Chapter 1

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“All I remember from that was seeing Father being rolled to the ambulance parked in the driveway on a stretcher, Mother screaming at me, telling me it was all my fault he had overdosed. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. A lump had formed in my throat that would not go away no matter how hard I swallowed. She shoved me into the house and into my room, following behind me carrying a wine bottle. I blacked out when she hit me on the head with it.

“When I had woken up, my brother was gone. I didn’t know how long I was out but I found a note in my door, saying he had gone to Chicago Illinois to pursue his career at a college there. All I knew was that Chicago was nothing but trouble. Shootouts, gambling, discrimination, and the worst lack of money the government could ever have. I didn’t think he went away because of some college. No, I thought he went to get away from Mother, for Father had been our only protector from Mother and her beatings, and now, since he was gone, there was nobody to protect us. My brother, Rob, was 19 when he left. I was 17. And I was gonna try to follow him.

“Rob had left most of his belongings at the house, since his packing was rushed and seemingly desperate from the looks of things strewn across the floor in messy piles. I shook my head and walked back into my room, trying to ignore the horrid screams of grief and anger coming from my drunken mother in the living room. I grabbed what little I could shove in my backpack; a few button-up shirts and pants, my toothbrush and toothpaste, my comb, and a few apples I had snuck from the bowl on the kitchen counter.

“I rub the sore cut on my head as I hide my backpack belongings, along with a few sacks I had recently found underneath Rob’s bed, filling them with more essentials and my favorite book; The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. I then waited for nightfall to arrive, bringing it the final silence of the living room, indicating Mother was now asleep. I quietly crept towards the living room, every step I take a risky move, for the floorboards were creaky in my old house in the middle of nowhere. Chicago was 500 miles away, meaning this was going to have to be taken by train. I had never jumped a train before, but the comic books I had read told me it would be easy. I was willing to take a chance on being killed for the first time in my life. The closest train station was a while away from where I now stood on the front porch. I grab my bicycle from the garage and start riding without looking back at my house.

“Just a 17 year old hitching a ride on a train. Nothing to see here. Nobody had caught me whilst getting on. My legs were so sore and I was exhausted from the ride there, but I couldn’t stop. I wouldn’t stop. I crawled weakly into a car full of horses. The whole place stank like their waste, which littered the ground inside each stall. The horse I was stuck with was startled when I hopped down from the ceiling of the car into a large pile of hay in the corner, but was surprisingly calmer than I had originally expected. I made sure I had everything with me before I buried myself in the hay and tried desperately to go to sleep.

“When the train came to a complete stop at my final destination, I immediately woke up and climbed out through the roof of the car, desperately trying to avoid any people’s gazes. I ducked into the crowd of people at the station and made my way into town. There was little lighting and shady people were hiding around every corner. Once again, I had that odd lump in my throat that I could get to go away. I was almost staggering towards the place Rob had told me he was staying. A rickety old apartment building lay on top of a bookstore, and I had a hard time finding the way to get up to there before I finally found the stairs on the side of the building.

“It was completely dark. There wasn’t anyone there. I would’ve thought it had only been a few days since he had arrived, right? Wrong. He had been here before. Rob had. And he had some friends here too. Bad ones. I saw him, hanging from the ceiling by his neck and covered in deep gashes. Beside him, on the ground, was a huge puddle of blood and a baseball bat covered in rusty, old nails. It was like his so called ‘friends’ had been beating him like a piñata of some sorts. I didn’t have the words to describe how I felt in that moment. I had lost my brother, my father, and my life all in 48 hours. I almost lost my footing and fell back down the stairs. I was so shocked. I didn’t know where to go. And that’s when I ran into trouble.

“I was just sitting beneath the concrete staircase, sitting leaning against the wall, bawling my eyes out. My face was wet with tears, as well as the sleeve of my shirt, which used to be white, but was now dirt brown. That’s when I heard a can rattle into the alley. I looked up to see this tall, lanky man with two others. I didn’t understand what they were saying, since they were speaking Spanish, but they sounded angry. I tried to explain that I didn't do anything, but they didn’t understand me either and threw me against the wall. They searched me for any money that I had, which was the one thing I needed and forgot to bring.

“They broke my nose first, and that had to be the first time I had ever seen that much blood come out of my nose. They beat me bloody, kicking me in the stomach. I knew they were going to try to kill me, and I was helpless to do anything about it. That’s when I saw 5 others in the alley fire a gun and scare them all off. I didn’t know who it was until now… thank you,” Hunter finished his story and looked at his saviors, who had saved him and took him to another apartment building across the way. He gave them a small smile, and a young, Irish woman smirked back, her red hair glistening in the lighting of the room.

“Well, it’s nice to know that you’re one of those people who actually are ok with immigrants,” she gave a small laugh. “I don’t think we’ve properly introduced ourselves yet, have we?”

