11Clarisse Johnson is a small and shy little four year old, who only ever found comfort in her family. Mostly her mother since her father and brother were always in the factory, while they worked in a dress shop. Her mother - Charlotte - would be sewing whatever was given to her that day, and Claire would be picking up the scrap fabric, ribbon, thread, buttons, and anything else that had fallen to the floor. She'd also sweep the floors with a broom that was bigger than her. It wasn't easy on the little four year old, sure, but at least it earned her some money. And it was better than being inside a factory from sunup to sundown.
One day while walking back home with her mother, a little boy with a bag of newspapers came up to them. Asking if they'd like a newspaper. Her mother gave the young boy a smile and handed him a penny for the paper. The boy tipped his cap to her, and gave a warm smile to Claire, who hid behind her mother's skirt. She wasn't the best when it came to other kids. Especially since she would always get picked on because of her height. Claire was much shorter than all the other kids. Plus her shyness didn't help at all.
The boys were the worst when it came to teasing. They would always make fun of her playing catch, or climbing trees in her free time. Oh, how much she hated being called out for being a girl. Her brother William once caught some neighborhood boys bullying her, and stopped the matter. Unlike Claire, William was actually taller than boys his age; so it wasn't that hard to scare off the shrimp boys who teased his little sister. After that incident, Will told his little sister that those boys are just scared that a girl could be better at everything they do.
As time went by, things started to fall apart. One night when Claire had a nightmare she ran into her brother's room to stay with him for the night, but he wasn't there. That's when things went wrong. The small family then started looking for Will. Months went by before they gave up. To make matters worse, her mother got pneumonia a year later during the winter, and died just a month after. Claire was only five when her mother died, and she was heartbroken. That's when her father went down the wrong path. He started drinking and gambling, and sometimes would hurt her. Claire would often hide in her room since it was the only safe spot in the apartment. One time her father brought back some woman, who seemed nice at first glance. But once her father left them to get to know each other the lady was no lady.
By the time June 1890 rolled, Claire woke up one morning and she soon found out her father was gone. She knew that he had gotten fired from his job a few months before hand, so there was no doubt he had ran off with that lady and left her behind. So Claire packed up her stuff, some food, what little money she had and left the apartment building for good. For the first few days Claire was doing just fine on her own. If you call another orphan on the street fine. The days soon turned into weeks and so far things for Claire weren't too good. No one wanted to hire a small six year old girl. So, Claire did the only thing she could, and that was steal. Since she's a small little thing she easily got away with it. A few times she was able to pickpocket a few coins off of some people. While Claire knew it was wrong, she didn't have any other choice.
One night Claire was walking when she got jumped by some thug who started to hurt her. She tried to fight back, but she was at a disadvantage. One being since she tiny, another was because she was scared. Claire had never encountered something like this before. So all she could do was kick and scream with all her might. Then the next thing that happened was a blur. Something had jumped onto the man's back and said, "Ya do know it's rude ta be hurtin' a goil, right?"
"Get off of me ya twerp," the man said while trying to shake the boy off. But the only thing that the man shook off was Claire, who got tossed into a corner of the alley and landed with a little thud. Once Claire came to her senses she saw a boy was on the man's back. "I's could use a little help here!" the boy yelled as he grabbed the man into a headlock.
"Racetrack!" a new voice yelled. "Don't do anythin' that'll get ya-"
"I's comin' Cowboy!" a third voice - Racetrack's - yelled before the other voice could finish his sentence. The next thing that happened was the boy (who Claire assumed was Racetrack) crawled through the man's legs and well...let's just say that Claire has never heard a grown man scream in such a high pitch before.
"Nobody listens ta the one with glasses," the second boy who had spoken said to himself.
"We's could use the help Specs!" the one on the man's back yelled. Without another word the...Specs went to go help his friends. All together the three boys beat up the man and sent the thug running back to wherever he came from. The three boys whooped and hollered at their little victory while yelling out things like, "an' don't come back!". All the while, Claire pulled her knees to her chest to make herself invisible to the three boys. Hoping that they'd go away.
But, one of the boys turned around and started to make his way towards her. From what little light the street lamp gave off, Claire saw the boy had light brown hair and hazel eyes. "Hey there kid," he said softly, which made Claire back up a bit more. The boy stopped walking and looked her over a few times before saying, "Don't worry, we's ain't gonna hurt ya. I's Jack." a warm smile spread across Jack's face as he spoke. But Claire stayed in her little corner in a huddle. "This here is Race," Jack said as he gestured to another boy with blonde hair and blue eyes. He stood next to Jack with a cocky little smirk on his face. "An' this here is Specs." a dark skinned boy with glasses also step forward. He gave her a soft little smile and a nod of the head.
"You got any folks?" Specs asked in a soft tone. Claire shook her head slightly as she stared at them with wide eyes. She wasn't sure what to do, think, or say. But, there was one thing Claire knew for sure about these boys. And that was they had some very strange names. Race? Specs? She wouldn't be surprised if another boy came with a weird name. This was too much for the little six year old to handle.
