On the way, they called out headlines, hoping to sell more papers before they got to Tibby’s. Right when they turned the corner, Bumlets bumped into someone. As he looked at him, he recognized him as the man who had brought him his mother’s things the day before.

“I’m sorry.” José mumbled. “I didn’t see you coming.”

“Aw, it’s okay.” Bumlets told him. “We weren’t watchin’ where we was goin’ either.”

“Where all the things you received in good shape?”

“Yeah, they were. I’s jus’ wonderin’ if…um, ya knew my parents.”

Those were the words José had dreaded since the moment he had met his son. He knew he had to do his best to not reveal himself as his father. It was a good thing he didn’t recognize him.

“Yes, I knew them.” He answered. “Both your mother and your father.”

At first, Bumlets was taken aback at this man’s answer, but then he knew that he needed to know if he had been with his mother before she had died, and where his father was now.

“Where ya der when my mother died?” he asked.

“No.” José answered. “I only knew her for two years.”

“Did my father get ‘er letter?”

“In a sense, yes. But your father died not too long ago.”

This news hit Bumlets unexpectedly. He thought for sure that his father was alive. If he were, he could tell him what was on his mind about him leaving his mother. ‘If he only knew how much she loved him,’ he thought.

“I do have a question for you.” José continued. “I couldn’t help but notice that your mother’s last name was Castillo, and yours is Lopez. I heard that Gabriella never married after her husband left her.”

“She didn’t.” Bumlets told him. “Before my mother went to North Carolina, I ast her what her maiden name was. I wanted ta keep that one cuz I wasn’t fit ta carry on the name Castillo.”

“Why?” José asked nervously.

“Because my father wasn’t there for me when I needed ‘im. If he wasn’t there, why should I go by ‘is name?”

José’s heart sank at his son’s reply. Only a few months ago did he realize that his wife and child needed him, but he never would have thought that his own son wouldn’t carry on his name.

“Well,” Bumlets continued, “thanks fer answering my questions. But I gotta go now.”

“Ah, in case you’re wondering,” José spoke up, “I’m staying at a boarding house down on Harbor Street. If there’s anything more about your father that you would like to know about, you can visit and I’ll tell you what I know.”

“Thanks. Guess I’ll see ya ‘round.” He turned to Seven, who had been silent the entire time. “C’mon Seven, let’s go.”

Seven nodded and the two walked down the street and entered a nearby restaurant. José watched with a heavy heart, wishing that he could turn back time just so he could redo the mistake he had made over nineteen years ago.

José opened his eyes to find himself in an old room he hadn’t seen in almost twenty years. He then glanced up to see a mirror before him. His reflection startled him; he now looked about nineteen years old, his hair had lost its gray, and the few wrinkles that were slowly forming on his face now had no trace on his face.

He then turned to hear cheering coming from the door behind him. As he looked down at his clothes, his background suddenly changed to a sunny September day with a crowd of people all around. He then heard music and turned to look down the aisle.

He gasped as he saw young, sixteen year old Gabriella walking down the aisle. He then realized that he was reliving their wedding day. As he looked back at Gabriella, a smile came to his face.

Gabriella was wearing a long, beautiful white cashmere dress with lace going all around the skirt, cuffs and neck of the dress. And atop her head was her lace veil that cascaded over her long, dark brown hair. In her hands she held a bouquet of white crocuses, hidden by even more lace. But the most breathtaking of all was Gabriella’s smile.

Of course, José’s parents preferred them to have a Mexican fiesta wedding, but the two decided to combine a regular wedding with Mexican culture. But it was a wedding nonetheless, and it was enough for Gabriella.

At last, Gabriella reached altar and took José’s hand. They said those vows, neither guessing at how shallow they would be. Afterward, they had their reception and enjoyed themselves.

Just as José was about to reminisce about the piñata, all the fun they had in the situation, and when he sang “Let me call you Sweetheart” to her, the memory changed. Now, Gabriella stood before him, wearing her favorite blue cotton dress and a wide smile on her face.

“José,” she said joyfully, “I have some wonderful news.”

“What is it?” José asked.

“I know we’ve only been married for four months, but I’m going to have a baby.”

José could remember how those words she had spoken changed his life. He was only nineteen, he wasn’t cut out to be a father now!

