"Jack, help me down—woah!"
"Crutchie!" Jack jumped up from the roof and ran to help his friend back up the ladder. The railing clanged and shuddered as Jack leaned over, reaching for Crutchie's hand. Crutchie's heart pounded as he grabbed Jack's arm, trying to pull himself up. Only the rungs of the ladder stood between him and the ground below, and he really didn't want to find out what would happen if he slipped.
"You wanna bust the othah leg, too?" Jack was saying, exasperated as he hauled Crutchie up by the arm.
"No, I—ahhh! Jack, help! Help!" Crutchie panicked as he lost his grip and dropped down from Jack's grasp. He screamed as he fell from the roof, hitting his head and arms on the ladder as gravity took over his body. Crutchie barely had any time to see that the roof was getting farther and farther away from him, and that Jack's anguished yells were also growing dim. He hit the road with a sickening crack as all the breath was painfully knocked out of him and lay still, gasping. Unimaginable pain shot through him until he could hardly think clearly. He thought he saw Jack leave the roof, going to get help. Jack always did. Jack always helped him. Crutchie's breathing became slower and slower until he was aware of nothing but the distant sky above him. The stars were especially bright tonight, but Crutchie saw them getting darker and darker as his eyes began to close. He lay unmoving, one final weak groan escaping him as he wrapped his hand around his crutch.
"Crutchie? Crutchie?!"
Jack frantically ran to his friend's side, peering in his face. "Crutchie, can ya hear me?!" he shouted, but Crutchie didn't move. Jack grabbed his hand, and then quickly checked for a pulse. He lurched away as he found none, and stood up immediately. Jack reached up and tore off his hat, bunching it up in his hands. He barely heard the patter of the other newsies as they joined his side.
"What happened?" Specs asked as the boys all took off their hats, following suit with Jack.
"Fell," Jack bit the word out. "He fell."
Some of the boys bowed their heads.
"Dumb crip," Jack added as a bitter afterthought, "Dumb crip's just too damn…." He trailed off, looking down. A few moments later, he started to bark orders at the newsies, telling them to either go back to bed or help him. Jack bent down and picked up Crutchie's body, avoiding the pool of blood that swam around their feet. Not ten minutes ago, he and Crutchie had been talking, laughing, even. And now….the streets had taken his friend, just like they had taken his father. Tossed them both to the curb like yesterday's paper. And now that Crutchie was gone, what did Jack have here? Friends? Family? No, they were all surpassed by Jack's dream.
Only it wasn't a dream anymore, Jack thought as he carried Crutchie away from the street. It was a goal. He had to get out of here. He had to get out of New York.
If there was anything Jack was holding onto, it was Santa Fe.