"Alright, alright, alright!" Racetrack said to the group of newsies. "My biggest fear? Gotta be tickin' off Spot Conlon."
The rest of the boys cheered in agreement. That was pretty much every newsies' biggest fear.
"What about you, Crutchy?" David asked.
"Dat I'll lose my crutch and get stuck outside with no way to get back to da Lodging House."
They all began mumbling their sympathies to the crippled boy.
"Alright, Cowboy, your turn," Mush said.
Jack looked up at all the expectant faces. "Me? Nah, I ain't afraid of nothin'."
"Come on, Jack," David said to his friend. "Everyone's afraid of something."
"Not me. You're lookin' at da most fearless guy in all of New York."
The conversation about biggest fears continued, but Jack mostly zoned out of the rest of it. Once most of the guys started turning in for the night in order to be ready to sell their papers the next day, Jack went out onto the fire escape and looked out across the city.
"Hey, Jack, mind if I join you?" David asked, poking his head out the window.
"Nah," Jack muttered.
The two boys sat in silence for a couple minutes before David finally turned to him and said, "I know you were lying."
"Huh?"
"Come on, I'm your best friend. I know when you're not telling me the truth. What's really your biggest fear?"
"Ya wouldn't understand, Davey."
"Try me."
Jack took a deep breath and for the first time in a while, he started to think about his past. "Ya remember when we were in court, and Snyder said dat me mudder was dead and me fadder was in jail?"
"Yes, of course."
"Well…there's more to da story than dat…"
Seven-year-old Frances Sullivan rested atop his father's shoulders as they walked through the streets of New York together.
"What do you think your mother will like best?" his father asked. "Apples or peaches?"
"Peaches!" the young boy answered happily.
"Exactly what I was thinking!"
The man picked up some peaches from the market and started back towards home.
Their home was nothing extravagant, if anything it was the complete opposite, but it was enough for father, mother, and son to live in. Money was very tight, seeing as his father was responsible for earning everything, and his job didn't pay very well. Nevertheless, they were happy.
"Mommy!" Frances exclaimed as he ran to his mother's bedside.
"Hello, hon," his mother said with a weak smile, ruffling her little boy's hair.
His father kissed the sick woman on her forehead. "How are you feeling today?"
"Same as usual."
"You look beautiful."
His mother laughed lightly, knowing full well she looked absolutely terrible.
Frances's mother had been diagnosed with tuberculosis, and both of the parents knew that it was only a matter of time before she died from her illness. It began several weeks ago when she started coughing up blood. She had managed to hide it from her son, but her husband knew something was wrong immediately. Thanks to some help from their neighbors, they were able to get a doctor to look at her.
That was when they found out about the tuberculosis. Unfortunately, the only medicine they could afford was some pain relievers, but nothing to help the tuberculosis go away completely. Over time, she just kept getting sicker and sicker. She barely ate anything, she was extremely pale, and she was deathly thin. At that point, she couldn't even get out of her own bed.
Little Frances understood that his mother was sick, but he was not aware that his time with her was very limited.
"Mommy, we got you some peaches today at the market," Frances said, showing her their new prize.
"Oh, that's lovely. Thank you so much." She lightly kissed her son on the top of his head.
"And I'm not Frances anymore. I got a new name today."
"Oh, did you?"
"Yeah. Jack Kelly. What do you think?"
"It's a wonderful name. It makes you sound tough."
"That's why I chose it."
The two parents decided that it was best not to tell their son that he couldn't just change his name like that. But with an ailing and dying mother, they would let him have this one for the time being.
"Come, son," his father said gently. "Let's leave your mother to rest."
The next morning, Frances/Jack went to his mother's room and saw her looking weaker than she ever had before.
"Frances?" she said weakly as she turned her head towards him.
"Mommy, it's Jack, remember?"
"Oh, I'm sorry, Jack. Come here, baby."
Frances/Jack went to his mother's bedside and clasped her fragile hand in both of his. She squeezed his hands with what little strength she had left. "Mommy, are you okay?"
