Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies. The End.
Prologue
The summer of 1899 was one to remember, particularly for those who took part in the newsboys' strike against newspaper tycoons, Joseph Pulitzer and William R. Hearst, led by Jack Kelly and the Manhattan newsies. The boys from that summer would not stay newsies forever and by 1902 the majority of those involved left the Newsboys Lodging House in pursuit of a job that would take them further into adulthood and the next chapter of their lives. Jack Kelly was the first to move on, but before he did the Manhattan newsboys made a pact: ten years from that day, no matter where their lives had taken them, they would come back to New York City and reconnect at Irving Hall. At the time, each and every newsy had agreed to honor the pact, but ten years later would they all make it back to the old vaudeville theater where it all began?
Chapter One
No More Life on the Streets
September 2, 1910
Sam sat on the edge of the pier, legs dangling inches above the water and watched the sun dip below the Hudson. Tomorrow would mark ten years to the day when the newsies made that pact and Jack Kelly walked out of their lives, aspiring for a life out west. It was almost difficult to image that ten years had actually gone by since that glorious summer at the turn of the century. And yet, reality had been much more slow and grueling on a day to day basis; those ten years seemed more like an eternity. So much had changed since those days of living off newspaper sales…
With only a glimmer of day light remaining, Sam stood and tucked his hands in the pockets of his trousers. Giving one final contemplative gaze across the water, he turned and began the trek home to his dumpy little apartment in Hell's Kitchen. It wasn't a particularly long walk, not by his standards. He had walked the length of the city and between the boroughs more times than he could count by the time he had turned eighteen. He knew the streets of New York City better than most and the back alleys even better. Sometimes just for fun, he would walk the streets with no destination in mind; it was simply a good reminder of where he had come from. He was a product of the streets and still struggling to get by on the wages he was making with his current jobs, but at least he had a place of his own. It wasn't much, but it was affordable and somewhere to call home.
Fishing in his pocket for the door key, he heard a rumble of voices arguing a few doors down. Stepping into the small room, he was greeted by the stale smell of cat urine, left over from the previous owner. If he had the time he would have ripped out the carpet, but at the end of a long day he was simply too tired to bother. He usually forgot about the smell after a few minutes anyway, having acclimated to the immersion. Opening the cupboard, he pulled out some leftover food and threw himself onto the bed, spooning the contents of the container lethargically into his mouth as he lie there, lost in thought.
He couldn't quite settle on a feeling about tomorrow's reunion. It was a day he had been looking forward to for the last five years, but now that it was staring him in face he felt less enthused by the idea of seeing old friends again. It made him nervous; surely some of them would have done well for themselves, better than he had managed at least. Many of them probably got married and had families. What did he have to show for the last ten years of his life? He was just happy to still be alive after a few dark years spent at the bottom of a bottle and on the doorstep of brothels. It wasn't easy but he had managed to get out of that pit. He crawled out of the bottle and never looked back.
It was all because of her.
He had been called Skittery in those days, when newspaper boys practically had the run of the city. She had been masquerading as a boy when they first met. Through a series of events – one that included him discovering first her true identity as a girl – a relationship blossomed, quickly budding into a romance. Three years they spent together, seeing one another through the challenging transitions that life threw at them. He loved her with every ounce of his being and was prepared to spend the rest of his life with her, but life could never look favorably upon him – so it would seem. The two parted ways in the summer of 1902 after rising differences took hold and no compromise was found. It tore him apart in more ways than she probably knew; he reached the lowest of lows during the years that followed, catching snippets on the progression of her life as time moved on.
He couldn't explain how or why, but one day his life snapped back into place. There truly was a purpose to it even if she wasn't a part of it. If there was any hope in ever getting her back, he knew he could not be living in such a desolate state. He knew he had to clean up his act. It was a long and hard road, but he managed the journey, even with a few roadblocks slowing him down. The mere thought of her had refurbished his life and the possibility of a restoring his relationship with her had pulled him from his own personal hell.
As he thought about it, it seemed a little foolish to have put so much weight on such an infinitely impossible situation. She might not even show up to their little reunion. This made no different to him anymore. He could only be grateful for what good it had done for his life – even if it was all for not. He was a better person for having lived to see the other side; more appreciative of the little things. His life was back on a track which projected a number of possibilities if he so desired. Again, he owed so much of his life to Claire Connolly – the good and the bad.
A shiver rippled up and down his spine as he imagined what tomorrow might bring. He could only pray that he still had a chance to make the most of this opportunity. It was something he had been waiting for, for a long time. He only hoped that things would work in his favor, and that he wouldn't make a mess of it all.
His eyelids, heavy from a tough week on the job, were no match for the reeling thoughts inside his head. They slid shut and allowed him a few hours of blissful slumber where the world was exactly as he wanted it to be.
A/N: Well friends, I clearly cannot leave Skittery and Tug alone for too long. This is the final installment of the Tug Trilogy.
Leave me some love.