“A baby?” he asked.

Gabriella’s smile became brighter as she nodded eagerly. “Yes.” she said excitedly.

That night, around midnight, José awoke and packed his bags. He knew that he couldn’t persuade Gabriella to have an abortion; she loved children too much and would never do anything to hurt her unborn child.

Before José left her, he looked at his young wife once more. She was sleeping peacefully, completely unaware that she would never see her husband again. She had her arm wrapped protectively around her stomach, almost as if to embrace her baby. José then bent down and kissed Gabriella’s forehead before he left their apartment.

That was when José awoke for the dreams of his past. He covered his face with his hands and kept asking himself, ‘why did I leave her?’ He couldn’t understand how she had survived so long without him.

‘I wish I had stayed.’ He thought. ‘I wish I had had enough time to go back to her and tell her that I’m sorry.’

Bumlets turned over in his bunk as he too was traveling through his past in his dreams. He remembered that day when Gabriella first spoke of his father. It was late at night; he was only four years old and sleeping in his trundle bed on the other side of their apartment.

He could remember that night clearly; he was clutching his tiny blanket that was now falling to shreds while thinking about candy. He had just opened his eyes to hear his mother sobbing in her pillow. He then pulled his covers off and walked over to his mother’s bed while dragging his shredded blanket across the floor.

“Mama?” he asked.

Gabriella lifted her head from her pillow and looked down at her son. When she saw his curious eyes, she wiped her own and sat up.

“What are you doing?” she asked. “You’re supposed to be asleep.”

“Mama, why’re you crying?” he asked.

“It’s nothing, Michael. Go back to sleep.”

“Mama, something’s wrong with you. Are you okay?”

Gabriella then sighed. She couldn’t hide the truth from her son; he was too persistent, like his father. She looked at him and smiled gently.

“Come on, you get up here with me and I’ll tell you.”

Gabriella pulled her covers off as Michael climbed onto her bed and snuggled close to his mother. Gabriella pulled the covers over him and then pulled him into a hug.

“I was thinking of your papa.” She whispered.

“My papa?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know. He disappeared before you were born.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart.”

Michael then pulled his tiny blanket up and thought for a minute. If his father had left before he was born, he probably left mama because of him. When he looked at his mother’s face, he had the feeling that she had an instinct that told her why he had left.

“Did papa leave you because of me?” he asked.

Gabriella looked down at him and shook her head. “Of course not, Michael. I guess he didn’t want to be married anymore.”

Though Michael was only four at the time, he understood completely that she was lying. But he never told her that he could tell.

“Mama, if I got sick and died, would he come back to you?” he asked.

Gabriella immediately looked down at him and frowned disapprovingly. “Don’t talk like that, Michael. You’re not going to get sick and die. You’re far too healthy, and I never want you to say things like that anymore. I love you, and nothing’s going to change that. Now go to sleep.”

Michael nodded and snuggled closer to his mother for warmth. She only wrapped her arm around him and held him even closer.

“Goodnight Michael.” She whispered.

“’Night, mama. I love you.”

“I love you too, punkin.”

That memory then changed. Bumlets found himself at the apartment, doing the math lessons Mama had marked in his book. He was almost eight years old now, and he was home alone.

After a while, the door opened and Gabriella entered. Michael then turned and closed his book and rushed to hug her when she stopped him.

“Mama, what’s wrong?” he asked, wondering why she stopped him from hugging her.

“Michael, I have some bad news.” Gabriella said sadly. “Go sit down on my bed.”

Michael obeyed and sat down on her bed. Gabriella only pulled up a chair to the bed and refused to make eye contact with her son.

“Michael,” she whispered, holding back tears, “I don’t know how to say this, but…I’m sick.”

“Do you have a cold?” Michael asked.

Gabriella shook her head. “No. I just came back from the doctors. They said that they don’t know what I have, and that…that…”

“Mama, what’s wrong?” Michael asked, growing worried.

“Michael…the doctors told me that I have to go to a hospital in North Carolina.”

“Oh. I’ve never been to North Carolina before.”

“No, Michael, you don’t understand.” Gabriella was crying now. “They told me that you couldn’t come with me. They said that you could get sick too, and that you can’t come with me.”

Michael’s eyes welled up with tears. “I can’t? But mama, what am I gonna do without you? You can’t leave me!”

