1922.

From his corner on the exhaust-choked streets of Titan City, Young Will Singer watched shiny new motorcars carrying well-to-do businessmen honk arguments at each other, each one of them seemingly in someone else’s way. The summer heat made hot tempers hotter, and Will felt thankful for the shade he stood in as he held aloft the latest issue of The Titan Gazette, trying to make a sale.

The headline read, RAILROAD STRIKE ON SIXTH DAY — a story gone stale, not all that compelling to passersby, so Will tried to bring it a little pizzazz. “City council in panic!” he cried, “Children going hungry! When will it all end?”

Will had not read anything in the story about the strike leading to hungry children but figured it was a safe bet there were children going hungry somewhere. That meant it wasn’t exactly a lie.

Anyway, he was hungry. The stone-stiff crust of bread he took for breakfast from the orphanage had been digested a long time ago. Will hoped to sell enough papers to get something to eat soon — a nice fresh apple, say. Any money left over after that could be deposited in the shoebox hidden under his cot.

Then a voice full of sly self-assurance said to him, “Sounds like sad days, little man. Sad, sad days.”

The speaker was an older boy, Donny Fields, a former newsie Will knew from a couple of years back. He’d grown taller and his chin had filled out, looking thick enough to take a punch and give the knuckles that did it something to remember him by.

“Hey, Donny,” Will said. “You don’t want to buy a paper, do ya?”

“Papers? Nah, kid. Why should I buy the papers when I’m gonna be in them?” He winked.

Will did not know what that meant, but guessed it was some kind of joke. “Funny, Donny.” He started to turn his attention back toward potential customers, but the older boy continued.

“Not funny at all, little man. I’m going somewhere, see? And I’m going fast. I know some real important people who say they like the look of me. They say they see potential.”

“Potential?”

“Oh, yeah.” He hooked his thumbs into his suspenders. “I got potential in spades.”

“That’s great, Donny. Good for you.”

“Good for me? Maybe good for you. Maybe you got potential too. Ever thought of that?”

“Me? Potential? What kind?”

“Well, you got drive, don’t ya?”

“Drive?”

“Yeah, drive! You don’t want to be calling out to passing cars all your life. Not you, Will, you want to be in those cars, sitting at the wheel with a tasty dame at your side. That’s the life for a guy with drive. You wear the finest clothes, sleep in the softest beds, and eat the best food, all brought to you by waiters in fancy white gloves.”

“That sure sounds swell.” Will’s stomach rumbled in agreement. 

“Swell and how,” said Donny. “I knew you had some drive in you.”

Will smiled. 

“And guys like us, guys with drive, we don’t let nothin’ stand in our way — not nothin’ and not nobody. You go for what you want even if you gotta go through your Old Aunt Edna.”

“I don’t have an Aunt Edna.”

Influenza had taken Will’s mother three years ago. He didn’t remember her having any sisters. If she did, maybe he could have gone to live with them instead of the orphanage.

Donny said, “I ain’t sayin’ you got an Aunt Edna. What I’m sayin’ is, if you did, you wouldn’t let that gray-haired old biddy get in between you and your drive, would ya?”

“I… I don’t know…” 

The Aunt Edna in his mind — an Aunt Edna who would have taken him in — smiled sweetly in her frilly apron, serving fresh blackberry cobbler, straight from the oven. 

“What don’t you know?” said Donny. “You said you got drive, don’t ya?”

Will could feel that cozy kitchen fantasy costing him Donny’s approval. “Sure, I do…”

“That’s what I thought. So, what about Old Aunt Edna?”

Not wanting Donny to think he was soft, he came up with the strongest words he could muster. “She can go eat beans!”

His imaginary Aunt Edna’s smile faded, heartbroken.

“Yeah, she can, a whole big bowl of ‘em!” Donny laughed. “All right, kid. So, here’s the deal. Me and my new friends, tonight we’re meeting over at that movie theater on Wilson Avenue, just off 43rd, you know the one? The Regent?”

“That the one that’s playing the vampire movie?”

“Sure is,” His grin sent a chill through Will’s spine. “Nosferatu. You meet us there tonight, ten o’clock sharp, got it?”

