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My muse, which so far seems to be David, keeps popping up randomly while I try to write, and has been eating at me to write this story, so this is the product of it. And Shakespeare, if this makes you roll over in your grave, I believe I've done my job.
Disclaimer: I do not own or pretend to own Newsies or any characters from that movie. Disney has all rights to both. William Shakespeare owns A Midsummer Night's Dream, and I definitely don't own or pretend to own that. Shakespeare also owns Hamlet, As You Like It, and any other quotes from his various plays.
The Play's the Thing
Chapter 1: A Midsummer Night's Dream
All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players…
It was about a month after the infamous newsboy strike of 1899, not that I was around for it or anything, when I watched as those same boys- the newsies- spent their evening down at Irving Hall. I couldn't help but smirk at the boys as they gawked and stared at Medda. Sure, she was beautiful, but these guys were just a little too interested in the performer.
But what do I know? I only worked at the Vaudeville Theater, doing simple things like cleaning, mainly after Medda's act. She showed sympathy to me when I met her, and let me have a job at the Hall. It was at these shows that I met the newsies; those boys were favorites of hers. They were the ones who I knew Medda let sneak in through the side doors.
So now as I glanced over at the silly grin on Jack's face and the matching one on David's and Mush's, I have to laugh about how excited they were to watch a woman old enough to be their mother prance around stage in a blindingly pink dress. It's quite humorous, I must say.
But this story is not about that time. No, it's about the following time the boys came down to watch one of Medda's performances. On this occasion, the group was comprised of the boys I already mentioned: Jack, David, Mush and a few other newsies I didn't know. I found myself disappointed that Racetrack wasn't with them. He had a great sense of humor and we got along well the few times we had talked.
Jack had led them through the back entrance as his pal, David followed. Dave acted as if he knew everything about this place since he had already met Medda. Remembering what they had told me about when they first met her, I reminded him that according to Jack's stories it was Les that impressed her. I loved teasing David. I actually thought he was smart and leaning on the cute side, but so fun to taunt. Jack laughed at his embarrassed friend and I started to leave to go do my job. I knew I wasn't supposed to be talking to them, but how could I resist?
Hearing Medda come down the stairs, Jack turned to greet her. After Jack had kissed her hand, Medda turned to me and reminded me what I knew: I wasn't there to talk a group of boys. I lowered my gaze as I tried to hide my face, red with embarrassment, instead turning my attention to the old mop I had reached for. I guess I'm really bad at following directions, because I found myself letting my head, still hanging low, swivel a bit towards the group to watch the boys make spectacles of themselves. They made a few comments as Medda, clearly in a rush, thanked the boys for coming and hurried back to her dressing room. While I watched them file into the theater, I saw their faces again fill with excitement.
The show went well, as far as I could tell. As much entertainment as I got out of thinking how odd the newsies acted around her, I did enjoy watching her perform on stage. After the show, Medda returned to the hall by her dressing room, as did Jack, David, and Mush. Stopping to talk to them, Medda said she had an idea to run past Jack and pulled him aside. I couldn't help but be incredibly interested, so I glanced at David's face to see if it gave way to any information. Suddenly, I heard Jack exclaim something about a 'great idea', and that he'd ask the others what they think.
When he turned to David and Mush, the words tumbled out of his mouth "How would you boys like to be in a play?"
My face looked identical to Mush's shocked expression. It was David who was able to reply: "What, us? Like acting, in front of an audience? Like what Medda does?"
It took all of my willpower not to burst out laughing. Dave's going to be a showgirl!
Planted on Medda's face was a huge grin as she explained, "I thought it would be fun for you, since you boys have time after selling your papers. I was thinking something classic, like Shakespeare. If you boys are interested, I will see if it can be arranged."
"Oh, we're interested," Mush said excitedly.
The amusement was gone just then—I could not believe they were all serious. I thought it was all a joke: Medda, asking street rats to perform? I mean, it's not that bad of an idea, but what about how dirty they are in the theater I had to clean?
All my concerns vanished when Medda turned to me. "Christine, there are a few female roles, and I think it would be appropriate to let you participate." Pausing to think, she continued, "We should do A Midsummer Night's Dream, so we'll need at least three more girls."
Was it just me, or did she just mention in front of a bunch of boys that we needed three more girls? I did not even want to see the whores they'll bring in. Any respectable woman would not be allowed to do anything like this without daddy dearest holding their hand. Damn. That means I'm not a respectable woman. Hardly news to me anyway, I spent my time in a skirt and blouse resembling a rag and mop up after a bunch of hoity-toity theater goers. Well, at least it gave me the pennies it took to grab a bed at the girls' lodging house. Sometimes even dinner. A few seconds later, I realized that she was implying that I find the other girls. Okay, so maybe I'm a little slow on the uptake sometimes, too.
"Uh, Medda? I think I know a few girls who might be willing."
Had I really just said that? I just volunteered my friends to memorize a ton of lines that some dead guy wrote, all for a woman who wore clothes meant for a woman half her age. They were going to kill me.
I'll admit, I was excited, none the less, so I guessed it could be okay. I liked the newsies; in all reality we're all kind of on the same level: poor, orphaned, kids just trying to get by with some dignity in New York at the turn of the 20th century. The part about dignity was the reason why a couple of my friends and I weren't prostitutes and showgirls. Instead, we hawked anything a teenage girl could hawk besides herself on a Manhattan street. I suppose if I did want to have that lifestyle, I might have been able to, but my face betrayed me with the way its features had developed to be harsh due to my street status. I wouldn't call myself tough; any of the newsies would probably be able to beat me to a pulp, but not without getting a bloody nose or black eye of their own. That'd only be if I ever was actually involved in a fight, so never. I'm still a woman after all.
But the point was my mouth had put me in a situation in which I needed to go find three girls to help with Medda's 'project'. I'm glad that David already has the title of "Walkin' Mouth", or I might be considered for the name.
It took me a second before I realized that I had led the conversation to a dead lull and that Medda had left. I told you, I was slow, sometimes. I liked to justify it as getting lost in my thoughts. Jack whispered something pleadingly to David, who didn't look happy. Jack, however, wore his trademark smirk and I knew that whatever it was that he was saying, he was going to get it. I was right. When Jack was done whispering, David nodded his head and turned to me.
"Christine? I think my sister, Sarah, would be able to do one of the girl's roles," he said in a tone that told all of us that it wasn't he who thought that.
Sarah? The one girl who Jack would take his eyes off Medda for? This couldn't be good; this was going to get complicated. I knew it. But it was one less girl for me to find. And one less friend I had to force to do this with me.
I just smiled and agreed.
And thus, it begins.
Thanks to all my amazing beta readers for their fabulous work!
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