"I don't want to lie to you, sweetheart. No, I'm not okay. I'm very, very sick right now. I've been trying to hold on for you and your father, but I'm not sure I can hold on much longer."
"What are you talking about?"
She sighed quietly. "I never wanted this to happen," she said more to herself than to her son. She looked back up at the face of the little boy she had given birth to nearly eight years ago. "Jack, I love you more than anything. Please don't ever forget that."
"I know that. I love you too."
"I need you to be strong, okay?"
Frances/Jack didn't like what she was saying to him. "You're scaring me."
"It's alright. Don't be scared. I'll always be with you, baby."
His eyes started watering as he watched the life slowly begin to drain away from her. "Don't go."
"Stay strong for me. Stay strong."
His mother's hand went limp and her eyes slowly shut as her chest stopped rising up and down.
"Mama?" Frances/Jack asked with tears running down his face. "Mama?"
His father came into the room and looked at his wife and son. Tears began flowing from his eyes as he realized that his beloved one was no longer with him. He took his son up into his arms and they both cried together for a very long time.
Jack, as his father now called him, was very hungry. Ever since his mother's death, money was even scarcer than before and they were barely able to get their meals. On more than one occasion, neither of them ate anything for lunch.
His father looked at his son, becoming skinnier with each passing day due to lack of proper nutrition. Desperate to feed his son, he leaned down to his eye level.
"Stay right here, okay? I'm just going to grab us something to eat."
Jack nodded hungrily.
His father went over to a stand where some bread was being sold and looked around him. When he thought that no one was looking, he quickly swiped a nice crisp loaf. Unfortunately, he was seen by the owner of the stand.
"You gonna pay for that, mister?" he asked as he roughly grabbed his arm.
Jack watched in horror as a huge physical fight broke out between the two men. More joined in and it became too much for his father to handle. Several cops swarmed over to the fight and grabbed Jack's father.
They took him away in handcuffs right before the young boy's very eyes. It was the last time Jack ever saw his father.
The boy stood there in fear, now aware that he was completely alone. No mother, no father, no one.
He sank down against the wall and began to cry.
"So dat's what I dread more than anythin'," Jack said to David as he finished his story. "Da people closest to me dyin' or gettin' sent to jail…and me gettin' left alone."
"What happened after that?" David asked, now feeling quite guilty with himself for getting angry at Jack when he found this out at the trial.
"A couple'a older newsies found me and brought me back to da Lodging House. Dat's how I found myself here."
"Jack, look. I understand why that's your biggest fear. But you're never going to be alone. You've got all of us newsies, and me and my family. We're always here for you. Death is a part of this world, so at some point, we are going to die. But we'll never let you be left alone. Newsies honor. We live together, die together."
Jack chuckled a little at that last part. "Thanks, Davey. Dat helps a lot."
"I'm sorry about your mother and father. I can't imagine what that must've been like for someone at that age."
"It wasn't easy, I can tell ya dat. But I'm glad I got to meet all of my fellow newsies. They're my family now."
"You'll always have a family with us."
When Jack walked around the streets of New York trying to sell the last of his papers, his thoughts kept drifting back to his conversation with David last night. He had never told anyone, anyone at all, about what had happened to his mother and father when he was just a boy. How could he? He was Jack Kelly, the leader of the newsies strike, tough Cowboy. Everyone thought he was just like any other newsie.
But that wasn't the case. He did have a loving mother and father, but they were snatched away from him.
He was so deep in thought about his past that he almost didn't hear the shouting behind him.
"Frances!"
It was a man, he knew that. But certainly he couldn't be calling for him. No one he knew called him Frances. Everyone knew him as Jack.
"Jack!" the voice called even louder. "Jack Kelly!"
Jack turned around, trying to find the owner of the voice. Finally, an older man, probably in his late 50's, early 60's came up to him.
Jack's eyes widened.
"Dad?"