“But curfew is eight!”

“You gonna let that get in your way?”

Will had never snuck out of the orphanage at night. Other boys did, but never him. Getting caught meant extra chores and no supper. Was he willing to risk it? Did he have the drive?

“I’ll be there,” he said.

“You know what? I think you will.” And with a hearty clap on Will’s skinny shoulder, Donny left the younger boy to contemplate his escape as he sold his last papers.

By the time he sat down to supper at the orphanage that night, Will had his plan in place, and he thought it was a good plan. Thinking of actually doing it though tied his stomach in knots, and his nerves got between him and his soup. A few sips were all he could get down. The boy at the table beside him took notice. “Not hungry, Will?”

“Not really.”

“Then, can I have it?”

“Sure.” 

He slid his bowl over, and the boy began emptying it before Will pulled his fingers away.

After evening prayers, Will laid in bed with his eyes open, listening as the other boys’ breathing deepened and they drifted off to sleep. He didn’t want any of them to witness his escape, and gradually, he felt his eyelids getting heavy as well.

Suddenly, Will jolted awake. Sleep had taken him, but for how long? He did not know, but he needed to get into action!

Quietly, Will slipped into street clothes under his blanket. Then he tucked his laundry sack into his bed as a decoy. 

There was no chance he could escape through the front door. The caretaker’s big mutt  barked like the devil at anyone coming in or out. Instead, Will crept to the washroom.

He stood on the lid of the toilet to reach the washroom’s window latch. Every other time anyone opened it, that window squealed something fierce, but at dinner he had pocketed a pat of butter and he slathered that over its hinges.

Holding his breath, Will tugged gently at the handle. Not a sound. He swung the window wide and worked his way out onto the ledge. 

The draft from an open window might catch someone’s attention, but Will did not want to lose his way back in. So, he pressed a tiny wad of Chew-Rite Gum into the latch to keep it from locking and shut the window as carefully as he had opened it.

Will worked his way down until he was dangling from the ledge by his fingertips. It was the best way he’d figured to shorten his fall, but there was still quite a bit of space between his feet and the ground. 

Dangling there, Will suddenly questioned what in the world he thought he was doing and what he was doing it for. Could Donny really provide that dream of luxury that only “drive” could win? He didn’t know. But he would never know if he did not try.

Will pushed himself away from the orphanage and rolled with the fall when he hit the lawn. It hurt, but he hadn’t broken anything. Will had done it. He was free. 

With a smile, he set out into the dark majesty of Titan City by night. Dazzling marquees advertised dance halls and radio stars and cool, refreshing Kronos-Kola, while day-familiar alleyways disappeared into impenetrable darkness. 

The workday traffic had transformed into late-night revelry, with flappers in shimmering shift dresses draped from the arms of pin-striped playboys. Voices made louder and looser with drink called out to him, “Hey, kid! Ain’t it past your bedtime?” It sure was, but that didn’t stop Will. Nothing could stop his drive.

When at last he made it to the Regent, he heard Donny hiss at him from the shadows beside the theater, “You’re late!”

He couldn’t see the older boy well, but he could see there were four more surrounding him, all about the same age, none over fifteen. Not the big shots who saw Donny’s potential, no, these had to be others with potential of their own. From the sneers they shot his way, it looked like the potential to knock his teeth out of his skull.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“This the kid you got?” one of the others asked.

“Yeah, this is Will.” Donny grabbed him by the shoulder. “This here cheese is gonna bring us a big, fat mouse.”

Mouse? Cheese? Will did not understand, but the others seemed to.

“I don’t know, Donny. Kid looks like he doesn’t have the nerve.”

“Then he’s got you fooled just like he’s gonna fool our mouse! See, Will here promises me. He says he’s got drive. And he’s gonna show us. He’s gonna be a real tasty piece of cheese tonight.” Donny gave Will a look. “Or else…”

They were all watching Will. His eyes had adjusted enough to the shadows to make out the mix of hardware weaponry they carried — a lead pipe, a wooden plank, a length of chain. If he did not say the right thing, right then, Will had the strong impression he would not have to worry about climbing back up to the orphanage window.