Michael threw himself into his mother’s arms and sobbed. Gabriella only held him close and also cried. She couldn’t leave her baby, her only son alone in New York! But none of her relatives were alive, and there was nothing she could do.

“Mama, what’s gonna happen to me?” Michael asked after a few minutes of crying.

Gabriella gently pulled her son away and looked at his face. “You remember Mister Kloppman, right?”

Michael nodded. Mr. Kloppman was a nice old man who gave Mama money if she needed it. He also owned the newsies’ lodging house a few blocks away.

“Well,” Gabriella continued as she brushed a loose stand of hair from her son’s eyes, “Mr. Kloppman has offered to take you in, but you have to work as a newsboy. You know what that is, right?”

Michael nodded again.

“Good. You’re going to be a newsie and live with Mr. Kloppman while I’m gone.”

“But I don’t want you to go.” Michael cried. “I can’t live without you.”

Gabriella pulled him into her arms again. “Yes you can. We’ll both make it through this. You’ll see, sweetheart. We can, and we will.”

Bumlets remembered the day Gabriella left and his first day at the lodging house. His eyes were red and his nose runny because he had been crying. He had only half of his old blanket because it had ripped in half and Mama had taken half of it with her to remember him.

Though he had long since given up sleeping with his blanket, the first night at the lodging house he lay on his bed, hugging his blanket tightly. He missed his mama so much, even though she had only been gone a few hours.

After a while, he began to cry. To make matters worse, he could hear some of the newsies behind him laughing at him. Though they didn’t talk about him, he knew that it was him they were laughing at. Finally, a female voice stopped the laughing behind him.

“That’s enough.” She said sternly. “Jus’ leave the poor kid alone. Looks like ‘e’s had a tough day.”

The next thing he knew, a girl with a reddish type of blonde hair and blue eyes sat down on Michael’s bunk. He looked at her and she smiled gently at him.

“Hey there, kiddo.” She said, her voice deep yet cheerful. “Yer new ‘ere?”

Michael nodded but said nothing.

“So, ya got a name?” she asked.

Michael only hugged the remains of his blanket and said nothing. The words were stuck in his throat, and he was a little bit scared of this girl.

“’S mattah?” the girl asked. “Cat got yer tongue?”

That was when Kloppman stepped in. “That’s enough, Seven.” He said. “The boy’s name is Michael. His mother just got sick and he’s never been away from her. He probably won’t be able to see her for a long time.”

“Okay.” The girl, called Seven, looked back at Michael and smiled again. “Hey Michael. Name’s Seven of Nine, but call me Seven, ‘kay?”

Michael nodded.

“Good. Now tomorrah I’m gonna teach ya how ta be a newsie an’ hawk headlines. Sound good? Good. Ya don’ need ta worry, I’m gonna take good care ‘a ya.”

“Thanks.” Michael mumbled quietly.

“So ya do talk, huh?” Seven observed. “That’s good. Now I’s gotta head ta my bunk, so I gotta go. See ya ‘round, little bum.”

Bumlets then opened his eyes, making the dream disappear. That day was the last day he saw his mother. He missed her so much. ‘Oh mama, why’d you hafta die so young, and without getting to see me one more time?’ He wondered.

José tapped his fingers on the tabletop as he waited for Bumlets to come. He had seen him enter this restaurant the other day, and he was sure that he would come again. There were already a few newsies here, but they seemed too preoccupied with whatever they were chatting about.

At last, his son finally arrived with Seven. When Bumlets saw him, he seemed a little shocked and whispered in Seven’s ear. She nodded and the two took a table that wasn’t too far from José’s.

When they sat down, they ordered their lunch from the waiter that was passing by their table. When the waiter went to get their lunches, Bumlets arose from the table and Seven nodded. Then he walked over to José’s table. José was a little nervous, but he fought it back as Bumlets arrived at his table.

“Afternoon.” He said. “You come here a lot?”

José shook his head. “No. I just came here to grab a small lunch. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Ya mind if I ask ya some more questions?”

“Not at all. Ask away.”

“’Kay. Why did my father leave?”

Bumlets knew the real reason why his father had left, but he wanted to know if there was more to it than just him. But whatever the reason, Diego probably didn’t know the real reason.

