'ey kid, watcha name?
::The dark haired boy smiles pleasantly at you:: I’m
Willy Foster, nice to meet ya.
'ave you been blessed wit a newsie nickname yet?
Heavens no! Willy is enough for me.
Where'd dat come from, anyway?
::He blinks in honest confusion:: But I just said...
I’m named William after my father, but nobody calls me
that. My name is Willy.
When's yer birthday? Know how old ya are?
::He spends a moment laughing lightly:: Why wouldn’t I? I’m 14 and my birthday is September 13. My twin
brudda, James, was born 12 minutes after me. It’s
easy to remember, 12, 13, 14. The minutes, my
birthday, my age.
Whatcha look like?
::He is once again a bit confused:: Err... Just like
my brudda. ::It’s the truth that he looks like his
brother. They have dark brown hair, so dark it almost
seems black and eyes the same color. He’s about 5’8"
and more cute than handsome with a button nose and
full lips. Willy’s mother is Portuguese and he got
his complexion from her (as did his brother) But
there is a difference in their appearance. While
James’ usual expression is something very close to a
scowl Willy smiles almost all the time. Another sure
way to tell them apart is that Willy has a little
thumb shaped scar on his shoulder blade. He doesn‘t
remember where or how he got it.::
And wadda ya like, huh? Got mucha a personality?
I guess since you ain’t got much time to spend wit me
you’re askin’ all these questions. ::He smiles his
brilliant smile as if he forgives you for not having
enough time.:: I’m a nice guy. ::He says this
matter-of-factly because it’s pretty much the truth.
Willy first charmed his parents at a young age and he
hasn’t stopped. He has that way with people that
makes them feel like he is their special friend and
her really cares about them. The boy is cheerful and
would make a great politician. He loves people and
being around people and being liked by people. And
people usually like him, much to the dismay of his
twin brother who often gets pushed aside.::
So... where'd ya come from an' watcha doin heah?
I
came from Queens, so not too far off from here. My
folks own a restaurant in Queens. For a while we was
in the Bronx but that restaurant fell through real
quick. I was workin’ as a messenger boy when my
brudda got this newsie job in Washington Heights. So
he starts sellin’ papes and talkin’ ‘bout what a great
job it is and one day when he brings in his money Ma
looks at me and says, ::He mimics a thick Portuguese
accent:: "Willy, your bruther is making more money
than you. What are you going to do about it?" So I
started lookin’ for a house that would take me. ::he
shrugs:: This is it. ::Something that could almost be
called a frown crosses his face. It’s the first time
he’s shown anything other than pleasure and
confusion:: And James still makes more money than me.
Don't s'ppose ya got any friends, do ya?
::He is
instantly happier with this question:: I sure do! I
got friends left from every job I ever took and I even
know some of James friends at Washington Heights.
::He laughs:: Like I say, I’m a nice guy.
What about a, uh, signifigant othah, hmm? *wink wink
nudge nudge*
::His cheeks get a bit rosier and he
smiles:: Not at the moment, but I know some nice
goils.
Waddya do 'round heah?
::An almost imperceptable
shadow crosses his face:: Same thing as all the
others. Try to sell papes. ::And he’s not doing such
a good job either. Somehow the charming twin can’t
make a sale like his sour counterpart.::
If ya emptied ya pockets right now, what'd be in
'em?
::He peers down in his pocket looks back and
shrugs, amused:: I got nothin’. ::He pauses and
thinks:: Now Greener...did I tell ya that’s what we
call James? Well, it is. Greener’s always got
somethin’ livin’ in his pockets. A mouse, a lizard, a
bug. Used to drive Ma up the wall.
Anythin' else we oughta know?
Did I mention I was a nice guy? ::He winks charmingly
and you find yourself leaving with the feeling that
Willy now considers you a friend.::
Back to the bunkroom