Newsie Queen
I do not own Newsies in any way. I only own my OC's.
A/N - It has been forever since I've written Newsies fanfiction. I hope that I've grown as a writer, because I've looked back at some of the stories I've written and they weren't my best, so I hope this one will be much better than what I've written in the past.
Queenie, or Sting (the original nickname given to her by the former leader of Brooklyn, Chief), sat on the roof of the Newsboys Lodging House located in Lower Manhattan. She looked out across the city. She could see the Brooklyn Bridge in the distance.
It was close to 5 a.m., about the time he would be waking up and getting ready. Was he looking across the river pining for her as well? High atop his throne missing his Queen?
She'd been in Manhattan for close to a month now. Sting had met a handful of the Manhattan newsies at weekly poker nights, but it had still taken some getting used to. Manhattan didn't exactly have a leader and they were more laid back compared to the other boroughs. Sting decided to stop throwing herself a pity party and went back into the bunkroom, grabbing her hat. Her eyes lingered on the key necklace sitting on the nightstand she shared with Race.
"Queenie? Whatcha doin' up so eoily?" Race asked her, rubbing his eyes.
"Go back ta sleep", she whispered, trying not wake Blink and Snipeshooter.
Racetrack was the only one allowed to call her Queenie, seeing as she had given up that nickname the moment she left Brooklyn.
She went downstairs and nodded to Kloppman before making her way out onto the streets. Sting could sense someone following her all the way to the distribution center. "Youse can stop followin' me, Shootah. I'se know ya dere", she said.
The little boy came out from behind a cart.
"Youse can't keep comin' heah Shootah", she told him.
"But I miss youse", he said.
Sting's heart melted for him. "Youse bettah get back ta Brooklyn befoa yer bruddah realizes yer gone", she told him.
"Oh! Dis is foa you", he said, pulling a couple of coins out of his pocket.
"Oh honey, I'se can't take yer pape money", she said.
"It…it ain't mine", he told her.
Sting's eyes went wide.
"Said it should last youse da week", he said.
There was roughly a dollar in her hand. "He doesn't need ta care of me", she told him. As a girl, she made almost twice as much as what the other boys made. Usually she had to spin a story about how she was saving up enough money, so she and her 'beau' could run away and get married.
It's not like it was a complete lie up until a month ago.
Shooter hugged her and ran off towards Brooklyn.
Sting glared at the money in her hand. She wasn't helpless and he knew that.
Soon enough, the Manhattan newsies came running towards the square.
Sting pocketed the money as Jack walked up to her.
"Mornin' Sting", he said.
"Cowboy", she said, nodding at him.
Race threw his arm around her shoulders.
The other boys just stared at her. She knew they were afraid of her because of her association with Brooklyn.
The Delancey Brothers walked up to the group of newsies.
Sting didn't really have a problem with them, but Oscar was always trying to hit on her.
"Deah me, what is dat unpleasant aroma? I'se feah da sewers may 'ave backed up durin' da night", Racetrack said. Trust Race to come up a wise-crack. Sting knew it was the main reason Race and Spot got along so well. They could go on for hours with their witty banter.
"Nah, too rotten ta be da sewer", Boots added. Sting was fond of the little African American newsie. He spent a month in Brooklyn shortly after Sting and Spot had started dating. Sting always had a special place in her heart for the younger boys. Spot always said she was 'Mother to all younger newsies', so they tended to look up to her in that way.
"Yeah, it must be da Delancey bruddahs!" Crutchy finished, causing the newsies to laugh.
"Hiya boys!" Racetrack greeted.
Oscar's eyes fell on Sting. "Well, well, well. Good mornin', Queenie", he said.
The newsies went silent. No one was allowed to call her that except Racetrack and everyone knew that.
Sting narrowed her eyes at Oscar.
"When ya get tired of this riff-raff, I'll make an honest woman outta ya", he told her.
Sting gave him a smirk that could rival the King of Brooklyn's himself and said, "I'se an honest woman awlready, Oscah. I'se wouldn't marry youse if ya were da last man on eoith".
The newsies around her laughed as Oscar glared at her. He grabbed the back of Snipeshooter's neck and threw him to the ground saying, "In the back, ya lousy little shrimp".
"It's not good ta do dat, not healthy", Racetrack said as Sting helped the younger boy up. He smiled at her and she smacked his hat down playfully with her hand.
"Youse shouldn't be callin' people lousy little shrimps, Oscah. Unless yer referin' ta da family resemblance in yer bruddah heah", Jack said, coming to stand next to Sting and his second.
"Hey, hey, five-to-one da cowboy skunks 'em! C'mon who's bettin'?" Racetrack yelled.
Sting rolled her eyes at her friend. Always looking to make a quick buck so he could use it to bet on the horses down at Sheepshead.
"Nah, bum odds!" all the newsies yelled back.
Jack pushed his second back and said, "Dat's right. It's an insult. So's dis!" He grabbed Morris' bowler hat and took off running.
Yep. Manhattan was nothing like Brooklyn.
