Disclaimer: I don't own the newsies. I hate saying that, it makes me sad.

Author's Note: Okay, so this story is a 180 from anything I've written in the past. Really, my sister Patty just asked me to write a story for her, so this is it. She came up with the basic persona of Spot, who you'll get to meet in the next chapter, and asked me to personify the rest of the newsies that way. Please take this story at face value - it's nothing I spent too much time on or put to much thought into - it is strictly for entertainment purposes, lol. Anyhow, I tried to imagine what each of the newsies would be like in a modern setting and I put in a narrator, Taylor (aka my sister) to kind of guide you through meeting all of them. I know the plot line might be a little over done, but I tried to put my own spin on it. I hope you enjoy this - at least get a few laughs out of it. And also, leave me some reviews, please, this will only be a few chapters long.

It was a Monday morning. And like most other Monday mornings, I was having a particularly difficult time dragging myself from the warmth of my bed. Today, however, would be drastically different from any other Monday.

I had recently been forcibly removed from my old high school in Chicago to a brand new school just outside of New York City. To make an incredibly long and painful story short – my mother divorced my father, and when the court asked who I'd rather stay with, I chose my Dad. But he didn't tell me his job would be moving him to New York until after the judge had banged his gavel and decreed, "Jeffries divorce granted this thirtieth of September. Custody of the minor child granted to defendant (namely, my dad). Court is adjourned." That's it, game over. A week later my bags are packed and I'm bidding good bye to every friend I've known since kindergarten.

Now it's just me and dear old Dad, stuck in a second-rate apartment building overlooking one of the shabbier dumpsters in the city, and eating toast and ramen for each and every meal.

It's not so bad I guess. I've always been a Daddy's girl, and we get along well enough. He stays out of my business if I stay out of his, and that's the way we both like it. It's this high school thing that's scaring me. I've never been very good at making new friends, and so today should be quite an adventure.

I walk to school and the first thing I notice is that the kids look the same as they did at my old school, which makes me feel a little better. My first class is gym, and that goes by without a hitch – I'm a natural athlete.

Second period is what worries me the most: math. Math has the same effect on me as milk did on my best lactose intolerant friend, Dylan, back in Chicago. I get nauseous and my palms sweat and sometimes I even break out in a rash. No lie. So I enter the classroom shaking and find a seat in the very back row. From this vantage point I can see almost everyone else in the room. The second person to enter the room is a curly-haired kid with sickly pale skin, a meticulously organized three-ring binder, two sharpened number two pencils, and of course, a Princeton sweatshirt. The only thing missing was the kick-me sign on his back.

A few more kids found seats a few rows over from me, none taking any special interest in me, and I paid them the same courtesy. The last to arrive were a slim blond with a baseball jersey, accompanied by the most beautiful boy I'd ever seen. He had careless hair that fell into his eyes, a backwards cap, some band tee-shirt, and a grin that lit up the room. I would marry this boy one day. They took their seats just as the bell rang and a teacher closed the door. He was old and graying and I knew I was in for a long semester.

"Mr. Kelly," was the first thing he said, "We have a dress code here."

I glanced around the room to find the perpetrator, and sure enough, it was my future husband.

"Sure thing, Bill," he said and stuffed his cap into his backpack.

The teacher sighed irritably, "That's Mr. Moran, thank you."

The boy with the smile chuckled and he and his friend began conversing in whispers as the teacher started the lesson. Then, as if it had nearly slipped his mind, he turned back around. "Oh yes," he said, casting his eyes over his students. "I almost forgot, we have a new student."

I hated that teachers felt the need to do this. Hadn't they ever just wanted to be invisible before? They made it so damn hard. I wanted to stab him in the face.

The kids all turned back to face me directly, as if I were sitting in the designated "new kid" chair. I felt my face heat up.

"Ms. Taylor Jeffries is here from Chicago. Any volunteers to help her with the lesson today and perhaps show her around the school? I am sure she would appreciate it."

I could have died. And sure enough, who else but Mr. Kick-me raised his hand.

"Thank you very much, Mr. Jacobs."

I tried to smile as the boy gathered his books and came to sit next to me. He stretched out his hand to me, "I'm David," he told me.

"Taylor," I cringed.

It was a long fifty minutes before the bell rang signaling the end of my daily torture session. I slung my bag over my shoulder but David caught me before I could leave. "You want me to show you where anything is?" he asked.

I smiled, knowing he was only trying to be nice. I could turn him down and possibly never have social contact with another kid in this building, or I could just go along with him and see what happened.

I sighed, already knowing what my choice had to be. "Yeah," I said, "actually, I don't know where the library is."

David smiled, and said "Well I have study next; I can take you now if you want."

I nodded, "Me too, that'd be great."

We walked down several long hallways, David chattering animatedly beside me. On several occasions he'd point kids out to me and give a brief synopsis. Mostly I just tuned him out, hoping not too many people would associate me with kick-me boy.

We arrived at the library a few minutes later and much to my surprise I heard someone call out, "Heya Davey! Over here."

The boy in question stood out like a sore thumb. He wore brown corduroy pants with a white button-up shirt and a green vest over it. It took everything in me not to laugh out loud at his get-up. A librarian glared at the boy and scolded, "This is a library, Mr. Higgins, how many times do I have to tell you?"

Mr. Higgins rolled his eyes and mumbled something about silence stifling the creative process. David smiled and we took seats next to the new boy.

"Tony, this is Taylor Jeffries. She's new, I'm just showing her around," David introduced us. "Taylor, this is Tony, he's a good friend of mine."

Tony took my hand and kissed it, "Bon jour, mademoiselle."

I made a face and David laughed, "Tony's a little eccentric."

I nodded, "I see."

Tony leaned his chair back and put his feet up on the table, crossing his ankles. "So what brings you to Pulitzer academy?" he asked.

I cringed. "It's a long story."

Tony smiled wide, "Good, I adore long stories."

I couldn't help but smile a little as well, but I said "Maybe another time," and left it at that.

David shook his head, "You're going to scare her off, Tony."

"Nah," Tony shrugged, "She owes me a story. You should bring her along to Tibby's tonight."

David was shaking his head, but I jumped at the opportunity. "What's Tibby's?"

Tony sprang forward and began talking enthusiastically about a little restaurant he said he, Dave, and the rest of their friends hung out at every once in a while. "You'll love it," he declared.

"No she won't," Dave argued, "it's cheap and dirty and –"

"I like cheap," I interrupted, chuckling even though it was true.

"And dirty," Tony smirked impishly.

Dave gave him a very stern look, but I laughed.

"Aw, c'mon Davey," Tony nudged, "Five bucks says she'll love it."

David gave in to our combined efforts of persuasion, "Fine fine," he said.

Just as David and I were about to leave so that he could show me the cafeteria, Tony grabbed my shirt sleeve. "And for the record," he told me, "I've never lost a bet in my life. So you will love it, got it?"

His face was deadly serious, threatening almost, and I was a little afraid. But just before I would have forcibly pulled myself from his grasp, he winked, and the corner of his mouth turned up into a mischievous little grin.

I smiled despite myself, "Got it," I told him.

"Good, we're gonna be friends after all," he said and let me and David leave unscathed, leaning back lazily in his chair with his feet up once more...

That night I would meet the rest of David's friends. I had no idea what I was in for.