“Your father.” José began. “He…well, he was a close friend of mine. He told me that he had left because he was afraid of becoming a father. He was only your age when he got married.”

“Oh.” Bumlets muttered. “How’d ‘e die?”

“He died of depression. He had made so many mistakes in his life that his heart gave out. But he told me he had always wanted to see Gabriella again.”

“He’s not the only one. She got sick when I’s almost eight. Th’ last I saw ‘er she was leavin’ on a train for North Carolina.”

“I see.”

Bumlets then stood up. “Thanks fer answering my question. I jus’ wanted to know why he left my mother.”

“You’re welcome. Like I said, I was a close friend of your father’s. You can ask anything you want about him if you want.”

Bumlets nodded and went back to his table. But for some reason, he had the feeling that Diego had lied. ‘About what?’ He wondered. It didn’t matter right now, he had other things to think about.

As José watched his son, he knew that he could never tell him who he really was. Though he had only just met him, he somehow had the feeling that his son was also unpredictable. What would his reaction be if he told him who he really was? Would he be utterly speechless or would he completely hate him?

‘I can’t let him know.’ He decided. ‘For as long as I’m here, I can’t let him know who I really am.’

“Bumlets, are you okay?” Seven asked.

“Huh?” Bumlets asked.

“I asked if you were okay. You look tense.”

“Aw, it’s nothin’. I’m jus’ thinkin’.”

Seven placed her hand on Bumlets’ shoulder and he strained a little bit. Seven then ran her fingers along his neck and frowned.

“You’re pretty tight here.” She said. “Want me to massage your shoulders?”

“Sure. It’ll make me feel better.”

Bumlets then sat up and Seven placed her hands on his broad shoulders and began to kneed his muscles with her hands.

“Ah, that feels much better.” He said. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Are you thinking about that man, Diego?”

“Well, yeah. He said that ‘e was a close friend of my fadder’s. I jus’…it…there’s somethin’ about him that really confuses me.”

“What is it?”

“I dunno. It’s jus’ that…whenever I talk to him, it’s almost like he’s trying ta cover somethin’ up.”

“Do you know why?”

“No. Another thing is that when I look at him, I…I feel like I’m lookin’ at myself.”

Seven then stopped massaging his shoulders and raised an eyebrow in confusion. “How could that happen?”

“I dunno. I jus’ feel like…I don’ know. I…can’t explain it.”

“Does it feel like you’re looking at your father?”

“I have no clue. I don’t know what he looks like, except for one thing.”

“Whaddaya mean, by one thing?”

“Well, mama din’t have any pictures of him, but she said that he had a long, white scar goin’ up ‘is left arm. She said it was when ‘e got burned.”

“I see.”

“An’ dat guy’s name is Diego Fuentes. My father’s name was José Castillo.”

“But I thought your last name was Lopez.”

“It is. Only it’s mama’s maiden name.”

“So you go by her name instead of your father’s?”

“Yeah. Why should I go by his if he wasn’t there for me?”

Seven didn’t answer; she just walked around and sat down in front of Bumlets and sighed. She didn’t seem to have anything to say at the moment.

“I don’t know what to tell you.” She said after a short period of time. “My father died when I was eleven, along with my mother. I don’t know what it’s like to live without a father for most of my life. But…what’ll you do if you meet up with him?”

“I won’t. He’s dead.”

“Oh. But, if he were alive, what would you do?”

“I don’t know, Seven. I don’t know.”

José peeked around the corner to catch Bumlets handing a newspaper to a buyer. Seven was nearby, calling out her “improved” headlines instead of the true headlines. As he watched, he noticed that Bumlets was improving his headlines too. ‘I thought he told Gabriella that he didn’t lie about the headlines,’ he thought.

It had been two weeks since José had arrived at New York, but each and every passing day he watched his son like a hawk. It was so incredibly hard for him to keep his identity concealed. All he knew was that he couldn’t let Bumlets know who he really was.

A few meters away, Seven looked over her shoulder to catch José looking their direction. ‘Weird,’ she thought, ‘I’ve seen him watching us for two straight weeks. Why does he keep watching us?’

Seven then called out another headline and sold her last paper. Sticking her coins in her pocket, she turned to Bumlets and tapped on his shoulder.

“How many papes do ya have left?” she asked.

