Chapter Two

ARTISTS AND FIGHTS

" 'm sorry, Zoe-" he began, but she cut him off sharply.
"Sorry, huh? Well, a lot of good that does me now! What did they do to make you tell, threaten you with no meals? I know how much you love eating!"
"This" Jon said quietly, as he showed her his hand. Or what was left of it, anyway. She stared at the mutilated flesh of his right hand for four silent seconds.
"Oh Jon." she said, as her eyes filled with tears, "I'm so sorry. This is all my fault..."
" 's alright. I kin still do some jobs with jus' m' left hand." he assured her.
"But you can't draw! Oh, Jon, I know how much you wanted to be an artist..."
" I'll work sumtin' out. 'm a gutter kid, remember?"
"Wich means you're already having a hard time getting jobs!" she snapped, exasperated at his macho act.
"look Zoe," he said impatently, "I kin find jobs just fine!"
"Oh yes, you'd say that!" her voice was rising now. "And you just tell me who is going to hire a one-handed, thirteen-year-old boy to do any labor work at all?"
"Well," he shouted, "Maybe ya should just go confess and go running to yer daddy to find a job for me, if it's that important to ya!"


the argument will continue in chapter four