Hey everyone! So I decided to dabble in Newsies after reading some pretty dang good stuff from this category.

Let me know what you all think and enjoy :)

[Disclaimer: do not own any of the Newsies.]

{Unedited}

Chapter 1

My father kept a wallet collection; all of 'em pickpocketed from the well-to-do, arrogant, and fancy folk who swarmed the streets everyday. It started out as revenge for the way they treated us poor people, but soon he realized he could make a livin' out of it. So after perfecting his trade and keeping enough money to support our little family of three, he started to become a legend, known on the streets as Flash Fingers-his hands disappearing in and out of unsuspecting pockets in a flash.

And as soon as I could learn how to speak, he taught me his trade. Before long, I also became a force to be reckoned with. My fingers were long and nimble, like my father's, and he started callin' me Silver Fingers. Police reports were out for our arrest, though no one knew the identities of those two "fearsome pickpockets", as the newspapers put it. My father looked old and frail, so it was easy for him to lift items below the radar, and I was an adolescent girl who had bright, shining eyes, as innocent as a lamb. No one suspected us.

Until the day that one of us let their guard down on the job, and someone saw us. They must've reported it, because that night there was a loud banging on our door during dinner. I looked up from my food as my father opened it, starin' straight into the faces of three police officers.

"John Scott?" the one in front asked, his moustache twitching as his lips moved.

And that's when all hell broke loose. It seemed as if my father knew exactly what-or who-they'd come to arrest, and he instantly bolted from the door, yelling at us to run. Quick on my feet, I sprinted up the stairs and turned left into my small bedroom. I heard pounding on the wooden stairs as a police officer followed me. If his grunts were an indication, he was getting closer.

My long braid whipped my neck as I searched for an escape. I heard a crash from downstairs but didn't have time to worry about what it was before I leapt at the one window in my room. It was small, and being a sixteen year old girl, I barely squeezed myself through before the police officer was graspin' for the space where my ankles had just been.

I dropped painfully into a pile of shrubbery below. It hurt like hell, the branches scratching and breaking the skin on my arms, legs, and face.

I recovered real quick and sprinted toward the street. My braid flew behind me as I took off, weaving in and out of the people shuffling along the road. Cars beeped at me as I ran through traffic, and I practically jumped someone's hood trying not to get hit.

"Hey, stop!" someone yelled from behind me. I turned as I raced ahead. A police officer, probably the one who'd chased me up the stairs and out my window was following me, his wooden club waving as he ran.

I turned the corner onto a busy street, pushing past people and ignoring their exclamations of protest as I knocked into them. Finally I reached a dark alley and sprinted through, hoping it would lead me somewhere I could be safe and hide out for a while. Once I jogged a bit further and couldn't see or hear the policeman anymore, I slowed to a walk in order to catch my breath. It was dark now, only the streetlamps lighting my path. I could hear the slow lapping of water and knew that I was somewhere near the docks.

I could hear my heart pounding in my chest from the adrenaline that was still pumping through my body, and decided I should start finding a disguise.

Walking a ways down a road that was fairly empty, I came across a tailor shop. It was small and shoved between several apartment buildings, but I was hoping they had decent options. The bell above the door jingled as I walked in.

"Excuse me, sir," I said, walking up to the counter. An older man sat on a stool by the register, polishing his glasses. He looked up when I spoke, placing the spectacles back on his face.

"Hello, my dear," he said in a tired yet friendly manner. "What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if you had any caps," I replied.

"Well, I have a few women's hats in the back. I can go check if you like," he said, standing up.

"Oh, I meant like a men's sort of cap." Well that wasn't weird at all. In order to make it seem less suspicious in case the police came looking, I amended my statement. "My brother needs a new one. His ripped a few days ago."

"Let me check," the old man said, disappearing into the back of the shop. He returned in a few minutes holding a couple caps, one black and rather nice looking and the other a dark brown that looked like it'd been a donation.

"I'll take the brown one," I said, reaching into my pocket for the coins I always kept in case I needed them. He took the money and gave me the cap, and I thanked him as I walked for the door.

"You have a nice night," he called. "Oh, and these streets can get rough at night. Stay safe out there."

"Definitely working on it," I mumbled to myself, letting myself out.

Once outside and out of the man's line of sight, I pulled the cap tight on my head and tucked my braid into it, hoping the bulge in the back wasn't obvious. I had enough dirt on my face and had never been one for makeup-considering we couldn't afford it anyway-so I was confident this disguise would help me. After all, the police were looking for a teenage girl. From this moment forward until I could figure out what had happened to my parents, I was a teenage boy. Thankfully, even at sixteen, my breasts were a little below average size, so they probably wouldn't be too much of a problem. Maybe in the morning I could find some cloth to wrap them in. The summer nights were warm, so I wouldn't have to worry about sheltering myself from the elements.

As I got closer to the edge of the water, I saw a bunch of crates piled on a dock stretching out several meters into the bay. That might offer enough cover for tonight, I thought. I made my way to the dock and squatted in the human-sized space between two of the crates. Not the most comfortable place in the world, but decent enough.

I lay down, feeling the wood bite into my shoulder blades and lower back. As I drifted off to the first restless night of many, I couldn't help but yearn for my parents and wonder what had become of them.

Well, there's chapter one. Been working on this one all day. Believe me, it's not easy to crank out a four-paged chapter in one day. Especially the beginning of a story, cause the plot's not that good yet.

Review, Favorite, and Follow! Thanks for reading :)

I'll update soon if we can get to...hmm 10 reviews?

-Kit Kat