Disclaimer - This applys to the whole chapter so that I don't have to keep writing it out. Newsies belongs to Disney and not to me. The OCs belong to be, just like the plot.

The winter of 1899 was the coldest that New York had seen in the last twenty years. Every night, people froze out on the streets and even in unheated tenements. I was in one of those unheated tenements, living with my dad. My mum and older brother and sister had run out years ago, because my father beat them. I was only eight then, and now I'm thirteen. They would have taken me with them, but I was playing in Central Park, and they couldn't find me. My dad didn't start to beat me until a year ago and it just got worse and worse since then. My dad was drunk most of the time and could only find work at the poor factories with bad conditions.

That one night, it went too far, and I was scared for my life. That's really the only reason my hand found the knife and stabbed at him. I didn't mean to kill him, I was just so scared. Most of the time, I pretend to be brave, but the truth is, I'm scared to die. Well, my dad was breathing hard and bleeding even harder. I was sure that he was dying and I didn't want to hang around to find out. The last words I heard him say were swears in his native language of Italian.

I didn't know where to go, but I knew I had to get away. The police could make an educated guess on who had murdered him and they would probably put me in jail. I roamed the streets for about an hour and saw enough of prostitutes and dirty men that I made a choice.

You see, I'm a girl. My name is Kylah and like I said before, I'm thirteen. I'm real small for my age, which is the plague of my life. It looks like I'm eleven or so, and I have to stick up for myself a lot. I have grey eyes that I think are as drab as the sides of the tenements. My hair is light brown hair, with a reddish tint from my Irish mum. I guess you could call me pretty, but I'm not beautiful or anything. I'm more plain than anything else.

Well anyway, I knew that if I stayed a girl on the streets, I'd probably be doing things that the Catholic priests always told us never to even think about. Also, the police would be looking for a girl and I'd be a boy.

I broke into a rag shop and stole the best clothes I could find, which were no more than rags. I also borrowed a pair of scissors and cut my hair short. Or I tried to. If you've ever cut your own hair, you'll understand. There wasn't a mirror, but I could feel it. It was still about four inches long, because I wasn't going to trust those rusty scissors too close to my head. It was ragged and a blind man could've done better. I didn't think too hard on it though, and took off my dress and knickers and put on the rags. I almost forgot one thing though. While I'm small and young, my chest area isn't exactly flat. I got a scrap of cloth and kind of wrapped it around and tied it, and it worked as long as I didn't take my shirt off.

I also stole some bread crusts from a basket behind the counter in the front of the rag shop. I know it sounds like I'm wild and dishonest, but that night I guessed if I killed someone, God wouldn't really notice the little things I did wrong. Like I said before, it was cold outside. After I left, I had to run through the streets to keep warm, and I kind of got lost. All I know was, I left Brooklyn one minute and found myself lost the next. I didn't bother trying to find my way back, but I came to a square with a statue in it.
It had started to snow and I could hardly see anything. There was a building across from the statue with a trash can next to it. Normally, I would never think about doing what I did, but that wasn't a normal situation. At least it was empty, I had thought when I climbed in. I guess that I started to get really cold, because I kept almost falling asleep. I knew that if I did, I'd freeze.

Later, I was told that that snow storm was the worst ever and it was at least twenty below. I guess that's why Mr. Kloppman, the old man who ran the Manhattan Newsboys Lodging House, opened his doors to any street kid who need a place to stay the night. I don't really remember that part, but I do remember being yanked from my can by two older boys and carried into the lodging house.

I woke up in a nice soft bed. I almost fell back asleep, but I woke up with a jolt. I was worried that someone had found out about my being a girl. Luckily though, no one had. I was in a large room with about twenty bunks in it. There were at least two boys in each bed, more if the kids were smaller. I have to say, I was a bit nervous with all those boys at first.

I was sleeping next to a boy who was quite a bit bigger than I was and had tight black curls. I was on a bottom bunk, which was good because I fell out of it with the surprise at waking up next to a boy. That woke him up he offered me a hand to get me off the floor. I took it and I was back on the bed again. I was quite aware of my true gender.

Mush was nice though and once he had woken up a bit, we talked. The newsies accent was to turn "th" into "d" and "er" into "a." I'd write it down, but it would be too hard. I've talked that way for so long that it seems normal for me.

Mush introduced himself and asked my name. I froze up because I couldn't very well say Kylah, and I hadn't thought of a boy's name to use. The first name that popped into my head was Max, which was my father's name. Mush also asked if I had a place to stay and I told him no. He told me that if Jack, that's the Manhattan newsies leader, said I could, I should sell papes with them. I liked that idea. It was better than begging, and my soul was in enough danger already without me stealing. Anyway, I was a boy now and they could do anything.

This is where I'll plunge into the story.

