My name is Emile Carter. You can call me Each if you rather. That's my street name. I am nearly 18.

I am good at:
delivering messages
overhearing conversations
gathering information
moving quiet
remaining out of sight
watching things from a distance
running
following directions / orders
making connetions
talking my way out of things
working with other folk
keeping secrets
city survival

I am okay at:
fighting someone my size or slightly bigger
firing a gun
using a knife
schoolwork
picking locks
driving a motorcar
woods survival
making friends


I am not so good at:
fighting when outnumbered or a guy's way bigger than me
following all the laws
talking to coppers
fixing up wounds
swimming
staying put at school

Right now, these the most precious things I got-


Rafe thought he lost the manual for his House's car, but he found it after Sears sent out a new one so he gave me the old instruction booklet. And Miss Justine let me have the bottom two, out of her and Mr. Valentin's Sears Catalog. I read them over all the time and when I get to practice with Rafe's car, I got an idea already where everything is. He gets tired of me asking him what this and that part is, so he says shut up and read the book anyhow, so I might as well study from there. I'm gonna know everything about motor cars I can before I implement the next phase of my plan.

See I figure part of the problem is that once I do learn how to drive all the way, all the Houses what got motor calls already have drivers. So short of hoping one of them gets kilt any time soon or run off to do something else, I got to make a position open up. So if I know all there is to know about motor cars, I can try to convince one of the madams who don't already have a motor car for their House to invest in one and hire me to be their driver.

Sears got themselves a monthly payment plan and all, so it ain't like it'd be that hard for them to set some money aside to do it. It's absolutely gonna work. I'm real confident about the future success of this plan. All I got to do is keep working hard on learning.

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I got this picture from Rafe, who got it from this whore on account of he owed me a favor and she owed him one before hand. It's a picture Papa Bellocq took of her, in the window of her crib. That's how they advertise - they'lll roll with anyone for a quarter. Give you French, too.

Most of them don't have much of their looks left, or their teeth. She still has meat on her bones too, so she ain't too messed up on hop or drink. So I guess she hasn't been at it long. Ain't like she's a House girl, so unless she can move on up - she's gonna get that way before too long.

Sexy? Rafe says it is. That's why he gave traded it to me. Says there's something about the way she smiles. That, and her tits.

I ain't keeping it for sexy. I've seen women naked before, plenty of times. They treat me like I'm invisible, when I come delivering messages. Go about their business, whatever that business may be.

I guess I'm keeping it 'cause it's a reminder. This is what our District's like. It's a stark naked girl in a window, all on display. A girl with a soft white smile, and the barely visible black soles of her feet.

Hell mister, you think you're gonna scare me?

I ain't been scared since I was thirteen.

I could feel the cold steel against my neck. His breath was sharp with threats, sour with whiskey.The cobblestones cut my knees. The knife nicked my throat.

Put away that piece.

What you gonna do - shoot me up, shake me down?

Yeah, that's right chickenshit. You ain't going to do nothing.

Nothing but give me what I'm owed. Give me my money then get the hell out of here.

Next time you play that shit on someone who's got something left to lose.

Resume? I don't know about anything so fancy, but I've been a street arab for about ten years, running messages up and down the District. Gathering information as I go, letting folks in on a tidbit here and there for a price.

Now I'm looking to add motor car driving to my 'resume' . I got to steer the other day, and I didn't run hardly anything down, so I'm on my way. That's going to be my next profession, I'm gonna be a driver before the message business dries up.

Sure folks'll still pay for information and that'll always be my sideline, but now that most houses have telephones, ain't as much call for an arab running down the street to pass the news on.

Looking after my future.

Dredging an old lockbox out of the river fueled their imaginations for an entire summer week. Anything could be inside. Pirate treasure, secret plans, hooch, jewels. Their speculations changed day to day. They kept it hid under Louis's bed at the Waif's home, and snuck it out to the backyard every night after bedcheck.

Beansoup and Louis tried everything two young boys could think of to open it up. Smashing the lock with a rock didn't do anything but break the rock. Taking the axe from the woodpile and hefting it to cleave the box open only left an axe-shaped dent in the steel. Climbing up the highest tree they could find and dropping the box down from it didn't do a thing but stir up dust. They were stumped.

"Aw, let's just chuck it back in the river for some other sucker to find," Louis grumbled.

"We can't give up," Beansoup protested. "Our fortune could be in there. Our future."

"We could sell it. Then we'd have money now and some other kid could have the problem of how to get the damn thing open."

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"A thing is not necessarily true because a man dies for it." - Oscar Wilde

I didn't know who Oscar Wilde was, but I asked Valentin. He said Mr. Wilde was an author, who wrote some novels and poems and plays. He died about ten years ago, in shame and poverty. How come shame, I asked, and he told me that Mr. Wilde got convicted of being a sodomite.

