"You want that favor now, don't you." You heard the man sigh.

"Well kinda, but it helps yous too." He cheerfully suggested.

"I'm listening." The man sad opening the door.

"Dis goil is in need uf a place ta stay, an she's real pim'n proppa sos, I was tinkn maybes you could swap room'n boad foa her help." He proposed.

"That sounds good, but Mush, if this doesn't go the way I want it, she's out on her ear, you hear me." He bellowed. You both nodded your heads rigorously.

"Good, now what's your name?" the man asked sounding more like a teddy bear than the grizzly bear before.

"They call me Sunshine," You smiled looking in Mush's direction too see that he had already disappeared.

"Don't worry child, that boy'll be back, I can assure you that." The man laughed. "Now, I'm going to teach you how to make shoes." He ushered you inside.

Racetrack:

"Hvad er der galt med dig pige?" (What is wrong with you girl?) Your dad bellowed shoving you into the wall.

"Venligst, far!" (Please, Father!) You pleaded putting your arms across you face to shield yourself from your Father's drunken rage.

"Det er din skyld!" (It is your fault!) He screeched kicking you.

"Stop venligst." (Stop please.) You started to cry, as strong as you wanted to be, you were getting sick of the abuse every night. Ever since your mother and younger four siblings had died three years earlier from some fever things had been getting worse. Your father and you were the only two to survive in your family and he couldn't handle it. "Far, være rationelle." (Father, be rational.) You sputtered.

"Men de er døde!" (But they are dead!) Your father ranted.

"Tror du, de ville have ønskede dette?" (Do you think they would have wanted this?) You stammered. Your father visibly cooled down and ran his hands through his unruly hair.

"Du har ret. Kom gå få klar til seng mit barn, har du en tidlig morgen." (You are right. Come go get ready for bed my child, you have an early morning.) He sighed. I hate how he just changes his mood at a drop of a hat. You thought.

"Godnat far." (Goodnight Father.) You murmured walking past the man who had just dealt you a nasty beating.

"Buggy acidint, tree woman an a child dead!" You heard a boy yell as you stepped out of the house you had just returned laundry to. Pour souls. You thought shaking your head at how careless people were. All of the sudden, you felt yourself bump into something. You looked up and saw that it wasn't something, but some one. A real nice looking someone .

"Excuse me, I am so sorry!" You apologized.

"Na, It's my fault." The classily dressed young man took the blame.

"I wasn't paying attention to where I was going, it was all my fault." You refused to let him take the blame.

"What'ch doin' in dis parta da nebahood enyhow?" He asked in a charming accent.

"I was just doing my job." You assured him.

"An what mite that be pretty lady?" He smiled

"I do laundry for rich people." You rolled your eyes.

"How do yous know I ain't rich?" he ribbed jovially.

"The dirt on the face and the accent kind of give it away." You retorted chuckling slightly.

"I ain't da one wit da accent, you is." The olive skinned lad remarked.

"Oh really? Is that what you think?" You snorted.

"Yeah, dats what I think." He announced.

"I like to think my English is quite well." You blurted.

"Good, not well, good." He announced.

"See, it is good!" You smiled. Knowing full well that he had been correcting you, but you had chosen to use it to your advantage.

"You know what kid, I likes you." The boy chuckled scooping of his hat and bowing exaggeratedly. "Da name's Racetrack. What's yous name?" He said extending his hand.

"(Y/N), my name is (Y/N). It is a pleasure to meet you Racetrack." You smiled shifting your laundry basket to your hip so you could shake his hand.

"Da pleasure's been all mine." He repeated his bow from earlier. You laughed at his antics pressing your free hand's pointer finger's knuckle under your nose shaking your head.

"Well, I must be off, I have a few more houses to go to, then I need to go back home to get started washing again." You sighed.

"When will you be back here?" He questioned.

"In two days, to return their laundry." You stated.

"Well, I'll be see'n you den." He smiled. When he smiled his face had a certain glow about it. Which made you smile.

