A/N: Howdy, lovely readers! I'm sorry for the delay, but I'm finally back with another Newsies one-shot! *cheers* (Special thanks to DinerGuy for the beta/title idea! 'Preciate ya!
I do have a couple more stories currently in the works, so let's hope I get those posted soon. ;) In the meantime, feel free to send me prompts! (Please keep in mind that I prefer to focus on the brotherly relationships between the newsies, and I don't write romance (aside from potentially Jack/Katherine).) No promises that I'll accept, but I need more ideas! Thanks in advance!
As always, reviews are my favorite, so let me know your thoughts!
Disclaimer: Wish I didn't have to keep being reminded of the fact that I don't own Newsies...but I don't. ;P
"This is stupid!" Race shoved the newspaper away and crossed his arms, trying his best to keep back angry tears. "I's can't do it, Jack."
The pape reappeared in front of his face, retrieved by the dark-haired boy standing next to him. "You can," he encouraged. "You's ain't been workin' at it but for two minutes."
Race watched as Jack tapped the lines on the front of the paper. "C'mon, now. What's it say?"
The younger newsie frowned in concentration, squinting at the writing on the paper. "'F—Fire En—En..."
"Engulfs," Jack prompted.
"Engulfs...Res—Res—" The kid growled his frustration, fingers tightening around the edges of the paper. "Why they gotta use all them fancy woids?"
Jack nudged his shoulder. "Remember what I's told ya. Sound it out."
Race's eyes bored into the long word, mind racing. "Restaurant," he finally read slowly, glancing up at Jack for verification. The older boy's face split into a grin, and he nodded.
Energized by the win, Race's eyes scanned the paper as he continued, "Seven injured." His wide eyes swung back toward Jack. "That's as many as how old I is," he commented.
Jack nodded. "Oughta be a good sellin' day fer sure." The headline could be twisted many different ways, that much was certain.
Race stuffed the paper back into his bag along with the others before offering a shy smile. "Thanks."
Jack winked and pulled the newsboy cap from Race's head, ruffling the curly hair underneath. "You's gettin' good, Racer. Pretty soon you's gonna be readin' better than me!"
The kid snorted, but his chest puffed up—just a little—at the praise.
"Jack!" A small voice joined the two boys, along with mop of blond hair and a big grin.
"Heya, Crutchie." Jack squeezed the little boy's shoulder by way of greeting, even though he'd seen the kid already that morning.
The six-year-old wrinkled his nose, leaning heavily on his tiny crutch. "What's the headline says?" He held a paper out for Jack's inspection.
The older boy shook his head. "Race had t' read it for hisself, and so's do you."
Crutchie's smile fell. "But Jack—"
"You ain't ever gonna learn if you makes the others read for ya all the time." Jack gently nudged the paper back at the youngest newsie. "Race'll help ya."
The third boy nodded eagerly, moving to stand beside Crutchie.
Jack stepped back, watching the two youngest Manhattan newsies work their way through the headline.
He was proud of them. They both managed to remain optimistic, despite the obstacles life had thrown at them them—as was the case with many of the newsies. Crutchie was still learning the ropes of hawkin' papes, but he'd come a long way already. He was walking much better, thanks to the new crutch Panther had helped Jack make for him—although Jack still encouraged the kid to stumble a little when he approached potential customers, just to increase the chances of selling a paper to some sympathetic passerby.
And Race. The kid's nightmares had finally begun to ebb away. He didn't wake up screaming anymore—at least not every night. He was mouthier than ever and always smirking mischievously.
Jack couldn't be happier. Maybe being a newsie wasn't the best-paying job a fella could have, but it sure was rewarding in other ways. He had food—well, usually—a place to sleep, and a band of friends he could call brothers.
Jack felt fingers grabbing at his newsboy cap. His hands darted upward, but not in time. The hat disappeared from his head, leaving Jack grasping empty air. He growled playfully and tilted his head to look up at the thief. "Aw, Sammy, gives it back!"
The older boy dangled the gray cap just out of Jack's reach. "Make me," he teased.
Jack took off after the newsie, determined to retrieve his hat. Crutchie and Race giggled when the older boys bolted past, pure joy evident on their faces as they grinned.
Yeah, Jack wouldn't trade his brothers for anything.