“Jus’ two. Don’ worry, I’ll sell ‘em in a jiffy.” Bumlets replied.

He then took his two newspapers and called out the front page headline. He improved it so much that he had sold both papers within five seconds’ time. He grinned triumphantly and walked back to Seven.

“Toldja I’d sell ‘em in a jiffy.”

“No kidding. So, you wanna head home or do we go to Tibby’s?”

“Ah, I’d say head home. I din’t get much sleep las’ night.”

“You haven’t been getting much sleep since your mother’s things arrived. Now pardon my French, but what gives?”

Bumlets sighed. “Ever since they came in I’ve been havin’ dreams about my past. Then I wake up in the middle of the night an’ can’t get back to sleep.”

“I see. Well, I gotta sing tonight, so if you wanna watch, you should take a short nap so you’ll still be awake.”

“Okay, let’s go.”

The two then turned and headed in the direction of the lodging house. José continued watching them, and even prepared to follow them. But as he stepped out from behind the corner, he noticed that Seven’s foot had just gotten caught on a hidden hole, causing her to stumble and fall.

“Seven, are you okay?” Bumlets asked, kneeling to help her up.

Seven sucked in a quick breath. “I think so, but my ankle hurts.”

José then walked quickly over to them, hoping that they wouldn’t suspect anything. When he arrived at the scene, Bumlets looked up at him and seemed surprised to see him.

“Are you all right?” José asked Seven.

Seven nodded. “Pretty much, only my ankle hurts.”

“Would you mind if I checked to see if it’s sprained? I used to be an assistant to a doctor.”

“I guess so.”

Seven rolled her sock down as José rolled his sleeves up. He then placed his fingers on her ankle and pressed them against the tendons. Seven grimaced a little, but made no complaints.

“You’ll be fine.” José spoke up when he knew of what was wrong. “You just tweaked it a little. It oughta be fine in about two hours.”

“Thanks.” Seven said as Bumlets took her hand and helped her up.

“If you want it to feel better sooner,” José offered, “don’t put all your weight on it when you walk. When you get to your lodging house, put a cold, damp rag on it. That will keep it from swelling.”

“Alright. Thanks again…what’s your name again? I forgot.”

“Jo-Diego. Diego Fuentes.”

Bumlets frowned suspiciously. It sounded like he was about to say the name José. José then began rolling his sleeves down when Bumlets caught sight on his left arm. He saw a quick glimpse of what looked like a scar.

“Diego,” Bumlets started, trying to keep the suspicion from his voice, “what was that on your arm?”

“Which arm?” José asked.

“Yer left arm.”

José rolled the sleeve up again and showed him the scar. It was about three inches long, and the burnt skin was white and stretched. Bumlets’ suspicion grew even more, but he wasn’t about to make false accusations so quickly.

“How’d that happen?” he asked.

“It was and accident. I was working with my father years ago, and he was working with boiling water one day. He was using it to clean out someone’s infection, and when he was bringing it to them, he tripped and it spilled on my arm because the water was so hot.”

That was all Bumlets needed to hear. That was the exact story his mother had told him about the scar on his father’s arm. This man was his father.

“Who are you really?” Bumlets asked, his eyes becoming dark.

“I told you, my name is Diego Fuentes.” José answered.

“If it’s Diego, why did you almost begin to say the name José?”

José immediately fell silent. This was the moment he had been dreading; the moment when his son found out who he really was.

“Bumlets,” Seven began, “what’s-”

“Seven, remember how I told you my father had a long white scar on his left arm?” Bumlets said, cutting her off.

Seven’s eyes widened and she looked at José. The look in his eyes told her that he was Bumlets’ father, and that he was afraid of what would happen next.

“Bumlets,” José stuttered. “Michael-”

“Don’t call me that.” Bumlets said, his voice low. “You are José Castillo, aren’t ya?”

“Michael-”

“I toldja not ta call me that. Why did ya lie ta me?”

“Because I didn’t know how you’d react to me. How could I just come up to you and say that I’m your father?”

“You should’ve. That way you could’ve gotten out of here sooner.”

“Bumlets-” Seven started.

“Son, I wanted you to know I was sorry.” José interrupted. “I’m sorry I walked out on your mother. I-”

“It’s a liddle too late for that.” Bumlets growled. “Why don’tcha jus’ get outa here, now that I know who ya really are?”