"Yes, that sounds great!" You confirmed.

"Goodbye (Y/N)." He started walking away.

"No, not goodbye Indtil næste gang, Racetrack." You waved.

"Hu?" Racetrack asked confusion laced in his voice.

"Until we meet again." You translated to him.

"Absolutely." You heard him say before he faded into the crowd. Then you heard him yell "Buggy acidint, tree women an two children dead."

"Well, I wonder what the real story is." You said to yourself shaking your head.

Boots:

"(Y/N), how the heck do you clean the dishes so fast?" Your boss asked.

"I live with three sisters, five brothers, my momma, my papa, my auntie Tilly and papa's momma. I's the oldest, so I'm doin' tha dishes most times." You recounted. He shook his head and clicked his tongue.

"That is a lotta people." He noted the obvious.

"Yus su." You slipped more into your parents southern accent than you would have liked.

"You want to stick around to help with the dinner rush? Brittney's mom needed her help all day today." He tried to coax you, knowing you were easy to convince.

"And I'll be paid foa dis right." You lifted your eyebrow at him.

"Of course you will." He cooed.

"Den I guess you got yoa self a dish washer foa da night." You confirmed.

"Good, because Brian Denton, you know the reporter," he stated and you nodded knowing who he was referring to "Well, this morning he stopped in saying he was bringing all of those newsie kids in for soup tonight." He concluded. Your eyes widened in shock.

"Dat's gonna be a boat loada dishes." You murmured. Your boss chuckled.

"Yeah, that's why I'm going to need you help (Y/N)."

"Well, yous got dat." You agreed. "Do I have enough time to go'n run sum errins foa my momma?" You inquired.

"Yeah, you do, but be here by four o'clock sharp." He instructed.

"Will do." You agreed.

"See you then." He replied as you exited the door.

"I can hardly believe that a reporter has enough money to pull this off." Teresa, the cook, shook her head later that afternoon.

"I know, aldoe da kids out dea ain't eben half uf um." You agreed also shaking your head.

"The boss charges Denton only half the amount though." Netta, one of the Waitresses added walking into the kitchen from the dining room.

"Hey yous need any help in here?" A masculine voice asked making all three of you jump.

"(Y/N), over there could use sum help wit da dishes." Netta stated before you could say no. You groaned. But when Yyou looked over to see who your help was going to be, your tune quickly changed. Standing there was probably the single most handsome lad you had ever seen. His kinky black hair stood out beautifully against his milk chocolate skin making your jaw almost drop.

"Yeah, I needs lots a help." You lied slowly. Netta hooted and you gave her the evil eye.

"Well get to work will you?" She cooed leaving the kitchen once again.

"What do you need me ta do" He inquired with bright smile bringing light into his dark brown eyes making you week in the knees.

"Hu?" you asked being snapped back into reality from where you had been day dreaming about how dreamy the boy looked.

"What dou you need me ta do?" he replied slowly chuckling slightly.

"Uh, you could uh dry." You suggested.

"Well (Y/N) is it?" He asked picking up a dry towel and began drying the dishes.

"yeah, dat's what my folks call me anyways." You joked nervously.

"It might not be what my folks called me, but dese days most people call me Boots." The boy informed you.

"Why dey call ya dat?" You questioned.

"Sometin ta do wit da fact dat I shine shoes on da side." He snorted.

"Oh, well at least it ain't Frankenstein." You rolled your eyes.

"Say what?" Boot's face twisted in confusion.

"My brothers, they call me Frankenstein because in da morning, I'm kinda cranky." You admitted.

"Dats hilarious." He laughed.

"No it ain'." You fumed.

"Aw, come on, admit it," The boy needled.

"Ok, it is a little funny." You chuckled.

"There, see." He laughed causing you to full out laugh.

"You can make anyting seem nice oa funny." You squeaked handing him another bowl.

