Chpt. 10

 

I’d woken up earlier then ever, I’d probably only slept another hour. I’d slipped Belle out of Jesse’s grip and left, not waking anyone up. I shivered as I stepped outside; the morning was brisker then ever. Belle stirred in my arms, giving a little cry of discomfort. As soon as she was awake enough I set her on her feet and lead her alone as I had every morning since she was old enough to walk. It was the same as a thousand other mornings, yet I knew that it wasn’t. I knew what would happen if I walked out those gates with papers in my hands, what could happen to Belle. But I counted on Jesse; he’d take care of her.

I felt unseen eyes digging into my flesh as I crossed into the distribution center; I knew I was safe for a few more minutes. They had no beef with me until I came back out, then they’d have something to say to me. I collected my papers as usual with a small handful of others that were either as stupid as I was, or they hadn’t known what I knew. When I turned back around and faced the entrance again, about three-dozen boys stood there, some held woods sticks or swords, others held slingshots, most just looked menacing. I stood there, Belle’s little hand clutched in mine, my papers in my other arm. My whole body felt icy, my breath kept catching in my lungs, my heart was in my throat and I felt faint. I didn’t quite stand alone, but none of the other scabs knew me and we were all intimidated by the mass of boys, some no higher then our belts. I stood before them as straight as I could, looking into the crowd. I saw some faces I recognized, some I didn’t; I noted that Blink, Fiction, Race, none of those boys were there. But I saw Spit and Print’s white faces, I saw Rat in the crowd, looking gleeful, the little guard at the door who’d admitted me into my new home for the five months just looking determined.

Finally I saw Jesse’s face, he looked as though he were about to be sick, physically ill. I took another few steps forward, Belle following me closely, starting to feel afraid at the tangible amount of hostility that the boys were sending out toward me. A boy a bit taller then me stepped out to the head of the crowd.

"You’s thinkin’ of sellin’ dem papes taday, scab?" he asked me, I wasn’t sure if my legs would support me, let alone my voice but I spoke,

"Yeah, I am." Before he could say another word, more of the other boys behind him flooded forward and attacked the other scabs behind me. Over the yells and cries of pain on both sides, I heard the boy who still stood before me,

"Why?" he asked a one-word question, I answered the same,

"Her." I nodded down at Belle.

"Ya ain’t gonna be swayed by words?" he asked, he was giving me every chance to back out, when I could almost hear some of the boys screaming, baying for my blood like hounds. Sadly though, I shook my head,

"Naw. ‘m sorry." The boy nodded,

"Me too." He started toward me, I held up one hand,

"I undastand what my answer means, but please, get da kid outta here. She’s young yet ‘nd don’t need ta see dis." The boy nodded in agreement, Jesse stepped out of the crowd and picked Belle up in his arms, I hadn’t seen him before, but maybe it was better that I hadn’t. I saw a thousand words pass through his eyes in an instant, but thankfully he didn’t say any of them. He felt the same sense of duty to Belle as I did; he knew as well as I did that if he tried to aid me in anyway, he be turned on as a scab supporter as well and no one would really be able to protect her. So, looking green in the face, yet grimly determined he nodded at me. Inclined his head in my direction, I copied the gesture. He had my thanks.

He turned and ran off, Belle squirming in his arms, sensing distress, crying out without real words in her fear. The boy said only one word next,

"Ready?" I knew those letters, that tone would be burned into my memory forever, that I’d wake up screaming in the night hearing that word in my sleep.

"Thank you." Was all I managed as he knocked my papers out of my arms and onto the dirty cobblestones at our feet. Then he hauled back and punched me square in the jaw, pain exploded in the side of my face.

I clutched at it, pushing back tears even as the few others who had waited set on me in a wave. An elbow caught my nose, a fist in my eye, a knee in my gut. Punches and kicks rained down on my body, even as I fell to the ground. Fresh pain welling in my side as I hit the cobbles funny as someone placed a good kick to the side of my head, nearly knocking my unconscious. There wasn’t a place on my body that didn’t scream in pain, except my mouth. I refused to scream, I’d known what would be coming and I’d take it. If I was to die under the feet and fists of these boys, some that I’d known in passing, familiar faces surrounding me, each holding an unrecognizable mask of malice in front of it. Rat came forward and bit my shoulder hard, drawing blood; I almost screamed here, but I clamped my lower lip between my teeth hard enough to draw my blood myself.

