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The young man narrowed his eyes in abject fascination as the older man spoke to him, waving a stuffed envelope in his face. A guy like him could do pretty damn well for himself if he could land this job. The pay wasn’t great but it was far better than anything he’d managed up to now. More importantly, it could open doors for him to bigger, better things and that was why he was here.
“What’s yer name, kid?”
James bristled a little at being called a kid but considering the man before him, he bit back his annoyance. “James, sir.”
“Eh… We already got a James so what’s yer last name?”
“Barnes. James Barnes, sir.”
“Ha! Hey, Tommy,” the older man called, “we got another Barnes right here!”
“Swell,” the slightly younger, portly man drawled sarcastically. “Just what we need. Two of ’em. Give ’im a different name, Manny. I ain’t messin’ with tryin’ ta tell the difference.”
Manny turned back to him, towering over the youth. “You got a nickname, kid, or a middle name?”
“Buchanan,” James answered and steeled himself not to flinch as the man glared down at him.
“The fuck, kid, that Irish?”
“Nah,” James answered. “Ma says it’s Scottish.”
“Ain’t that the same thing?”
“Nah. Whole ocean between ’em, sir,” James explained, leaving out that it wasn’t that much ocean at all. He didn’t have any desire to explain basic geography to the Italian. He just wanted to get the job, keep his head down and do good until they rewarded him with something better.
“Huh… Buchanan…”
James’ focus couldn’t help but shift to four boys across the street. Three looked to be about his age but the fourth looked much younger. So much so that it rattled James’ temper when it became clear the three older boys were picking on him. The largest of the boys knocked the younger boy down and gave him a kick to the back of his leg. It was all James needed to see.
“Hey, Bucky boy, you listenin’ to me?”
“Sorry, sir… that kid out there’s getting beaten up.”
Manny turned to look and grunted loudly with an unconcerned shrug. “Now that kid’s Irish for sure. Got no business bein’ here at all. Needs to know that, Bucky.”
James looked up at Manny, then back to the young blond boy. “I… I’m sorry but I’m pretty sure that’s my Ma’s friend’s kid,” he lied. “I can’t just let him take a beating.”
“Lotta young men want this spot, Bucky boy,” Manny warned him, the envelope still dangling temptingly in James’ face. “You leave, we get someone else.”
James looked between the envelope and the boy outside. It was getting worse out there and it was making him sick to his stomach. Even one of those older boys against that poor kid was unfair. Three was unconscionable. James groaned helplessly and started backing toward the door.
“Sorry, sir… I just… I just can’t let it happen.”
“Alright, boy scout… You come on back when you got yer head in the game,” Manny huffed, waving his hand in clear dismissal.
“Thanks… sorry, sir…”
James was out the door like a shot. Even though there were three, he’d always had a gift for stealth and speed. They never heard him coming as he threw himself at the tallest boy and tackled him to the ground.
James was about to turn sixteen. While he was never the biggest boy at school, he was smart and carried himself with a bit of swagger. His mischievous, light eyes and dark hair drew the girls like flies. It also drew a lot of jealousy so James had learned how to defend himself early on. Both fists landed down equal hurt and it was this gift that James used to knock the boy beneath him senseless before he was hauled upright by the other two.
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“Hey Tommy, get a load of this kid,” Manny called after letting loose a whistle. “Maybe not a boy scout after all.”
Tommy walked to the window and watched the young man hold his own. “He comes back ready to pay attention to somethin’ other than some little Irish shit, give ‘im the job. He’ll come in handy when he’s older.”
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One held him from behind as the other landed a few punches. There was a sudden, loud thump and the one throwing the punches cried out and nearly fell. It startled James but his fighting instincts kicked back in and he took advantage of the distraction. James shifted his stance and then threw his head back as hard as he could. The crunchy pop and agonized yelp he heard more than made up for the sharp flare of pain that shot through the back of his skull. He staggered forward to engage the last boy but it didn't take much to haul him upright and land a sharp punch under his chin.
And that was that. With two of the boys knocked out and the third writhing on the ground moaning over his broken nose, James looked over at the younger boy. He’d taken quite the beating and was barely keeping hold of the baseball bat he’d managed to swing at the last boy’s head.
“Drop it,” James told the wheezing boy quietly. “Let’s get outta here.”
The blond stared at him, still clutching the bat. James realized he was probably confused from being knocked around. He didn't know James so why would he trust him? “It’s okay, kid,” he muttered. “I’ll get ya home safe but ya gotta leave that behind. Don’t wanna get caught carrying it if someone went for a copper.”
“I’m not a kid,” the blond glared back at him, “and you could say thanks for swinging it. I saved your ass too.”
James laughed a bit incredulously as he tentatively touched the back of his own head. A bit of blood tinted his fingertips but it didn't really matter. This kid was full of piss and vinegar and it was pretty amusing to James in spite of coming to blows and losing a good job for it. “You could be dishing out some thanks yourself, kid,” he scoffed, but the boy just glared back at him.
“I woulda been fine. I’m not a kid.”
“Yeah okay-”
James was prevented from saying anything further as an explosion erupted behind him. The force knocked him down, taking the blond down with him. His ears ringing, James rolled away from the blond and stared across the street. The shop he’d just been in was now a smoking shell with flames belching from the shattered windows. If he hadn’t come out to help the boy next to him…
Swallowing the horrific pit in his gut, James slowly regained his feet and carefully helped up the young blond. As he brushed shattered glass from his hair and clothes, then the young blond's hair, people were rushing to the storefront to see if there was anything they could do. One of the men had a huge wrench from the docks and began struggling to open the fire hydrant nearby. Amidst the chaos, James noticed something on the ground. He wrapped an arm around the blond’s shoulders after he’d picked up the boy’s bag.