"That's awful nice of ya ta say." Boots smiled. "You da oldest'n yoa family?" He questioned.

"Oldest girl, but I gota olda brother." You sighed.

"Oh." He drug out the word slowly.

"Well, dats da last of da dishes." You stated handing him the last bowl.

"Time flies when ya spend it wit a pretty girl." He remarked with a cute smile placed upon his face.

"Yeah," you dreamily replied, he thought you were pretty, you just wanted to squeal in delight. He looked slightly confused, and then you realized your mistake. "I mean, time flies when your with a handsome guy." You amended your previous statement.

"Well, you wouldn't happen be available to take a walk wit me on Saturday afternoon would ya?" He inquired.

"I'd luv to!" You answered trying so hard not to squeal in delight.

"I'll meet you at da statue at one." Boots announced.

"Sounds great!" You smiled. "Wait could you make dat two?" You asked knowing you couldn't finish the lunch dishes by one especially on a Saturday.

"Alright, see ya at two on Saturday." He waved exiting the back door.

"Yeah." You whispered. Once the door was completely shut, you let out you pent in emotions and squealed. You were going on a walk with the handsomest guy ever! Mary Jane was going to be so jealous.

Specs:

"You are so ugly not even a bat would date you." Your brother laughed at you. You slumped your shoulders in defeat. You knew he was right no matter how much you did not want to believe it. "Not to mention the fact that you always got your head stuck in a book, guys don't like smart girls." He blurted.

"James, apologize to your sister this instance." Your mother interjected.

"But it's true." He challenged.

"No it is not young man!" She rebuked him hotly.

"Fine, sorry (Y/N)." Your brother chuckled not serious at all.

"That was pitiful." Your mother frowned. "(Y/N). Could you please go to the vegetable vendor on the corner and buy four nice sized potatoes and a bundle of carrots?" she asked you enthusiastically.

"Yes ma'am." You responded.

"Take the money out of the jar." She added as you walked into the kitchen.

"Thank you." You mumbled.

"Hey, sweetie, you know your brother is wrong, you are going to find a boy one day that is going to love everything about you." She smiled.

"Yeah?" You asked unconvinced.

"I am sure of it, anyone who would take the time to get to know you like I do would know what a special girl you are." She pulled you into a tight hug. You hugged her back even tighter.

"Thanks mom!" You smiled as she released you from the hug to hold you at arm's length.

"You are so beautiful, inside and out. Don't let those jealous brothers of yours tell you any different ok." She stated seriously.

"I love you mom!" You hugged her again reenergized by your little talk.

"Love you too sweetie." She smiled. "Now, go get the potatoes and carrots." She patted your shoulder.

"Yes ma'am." You smiled taking a the necessary funds out of the jar sitting on the shelf.

"Sir, that's over half of what I paid the that last time I was here." You argued with the vendor over the prices.

"Yeah, well there is a problem with some rare kinda bug or something." He stated lamely.

"No, I refuse to pay that much." You challenged.

"You'll either pay it or you won't get the potatoes and carrots four eyes." He insulted.

"Your insults are as lame as your stories about bugs." You shook your head.

"Hey, mista, how much is ya chargin?" You heard a male voice ask.

"Way too much if you ask me." You muttered.

"Well he wasn't ask'n you four eyes." The man repeated the earlier insult.

"What's wrong with wairin' glasses?" You heard the voice inquire. You looked around to see where the voice was coming from and you saw a boy about sixteen or seventeen in glasses and a bowler hat with about ten or so newspapers slung over his shoulder. Dang was he cute.

"Kid, leave me ta do my business." The vendor grumbled. But instead of leaving the brown haired lad starting walking towards the cart.

"Miss, how much is he want'n ta charge ya a potato?" The boy asked, his face looked kind and sweet.

"He wants thirteen cense a potato. I paid four, last time I was here with my mom!" You near shouted out of frustration.

"How long ago was dat?" The boy asked calmly.

