Twelve
For her part, Princess was wasting no energy. Literally. As with most days and nights, she sat on her pile of cushions in her tent beneath the pier and waited for her minions to serve her. Between Fripperone and Jockstrap, on the one hand, her customers on the other, and the lousy do-gooders on yet a third hand, she had all of her needs attended to without hardly ever even getting off her ass. She kept all of her essentials nearby; snacks, more snacks, and her magic-potion-making kit. She was impervious to weather of all kind, feeling neither cold nor heat, wetness or dryness, but maintained her implacable motionlessness through it all. It had taken a massive effort to follow Fripperone's cry and now she was still recovering. Her plan was to sit and wait for Cookie to come around as she usually did. Princess approved of plans that involved nothing more than sitting and waiting.
Cookie finally showed up around four in the morning. She had promised to bring some more nice woolen socks for Princess, whose feet were swollen from all that inactivity and required extra comforting. Princess, and the whole gang for that matter, liked to pretend that they were really quite helpless victims of circumstances beyond their control, but Cookie was never fooled for a moment. Jockstrap had not lost his will to live in some far off combat mission. Fripperone was not permanently disabled due to psychic stress. Princess was not an abused and abandoned gypsy orphan. Curly and Rags were not street urchins from day one. Heck, Cookie knew their grandfather from her time in the Navy!
Her rule, however, was to never discriminate, and never judge. If they were out on the street, if they asked for help, she was there and she would give it. Maybe they didn't need it. Maybe they were hoodlums and bums but maybe someday it would all turn around. Maybe her example would pay off in the end. In any case, it was easier to live by the one simple rule - just give.
And listen. She always listened. Princess told her about Davey Connor, how they thought he was dead - who didn't? - and how they'd just seen him, only calling himself Eddie. Eddie Barkowicki? How do you like that? As if there could be another Barkowicki. Heck, her parents had even changed all their names to Barnes way back when. Did she know him? Had she seen him?
No, Cookie could truthfully answered, she had never met anyone who called himself Eddie Barkowicki. No need to mentioned she'd met one who merely called himself Eddie. That was not the question, so it was not a lie. She wondered what it could mean, though. The one she had met called Eddie had seemed a fairly harmless sort of fellow. He seemed lost, a bit wild. Was he hurt? Had he somehow lost his memory? She concluded that this must be it - he'd been injured in the murder attempt, had become an amnesiac who now wandered the streets at night, looking for his home but unable to recognize it if he even saw it. She decided she would help him if she could.
In the meantime, she asked aloud what Princess and the others had to do with this Davey, and was a bit alarmed to hear the history, which Princess was only too happy to share. She forgot herself a little in the joy of the memories, forgot she was supposed to be humble and meek in the presence of Saint Cookie.
"We used to tease the little rat something fierce", Princess bragged. "We stole his money, we hid his school books, we smashed his lunch. One time Rick even broke the kid's thumb. Those were the days."
She smiled happily as she remembered the details.
"Back then, my Rick was the King of the school. Even Jimmy Kruzel used to quake in his boots when Rick came around. Rick had it in for that kid more than anyone. Locked him in his gym locker one day! What a hoot! Mr. Stones had to come and pry him out with a crowbar. We always hated Davey Connor. One time Jockstrap got him when he was riding his bike. Pushed him off the bridge down the hill to the train tracks. Kid when bumpity bumpity bump, all the way down. Stupid weasel. That's what we always called him - weasel. I don't know why. Rick came up with it."
She paused, then suddenly remembered who she was talking to, and added,
"Of course that was twenty years ago. We were all different then. Bad times. It was a rough neighborhood, you know. You had to take care of yourself."
"Sounds like you did just that", Cookie calmly replied.
"Well, anyway", Princess said, "It was kind of like old times is why Rick flew off the handle just now when he saw him. Now we want to make up, tell him we're sorry, you know? We should all be friends now we're older and out on the street and all. Maybe he's down on his luck like we are. We'd help him out. It's why we're looking for him, you see."
"I see", Cookie nodded. "And I will certainly keep my eyes open. I'll let him know", she promised Princess, and she meant it. If she did come across him, she'd be sure to tell him all that she'd heard.