His voice quavered as he spoke. “Beans to Old Aunt Edna.”

Will felt his left leg begin to tremble and fought the urge to wet himself. Then all five erupted with laughter.

“Beans!”

“Did you hear that kid?”

“Beans to Old Aunt Edna!”

“Oh, that’s a good one!”

“What’d I tell you, boys?” said Donny. “Ain’t he the perfect cheese? He’s gonna make us real fat cats for sure!”

Then he spelled out their plan and Will’s place in it. The “mouse” would be one of the people coming out of the movie. The spotter would pick someone with the right look signal Will. Then Will would come running out of the alley as the “cheese,” crying about how his ma had fallen and beg the mouse to come help.

“We’ll handle the rest,” said Donny. “But you got to be real convincing with your crying. I’m talking full waterworks, you get me?”

One boy clapped a wooden plank against his palm. “You think we need to help him get those tears, Donny?”

“Nah, you don’t need no help crying, do you, Will?”

Will quickly shook his head.

“Sure, you don’t. You’re gonna be a real Shakespeare tonight.”

“Shakespeare! That’s funny!” said another. “Will Shakespeare!”

Will forced a smile, feeling plenty of motivation to let those tears flow.

All the boys stood in position as The Regent began to release its audience into the street. Well-dressed citizens of Titan City murmured in wonder over the film’s terrifying portrayal of the vampire Count Orlok.

“How did they get him to look like that?”

“Those eyes… Oh, those eyes…”

“And when he was creeping up the stairs? I could just perish!”

Who would the spotter pick for their mouse? An older heiress in mink and pearls? A young couple enjoying their night out, the gentleman throwing cash around to win his girl’s admiration?

When the signal came, the spotter pointed out a broad-shouldered man in his late middle-years, looking at a shiny gold watch pulled from his long camel coat. All the others passed around him. This movie-goer had come to the Regent alone.

“Get to it, Shakespeare!” said Donny, “It’s showtime…”

He wished he had never left the orphanage. Will didn’t want anything bad to happen to this man, but if he didn’t do like they said, something bad was going to happen to him.

He ran forward to tug on the mouse’s sleeve with a real sob in his throat. “Hey, mister?”

The man looked from his watch to Will, showing a neatly trimmed mustache flecked with gray. He spoke in smooth, refined tones. “Good Lord, son. What is the matter?”

“Please, mister! It’s my mom. She’s real sick. I don’t know what happened. She fell. She’s right back here and…” Will hadn’t planned what to say, and the jumble of words made him sound even more distressed. He pulled the man toward the alley.

“Now, hold on a minute here. Just breathe. You say your mother fell?”

Will nodded. He pulled again, harder. 

“This sounds serious. Tell me, son. How long has it been since she last ate?”

 “Uh… I don’t know…” 

Questions were not what Will wanted. He just wanted to get this over with. But the man leaned down to speak to him eye-to-eye. “Now, listen closely,” he said. “Your mother is going to be just fine. I’m going to make sure she gets proper medical attention, ok?”

Will forgot for a moment that he did not actually have a mother waiting in the darkness. And forgetting that, he felt oddly comforted. This was a nice man. Everything was going to work out all right.

The man rose and stepped toward the alley, toward danger, maybe toward death. 

Will cried out, “Wait!”

“Don’t worry, son. She’s going to be ok. I promise.”

“No, you see…” And it all came out of him like a broken dam. “I’m sorry, mister. They made me do it. My mother isn’t down there. It’s a trap!”

From the alleyway, one boy shouted, “I knew the kid was yellow!”

“Get the snitch!” Donny screamed. All five of them exploded out of the shadows, weapons ready.

“Run, mister!” Will shoved the man away, putting himself in the path of violence. This was his fault, his responsibility. He would take whatever punishment was coming.

But the man’s hand wrapped around his own, pulling him along. Suddenly, Will was running too, struggling to keep up.

The last scattered movie-goers turned toward the ruckus and saw millionaire industrialist Josiah Finn, who had been mourning the death of his wife and daughter, fleeing from a gang of ruffians. At his side ran the orphan Will Singer, who would be brought into the safety of his car, the comfort of his home, and ultimately into his family.