"Not even a week." You said slowly calming down.

"Alright, now mista, I know you can charge what'ch want foa your goods, but I think in this situation it would be best not to ova charge this pretty young lady don't ya think?" He questioned sending a wink your way causing a slight blush to creep onto your cheeks.

"Guess what mister, if you don't get outa here right this instance, I'm gonna be forced to knock some sense into you." The vendor growled.

"Miss, I knows a vendor a few streets down who would luv ya business." The refreshingly polite and cheerful boy informed you.

"That would sound good, but I'm not supposed to leave this street." You sighed.

"What ya folks don't know won't hoit 'em if youa sav'n dam money." He rationalized.

"That makes sense," You sighed. "Would you walk with me, you seem nice enough?" You noted.

"You don't even know me." He argued.

"Hi, my name is (Y/N), what's yours?" You asked politely sticking out your hand.

"Dey call me Specs. Nice ta meet ch (Y/N)." He accepted the hand shake.

"Ok, now I know you." You nodded your head proud of yourself.

"Yeah, I'd say so. Alright, follow me." He smiled shaking his head.

"Wait, How am I sure you are not going to mug me?" You suddenly second guessed yourself.

"Trust me, I would never mug anyone, especial not a pretty young lady such's yourself." HE smiled.

Skittey:

"You are way too happy!" Your sister rolled her eyes at you as you walked down the streets of southern midtown.

"Oh, really?" You laughed.

"Yes, and quite frankly it's annoying." She huffed.

"Someday, my happiness is going to save the day, then you'll be sorry." You stuck your toung out at her.

"How the heck could your happiness do anything but drive people to the brink of insanity." She shook her head.

"You are just bitter that you were given dad's glum and dumb gene, while I was given mom's sunshine gene." You teased her.

"I am not glum or dumb!" She sneered.

"Then why are you always so negative?" You questioned.

"I'm not negative, I'm realistic." She rationalized.

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that." You chucked.

"I will." She snickered.

"What is your problem with positivity anyway?" You inquired.

"Do you ever hear any positive headlines?" She asked. Then you heard.

"Two moa women foun dead in bottle ally dis moanin, read oll about it!" being harked by one of the newsies.

"See," Your sister shuddered. "No positive headlines." She continued to argue.

"The only reason why there are never any positive headlines is because positive headlines don't sell thank to people like you who only want to hear about the bad side of life." You chided. Sometimes you wondered who was the oldest her or you.

"That is just plain stupid." She objected.

"It's da trut doe." You heard a manly voice state. You looked over to the left to see a shaggy brown haired boy with a smile on his face that went all the way up to his coffee colored eyes with a stack of newspapers sling over his left shoulder.

"See," You argued with your sister. "Even the man who makes the headlines agrees." You smiled.

"Oh, dats where yous wrong, I don't make 'em I just sells 'em." He winked and gave you a lop sided smile making you blush slightly.

"But don't tell me that you don't 'improve the truth' sometimes?" You challenged making air quotes around the phrase improve the truth.

"Ya gots me dea." He chuckled. "But only when da headlines need a little spic'n up." He amended.

"And I'm assuming that is a lot?" Your sister added to the conversation finally catching on.

"Yeah, pretty much." The attractive boy admitted.

"Oh." Your sister frowned,

"Every body's got to make a living somehow." You smiled brightly.

"Ain't dat da trut." The boy smirked.

"Some people like me and my sister clean rich peoples' houses and some people like you sell newspapers." You chuckled.

"I tink you's a smart goil. What's ya name sweetheart?" The boy winked at you with a bright smile. Your blush resurfaced itself in that moment.

"(Y/N), What's yours?" You asked a little more shyly than you normally would.

"People call me Skittery." He doffed his cap.

"Nice to meet you Skittery." You curtsied.

"Yeah, nice ta meets you too. An dat is a lovely name." He winked. You giggled.

"Thanks, and this is my sister Selene." You smiled.