"What're we gonna do Jackie boy? Race asked quietly. He had pulled out his cigar and started to play with it between his fingers. The blonde boy glanced back at the little girl who had backed herself up into the corner. Hugging her knees to her chest, looking scared for her life. "We's can't just leave 'er here."
"An' you'se shouldn't be playin' with cigars," Jack replied in a firm tone while crossing his arms.
"I's just holdin' it, it ain't like I's actually smokin' it," Race replied with a little eye roll.
"Race is right," Specs added before anything else was said. "I's mean bout the goil, not the smokin'," he corrected himself. "She looks like she's been through a lot." the three of them looked towards the little girl. They could all see it in her eyes that she had been through some bad things. And with getting jumped and now having three strange boys in front of her probably isn't helping either.
Jack sigh before slowly approaching her and says, "Don't worry, we ain't gonna hurt ya. We's wanna help."
"Help?" Claire whispered as she looked at him with wide eyes. Were they serious? Did they actually want to help her? Why would they want to to that for? Then again they did save her from the thug. Maybe, just maybe she could trust them. After all they didn't look like a threat.
"Yeah. If ya want we's can take you'se back ta the Lodge. I's sure Kloppman won't mind, an' the rest of the boys will love ya," Jack explained.
"We's just got a new kid a few days ago. Kinda on the quiet side, don't say much. But, I's sure a pretty goil like you'se will change his mind," Race added wink and a little smirk.
"Racer, I's swear, if you'se thinkin' what I's think yer thinkin', then stop thinkin it," Jack groaned as he rubbed his temples. You'd think for some who's only eight, Jack wouldn't have to deal with so much stupidity. Yet, here he was.
"Sides Racers idiotic-"
"Watch the language Specs!" Jack cried. "There's a little goil right in front of ya! Do you'se wanna corrupt her innocents!"
"We's bout ta bring 'er into a Lodge full of boys, Jack," Specs replied plainly. To the girl he said, "We's a family, an' family looks out for each other,"
Claire wasn't sure what to think. Her brother ran away, her mother died and her father was well...she didn't know. But maybe these boys were different. Then something popped into her head. She's known these boys for about two minutes and they didn't make fun of her. "Wait," she said quietly. "You aren't gonna make fun of how short I am, or hurt me for being a worthless little thing who don't belong in the world?" she asked with the lightest New York accent.
The three boys all looked at each other and then back at her. All wondering what could have happened to make this sweet little girl say such a thing. Better yet, who would say something like that to this innocent little girl, and put it into her head? Race was the one who took a step closer. He put his cigar in his pocket and asked "Why would ya say somethin' like that?"
"Cause other kids used to make fun of me an' my father was real mean after my mother died," she explained quietly.
"What's yer name?" Race asked.
"Claire," she replied shyly.
Race only smiled. "Well, Claire, I's can tell you'se one thing, an' that's we's would never make fun of you'se or say somethin' mean like that. You'se stick with us, an' we's will be yer new family. Only a better one, who won't leave ya for nothin'." Race was glad to see he was able to get Claire to actually talk. Which meant she was starting to built a little trust. And a little was all it took right now. "How old are you'se?" he asked.
"Six," Claire replied. Which was shocking to all the boys because she looked at least five at the most. What in the world has this girl gone through?! Was she born that tiny, or was she not feed enough? Yes, six year olds are usually small, but Claire, she looks like a fragile little delicate thing!
"Ok then," Race said with a nod. "I's eight, so is Jack an' Specs. But don't worry, there's -" Race started to mouth something while keeping track on his fingers. "Three, four boys yer age. An' we's got a new kid two days ago. He's bout a year older then ya, but I's sure you'se will hit it off. Ya see we's all newsies-"
"You're the boys who sell newspapers, right?" Claire asked as her face light up a bit. She had seen newsies on the streets yelling out some pretty interesting headlines as she walked by with her mother. Claire always thought it was such fun to be out there selling newspapers and getting to do whatever you wanted, when you wanted too.
"She'll fit in just fine," Specs said with a smile.
Author's note
There you have it, the beginning of Claire's journey to becoming a newsie. Origin stories (or even flashbacks) have always been something I loved reading. I thought about doing something like that for Claire - Feister - in early drafts of AGN, but decided to go with the storyline it is today. Keep in mind I'm doing my best to make her sound six and due to awful math calculations from nearly two years ago that Wolf and Jumps ages do not match up with this timeline. For the sake of this story and the fact that I can't do much to fix that mistake, to just pretend everything does line up. Don't ask me how I missed that, I generally have no clue. I know my mistake and ever since I realized that I've double checked the numbers. Updates aren't going to be twice a week since I don't have the whole story prewritten, just a bunch of parts that jump back and fourth. I'll try to keep this in order as much as possible, and if not then keep an eye on the date. If you'd like to see anything happen in here, feel free to message me with an age an (six through thirteen). Multiple ideas are accepted, and there is no deadline as of now. Hope you enjoyed the opening of The Story of a News Girl, thanks for reading. The next chapter is coming Friday, just because. Let's just say the moment of truth is drawing near.