“When I tell ya, I want ya to sit down hard on the ground like you’re havin’ a weak spell,” he instructed the boy, who just frowned up at him.
“Why?”
“I’ll tell ya after we’re outta here, okay? Just do it when I tell ya.”
Thankfully the boy went along with it and James made a subtle show of crouching down next to him to check on his well-being. Before he helped the boy back up, he pocketed the object he’d spotted on the pavement.
“Okay, let’s make ourselves scarce,” he muttered and kept his arm about the blond. Once they were far enough away to no longer see the rising smoke, James looked down at the boy who’d remained silent during their escape. Now he realized it wasn’t brooding; the boy was having a hard time breathing. He bent down to look the boy in the eyes.
“Hey, your lips are goin’ blue! How far are we from your folks’ place?”
“No folks,” the boy wheezed. “Orphan. Boys’ home a mile east of here.”
James didn’t really think he’d make it that far before he collapsed. “Okay, just hang in there, pal. My spot ain’t the Waldorf but it’s close by. You can catch your breath there.” The blond nodded weakly and leaned into him a little. He took as much weight as he could with his bruised ribs and guided them toward his tiny rented room. “Why can’t you breathe right? Did they crack your ribs?”
“Nah,” the boy panted, his eyes drooping from decreased oxygen, “got asthma pretty bad…”
“Oh.” He’d heard of asthma but this was a first for James to actually see its effect upon someone. Frankly it terrified him. “There medicine for it?”
“Ran out two days ago… Gotta go back to the home if I want more… and I don’t wanna go back there…”
Well that was something James could sympathize with. He’d been on his own for well over a year now. “Can’t blame ya there, pal. Orphan myself and there’s no way in hell I’m goin’ back to one of those holes.” He gave the boy a reassuring jostle. “Don’t worry. I’ll get ya fixed up. You don’t need to go back.”
“Thanks,” the boy muttered. Still trying to shake the shock of seeing the shop explode, the boy’s gratitude helped stave off the chills running under his skin. “You don’t haveta help me though.”
“Shut up, kid,” James huffed.
“I’m thirteen… almost fourteen. Not a kid,” the blond reminded him, causing James to startle.
“Thirteen! You’re too…” He cut off and rethought his phrasing as the boy’s eyes flared thunderously at him. The kid was sickly and just wasn’t growing like he should. James tried to imagine how he’d feel being scoffed at for his size. “You’re short, pal. I thought you were younger. Sorry.”
The boy’s eyes widened in surprise, then softened. “S’alright,” he sighed. “You’re not the first to get it wrong.”
“Well orphanage food’s probably stunting your growth,” James smirked, trying to lighten the mood. “I’m no chef, but I can still do better than that.”
“Swell,” the boy managed to smile. “You can teach me.”
“You got it… Here we go…” He helped the boy onto the lowered fire escape and stayed behind him as he slowly climbed. James just preferred coming in this way rather than deal with nosy neighbors that tutted over him being alone. It was none of their business. He was doing okay and anyway he wouldn’t be alone now.
They all but fell through the window and sprawled onto the floor, staring up at the stained ceiling as they both pondered the strange turn of events. It was the boy who finally broke the silence.
“Why you helping me?”
James could have spun any excuse to answer his question, but he found himself wanting to be completely honest. “I couldn’t let ya take that beating. Just wasn’t right, three of them on ya like that.” He sat up and rubbed gingerly at his sore ribs. “Funny thing is… if I hadn’t helped ya out… I’d’ve been in that shop…”
“The one that exploded?”
“Yeah. Was looking to get work there.” He stared down at the boy whose lips were still tinged blue. “My old man told me once before he died that when you save someone, you’re responsible for them. I saved you and it saved me. I figure we’re responsible for each other now. No one else is gonna do it.”
The boy looked him hard in the eye. “That shop… Those guys were made men. Everyone knew that.”
“Yeah…” James reached into his pocket and pulled out the thing he’d picked up from the pavement. The envelope was charred as were some of the bills inside, but most of the money inside remained unscathed. How it had blown free without scattering or anyone else seeing it was a mystery to James, but one he didn’t feel like questioning. No one that cared about it would suspect that it survived the blast and he could trim off the charred edges of the bills to where no one would look twice at them.
“This blew out. It’s what I picked up after. If we stay stingy with it, we can make sure we eat decent and you get that medicine for your asthma.”
The boy’s eyes grew wide and panicked as he tried to sit upright. “You gotta take that back! They’ll come looking for it!”
“For all they know it burned up with the shop,” James responded with a firm shake of his head. “No one’s going to be looking for it. If we’re careful with it, we won’t draw any attention. I’ll find a different job and we’ll keep this for the important stuff if we need.” He saw the disapproval in the boy’s expression and shrugged his shoulders. “Something good should at least come outta this money. Who better to benefit from it than us?”
“I don’t like it,” he muttered. James just shook his head again.
“You don’t have to. Just let me deal with it… What’s the name of your medicine? Do you know?” When the boy nodded and mentioned the name, James laughed lightly. “Write it down. I’ll go find it. There’s doctors around here that help the poor so they don’t charge much to write it up for the drug store. I’ll grab some stuff to clean up these cuts and scrapes too.”
The blond boy seemed relieved by that, clearly worn out by the stress of not breathing properly. He rolled his head to the side and stared at James. “Okay… but I gotta pull my weight somehow. I’m no charity case.”
“Dishes and laundry,” James answered with a cocky grin. “Cook once ya learn. I’ll take care of the rest.”
It earned him another glare but finally the boy held out his hand. “Fine. I’m Steve… Steve Rogers.”
James shook Steve’s hand and the future began to look a lot less bleak. “James Buchanan Barnes,” he grinned, “but you can call me Bucky.”