Apparently they don't have houses like French Emma's in Europe where Mr. Wilde was from. Valetnin said he was an Irishman, which is a country over there, though he died in France. Which being where French comes from, you'd think he could get something to make him happy without going to jail.

Anyhow I guess this quote isn't really about his own death, because I don't think there's anything true or untrue about how he died. Shame and poverty is a way of life, regardless of whether you die from it or not.

This saying reminds me more of my friend Rene, who says he is going to die because it's his fate. Because he thinks he will die for his country, and inspire his country to greatness because of his sacrifice, or whatever. I don't understand that. A country's too big a thing to die for. I wouldn't die for America. I don't even know her. All I know is my city, and not even all of that- I'm not welcome in parts of her.

I don't even think I'd die for my District, much as I'm a part of her. People die here all the time, and it don't ever have any meaning. Half the time, the coppers don't even care, when it's just us killing us. They only step in when someone important dies.

And most people aren't really important, not to cities or countries or the world. They're just people, living their lives until they ain't anymore. And I think Rene should realize that before it's too late. That his country is a country, and it's vast and incapable of mourning the death of one boy. And that once he's dead - there's no more anything. They say you go to heaven or hell but those are too big for you to matter too. And your body, it lays down in the ground and the worms eat it and it becomes part of the earth which is the biggest thing there is.

So what he thinks is true enough to die for - it isn't really. But I don't know if there's a thing I can do about it to change his mind. He might go off and die anyhow, no matter what. And that makes me feel small and insignificant, more than I already feel just by living.

Mr. Wilde is rotting in his grave, and likely gone to hell for what he got up to because the church frowns on anything that gives a body pleasure. And those up there are his words, but he's got no mouth anymore to speak them, and no hands to write any more words ever.

That's truth, right there. And that's gonna be Rene's truth if he doesn't change his mind.

1. I got Mister Valentin and Miss Justine back together.
Yeah, I know they did the actual work of making up, but it was me who got them to talk to each other again after they drifted. I don't know how two people can love each other so much, and break up as many times as they have. If I had someone, I wouldn't let my pride get in the way of making it work. Just sayin.

2. I bought myself this new suit.
Not a body wore it before- got it for a dollar out of the Sears catalog. Valentin let me use his address to have it delivered. I think it's real sharp. Not fancy cloth like some of the rounders wear - but I ain't there yet. This here's a first step, I'm moving up from this. But I like the suit just fine and I think it make me look pretty flush, which helps my business.

3. I'm learning how to drive a motor car.
One of the house drivers (ain't naming names so he don't get in no trouble) owes me a favor, so he's giving me lessons. It's got a rumble seat in the back and everything, fancy Lenox. I'm not allowed to work the controls yet, but I'm getting there. If I can learn to drive, maybe I could get a driver job myself. Seems like all the good houses are getting motor cars now. And with more and more places getting telephones, I bet message running's gonna dry up sooner or later. So I'm looking toward my future here.

4. I got Louis out of trouble.
Copper named Delacroix questioned him about his whereabouts on a certain night and a certain time, and he didn't have no alibi but I told 'em he was with me. Had to give Delacroix my last five dollars to make sure he believed it, but Louis is my friend. He would've done the same for me. Funny thing was, he wasn't even doing what the copper thought he was doing. He was off visiting some girl but he can't let her mama know he was out there so he couldn't have her questioned or she would've got in trouble. Yeah, it's like that. Typical day for us.

5. I'm still alive.
Hell of a thing to be proud of, I know. But there's been a whole lot of death going 'round lately. People I come up with, even - getting themselves messed up at hop joints, getting themselves shot, found floating face down in the river. Just reminds me that I'm still going, that I've been watching my steps and I made it this long. Seventeen years of looking out for yourself and doing it more or less successful is something to be proud of, sure enough.

Make a list of games you like to play.

1. Cotch - Can't imagine nobody won't know what it is- but if you haven't ever heard of it, it's three card poker in the Spanish style. You can play it in all the sporting houses and cafes in the District. Whenever I can play without getting kicked out, I'm up for a good game of Cotch.

2.Craps - All you need is a pair of dice and a wall to shoot against. If you're on a lucky roll, you can get a good bit of coin that way.

3. Vingt-et-un - Another card game. Object is to get twenty-one, which is pretty obvious from the name.

4. Slot machines - My favorite's the Hy-Lo, where you can win five dollars on a nickel play for a royal flush (though I've never saw nobody do it). I won a whole liberty dollar from one, though. Some of them are fixed though so you got to know where to go for an honest game. If you need tips, you can consult the Blue Book or ask me.

5. Banquette Games - Not to ruin my reputation as a rounder, but I enjoyed my share of skipping stones and drawing chalk and saying rhymes out on the banquette when I was little. You probably heard 'em all if you've ever been a kid, like the one about the pralines...

Soeur Rosalie au retour de matines,
Plus d'une fois lui porta, des pralines.