Scribbles

I don't own Newises, or any of the newsie characters. Only the ones who arent in the film.
David never really knew Scribbles. He'd met her, talked to her, heard her name mentioned a few times in passing "Remember the time Scribbles…" you name it, she did it apparently, but he never got to know her. He felt out of place in this room at this point of time, the guys were sat on the floor in the lodging house talking about her. All of them, apart from Race. He just sat numbly on the floor, not even chewing on a cigar, it was this fact alone that let David know how worried he was. A quiet Race was a bad sign, and everyone knew it. If he could just get him talking, maybe it would all turn out okay… right?

"Race?" Racetrack turned his head at the sound of his name. "Race, I was wondering if you could… if you could tell me a bit about Scribbles…?" Race seemed to consider this over in his head as he turned his head back to look at nothing in particular.

"How much you wanna know?"

"However much you can tell me. I feel pretty bad being here… when I don't really know anything about her." Dave watched as Race nodded his head a little, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Dave could feel the eyes of a dozen newsies look from him to Race, the older newsboys seemingly grateful for his actions.

"I guess… I guess I'll start at da beginning- well as far back as I know anyhow…"

1891 was one of the coldest winters I cen remember. I woulda been I think five years old and I didn't live here yet, I just sorta wandered around da streets beggin' for money. One time I picked da wrong person to beg and I got pushed down a bit too hard for my likin' by a real hoity toighty snooty little kid, about ten. So I, bein the great mind dat I was thought dat the best thing to do after bein pushed down would be to tackle da kid, you know, get 'im back a little. It woulda worked too, if he hadn't been twice my size and if his friend hadn't joined us. Dey got me pretty good, and left me sat next to da statue ova in front of da distribution centre. I didn't have a coat, and da ground was covered in snow up to my ankles at that point, and it was still snowin'- usually I could fend off da cold a little by keeping movin and stuff, but I just didn't feel like I could move at all- I thought for certain I was gonna die. Den dis goil turned up.

"Yous okay?" I jest looked at 'er as best I could. She was little, like me and she was holding a big pile of newspapers on her shoulder which she dropped to the floor wid a 'thump'. She bent her knees to look at me better. "I said 'yous okay?'" I tried to talk but it was like my throat exploded or somethin' and I started to see in grey. Afore I knew it, she was yellin to her friends to come over and I could feel myself bein lifted up into da air. Dats all I cen remember for a few days.

"So, the girl was Scribbles?" Dave asked, trying to make sure Race kept talking. He just nodded. Jack, hearing this crossed over to their side of the room.

"Yeah, I remember dat day. Dat was da day you turned up here." He put his arm around Race's shoulder, pulling him into a half-hug. "Boy you was so small- and dey got you real good, Kloppman thought you weren't gonna make it, dats how bad it was." Jack turned to Dave as he said this. "When Race said he was cold and didn't have a coat, what he shoulda said was dat he was in soakin wet clothes from bein in da snow, he didn't have a coat and da boys what soaked him flung his boots onto a roof." Dave couldn't keep the disgusted look from his face.

"You're kiddin'?" he asked in vain hope, but half the older boys in the room were shaking their heads at this.

"But if you think Race is little now, you shoulda seen him when he was younga!" Mush put in, earning him a slap on the head from Race. "Ow…"

"I was talking 'til people started to interrupt me." He gave the guys a pointed look before continuing.

So, yeah. I was pretty beat up, but when I woke up a couple days later I was here. I gotta admit I was kinda freaked out at da start- da foirt person I saw was Jack, and a 9 year old Jack foirst thing in da morning is not a welcome sight, lemme tell ya dat. Anyway, da goil what found me, Scribbles, come into da room and tells me where I was and said dat she would pay for my lodging 'til I earned some cash.

"Yous'll sell papes wit me for a bit okay?" I jest nodded I think. She was a real boyish goil I 'member thinking. She didn't try to act like one, she wasn't pretendin to be one like some a da newsie goils- I think she was jest more comfortable in da clothes, and fightin and stuff. We went all over da place, all ova 'hatten.

"Do you think you cen cry?" she ast me.

"Why would I wanna cry?" I thought it was a really stupid thing to ask.

"Think about it, use yer brain. You's covered head to foot in bruises, yeh?" I nodded. "And you's small and have a big limp." Again I nodded. "Use it! You do whatever it takes to sell da papes, cuz at da end of da day, what we don't sell we gotta eat." She started to make sense. After we went back for da afternoon edition we jumped onto a wagon and hitched a ride to Sheepshead.

"So it's all Scribbles fault then?" David grinned. "That you found something you love so much?" Race smiled.

"I guess." He seemed to realize he'd stopped talking and continued, "Anyways, stop interuptin me- you want da story or what? After a couple a years we was real close. Me an' her were sellin' partners…"

"But I thought you always sold alone…"

"Davy- we was seven. A seven year old sellin' alone is askin for trouble."

"Right, sorry."

As I was sayin, we was sellin partners- sold at Sheepshead usually. I tell you though she saved my behind far more times than I think she let on. If I accidentally said the wrong thing, or acted the wrong way- you gotta know how to deal wid drunken men losin their money, it cen be real dangerous. One of dese times was when we was, I think, ten. I bet a dime on a hoss, wid really bad odds- I guess I had a feelin', because I won. Bein stupid I screamed it about waving my ticket in da air. Needless to say I got surrounded by some men who'd lost; who wanted my ticket. So Scribbles paid one a da kids who cleaned up after hosses to … 'accidentally' fling manure at a coulpe of da guys, grabbed my hand and pulled me away wid her.

"Manure? That's disgusting!" The boys in the house laughed, just as the door opened and Kloppman entered along with the doctor.

"Boys, I have some bad news."

END OF CHAPTER- suggestions welcomed... even begged for! I had a vague idea about what I was gonna make happen, but I forgot what it was, so any suggestions are welcomed. (I promise to describe Scribbles in the next chapter.)