Hello! So basically this is a new story. I know I haven't finished my other ones or even updated them recently, but oh well. I like Newsies so I wrote this. Also just so you know most of the people I picture in this are the Toursies except some of the movie characters like Skittery, Blink, and Spot. Just wanted to let you guys know that. So, enjoy!
Chapter 1: Reckless
"Stop her! Stop that girl!" a large, bearded man cried from his market stand. He pointed his finger in the direction of a young girl, dressed in rags like a newsboy, dashing through the crowded marketplace. She had her pockets stuffed with stolen fruit and bread.
Two police officers standing nearby, heard the man's cries, and chased after the girl. The girl, still running with all her might, turned around and flashed a mischievous grin at her pursuers. As she passed a fruit stand, she grabbed on a shelf of oranges, and pulled it to the ground. The oranges rolled into the path of the police officers. They both tripped and fell flat on their backs. The girl looked back and laughed at the officers as they struggled to get back on their feet.
When she turned back around, she saw an elderly woman standing right in her path. Before she could think to stop running, she ran into the lady and they tumbled to the ground.
She laid on top of the woman frozen, staring at her wide eyed. She suddenly had no idea what to do."Uh, um, sorry ma'am!" she finally said, pushing herself up and quickly running away before the woman could reply.
"I saw your face young man! I'm telling the police!" the lady shouted at her.
The girl couldn't help but laugh. The poor old lady thought she was a boy! So she wasn't the least bit worried about the threat.
She finally stopped running when she made it to the Brooklyn Bridge. She stuffed her hands in her pockets to see what she had left after running down that lady. All she pulled out was an apple and a small loaf of bread.
"Great," she said to herself, "All that trouble for basically nothing."
She put the stolen food back in her pockets and she quickly made her way over the Brooklyn Bridge. She knew she would be lectured if she wasn't back before sunset.
It was the summer of 1900, almost one year after the newsboys strike of 1899. "Newsies," as they were sometimes called, roamed the streets of New York City every day selling their papers. Most people would assume that all newsies were boys, but there werr some girls that sold papers just like the boys.
One of them was Dash, as everyone called her, and she was quick and sneaky.
Dash pulled off her hat, letting her single braid fall to her back. She wiped the sweat off her forehead and then placed it perfectly back on her head.
The sunset painted the sky with many shades of yellow, orange, red, and purple. It was a beautiful evening. Not too hot or too cold. It was just right.
Dash, however, could not leisurely stroll and enjoy the evening. She had to book it across the Brooklyn Bridge or she would be in a whole lot of trouble.
By the time Dash reached the end of the bridge, the sun had almost vanished. She still had to walk to the docks, so there was no way there would be any sunlight when she made it there. She strolled along the streets of Brooklyn. Almost everyone was inside their homes, if they had homes, with their doors locked. No one was dumb enough to be outside in Brooklyn after sundown. It wasn't exactly the safest place in the world.
The only people wandering the streets were newsies and just random people, mostly kids, living on the streets. Dash walked by these people and gave a slight head nod to the random newsies she was acquainted with. The others gave her odd looks. Girl newsies weren't very common, so Dash got these looks a lot.
Dash approached the Brooklyn Pier just a few blocks away from the bridge. This was newsies territory. Some of the newsboys had already turned in for the night, but a lot were still out on the docks relaxing. A few boys were sitting in a group off to the side playing cards, while others sat along the water chatting about how their days went.
Dash walked along the wooden planks of the pier and a few boys here and there looked up at her and said "Hey" or "Where have ya been?"
Ropes, nets, and other boating supplies surrounded the pier, so it was almost like an obstacle course trying not to trip over things. Various tall posts with small decks on top surrounded the pier as well. Newsies sat up on the posts to get a view of the city or to just think. The largest post on the pier, however, belonged to one person and one person only. That person was Spot Conlon, the leader of Brooklyn.
Dash came up to Spot's post. He was sitting up at the top, his back turned to her, looking out at the city. She grabbed the rope ladder on the side and climbed up to the top.
As soon as she put her foot down on the deck, Spot whipped his head around, his icy blue eyes locking with hers. Dash could tell he was not happy.
"Where in the hell have you been?" he questioned, his tone very stern.
Dash sighed, "I got a little...held up."
"Held up?' he asked, even more tense.
