Its been awhile, hasn't it? Heh (cue awkward laughing). About that.... I've just been busy. I know you all understand. Let's just get on with the one shot, yeah?
***

Albert DaSilva didn't know how he'd gotten here. The boy had just been minding his own business when the awful 'Snyder' man grabbed his arm and dragged him to this horrid place. The man had said he was 'loitering', but Albert didn't even know what that was! His lip had quivered, eyes watering as Snyder ignored his pleas. He'd never gotten in trouble before!

He still insisted that he hadn't bothered the vendors at their carts. All he had done was sit at the edge of the street, hoping one of the men or women would offer him even an old, burned crust of bread. Still, he hadn't bothered anyone. He'd made sure not to stare wide-eyed and pouting like some of the street kids had told him. He knew it wasn't right to bother ladies with his begging.

And so Albert had sat, stomach aching with hunger. He hadn't had a single thing to eat in four days. Four long days where the boy refused to beg. Some of the boys he'd met had offered to show him how to steal, but he refused. Stealing was wrong. It was right there in the old family Bible, 'thou shalt not steal', right under that little bit about adultery, whatever that was.

Now, however, Albert thought that maybe the family Bible wasn't so important. After all, he'd been thrown out of the house nearly two weeks ago. His mother was nearly six months along with her eighth child and Mr. DaSilva was quickly realizing that he already couldn't afford to care for all of his children, let alone another baby.

He'd planned on leaving a few of the younger children at a church or orphanage, but his wife had wailed and begged him not to do away with the 'babies'. She reminded him that as they got older they could go to work and help pay their way. This appeased him, but Mr. DaSilva was left with a problem. Who to get rid of?

Their oldest, Abraham, wasn't even considered. He was working in a glass blowing shop and was bringing in almost a dollar a day. It was decided that Alfred and Albert, twelve and ten respectively, would be the ones to go. Alfred had gotten his hand crushed in a machine three months before and could no longer move it. He was unable to find work anywhere, making him of no use to his parents.

Albert on the other hand, well, he was just himself. Albert had always been a sickly child and this had caused his mother to baby him quite a bit. It also prevented him from getting work outside of the home. Though he remained weak as he got older he also grew into an extremely tender-hearted child. This, along with Albert's unfortunate proneness to tears, did not sit well with Mr. DaSilva.

One of his favorite statements was, "Albert, I've already got me three daughters, I don't need you making a fourth." His other favorite, usually directly following the previous phrase, and normally a consequence of the crying that was sure to follow was, "Stop crying boy, else I'll give ya something to cry about!"

And so Mr. DaSilva was pleased with the arrangement and his wife was as satisfied as she could be given the situation. Mr. DaSilva gave each of his boys a half dollar and sent them on their way.

They hadn't believed him to be serious at first, but as the sun went down and the door remained locked, they realized that they were on their own.

Poor Albert didn't know what to do with the beautiful red flower he'd spent two pennies on. When he realized they really were being thrown out he left it outside the door, hoping it would find its was to his mother and sisters.

It had taken three days for Alfred to decide that he was better off on his own. The nights outside had left Albert with a fever and Alfred didn't want to be held back by his younger brother. Albert had woken up one morning only to find that his brother was gone. He'd waited patiently in the same spot for two days before he even entertained the idea that his brother had left for good. It took two more days before he believed it.

It was true though, and Albert didn't know how he was supposed to survive. He'd been very careful with his money, trying to spend it as slowly as possible, but now it was gone. A drunk man who always slept in the same alley as Albert had attacked him and fought the boy over his last two dimes.

With all of this trouble, Albert should have expected getting dragged off to the Refuge. It only made sense with his luck.

Albert had spent the first hour crying on his bunk, and was starting the second the same way, but one of the older boys had had enough and clubbed him on the back of his head.

That had quickly shut him up, though he remained sniffling quietly. He stopped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned over and wiped his eyes.

"Stop cryin' kid, else you're
gonna get yourself killed!" A boy warned.

"Killed?" Albert gasped, eyes wide.

"Some of the boys over there don't take too kindly to noise, 'specially from whiny babies like you," the boy added as he motioned to a corner with a dozen boys in it, all at least fourteen.

"I'm sorry," Albert squeaked.

"Don't apologize," the new kid said, rolling his eyes. "Just stop."

"I'm Albert," Albert said softly, holding out his hand.

The older boy stared blankly at him. "Now why the hell'd you do that for?"

Albert's eyes widened at the word, but he rushed to explain. "I'm introducin' myself. You always shake hands when you meet someone."

"Not here you don't. Now put your hand down before I break your fingers."

Albert did as he was told but stared at the boy in confusion. "But it's polite to shake hands."

"And I s'pose you also mind your manners with a 'please' and 'thank you' and 'how do you do'," the boy scoffed.

Albert nodded. "That's what me mother showed me."

"They're gonna tear you apart," the stranger shook his head in wonder at Albert's stupidity. "Things in here don't work the same way they do on the outside. You keep bein' nice and you won't have any food, blankets, or a bed. You'll be dead by next week!"

Albert let out a whimper, drawing his small, freckly arms tightly around his body.

"Hey, don't worry. I'll... I'll teach ya! I'll tell you what to do to survive."

"Okay!" Albert agreed happily. "When do we start?"

"How about now?" A boy was walking directly toward Albert and he didn't look happy.

"You! Ginger!" The kid spat. "That's my bed! Move it!"

Albert immediately got up, but his 'teacher' grabbed his arm and pulled him back down. "I think you're the one who needs to move along."

"This is my bed Michael. The kid's gonna move or he's gonna get it."