"Nice ta meet ya too Selene." He nodded in your sister's direction but quickly turned his focus to you.

"Well, maybe I'll see you around." You smiled.

"Dat sounds swell." He almost whisperd.

"Come on (Y/N), we can't be late to the Richards' or they'll fire us," Your sister whined.

"Ok, Goodbye Skittery." You yelled back to the boy as you trailed after your sister.

"Goodbye (Y/N)!" you heard him yell back. Boy did you hope you could see him again.

Bumlets:

"No, this is a bad idea. We shouldn't take shortcuts through ally's John." You pleaded with your older brother who thought he knew everything.

"Aw, stop being such a girl." He complained.

"What if something were to happen?" You questioned.

"I'd protect you." He shrugged as if that was a not even a concern.

"No, John, I'm going the right way home. I may not still be in school, but I have a lot of common sense. And you know that little voice in your head, something called a conscience that you obviously don't have is telling me that this is a bad idea." You nervously blurted.

"Fine, be a scaredy cat." Your brother snickered heading deeper into the ally.

"John, you can't just leave me?" You reprimanded him.

"Your sixteen and work in a factory, you can take care of yourself." His voice got more and more distant. You sighed.

"What a jerk." You mumbled rolling your eyes.

"Well what is dis?" You heard a voice you recognized as a friend of your brother Oscar Delance.

"Hi Oscar, where is Morris Today?" You sighed knowing it would be worse for you if you ignored the ignorant son of a you know what.

"He's meetin up wit ya brudda." He informed you.

"Well that's nice." You faked a smile.

"What is ya doin' on Saturday?" He asked. You about barfed, You hate the two Delances and they were always hitting on you.

"Working." You gave him the legitimate excuse.

"Not all day ya ain't." He winked suggestively. You could now taste the stomach acid in the back of your throat.

"Sorry, Osca, but da goil has previous engagements." A boy with a tan pageboy hat covering his luscious chocolate hair spoke up.

"Bumlets, hows da you knows me goilfriend?" Oscar inquired slinging his arm over your shoulders. You struggled to get out of the hold. And when you did you slapped his face.

"I am not your girlfriend!" You exclaimed exasperated.

"You's gonna pay foa dat (Y/N)." Oscar growled.

"You know what if you don't hightail it outa hea right now, I'm gonna make you regret eva lay'n eyes on her." The boy Oscar had called Bumlets threatened.

"I ain't gonna fogit about dis sweet cheeks." Oscar smiled evilly. You shuddered.

"What a jerk." You shrieked.

"Dat ain't a stong enough woid." The other boy sighed.

"Thank you so much um, is Bumlets your real name or is it Oscar's way of insulting you?" You smiled at the boy.

"Bumlets ain't what me momma named me, but it's what I go by dese days." He returned the smile.

"Well thank you." You reiterated your thanks.

"Anyting foa a goil as pretty as you (Y/N)." He bowed doffing his hat. You giggled at how cute he was acting and that he had remembered your name from earlier.

"You're too sweet." You chuckled.

"Well me Lady, can I walk ya home sos you don't get any more grief from dat awful Delancy?" He asked extending his elbow. You couldn't help but laugh.

"It would be a pleasure." You said faking a posh accent.

"I was serious about you having a previous engagement if you need one." He said as you approached your family's tenement building.

"That sounds great!" Your smile which had been permanent the entire walk home grew unbelievably wider.

"Alright, I'll pick ya up hea when eva ya get back from ya woik." He declared.

"Perfect." You went up onto your tippy toes and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. "Thank you for everything." You whispered before darting into the building.

____________________

Hopefully this was good...I'm planning on updating as soon as I can.

Thanks for reading you have gotten to this point! <3 I'm planning on First Date Next, but if you have anything other that you want next, please let me know. I would appreciate any feedback that you want to give! This Is my first time attempting something like this, so I hope you enjoyed it! 

Blessings to you and your family! Thanks again!