Local Lit

Jem, A Girl of London (excerpt 3 of 3)

Chapter 6—February and March 1758 | My Brother, Played for a Pig, Becomes Ill

Delaney Green |

                      I had to watch James every second. His favorite thing to do was toddle from one stinking bit of trash to the next and try to stuff it in his mouth. I wished I could get him to stop, but he wouldn’t. We could have stayed inside, but it was hard to stay indoors, especially on spring mornings when the air was fresh, the birds were singing, and people walked with a bounce in their step because the long winter was over!
 
                      So we played just beneath Henry’s window. Other children bobbed up and down the street like flocks of seagulls and didn’t appear to belong to any adults. One group stopped to look in the confectioner’s window, and some of them looked over at us. I smiled, hoping they would come over, but when Henry came and scowled at them, they scattered. “Steer clear of that lot,” he said.
 
                      “But why?”
 
                      “They’ll rob your last farthing and kick you bloody for a laugh.”
 
                      I doubted it. Still, after that, I tucked my money away whenever Mum left a penny to buy bread for our dinner. If I had to walk to the baker’s, I didn’t bring James, for he was always trying to go his own way and it was awkward to carry him along with whatever I bought. Mum said James was my responsibility, so when I had to go out, I tied my brother’s legs to our bed and fairly flew to the baker and back for fear that something would happen while I was gone.
 
                      One day, I was returning home with a sausage and a bottle of milk and as I turned into our street, I saw a circle of children just outside Henry’s shop looking down at something on the ground. My heart stopped. I ran. “See how funny?” I heard one of them say. “ ‘Ee eats anyfink you give ‘im. ‘Ee drops what ‘ee’s got an takes yours to taste.”
 
                      “James Thomas Connolly!” I shrieked. “Drop that at once!”
 
                      James stared straight at me and spat out a bit of apple peel that looked like it had been smeared in dog droppings. Some in the crowd jeered. One boy stepped toward me with his fist raised. “Leave off, Jackie,” said his mate.
 
                      Jackie stuck his face right up to my nose: “BAH!” he said, then laughed and joined his mate. The others moved away, grumbling.
 
                      One boy stayed back and said, “Oi didn’t give ‘im nofink bad, miss; that was the others. Can I ‘elp you carry this stuff to yer ‘ome?” He gestured at the loaf and bottle.
 
                      If I gave him our food, he might run away with it. I’d seen such chases from our window. “Can you carry my brother upstairs for me?” I said. James’s mouth was filthy, and he smelled of rotten fruit. I handed James over. “How long did they feed him garbage?”
 
                      “I don’t think long, miss. I comes along and I sees two or three just talking to him, like, and then this ‘ere baby reaches out for a dropped bit of biscuit and eats it and the kids laugh. So then the others come to see what the laughing was about, and this ‘ere baby gets up and slaps hisself down to eat summat else. And pretty soon, kids are finding bits of rubbish to give ‘im and watching ‘is face as he eats it. And then after about a minute, you come along.”
 
                      We lugged our loads through Henry’s shop to the stairs.
 
                      Henry had nodded off in the back. He opened his eyes when he heard the bell, and he said, “Who’s this then?”
 
                      “William, sir,” the boy said.
 
                      “He’s helping me,” I said.
 
                      “Did ye take James along, then, to the shop?” Henry asked.
 
                      “No, he escaped,” I fumed. “Didn’t you see him go out?”
 
                      “I thought I heard the bell, but I didn’t see anyone.” Of course he hadn’t; James was too short to see and Henry’s eyes got cloudier by the day. Henry said, “Next time, tie him to the bed.”

                      “Good idea,” I said.

Delaney Green is the pen name of Eau Claire’s Debra Peterson. Peterson taught English for 25 years, and before that, she was a reporter, a copy editor, a professional actress, a Broadway theater concessions manager, and a farm laborer. She is the author of Playwriting: A Manual for Beginners, published by Dramatic Publishing. She answers questions about writing on her website here.

My Brother, Played for a Pig, Becomes Ill  is excerpted from Jem, A Girl of London –  the first book of Peterson’s in-progress Young Adult series (currently looking for a publisher). The books focus on Jessamyn Connolly – no ordinary girl. She hears what animals are thinking. She feels disease in people with no outward symptoms. And she decides early on that the only way for a girl to get along in a man's world is not to be a girl at all –  so she dons a pair of breeches and calls herself "Jem."

You can find two more excerpts below.

 

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