Side Note!
Just to remind you: All the newsies (save Davey) speak with a New York accent. Just keep that in mind.
And no, I don't own Newsies or anything. Just to make that clear.
Okay - on with the show! Or fanfic, in this case.
Chapter One: Oh, What A Fine Life
Cinnamon didn't want to get up.
"Oi Cinnamon! Time to rise an' shine an' hit the streets!" Specs kept nudging to the point where Cinnamon practically fell off the bed.
"Seriously Specs! You wanna get my arm busted?" the groggy 15 year-old grumbled. Cinnamon stood up, stumbled to the spare closet ("I need my privacy!" was Cinnamon's constant excuse) and had a good look in the mirror.
No one needs to know, Cinnamon thought. The newsie thought the same thing every day. It was practically a mantra by now.
Pulling on a button-down shirt, some trousers, and a vest, Cinnamon walked out of the closet and greeted some friends: Crutchie, Davy, Les, Race, and finally, Jack.
After taking a quick bite of toast (with a light dusting of cinnamon, of course), Cinnamon raced out of the Lodging House, now armed with some newspapers and ready to seize the day. Yet, a small, almost unnoticeable, pang of worry lay in the subconscious of this newsie's brain.
Let me explain. There's a secret that makes Cinnamon very, very different from all the other newsies in New York.
Cinnamon was a girl.
A few hours and ten papers after leaving the Lodge, Cinnamon sat on a bench, snacking on an apple she bought with a nickel she found at the bottom of her bag.
She was sky gazing, one of her favorite pastimes. At this moment, she was trying to figure out what the clouds looked like.
Cinnamon had just decided that one of the clouds looked like Wiesel's ugly profile when she heard a voice say, "Sky gazin' again, Cinnamon?"
She snapped out of her semi-daydream and realized Crutchie, a crippled newsie and her best friend ever, had snuck up on her (Crutchie was surprisingly sneaky for someone with a crutch) and plopped himself down on the bench.
You see, Crutchie was the only one who knew about Cinnamon's true identity: he had discovered it in July that year.
"Yep. Hey, lookit that one," she said to Crutchie, leaning over towards him and pointing out a cloud. "It looks just like Medda singing."
Crutchie looked in the direction of Cinnamon's finger and chuckled. "It really does," he agreed.
Cinnamon laughed along with him, then suddenly remembered something. Her face grew serious.
"Crutchie. Can I talk to you for a second?"
Crutchie nodded, then followed her into a nearby alley.
"Crutchie – I'm scared." She looked up at him and took a deep breath. "I'm scared they'll figure me out."
"I know," he said. "I know you're scared. But I won't let them figure you out."
"But it's been six years. I don't feel like this charade will hold up much longer."
"Like you said, it's been six years. You've been clever enough to pull it off for this long. You can keep it up a little while more."
Cinnamon nervously bit her lip. "I'm sorry for dumping this all on your shoulders all the ti-"
Crutchie cut her off. "No, Mona." Cinnamon blushed. Crutchie was the only one who could ever call her that. He's only ever called her that in private, and only since he found her out. "You need someone to talk to. I'm one hundred percent willing to be that person."
The girl newsie smiled, freckles dancing on her face, her hair blowing a little in the wind. She found herself tearing up a bit. Without warning, she leapt towards Crutchie and full on hugged him.
"You're a great friend, Crutchie."
Crutchie blushed bright red, even though Cinnamon couldn't see it.
Suddenly, they heard footsteps dangerously close to their alley. The footsteps were tip-tapping themselves into a repetitive rhythm: it was, without a doubt, Les.
Cinnamon quickly pulled away from Crutchie, and immediately felt his warmth slip away.
"Hey Cinnamon! You left your apple on the be-" As Les turned the corner and entered the alley, his eyes widened. "Hey Cinnamon! What'chyou do ta Crutchie? He's as red as a tomato."
That comment made Crutchie blush even more.
"That's none of your business, Les," mumbled Cinnamon, blushing as well. She grabbed Crutchie's arm and started to pull him out of the alley.
She didn't miss Les grabbing Crutchie's arm and whispering, "Whatever he did ta yous, it sure had an impact on ya."
She glared at Les, which made all color rush from his face. He scampered out of the alley, not looking up.
"Wow, you sure scared him," Crutchie chuckled.
"Yeah," Cinnamon said, smiling a little. "C'mon. Let's get out of here."
The two walked out of the alley and back into the daylight.