Meredith Bevan. That's my name, worn out from the years of use in the papers. But not as a criminal, no, never the straight-laced Meredith. I'm a reporter. Specifically, one for the New York Herald Tribune. 732Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuIAaU4fSDW
I'm not a criminal. You see, I'm the one who covers the criminals. The ones who need a story. One of my main informants is Josephine Banfield. A real-life female Pinkerton agent. They've always been more open to girls. Black people, too. I'd wanted to be exactly like Kate Warne when I grew up. 732Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkwX6i2N9Y6
Then I found my calling. Writing. It's rare for people like me to even know how to write, but I learned. It's rare for girls to know how to write, too. But we made sure I had schooling. Anything we had to do, to make sure I could become a reporter. 732Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYjfWEb6gRg
I used to write fake newspapers. I'd give them to whoever came to our house. We all thought it was a good idea, it helped me practice my English. And now, with the articles I write, you'd never think I wasn't from here. It's my savior. If I can trick people, then I have hope. 732Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMEJxRwL3th
The people I write about are often odd. Some are criminals. Well, most of them are. They're the only real people. Everyone else is fake. It isn't too hard to tell who's fake, and who's not.
In example, the angry Pinkerton agent that comes up to your desk is rarely fake. No, Mrs. Josephine Banfield means business. She's almost scary. She's one of the boys, and it isn't hard to see how she commands respect. The lady's a genius! She's what I want to be. What I need to be. 732Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡs304UQY5or
And she's my friend. Men practically trip over their feet to say hi to her, and yet she chooses to spend time with me. I think she feels a kind of..respect, I guess. I covered the story when the gang leader, Widow, killed her brother. 732Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfKV4Uf0oBp
The women in the papers, too. I'd like to meet them, one day. Of course, that'll only happen if one of them finally gets caught. I don't know if I'd like that. Yes, it'd be good, and the streets would be safer. But...why ruin the identity behind the mask? They're gods among men. 732Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnDRPyUq0Zl
I wish I could meet them. Even if just for a split second. To confirm that they're real. I mean, they must be. But..it'd be nice to have something tangible. To know that they really are themselves. 732Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡECo3iEo52o
They'd hate me. I'm the one that publishes all the stories about them, I write them. Yet, my curiosity..I desperately want to meet them one day. That'd be a dream come true. 732Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyQmgaLuhs8
If dreams even come true, I guess.
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