Again Albert tried to move but 'Michael' shoved him back onto the bed. "I don't think so. This bed ain't got your name on it, the kid got here first, it's his. Unless you wanna fight for it."

Albert paled and frantically shook his head. The other boy laughed. "Yeah, I'll fight the shrimp for it."

"It ain't the kid you'll be fightin'," Michael smirked. He stood up, grabbed the boys collar, and jerked him down to eye level. "You'll have to fight me."

The boy quickly decided that a fight wasn't worth it and backed down.

"See, Albert? Lesson number one, never back down. You do and they'll walk all over you!"

Albert quickly learned that even though all of the boys were miserable, they were not all miserable together. The older boys, rather than watch out for the younger ones, walked all over the boys. They took whatever they wanted and the younger boys were too frightened to say no.

Michael wouldn't allow that to happen to Albert. Albert wasn't sure why Michael had chosen him of all of the boys, but he had and Albert wanted to impress him. By the end of his second month in the refuge, Albert had gotten mean. It was his only choice. Like Michael had said, the nice boys didn't last long.

In Albert's fourth month, Michael was released from the Refuge.

"Remember everything I taught you, got it?" Michael asked.

Albert nodded. He didn't want Michael to leave, but he knew that the boy would be happier on the outside. He had to let his mentor go.

"You ain't sad, right?" Michael asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Course not, it'll be nice to finally get rid of you," Albert shrugged. "You been gettin' on my nerves all the time, tryin' to tell me what to do."

"That's right," Michael grinned, ruffling Albert's fiery locks. "I've taught you well. Now, Albert, when you get out in a month or two, you're gonna be needing a place to stay."

"Yeah? I thought I was just gonna stay on the streets," the ten-year-old scoffed.

"Real funny," Michael rolled his eyes. "I'm serious. There's plenty of lodging houses around here. Find one. Lots of the boys sell newspapers, that should keep you alive for awhile. Okay?"

"Yeah. I'll keep that in mind."

"Good." Michael stood up and began to move to the door where one of the wardens was waiting for him, but Albert stopped him.

"Am I ever gonna see you again?"

"It's not likely. I took care of you in here, but that's it. We're going our own ways now. It was nice knowin' ya, kid."

Michael gave Albert a small smile, a nod, and then he was gone.

He was gone and Albert was on his own.

***

Albert was released in January a week before his eleventh birthday. His first thought was of Michael's advice. Find a lodging house. Sell papers. Stay alive.

So he did what he was told.

It didn't take him long to spot a newsboy; he had only walked a few blocks in the snow when he spotted a tall, dark haired boy of about thirteen.

He didn't dare talk to the boy. Instead, he watched as the boy sold his last few papers and then Albert began to follow him.

He'd been following him for nearly ten minutes when the boy disappeared in the crowd. Albert's heart stopped for a minute. How was he going to find a lodge now?

He walked faster, hoping he might catch up to the boy when suddenly he was grabbed from behind. Albert gasped and spun around, expecting to be met with Snyder's cruel smile.

Instead he was surprised to see the boy he'd been following. "How-how did you do that?"

The boy ignored him. "Why are you following me?"

"I-I..." Albert stuttered; his tough facade faltered for a minute.

"Are you working for Snyder?"

"No!" Albert immediately denied it. "I just got out and saw you selling papers, I thought I could follow you to a lodge."

The boy didn't seem completely convinced, but he let go of Albert. "Why didn't you just ask?"

"Why should I?" Albert's shield of sarcasm and bitterness came back up. "You ain't nothin' special."

The boy seemed surprised, but he laughed. "We're all special, kid. Follow me."

Albert was confused. This boy wasn't scared of him, and he wasn't mean either. Michael told him that people in the real world were mean and only wanted to hurt each other.

But this boy was nice! He was taking him to a lodge and had kept his arm around Albert's shoulder the entire time as he guided him through the bustling crowds.

Still, this was a stranger and Albert trusted Michael.

The boy finally stopped in front of a large brick building. A sign out front read 'Newsboys Lodging House' in peeling paint.

"This is home," the boy said as he led him inside and to a desk. "This is where you sign in."

Albert was handed a book and a pencil and he carefully signed his name like he'd been taught at school.

"Now the nightly fee is ten cents, you get breakfast and supper at six morning and night, and you'll get your own bed too. Curfew's at ten and baths are no more than three times a week so that everyone gets a turn. Rules are no fighting, no drinking, no cursing, no laziness, and no gambling.

"Course people do all that anyway; you've just gotta make sure the superintendent ain't around. We're up by five-thirty and we go to the distribution center after breakfast; it's only four blocks from here. Papes are two for a penny," the boy finished his spiel and Albert stared at him with wide eyes before trying to scratch his name off the register.

"Hey! What's the matter?" Then it hit the boy. "Boy am I brainless sometimes! You just got out of the Refuge! You don't have any money, do ya?"

Albert shook his head.

"Here," the boy pulled various coins out of his pocket and counted them before handing them to Albert. "That's twenty five cents. This'll get you board for tonight and thirty papes tomorrow. Don't worry about paying me back, do it when you get the chance."

The boy turned to head up the stairs and Albert shot a glare at his back.

"I don't need charity!"

The boy turned around. "It ain't charity. We've all been there before."

Then he disappeared to the next floor and Albert stood alone in front of the desk. Confused by the boy's generosity, Albert pulled the register back toward him. Curious as to who that boy was he carefully read the name that had been sloppily signed above his.

Jack Kelly.

***
I literally started this back in November. Whoops. It does feel good to finish though.

Hope you liked it!