Hi! so this is my first story on fanfiction.
I re-did this first chapter because I kind of rushed in posting. I hope you like it!
disclamer: I don't own Newsies, only the stuff you don't recognize.
On with the story!
Chapter 1
Who am I? I am nobody. Who are you, are you nobody too?
Well my name is Mouser, or at least it is now. Don't ask what my real name is, I may get to that or I may not. You'll just have to be patient. I suppose you're wondering who I am, what a girl's doing with the Manhattan Newsies, when I'm gonna stop asking questions and start answering them, what the heck are all these questions for, and why I'm so secretive. All in due time I assure you.
Now before our story really begins there are a few things that you need to know about me.
One, is that I'm a girl. Two, I HATE bullies. Three, I have quite a temper and a smart mouth, to put it nicely, and four, I have a natural curiosity. And I love riddles because they force you to find simple answers to complex questions. That might be a fifth else you need to know about me you'll find out very soon.
Mouser woke up, rubbed her eyes and stretched, my house is starting to get cold, she thought. Well really it was not exactly a house, more like a drafty boxcar that was slowly getting colder by the week. I need to find a more permanent house before winter gets here.
She groaned and sat up thinking about her last 'more permanent house' an orphanage that she'd let find her last year before the worst of winter set in and she froze to death.
The key word in that sentence is let, as in she allowed herself to be sent there. Those cops are too dumb to catch her when she's actually try'n to get away. You see Mouser knows this whole city like the back of her hand, or at least the more... um, risky parts of the city.
Anyway she's got escape roots all over. Nothing fancy or elaborate (but she could do something like that if she had the time and resources) just a fire escape, here an open window there or the occasional ally-way covered in boxes, stuff like 's also knowing which shops and businesses you can and can't duck into and walk out the back.
Well might as well get up. Mouser thought groaning and started on her morning was breakfast, stale bread that she'd saved from her meager dinner last night.
Then untying the single braid that came down to the middle of her back she carefully combed and re-braided the dark brown hair. Stepping in front of a shard of mirror that was found at a junkyard she studied herself.
Staring back were two lively pale green eyes. She glared a bit at her mouth, which has been the caused her trouble more times then she could count. More often then not Mouser has had to flee and use one of her escape routes because she just can't keep her mouth shut when it mattered the most.
The 'mirror' is kind of tiny so she could only see her face close up but if you go to the other side of the car and stand on a box or something you can see a miniature version of yourself. But Mouser knows that she's small and short and skinny so she doesn't bother.
After buttoning up the off-white long sleeve over her under shirt, tying her shoes, and grabbing the tattered coat she was ready. Boy's clothes are much easier to runaway in then a skirt and that came in handy too much.
A quick jump down from the 2-foot ledge, a shove to slide the heavy door closed. Then a walk through the railroad yard past all the other boxcars that kept her's hidden. She snuck through a hole in the fence and walked toward the city and her job.
She weaved her way in and out of the mass of people that crowded the streets, down to the depot office. Mouser's a delivery girl. It's not that bad of a job, I mean,the work is hard sometimes and the pay's lousy but at least there is pay and a steady pay at that.
The only real problem is her boss Mr. Green. He's a tall thin man, with gray hair, pale skin and cold blue eyes. He thinks he's so high and mighty and he treats his employees like dirt. If you kicked him in the heart, you'd probably break a toe.
The only way she can stand to hold her tongue is that no one hardly ever has to be around him for more then five minutes at a time. That and without this job she'd probably starve to death, or at the very least get really, really hungry.
She signed in and went to Mr. Green, to see what had to be delivered where. Putting on a fake smile she approached his desk.
"Good morning Mr. Green, sir is there anything you need me to deliver this fine day?"
"Yes, passel numbers and addressees" he said shoving a piece of paper in her face without looking up from whatever he was doing. There was no explosion, so this was one of his better days. He's buried in work so he doesn't care about anyone else.
"Thank you sir, good day to you."
She turned and walked away quickly, "Street rat." she heard him mutter under his breath. Street rat? Mouser thought angrily, it took every last ounce of self-control, which is not very much not to retort.
Street rat! For your information street rats are boys, if anything I'm a street mouse! And if it would not get me fired this street mouse would tell you a thing or two! She smiled at the thought of verbally given him what for and looked down at the paper.
There were seven things to deliver today. Not bad, then she looked at the addresses there was not two within a mile of each other. She groaned this is going to be a long day.
Mouser was almost done with the last few deliveries, so she sat down on some steps to rest. She was still wondering what to do about winter. Never again will she ever go back to
an orphanage. And if she went to the refuge it might as well be jail, she'd never get out.
It was certainly a riddle and like all riddles her problem would have a simple answer, she just needed to think of one. Mouser looked up and across the street was a sign.
A literal sign, it hung on the side of an old building. The sign read 'News-boys Lodging House'. She stared at it as an idea took shape in her mind. Hmmm, I wonder. She jumped up to finish the delivers, all the while working out the bugs in her idea that was fast becoming a plain. This could work. She thought. Yes!
Well what did you think? If you liked it (or didn't) please review.
I am begging you!
And I'm not going to post the next chapter until I hear what you think. So...
You know what to do!