"I'd like to." I said. Just then, Mr. Kloppman came into the room and started to wake the boys up. The other street kids left, but I stayed. Once the boys were all awake, Mush led me over to Jack. He looked to be almost eighteen, and he was tall. Sometime the newsies called him Cowboy. Everyone in New York City had heard of how he led the Newsies Strike and I was a bit nervous to meet him.

"Hey Jack," Mush began. "Max here wants to be a newsie. That okay with you?" I shifted uneasily under the scrutiny of Jack's gaze.

"How old are you, kid?"

"Thirteen." They laughed and I flushed angrily. I knew I was small but they could have given me the benefit of the doubt.

Jack shook his head. "How old are you really?"

"I swear," I said, "I swear that I'm really thirteen. I'm just small."

"No kidding," said a boy with an Italian accent and a cigar. I gave him a glare hot enough to thaw ice, but I don't think it fazed him.

"Alright," Jack broke in, "You can't sell in those clothes though. It'll give us newsies a bad name."

"I don't have any others!"

"Kloppman has some. He'll give them to Max, especially if he knows Max'll be a paying customer." A kid with a crutch said.

"Crutchy's right," Mush said. "I'll go sign him up and get him some new clothes right now." Jack nodded his consent and the other boys started getting ready. Mush and me found Mr. Kloppman and I signed my name, Max, on the line. Mr. Kloppman showed me a box of clothes and Mush left to get ready while I picked some out. I chose a pair of long black pants and a grey shirt with a high collar that left unbuttoned. Before all that, I put on a flannel shirt and underwear. I didn't want to take too many clothes, but I knew I had to take a vest or I would freeze. I chose a black one. It only took me about two minutes to choose my clothes and change, but when I was done, the newsies were already thundering down the stairs. I ran to join them.

The newsies were loud and even walking down the street was a game for them. The younger ones played pirates with sticks as swords. The older ones rough housed or talked. I hung around Mush, who mainly shoved the other boys and got shoved. I got shoved a lot too, and shoved back. I suppose I shoved harder than the other boys to show them that though I was small, I wouldn't be pushed around.

I didn't know where we were going, but then I saw nuns handing out food. Suddenly, I felt shy, like they could see what I did and who I was. I hung back, but Mush pulled me forward so I could get a roll. I ate it hungrily and wished that there was more. I would get used to the half-hungry feeling, as it would be my constant companion for most of my time with the newsies.

After we ate, we headed over to the Manhattan World Distribution Center. I realized than that I didn't have any money.

"Mush," I said urgently and quietly, "You think that they'll spot me a couple papes?" Mush laughed and to my humiliation, repeated my question to the others. They also laughed.

"Course not," said Jack. "But tell you what. To become a newsie you got to have a…um." David supplied the correct word. "Yah, an initiation."

"What's an initiation?" I asked resignedly. It sounded hard.

"It means we tell you to do something and you do it." Racetrack, the Italian kid with the cigar, said.

"What do I have to do?" I asked. I was hoping that it wouldn't be painful or dangerous. I wasn't afraid, I just didn't want to make a fool of myself.

"Well, Max," Jack said, "We're going to buy you a hundred papes and you have to sell them in an hour." My mouth dropped down to the street.

"A hundred? Right. I'll do it. You'll see." I guess that I was nodding too hard or didn't sound so sure of myself because they boys started laughing again. I scowled. Everything I did set them off. I waited in line with the others, my face falling a bit when I saw how many papes a hundred was. I walked outside the gate.

"Have you read the headline yet?" Mush questioned. I shook my head and looked at the front page. In shock.

"It's a good headline today. Man Is Murdered Daughter Suspected." Mush shook his head. "Who would do a thing like that?"

"I don't know." To me, my voice sounded dry and fake. "Maybe she had a good reason." The boys shook their heads at my answer. "Well, maybe she did. Maybe he was mean to her. Maybe he beat her mother." The boys laughed as I spoke indignantly.

Then, we all went our separate ways to sell.

I tried hard, I really did, but I guess I needed practice. I was little, so I sold more that way. It was also hard to shout the headline out loudly and finding some way to say it that it would interest people. The fact was, after an hour, I had only sold fifty papes. I still went back and found Jack like he had told me to. I was afraid that he would tell me that I couldn't be a newsie. Instead, Jack told me that fifty papes were good for the first try and that I could be a newsie. He said that even he couldn't sell a hundred in a hour and to sell the rest of my papes. My heart was considerably lighter after that and I went about selling the rest of my papes happily. The only downside of my first day as a newsie was hearing my crime shouted all over the streets as a headline.

If you like it, review. I'm not going to force you, as if I could. But please, tell me if Max/Kylah is a MarySue and if you like the fanfic in the "I" first person form thing. If you don't, I'll think about changing it. I just realized how few Newsies fanfics there are in first person, so whatever.