Dash sighed again. She didn't exactly want to tell him what happened. Spot wasn't a very understanding person, especially when it came to stealing or committing crimes. He didn't like any of his newsies getting into any trouble because he knew the consequences. But, most of all, he didn't like Dash getting into trouble.
Dash was his best friend. They had been together since they were eight years old when Spot saved Dash from being arrested for stealing an apple. Dash and Spot were inseparable; they were basically like brother and sister. To everyone around them, they seemed like they had the perfect friendship. However, that was not entirely true. Their different personalities often got them into fights.
Dash was free-spirited and adventurous. She didn't care about rules or authority, so she constantly found ways to get in trouble. Spot was more strict and firm. He was tough and knew what he wanted and how to get it, that's why he ruled Brooklyn. Because of her nature, Spot was always watching out for Dash, he felt like he had to keep her in line or else she would get herself into bad situations.
"Really Dash?" Spot yelled, after Dash finished explaining her incident at the food market.
"Oh c'mon, I didn't get caught," Dash stated.
"This time," Spot replied, "How many times have I told you that you can't just go steal food? It's dangerous. Do you know what would happen if you got caught?"
Dash rolled her eyes. Spot was getting really worked up. She was getting of being lectured by him. It was the same thing every time.
"Yes," she mumbled, irritated.
Spot sighed and took a few steps closer to Dash, "Do you even pay attention to what I say?"
"Yes," Dash replied, "I mean I used to, but I stopped after lecture number 2,000."
Spot sighed again, clearly getting tired of Dash's attitude.
"Why did you even steal food?" he asked, "Didn't you see your papes?"
Dash looked around nervously. She didn't know how to tell him she didn't sell anything today.
"Wow! It's getting late!" Dash exclaimed, trying to avoid the subject, "I'm just gonna go.."
With that said, Dash climbed over the side of the post and slid down the ladder. Spot quickly followed behind her.
"Don't avoid the question," Spot said, frustration in his tone.
"I'm not," she replied.
Dash ran over to an area of the pier where a lot of the boating supplies was kept. Various barrels were placed in the area. Dash pulled herself on top of one and began leaping from barrel to barrel.
Spot approached Dash, his eyes following her as she jumped from one barrel to another.
"What happened to your papes?"
"I gave them away," Dash said casually, as she leaped to another barrel.
"What?" Spot exclaimed, "To who?"
Dash jumped onto the barrel closest to Spot and looked down at him, "To another newsie,"she shrugged, "And trust me, he needed them more than I did, let me tell you."
"Are you out of your mind?" Spot yelled.
Dash hopped off the barrel, so she was face to face with Spot. Spot was absolutely furious. She just laughed.
"You're cute when you're angry," she joked, plopping down on the barrel behind her.
Spot's jaw tightened, "I'm serious, you can't just throw away your papes."
"Okay, first, I gavethem away," Dash explained, "Second, you know I don't like selling papes."
Spot rolled his eyes in frustration.
"You don't sell papes, then you don't get money. If you don't get money, you don't eat, and then you starve," he said, his tone was very strict.
Dash groaned, "I get that, okay? But, I don't wanna sell papes. I wanna be in the papes, as a reporter."
Dash may have been reckless at times, but she knew what she was going to do with her life. She wasn't just going to sell papers the rest of her life. She wanted more than that. She wanted to be a writer. She wanted to write in the papers. Selling papers was the closest she's ever gotten to writing in them. Of course, she was still a "kid" so there wasn't much else she could do to make money, so she was stuck where she was.
"Selling papes is so boring, " she continued, "Walking around all day, holding papers, and yelling at people isn't the greatest job ever. No one buys them from me anyway."
"Do you think we like our jobs?" Spot yelled, "None of us do, but you know what? We all have to do it to survive. So stop being so careless and selfish like you're the only one who's miserable!"
Dash stared at the ground. She didn't want to argue with him anymore.
"Fine," she mumbled, "I'll just go to bed."
"Wait, Dash, please don't get upset with me," Spot said, his voice softening.
Dash hopped off the barrel and said, "I'm not upset. I'm just tired of fighting. See ya tomorrow."
She turned away from him and made her way over to the Brooklyn newsies lodging house. She always fought with Spot like this. It wasn't as much of a big deal anymore because the next day, every thing would be fine again.
Tomorrow was a new day and Dash had a plan. Tomorrow she was going to Manhattan to see the infamous Jack Kelly. He had connections to everyone so maybe he could help her with her writing career. The only challenge was that she had to get there without Spot noticing.