The other four people shook their heads. A boy with black hair and bright, green eyes stepped forward.

“Most of us here speak English, so don’t worry. Plus, I can translate for Ramirez and Freya. I’m fluent in 6 different languages. English, Spanish, German, Russian, and Chinese!” he bragged. An African-American boy with a head of thick, curly hair nudged him in the side.

“That’s 5 languages. And you don’t know shit about Russian or Chinese!”

“I’m learning! Anyway, my name is Otis, and this, Mr Perfectionist here is James.” The boy with black hair stated proudly. The Irish lady whom Hunter had spoken with before hopped down from a crate in the corner of the room. Fixing her headband, she walked over to the other two, who were standing, leaning against the cracked, hole-covered wall.

“This is Freya,” she pointed to a German lady, who waved at Hunter shyly. She then pointed to a Spanish boy, who didn’t make any eye contact with Hunter. “This is Ramirez, and I’m Lucy.”

“Lucy, Ramirez, Freya, James and Otis. I’m Hunter. It’s really nice to meet some nice people here. And thanks again for saving me,” Hunter smiled and stood up. His legs wobbled and buckled and he ended up sitting back down again. Lucy walked over and crouched down beside him.

“Chill. You’ve never been beat up before. Happens to the best of us. You’ll get used to it, but until then, you need to sit and rest, ok?”

Hunter nodded, confused as to why he was so lightheaded when he stood up. He got a sudden question. “So, you all are immigrants?”

“You bet we are. Well, all except James. I came from Ireland, Freya came from Germany, Otis came from Australia, and Ramirez came from Spain,” Lucy smiled warmly. “We all arrived in New York in ‘25, all had to go through the same legal procedures and shit, and then we took a train to Chicago, thinking we had our best chance at survival here!”

“Eso está mal. Nuestros padres nos obligaron a venir aquí porque tenían familia aquí, y Otis no tuvo más remedio que seguirnos desde... no importa,” Ramirez stepped forward.

“Callarse la boca. No hablamos de eso. Es vergonzoso,” Otis pushed him back, then turned towards Hunter. “Our ‘chance at survival’ left us all orphaned. I was already orphaned but my friends all had to be too? That’s just not fair, is it?”

“No… it’s not… I’m sorry….” Hunter’s gaze turned sorrowful and worried. “Are you all not old enough to find jobs?”

“Oh no. We’re old enough. It’s just that… The Great Depression and all… it kinda leaves us all unemployed except for James, who somehow found a job working as a steelworker downtown and Freya was given an opportunity to work in a… a… what was it again?”

“Ein... Darsteller in einer Bar in der Nähe des Casinos...” Freya said rather reluctantly. Otis translated.

“A performer in the bar near the casino,” Otis said, then turned back to Freya. “Aber welcher?”

“Der an der Ecke, 15 Minuten entfernt. Ich weiß nicht!” Freya shrugged.

“She doesn’t know where exactly it’s located, but it’s fifteen minutes away,” Otis said, scratching the back of his head. Hunter frowned.

“A bar performer? Don’t you mean…?” He asked, hoping someone would finish for him.

“Yeah… its all we’ve got here. As long as we make money, we don’t care what we do…” James shrugged, looking down at his feet sorrowfully.

“But it’ll be ok. The depression will end soon, I’m sure. Until then, we’ve just gotta survive. Hunter, do you have any place to go?” Lucy asked him. Hunter shook his head slowly, kind of sadly. Lucy’s gaze shifted to an empathetic tone. “You can stay here if you’d like…”

“Lucy! Du weißt, wir können keinen weiteren Mund zum Füttern haben!” Freya yelled angrily, pointing at Lucy. “Lasst uns ihn einfach rausschmeißen. Es wird uns helfen, über die Runden zu kommen, wenn wir nur 5 haben.”

“She’s right. We can’t have another mouth to feed,” Otis said, agreeing with Freya.

“He might have a chance at getting a job. I mean, look at him!” Lucy smiled. “He’s the most American boy we’ve got!”

“Hey!” James elbowed Lucy in the side and glared at her. He thought for a moment. “Yeah… that tracks… but where will he find a job?”

“I may not be able to get a job, but I know how to pick-pocket!” Hunter smiled proudly.

“You’re in,” James smirked. “The more money we have, the better.” He walked over to Hunter and set down a bottle of rum in front of him.

“Oh no, I can’t-“ Hunter tried to speak, but Otis interrupted him.

“What’s the matter? It’s just a bit of alcohol.”

“I’m only 17…”

“And I’m 16! Come on!” Otis shook the bottle slowly in front of Hunter’s face as if tempting him. “It’ll chase all your worries away, even if just for a few hours. The more you drink, the longer it’ll last…”

Hunter thought long and hard for a moment, gazing around the room at the others, who looked at him with pressuring eyes. He then shrugged and grabbed the bottle.