Living is good.

Sure, sometimes things are rough. We all know that. But even when we I'm running down alleyways to escape the Delancey's, or dodging people in the park to get away from the bulls, or finding myself walking into the Lodging House with a bloody nose and a limp, I know that life is good. Things are so much better at the Lodging House than they were at home.

My mama was a great lady. So sweet and caring. A perfect mother. Sure, she was a little uptight about the Bible and the works of God, but she still loved me, even though I proved to be a thief at a young age, snitching coins from her dresser.

It was my father that was bad. He'd married my mom for her money, and he never treated her right. Somehow, in my mother's mind, she'd convinced herself that the way he hit her was all in God's Plan. That was my mother's thing, everything was part of God's Plan. Me, I thought 'Hey, if it's in God's Plan to hurt people, then God's one fucked up little bastard.'

So my daddy would drink all day and beat my mother all night. Thankfully, he was away on a job or something during my mother's pregnancy with me, so I was able to be born, and she named me Daniel, after her father, then Kenneth, after my father. I was Daniel Kenneth Riccio, a hazel-eyed baby with a big mouth and taste for good milk. My father was surprised to come home and find my mother hold a baby to her breast, but he was also pleased that it was a boy. He didn't beat my mother until I was five. Then he lost his job, and started to drink again. And he'd beat her. A week after my sixth birthday, he started to beat me. I ran into the street, crying, bawling, and he yelled after me 'You little son-of-a-bitch, you'd bettah be back heah by dawn, or youse gonna get somethin' ta cry about!'.

That was when I met Itey.

His real name was Angelo Asarro, and he was my age, but he was a newsboy. His parents had left him at his aunt's recently, but he'd run from her and became a newsboy, selling papers. He tried to sell me one, but when he saw I was crying, he comforted me, and tried to convince me to run away and be a newsie. I couldn't bring myself to do it, I told him, because of my mother. What would she do without me?

Of course, I didn't have to worry about that for long.

My mother caught pregnant for a second time later on that year. She was so happy, and told my father that she was positive it would be a girl this time. I was excited too; I wanted someone to play with. Itey was always working, and so were the people he'd introduced me to, people with names like Kid Blink Ballatt, Racetrack Higgins, and Skittery Tatum.

But my father got real real drunk one night during my mother's sixth month. He came home and beat her, beat her bad, caused her to have a miscarriage. She lost too much blood, and died. He started on me then, giving me scars on my stomach, five of them, that never went away.

That was when I ran.

I simply pushed him backwards and ran out into the night, down the street, and far away from him, and my dead but still bleeding mother. I ran all the way from my house to Manhattan, where I knew Itey, Kid Blink, Racetrack and Skittery all stayed at night.

They smiled and welcomed me. The Lodging House wasn't quite what I was used to, but there was laughter at night instead of screams, and the place smelled of sweat and smoke instead of alcohol and blood. So it was better. They made me a newsboy, and when they caught me snitching some of Racetrack's extra cash (he had plenty of it, betting at Sheepshead most of the day), they started teasing me and calling me Snitch.

That's me.

Snitch Riccio.

Today is Thanksgiving, and I'm going to give thanks. I'm thankful for being safe now, far away from my father's grasp. I'm thankful that my mother is peacefully dead, where he can't hurt her anymore. I'm thankful for my snitching talent that helps me get extra money when times are tough. I'm thankful for Kloppman and the Lodging House, which keeps me warm and sheltered.

But most of all, I'm thankful for the wonderful friends I've made, friends like Itey, who's always there for me, friends like Kid Blink and Skittery, who can always make me smile, friends like Racetrack, who I can look up to, and friends like Jack Kelly, who taught me to stand up for myself.

I'm thankful for lots of things, y'know. Life is good and sweet, and God is good for giving it to us. I love my friends dearly, and I would give anything for them. God is good for giving them to me.

So, thanks.

***AUTHOR'S NOTE***

I just had to write something. A few other people did Thanksgiving related stories, so I thought I might try it, even though I don't usually like jumping on the bandwagon like that. It's not my best work, but I like it. I guess. Please R/R. ^^;;