Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Newsies as it is portrayed in the 1992 Disney film. In addition, I do not own the tv series Young Riders from which a couple scenes were inspired.

A/N: This is my first Newsies fic. I had the idea in my head, and couldn't rid of it so I had to write it . I know the general idea has been done many times over, but this is my take on the classic newsgirl story.

Chapter 1: Tug

She stood, staring at her reflection in the mirror, watching the tears roll in steady streams down her cheeks. The pair of scissors she had gripped tightly in one hand, caught the flickering candle light and gleamed angrily, like they didn't approve of what she was about to do. But, her mind was already made up. This was something she had to do. Closing her eyes, she drew in a deep breath of confidence and brought the sheers to her head. When she opened them again, a long lock of her dark hair laid abandoned at her feet. It almost made her sick to see it there, but she pressed on and more strands followed until the floor around her was hidden beneath a thick layer of hair.

Wiping her damp face with the back of her hand, she crouched down, gathered her severed beauty, and dropped it into the trash bin. Straightening back up, she took another look at herself in the mirror, scrutinizing her new look. More tears filled her eyes and spilled onto the floor as she tugged on one of the shortened locks, certain of one thing: looking like a boy would not be a problem, but acting like one might be.

---

The square located in front of the New York World newspaper distribution center was teeming with newsboys, the following morning, just as it was every morning. The boys were scattered around waiting for the circulation bell to ring and the gates to swing open so that they could buy a stack of newspapers to sell for a profit.

She was there, unnoticed amongst them, leaning against the base of the statue of Horace Greeley, which stood in the middle of the square. As she waited, she observed the boys around her, noting their behavior, hoping to pick up on some useful mannerisms that might help to mask her girlish demeanor.

Beyond the brick walls that enclosed the distribution center a bell clanged loudly, signalling that it was time to circulate the newspapers. The heavy iron gates were pulled apart to allow the stampede of boys inside. The veteran newsboys were restless and itching to get started; they pushed and jostled one another, jockeying for a decent position in the long line.

She held her own among the boys, keeping her place as the line slowly moved up the incline toward the little window where their coins were exchanged for newspapers. New to this business, she watched the other boys, trying to learn the routine through her observations, but there didn't seem to be one. Some of the boys took their newspapers and left the establishment immediately while others lingered inside, perusing the articles or waiting for friends.

Her heart started to hammer against her chest as she neared the barred window. When she was next in line, her nerves kicked in full-throttle. She was almost certain that the greasy man behind the counter would hear the pounding of her heart or see through her disguise. Swallowing those nerves, she stepped up to the window, pushed her money under the bars, and asked for forty newspapers. A short stack was shoved out to her so quickly that the clerk hardly gave her a glance before ordering the next boy forward.

Without hesitating, she scooped up her bundle and hurried down the stairs toward the street. It was a relief to have gotten this far, but the real test would be fooling the people on the streets.

"Hey!" a sharp voice called out over the other noise. "Hey, kid!"

She assumed he was calling someone else, but turned around just to be sure. There were a few boys perched on the edge of the platform, most browsing the paper. A boy with a cigar stuck between his fingers was looking straight at her. When he caught her gaze, he beckoned to her; shifting her newspapers around, she took a few tentative steps forward, wishing she hadn't turned around.

"I don't recall ever seein' you 'round here before," the cigar boy said while his friend watched on with interest. "This yer first day?"

"Yeah," she replied gruffly, using the low tone she had practiced, and then turned to leave; it wasn't any of his business anyway. She didn't make it far, because the cigar boy hopped from the platform and grabbed her shoulder.

"Whoa, hold it there a minute. I ain't finished," he said, spinning her back around and giving her the once over. "Ya gotta name?"

Shifting uneasily, she pulled the brim of her hat down to shade her eyes and mumbled, "Clarence."

The boy's eyebrows rose as he casually puffed on his cigar.

"That's quite a fancy name ya got there, Clarence," he replied snidely. His friends behind him chuckled.

Rolling her eyes, she stared at him pointedly, waiting for some kind of explain as to why he had stopped her.

"Look here, Clarence. You ain't gonna make it in this business with a name like that." He turned to the other boys and motioned one of them forward. A blond boy wearing an eye patch over his left eye stepped forward; the one with the cigar clapped him on the back before turning back to her. "This here is Kid Blink. He's gonna give ya a new name - something that ain't so hoity-toity."

She held her breath while the boy called Kid Blink walked circles around her, surveying her closely while he calculated the perfect nickname. After a few second went by without any developments, her nerves started to kick in again. What if he saw through her disguise? She reached up and jiggled the brim of her hat, hoping to hide more of her face. Suddenly, Kid Blink snapped his fingers conclusively and smiled.

"I got it!" he declared happily and draped an arm over her shoulder. He turned to the others and introduced her with his selection. "Fellas, this here is Tug - the newest newsie."

It took every ounce of will-power she could muster to keep her nose from crinkling with disgust. Tug? Really? Was that the best he could come up with? But when the other boys hurried forward to clap her on the back and welcome her to the Manhattan newsies, she knew her fate had been sealed.