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I walked up to Ercole Visconti and slammed down 50 cents, like usual, for 100 newspapers. I have him a mischievous smirk and he grit his teeth as a walked away.
Another guy walked up for papes. A new guy.
“20 papers please,” he politely requested. 20? Geez, I’m guessing he’s completely new to selling newspapers.
Visconti gave him a stack of newspapers. The new guy counted them.
“I got 19. I paid for 20.”
“You-“
I walked up to him, took the newspapers, and counted through them.
“He’s right, Visconti,” I replied. “He has 19 and paid for 20.” He grit his teeth.
“I’m sure it’s an honest mistake. Just give him what he paid for,” I replied. He scoffed and gave him another paper. “While you’re at it, how about you give the new kid some extra papes?”
“That’s alright,” the new guy started. “I don’t want any extra papers.”
“What kinda newsie doesn’t want extra papes?” I exclaimed.
“Look, I don’t even know you!” he replied.
“Are ya kidding?” someone yelped. “This is the famous Alberto Scorfano! He once escaped jail on the back of the president’s carriage!”
I chuckled and looked at the newbie. “I think we’ll be great partners.”
“Who said we were gonna be partners?”
Someone else replied, “Being partners with Alberto is the chance of a lifetime! He knows everything there is to know about sellin’ papes. You would be learning from the best.”
“What’s your name?” I asked him.
“Guido.”
“Pleasure,” I turned to everyone else. “Alright newsies, hit the streets! The papes ain’t gonna sell themselves!” And everyone ran off to sell their newspapers.
“Paper, paper. Read the news,” Guido weakly shouted.
“Sing them to sleep, why don’t ya?” I chuckled as I took a newspaper from him.
“Extra, extra, read all about it! Black cat escapes burning inferno! Read to find out!” I shouted. A man walked up to me and he gave me coins while I gave him the newspaper.
Guido choked on his words. “You- You just lied about it!”
“Did not,” I started. “I said ‘read to find out’, and he did.”
“My father taught me not to lie,” he scowled.
“Yeah, mine told me not to starve.” As if I had a father. He left me when I turned 13, but I wouldn’t mention that to anyone. Ever.
He sold one more paper, then I asked him, “Hey, how about we use that money for supper and then we find some place to sleep for the night?”
“I can’t,” he started, “I got folks at home.”
I paused for a few moments.
“You got folks, huh?”
“Doesn’t everyone?” he replied, then he stopped.
“Oh.”
Silence.
“Uh, my father was a truck driver for goods, but he got injured and he’ll be outta work for a few months, so I gotta make some money for the family.”
“Ah,” I sighed. “That’s too bad. Sorry about your dad.”
He nodded and walked away. Then, he turned back around. “Hey, why don’t you come over for supper? My parents would love to have you.”
“Thanks for the invite, Guido, but I got plans with one of my fellas later.”
He looked behind me.
“Is that him?”
I turned around and saw him.
Snyder.
“Alberto!” he snapped, chasing after me. I grabbed Guido’s wrist and sprinted away. He kept chasing after me and we just kept running farther. Good thing I know just the place.