I couldn’t move any more, I was half afraid one of the kicks to my spine had been too much and it had broken under the strain, leaving me paralyzed so that I would die here. I opened my eyes once during this, I saw Spit and Print clinging to each other, watching this. For a moment they looked as though there were going to stop them, tell them who I was. But Spit caught my eye and stayed Print beside him, so they both stood, white-faced, in silence. Finally the pain was too much and I threw up, there wasn’t anything in my stomach so the only things that soaked the shoes and bare feet of my assailants was bloody bile. Tears finally started to leak through my barriers; I’d never felt pain like this before, never. There was another kick to the back of my head and I felt my hat fly off, taking part of my hair with it, spilling it down in front of my face. Suddenly the blows stopped, Rat got another swift kick to my stomach in, but he was shoved roughly back.

I tried sitting up, I got about half way there, everything in me screaming not to move, to just lay there and bleed to death, but I sat up just the same. Apparently in all the commotion my bindings had come loose as well, but my back and sides had been so numb that I hadn’t felt it. I looked up at the boys surrounding me through a curtain of my hair; my eyes sought out and fixed on the "leader" that I’d spoken to before. I tried to speak, my arm still clutched around my stomach, but all that issued was a strangled puff of air that killed my lungs. I coughed; sending more pain through the inside and out of my body and ran my tongue along my many times split lip, doing my hardest not to wince. This time a word issued from my mouth, deep and guttural it almost sounded more like the sound from an animal then a human word, but the boy in front of me seemed to understand me just fine,

"Why?" was all I could manage.

" ‘A feller don’t soak a lady’ Blink’s rules." Tears started to slip down my face and mingle with the blood and street grime on my face, but I still started to laugh. It hurt like hell, but I couldn’t help it. That little b*****d, the cause for the past few months of turmoil inside me, had saved my life without even meaning to. Finally, Spit and Print broke through the throng and came to my aid. I let them start to lift me from the ground, letting out grunts of pain and discomfort. They finally had me on my feet, and they held me there as I steadied myself as much as I could.

We started to hobble away, when one of the younger boys came running up to me. He held my fallen cap in his little hands. It was stained with blood, mine I assumed, but I took it anyway, forcing my arm away from Print’s and grasping it in my clutching fingers. The boy nodded to me solemnly, I managed to nod back, before returning my arm to Print. They parted for us, every eye on my battered body. I couldn’t see any of the other boys I had come out with, but right now I didn’t even care. No one would apologize, I knew this already. Because they weren’t really sorry for anything. They’d done what they would have done no matter what; it wasn’t their fault I’d disguised myself so well as a boy. They had stopped; it was as much of an apology as I would receive. And that was enough. As I was lead away, I heard the boys turn their attentions to the wagoners that had started out another gate, not knowing the commotion that waited for them outside. With hoots and hollers they cut the horses loose so they bolted. Finally I heard cheers from the windows above us. And I heard the distinct sound of coins hitting the cobbles.

The next morning

Reviews

[Brette Medb]

Wow... this is definitely a part of the times and you've set the scene well. I felt my stomach clenching the entire time of her beating. Great detail and descriptions.


Brette

[Corey Lunare-]

I am disgusted by the acts that hve been shown here by the paperboys...its digusting but then again i can understand that they had been backed into a corner and finally gotten the will to revolt. They are fighting for what they believe in and need to survive. Hence i can understand their viewpoint but what i on't understand is Vel. why she would do that to herself al for her own pride (or at least thats what i thought) or her own belief. I thought fora moment that this would be her end and you had me afraid she would die. Se did't thank god! or i would have ee terribly upset. lol. Great job Dream, you've done more for Vel's charecter than thought could be possible. Never cease to amaze me!