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Crutchie stood at the top of the rooftop, watching the few leaves that had found their way from Central Park blow around the sky in the sunset. A sharp breeze sent a shiver through him, causing a small twinge in his leg and a painful reminder that winter was coming soon through his head.
He didn’t mind the way the wind whipped through his hair and around his clothing, nor the way the rail held him up so his crutch could be momentarily forgotten, lying on the ground beside him.
Jack was still with the other boys, laughing about something over their small dinner enjoyed under the dim light of a streetlamp. Crutchie had decided not to eat – he needed some time to himself, and he knew Jack would find him up here eventually. Who knew if Jack had even noticed he was gone yet.
October always brought up too many memories for Crutchie – it was the month the polio had finally lost hold of him, and the month he was finally healthy enough to realize his entire family was gone. A year later it was the month that Jack had first found him, shivering alone on a curbside. He couldn’t help but wonder how his family would think of him now. He couldn’t help but wonder if all of this would have happened if his family had stayed in Ireland.
An errant leaf blew close enough for Crutchie to be able to reach out a hand and grab it. He studied the vibrant red for several long seconds before letting go, letting the leaf be snatched up by the wind once more, it’s green center disappearing in furls of red and black as it was claimed by the night sky.
He glanced over the edge of the horizon where the sun was only barely disappearing over the tops of the buildings, casting an orangish shade on the sky around it, followed by a gradient of blue. He wouldn’t have minded staying there, in that moment, forever.
“Crutch?” Crutchie tensed up ever so slightly, but he didn’t move. He heard Jack come up behind him, taking his place on the rooftop to Crutchie’s left. “Crutch, you okay?”
Something about Jack’s voice reminded him of the way it had sounded four years ago, when he was nine and a twelve-year-old Jack had approached him.
“Do you remember when you first found me?” Crutchie asked quietly.
“‘Course I do,” Jack responded. “What about it?”
“You was the first person who ever thought I wasn’t a girl.” The words came out easily, but the implication behind them lay heavy between the two of them.
“Whaddya mean?”
“I mean I spent an entire year tryin’ to find work to get a bit o’ money to live on and nobody wanted me ‘cause I was a girl.”
“Crutch…”
“I couldn’t afford nothin’ but the dress I almos’ died in.”
“You mean you’s a-”
“No.” Crutchie interrupted forcefully. “I don’t know that I ever was but after… after my family…” his voice trailed off. “At some point I stole some pants and a shirt and I don’t know… at some point it just…”
“Seemed like you never was a girl?” Jack supplied.
Crutchie lifted his gaze up in surprise. The chill of October eased up for several long moments, the breeze holding as still as Crutchie. Jack had hit it on the nail.
“It ain’t normal, I know,” Crutchie murmured apologetically, his brow creasing. The wind picked up around them, blowing orange and yellow leaves around the two of them.
“I don’t know ‘bout that,” Jack replied quietly, his voice gentler than Crutchie had ever heard it before. Crutchie turned his head to the side to glance at Jack. He knew there were a few girls among the newsies, but as far as he knew, Smalls and Sniper knew they were girls.
Despite the drop in temperature that had accompanied the sunset, Jack began to unbutton his dark blue shirt, exposing a band of bright white around his chest. Crutchie’s breath caught in his throat.
“See, Crutch? You ain’t alone.” Crutchie couldn’t help but hear the quiver in Jack’s voice as he said it.
Crutchie felt something rise up in his throat that threatened to break into a sob. Fear had filled him when he’d first started speaking – it hadn’t been intentional, but once he had started he couldn’t exactly stop. His chest heaved with suppressed sobs. He didn’t know what he had expected. Maybe Jack demanding to know his name, his real name, maybe something worse, but he hadn’t expected this.
Strong arms wrapped around Crutchie, holding him tight in a way he hadn’t let himself be held since the night his mother had died and he felt as though he himself might die as well. Surprised, Crutchie returned the embrace. Sure, Jack participated in the playful roughhousing so common in the other boys, but Crutchie didn’t know if he’d ever seen the other boy actually hug anyone.
Jack’s body sheltered Crutchie from most of the wind even as he lost control of his emotions and felt hot tears spill down onto Jack’s shirt.
“I… I was afraid you’s was gonna dump me somewheres and tell me… tell me not to come back on account of you was gonna…” his voice faltered. “Jack I was afraid I was gonna be alone again and it’s all because I cain’t keep my mouth shut…” a sob sent a shudder through him, stopping him from continuing.
“Hey, hey,” Jack soothed. “You ain’t never gonna be alone, long’s I’m alive, okay? I promise. And you don’t gotta worry about me leavin’ you, no matter what you says to me, you got that?”
Crutchie’s only response was to bury his head even further into Jack’s shoulder.
“An’ I hope you knows that I wouldn’t ever leave you alone on account a’ somethin’ like that. An’ if you think I would ever think you’s a girl after everything we’ve been through you ain’t got your head on straight.”
Crutchie’s heart felt like it was about to burst. The leaves blowing past them only served as a gentle reminder that, though his old family had blown away, he was here, stable, with a family that mattered just as much. And though he could never know what his old family thought of him now, he knew he’d always have the support of his new one.