**Disclaimer** Obviously, none of the Newsies movie characters belong to me. Neither does Kenny, really—she belongs to Danielle Egan—but I don't think I have to worry about Ms. Egan suing me. Disney, on the other hand… well, just don't. Because I haven't got any money, so it wouldn't do you any good anyway. With that done, here's the story already!
Allergic To Sunlight
A Fanfic by Kathryn "Vampire" Higgins
"Please, Mistah, buy me last pape?"
The voice startled the passing figure out of his reverie. He glanced up to see a boy of no more than fourteen or fifteen years standing on the street corner. The child held a newspaper in one hand and was white and trembling with cold.
The man's golden eyes took in the child's dirty countenance—the tall, thin stature that he could see would have an almost catlike grace when moved; the big blue eyes with long lashes that still hadn't lost their youthful laughter; the full, rather feminine lips; the wisp of golden hair that had escaped from under the old brown cap. He's really quite beautiful, the man thought. More like a Botticelli painting than a ragged newsboy. What's he doing living on the streets of New York, anyway?
Digging a coin out of his pocket, he handed it to the newsie and took the paper.
"Thank 'e kindly, sir," the child said politely.
The stranger smiled—or at least, gave the impression of smiling, the child could see nothing of it but the glowing golden eyes beneath the hood of his cloak—and resumed his walk. The child watched him go, wondering at the odd aura of mystery that surrounded him.
Suddenly a loud call made the youth's train of thought jump its track.
"Hey kid!" Two older boys were sauntering in the child's direction. "This yer corner?"
"Yeah," the child spat back. The pitifully uneducated accent vanished, replaced instantly by a thick New York one. "What's it to ya?"
"We was wonderin' if we could, er, borrow it," said the taller one, smacking one large fist into another menacingly.
"You can have it if ya can take it," the little newsie said calmly.
The second one laughed. "That shouldn't be too 'ard," he said. "Yer jest a little pretty boy."
"Yeah, I'll bet ya fight like a girl," added the other.
"Well," the child muttered, "since I am one…" With that, the newsie—who really WAS a girl, a girl named Kathryn Higgins—flew at the boys, pounding them with such a fury of attacks that they were driven back a pace.
They had not expected someone so thin to be so strong, and that gave Kathryn the added advantage of surprise. She delivered a solid punch to the oldest boy's stomach, making him double over in pain. When the other one tried to grab her from behind, he abruptly discovered to his immense surprise that she wasn't there—and the next second went over backwards as she spun around and tripped him. By this time the other boy had scrambled to his feet again, and no sooner had he regained his balance than Kathryn's foot came up in a roundhouse kick and knocked him backwards again. A few minutes later, they were limping away, defeated.
"I'll get ya back fer this, ya little prick!" the oldest one called back.
Kathryn only laughed. "Yeah, you an' what army?" she shouted. Then they were gone. With a smile, Kathryn went back to selling her papers without missing another beat.
When
she'd sold the last of her papers, Kathryn left the corner and hurried through
the bustling streets towards her apartment. As she mounted the steps of the
shabby building, she did not see the cloaked figure with golden eyes watching
her from across the street. Nor, as she passed the two old women bickering on
the doorstep and went inside, did she see the figure smile and vanish into the
crowd.
She climbed the creaking wooden stairs to the sixth floor and turned down the long, dark hallway. She stopped at the third door on the left, pushed it open, and stepped in. With a sigh, she flopped down on the cot in the corner—then leapt back up with a small shriek. The bed was ice cold. Grumbling, she began to scrape the ashes out of the fireplace and light a fire. Now that she thought about it, the tiny room was frigid; she hadn't noticed at first because she'd been out of the wind and warm from running up the stairs. But she noticed it now.
When she had a small fire going in the grate, she dug through the cupboard to see if she could find any food for supper. She came up with some cheese and a hunk of slightly stale bread. She ate these hungrily, thinking to herself that she must remember to do the shopping tomorrow. Then she hauled the quilt off the bed and curled up on the dirty floor in front of the fireplace, and promptly fell asleep.
She woke to a city blanketed in three new inches of snow and a morning grey with heavy clouds. In spite of it, Kathryn was happy; the frozen spell had finally broken and it was warmer. She hurried down to the distribution office, eager to get the morning's work out of the way quickly so that she would have time to shop. It was a better headline than usual, so she bought extra papers.
With a wide smile, she trotted off to her corner. The grin, however, was wiped from her features when five minutes later two all-too-familiar faces appeared, followed by three or four other newsboys.
"Back fer more, eh?" she said calmly.
The older of the two original newsboys, who was obviously the leader, advanced on her. "We didn' perticuly like de treatment we got yesterday," he said, his eyes flashing dangerously, "but we's willin' ta overlook it if ya 'pologize an' go quiet-like."
"What, the pair o' ya couldn't take on one little pretty-boy?" she said scornfully. "Ya had ta get yer big bad friends ta help?"