“Michael, please.”

“No. How couldja expect me ta jus’ let ya stay here after what ya did ta mama? C’mon Seven, let’s get outa here.”

Bumlets then turned and stormed away, pulling Seven with him. Though she knew why Bumlets would be so upset, she turned and looked over her shoulder back at José. The look on his face put a heavy feeling in her heart. The look in his eyes made it look like he was loosing something dear to him all over again.

‘How would I feel if I were him?’ Seven wondered.

Bumlets then turned the corner and she lost sight of José. But she knew that there was something she had to do tonight. ‘Bumlets needs his father.’ She thought. ‘He came at a time when Bumlets needed his father. And he needs to know that too.’

When they finally arrived at the lodging house, Seven did as José had told her and put a cold, damp rag on her ankle as Bumlets tried to take a short nap. When her ankle finally felt better, she put the rag away and left the lodging house. She was still limping a little, but she didn’t let it bother her.

At last, she stopped when she reached Irving Hall. Bursting through the doors, she frightened Toby, Medda’s assistant, and caused him to drop all of his candy.

“Good heavens!” Toby cried. “What all’s the matter?”

“I’m sorry, Toby.” Seven mumbled. “But I gotta see Medda. Is she here?”

“She’s performing right now. She oughta be done in a minute or so.”

“Thanks Toby.”

Seven then took off toward the stage up the back stairs. When she finally reached the stage, Medda had just finished singing, and was now bowing. As she exited stage right, she caught sight of the young newsgirl and walked toward her.

“Seven, what are you doing here?” she asked. “You’re not supposed to sing until seven thirty!”

“I know.” Seven told her. “But I need to make a minor change.”

“And what’s that?”

“I need to do the song I was going to do next week tonight.”

“Why the sudden change of plans?”

“Because it’s what I need to do. I want to do ‘return to me’ tonight.”

“Hey Seven, are ya comin’?” Bumlets called.

“I’ll be there in a second, Bumlets!”

Seven tied the last shoelace and then sprang to her feet. She then rushed to the door and met up with Bumlets, panting for breath.

“Sorry,” she panted, “my shoelaces weren’t cooperating.”

“No problem.” Bumlets said. “C’mon, let’s get goin’.”

Seven nodded and the two headed for Irving Hall. All throughout the half-mile walk, Seven prayed that her song would change Bumlets’ mind about his father. When they finally reached Irving Hall, Seven rushed up to her dressing room to change her clothes and get ready.

At the same time, Bumlets went to his usual spot on the right side of the stage. He waited only a few minutes when Medda appeared onstage an announced Seven. Applause rang throughout the hall as Seven went to her spot to sing. When the noise subsided, she began to sing.

“I remember when,” she sang, “you first loved me and, with me was all you ever wanted to be. Now you’ve fallen in to the lie within, seems you’re gone too far to come back to me. Don’t be discouraged, dear one, for my forgiveness awaits you here.

“Return to me, return to me. I’m longing for the day when you will return to me, return to me. I love you still.

“You defy me, yet you hide from me, our sacred vow was broken with another choice. As you’re running, I’m still loving, seems that you don’t recognize my voice. I will continue crying, calling, until you hear me say…

“Return to me, return to me. I’m longing for the day when you will return to me, return to me. I love you still. Return to me, return to me. I’m longing for the day when you will return to me, return to, come back to me, come back…!

“My voice that was so familiar to you, don’t let it fade away. Return to me, return to me. I’m longing for the day when you will return to me, return to me. I love you still. Return to me, return to me. I’m longing for the day when you will return to me, return to me. Come back, I love you still.”

The music faded, and applause filled the air. Seven quickly bowed and left the stage because she knew that she needed to talk to Bumlets about his father. As always, Bumlets was waiting for her, but he had a puzzled look on his face.

“I liked yer song.” He said quietly.

“I was hoping you did.” Seven said him. “Do you know why I picked it?”

“Don’ tell me ya think I should go back ta José.” Bumlets said sternly, folding his arms across his chest.

Seven sighed heavily. He even refused to call José his father. ‘How am I going to do this?’ she wondered.

“Bumlets,” she blurted out, “haven’t you ever wondered what your father was like?”

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