Author's Note: Okay, so maybe I went a little overboard with this whole thing about Dutchy and his hat. I don't know. But seriously, he touches it and takes it off and whatnot all the time: in Carrying the Banner, Seize the Day - plus Ivan does it during his appearance in Blood Drips. So I decided there had to be a story here.
Disclaimer: Newsies is not mine, unfortunately.
Most people assumed Dutchy's most prized possession was his glasses. They were certainly important to him since they improved his vision. But he'd worn them for so long that it was like they'd become another part of his body - a permanent fixture on his face. At this point, he barely noticed that they were there.
No, truthfully, the object which Dutchy valued the most was his hat. It wasn't a fancy top hat like Specs' or a cowboy hat like Jack's, but it was special to him nevertheless. His older brother had given it to him a long time ago, back when he still lived with his family. He had been so small then that it covered his eyes when he wore it. Now that he'd grown, the hat fit him perfectly.
As stupid as it might sound, the hat had become kind of a form of expression for Dutchy. When he was excited, he took it off and waved it; when he was angry, he yanked it off more forcefully and clutched it in his fist. Even when it was on his head or tucked safely in his pocket, he liked to touch it and adjust it to be sure that it was in place and secure.
Thus, it came as a small shock to Dutchy when he reached up to touch his hat near the end of his afternoon selling and was met with only thin blond hair. He frowned for a moment. He had been almost certain his hat was on his head... He must have put it in his pocket.
But it wasn't there either.
Dutchy looked around himself in a panic. His hat was nowhere to be seen. How could this have happened, when he normally took such good care of the hat? He had to find it as soon as possible.
To his relief, he then caught sight of Snitch, who must've finished his selling a little early. The other boy whistled as he meandered empty-handed down the street.
"Snitch!" Dutchy called as he ran over to his fellow newsie. He abruptly thrust his remaining newspapers toward the unsuspecting Snitch.
"Sell the rest of my papes for me, will ya?" he said. "I don't care if ya keep the money, just take them from me."
Snitch stared at Dutchy in confusion as he held out his hands for the papers. "Uh, sure, but why?"
"My hat is missing. I have to find it," Dutchy explained urgently.
"Can't you get a new hat?"
"I guess, but this one was special. My brother gave it to me when I was a kid."
Snitch's expression softened. He knew that the chances of finding Dutchy's hat were slim to none. But, like many of the newsies who lived in the lodging house, he also knew that reminders of home and family were often cherished items.
"Oh," he said quietly. He glanced down at the small stack of newspapers. "Tell ya what, Dutch," he said. "How 'bout we sell these papes together, and then I'll help ya look for your hat."
"Really?" Dutchy said, his face brightening. Snitch nodded. "That would be great. Thanks."
Between the two of them, Dutchy and Snitch were able to sell the remaining papers within a matter of minutes. Still, Dutchy couldn't help feeling lost without his hat. He kept reaching for it before remembering that it was gone. Eventually he resorted to playing with his suspenders while simultaneously kicking himself mentally. Perhaps he'd started to take his hat for granted and had become a little careless.
"All right, you ready to go?" Snitch asked Dutchy once he'd sold off the last paper. Dutchy nodded eagerly.
"Okay," Snitch said. "I think the best thing to do would be to retrace your steps. When's the last time you remember having your hat?"
"Not too long ago. Maybe ten or fifteen minutes before I saw you. Bumlets and I decided to take a break from selling and get drinks at Tibby's," Dutchy said.
"That's a good place to start," Snitch said. "Let's go there first."
The two boys made their way through the crowded New York City streets until they reached the newsies' favorite restaurant, Tibby's. A few people were inside eating supper, but most of the restaurant was empty.
"Do you remember where you were sitting?" Snitch asked.
"It was one of the tables by the window," Dutchy recalled. He pointed to one table in particular. "I'm pretty sure it was that one."
However, a quick scan of the table and the surrounding area turned up nothing. Dutchy slumped against the wall dejectedly. "It's no use," he sighed.
"Hey, don't give up yet," Snitch said encouragingly. "We should go talk to Bumlets. Maybe he has it."
On their way back to the lodging house, Dutchy and Snitch scoured the streets and alleyways, hoping against reason that the hat would turn up, but to no avail. Snitch bit his lip as he glanced over at Dutchy, who was growing more and more agitated. He wished there was more that he could do.
By the time they returned, it was dark, so many of the newsies had gathered in the bunkhouse. Dutchy quickly spotted Bumlets observing an impromptu game of poker (no doubt initiated by Racetrack) and hurried over to him.
"Heya, Dutch," Bumlets said with a smile as Dutchy sat down. "How ya doin'?"
"Not too good," Dutchy replied. "Listen, my hat went missing this afternoon and I was wonderin' if maybe you saw it when we were leaving Tibby's. I could've dropped it or somethin'."
Bumlets' face fell. "No, I didn't. I'm sorry."
"It's okay," Dutchy said. "Thanks anyway."
He got up and went back over to Snitch, who was sitting on the edge of his bunk. His friend looked at him hopefully, but he merely shook his head before collapsing on the mattress next to Snitch. He buried his head in his hands. "It's gone," he said in a slightly muffled voice.
"I'm so sorry, Dutch. I feel terrible," Snitch said.
"It's not your fault. Thanks for all your help."
Snitch didn't respond for a few seconds, but then Dutchy felt an object fall lightly into his lap. He raised his head and realized that it was Snitch's hat.
"What – what's this for?" he asked.
"Well, it's not the same as your brother's hat, but I know you like having a hat. So I thought if you can't have a hat from your family, a hat from a friend might be the next best thing," Snitch said.
"I can't take this!" Dutchy exclaimed.
"It doesn't mean as much to me as yours did to you," Snitch said with a shrug. "I'll just get a new one."
Dutchy was astonished. "I don't know what to say. Thank you."
"Don't mention it," Snitch said.
Dutchy gave Snitch a small smile, and Snitch returned it. Suddenly, Dutchy felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Snipeshooter and Boots standing behind him. And in Snipeshooter's hand was…
"My hat!" Dutchy cried joyfully. "Where did you find it?"
"We didn't find it, exactly," Boots said. "A man came out of Tibby's right after you left to try to give it to you, but you were already gone. Luckily we figured out what he wanted and we said we could take it for you."
Snipeshooter handed the hat to Dutchy, who thanked him and Boots profusely. The two younger boys grinned before scampering off to whatever mischief they were going to get up to next. Dutchy then turned back to Snitch and held out Snitch's hat.
"Guess I won't be needing this anymore," he said. "But it was real nice of ya to offer it to me. I owe ya one."
"Just take better care of your stuff from now on, all right?" Snitch said. "Next time ya might not be so lucky."
"Believe me, I will," Dutchy said sincerely. Snitch laughed and gave Dutchy a light shove.
"Goodnight, Dutch."
"Night, Snitch."
And Dutchy made sure to never lose his hat again.