The leader's face darkened. "Well, if that's the way ya wanna play it," he said, gesturing to his buddies. Slowly, they formed a ring around Kathryn. Two of them pulled out brass knuckles. For the first time, Kathryn began to worry; they really were a lot bigger than she, and strong as she was she couldn't take on five of them alone. But it was too late now to run—their circle was complete, and they would catch her before she could escape. There's nothing for it, then, she decided, and swung a fist at one of the boys.
Immediately they were on her, punching, kicking, beating her unmercifully. She crumpled to the snowy sidewalk and tried desperately to shield herself from the assault. Abruptly, however, the attack broke off.
With difficulty, Kathryn unwound herself and stood up slowly. To one side, the attackers had backed off and were glaring at her. When she looked the other way, though, she saw four more newsies; and the attackers were obviously afraid of them. One of the new boys strolled up to Kathryn and laid a casual arm across her shoulders.
"Hey, Lucio," he said almost amiably.
"Hey Jack," the leader of the other boys said, squirming under Jack's clear, steady gaze.
"Whatcha up to this fine Friday mornin'?"
"Just… ah…" Lucio stammered. "Just makin' a business deal wit the boy here," and he gestured at Kathryn. She snorted.
"Business deal, my foot!" she snapped. "If beatin' the livin' daylights outta a person is makin' a business deal, I'll eat my hat."
Behind her, Jack raised his eyebrows. "Oh, dear," he said. "You tried ta soak my little pal? Tut, tut. That ain't healthy, ya know."
Lucio was almost quaking by this time. Kathryn crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him evenly. "Meet my big bad friends," she said coldly. With that, she and Jack and the other boys flew at Lucio's gang, pounding them, forcing them into a hurried retreat.
When they were finally gone, Kathryn dropped to the cobbles again, doubled over in pain. Jack knelt beside her, concern clouding his freckled face. "They hurt ya bad?" he asked softly, placing a gentle, reassuring hand on her shoulder. She nodded; her teeth were clenched too tightly to talk.
She heard Jack turn to one of the other boys, the one with the patch over his left eye. "Whaddya think, Blink?" he said quietly. "Should we take him to the hospital?"
"No!" Kathryn gasped. They looked startled. "I—I'll be all right," she told them.
"At least let us take ya to the Lodgin' House so's you can get cleaned up," he said, gesturing at her shirt. She looked down and realized she'd gotten a bloody nose; her clothes were soaked in red.
"Oh," was all she could say.
She let them haul her to her feet and help her walk. Luckily, the Lodging House wasn't far away—but as it was, the going was so slow it took them nearly half an hour. When they finally reached the building, the boys wanted to help her wash her wounds, but she shoved them firmly out of the bathroom and locked the door behind herself, telling them she already felt like a weakling, the least she could do was tend her own injuries. They laughed understandingly and left her alone.
She stripped out of her torn and bloodied clothes and dropped them into the sink full of water to let them soak. With any luck, she'd get the stains washed out before they'd had a chance to set in. She looked at herself in the mirror over the sinks, grateful again that she hadn't begun to develop physically yet. Her breasts were still small enough that her overlarge shirt hid them, and she had almost no curves to speak of. Not for the first time, she wondered what she'd do when she finally did. She was fifteen; her luck wouldn't hold out too much longer, and she knew it.
She washed her various cuts and bruises gingerly, but thoroughly, and then scrubbed the blood from her clothes. Since she knew she didn't have time to let them dry, she put them back on after wringing them out as best she could.
She opened the door quietly, hoping she could sneak out again without any of them seeing her, but she discovered to her dismay that the boy with the eyepatch had ensconced himself in front of the door and had apparently fallen asleep there. She had only a second to take in his sandy blonde hair, lanky stature, and exhausted appearance before his good eye opened and fixed upon her.
"Hey!" he said jovially, sitting up and extending a hand to her. "I'se Kid Blink. What's yer name, kid?"
"I…" she stuttered. They still don't know I'm a girl. "I'se Kenneth," she said. Oy, where did I get that? she wondered.
"Well then, Kenny," Kid Blink said amiably, "lemme introduce ya to the rest o' the boys."
She followed him nervously down a stairwell into a large common room. Jack and the other two boys who had rescued her were all there, along with several others whom she didn't recognize.
"That's Jack Kelly," Kid Blink told her, pointing.
Jack grinned and gave her a jaunty little wave. "King o' the Manhattan Newsboys," he said with a mock bow.
Kathryn stared. She'd been rescued by the King of the Newsies himself? This was getting more and more unbelievable every second!
"That's Mush," Kid Blink went on, pointing to another of her rescuers, "and that's David," he said of the last one. "Over here's Crutchy and Specs and Itey."
He seemed struck by a sudden thought. "Where's Race?" he asked, turning to Jack.
Jack grinned widely. "Where's he usually?" Everyone laughed; Kathryn supposed it was a long-standing joke.
Just then a door flew open and another newsboy walked into the room. Kathryn stared at him. "Speak o' the devil!" Kid Blink exclaimed, throwing an arm around the new boy's shoulders. "Kenny," he said to her, "meet Racetrack Higgins."
"Anthony?!" she breathed, shocked.