Bryan Denton blinked back tears as he walked down Fifth Avenue, his attire drawing crude comments and stares. They're just jealous . . . He told himself. After all, not everyone can pull off bow-ties and tweed like you can. He passed a stout grocer who gazed up at him with a smirk on his face. Whadda you lookin' at, tubby? He turned the corner and began walking faster. Almost there, almost there: you can make it, Bryan! He spied the group of ragged boys and smiled, slowing his pace. "Alright, made it . . . "
He spotted a tall, attractive young boy with curly brown hair and quickly slicked his own hair back. He joined the group and listened to the speech being made. After a few minutes, the boys began to disperse. He followed the leader with his eyes until he was inside the building. Safe, time to move in. Maybe if I get on the inside I can get a better story. He considered a few of his best pick-up lines, then settled on deciding when he found out the young boy's name. Nervous, he approached him and cleared his throat.
"Hey, what's this strike? What's going on?" He flashed the kid – what he thought to be – a charming smile.
The boy was obviously distracted. "We're bringing our demands to Pulitzer." brbr
Bryan looked the boy up and down and tried again to let him open up. "What demands?" He smiled again, showing off his white reporter's teeth.
The boy sighed and rolled his eyes, as if the answer was obvious. "The newsies' demands." He paused and looked Denton in the eye. "We're on strike." The boy quickly broke the gaze, a weird feeling coming over him.
Bryan tossed his head and began his usual introduction. "I'm with the New York Sun, Bryan Denton." He extended a strong hand.
The youth hesitated, almost as if he expected Denton to spit in it before shaking.
I won't bite . . . yet. Denton thought, his smile growing larger.
The young boy shook his hand quickly.
Denton put his hands on his hips. "You seem like the kid in charge."
Davey resisted the urge to laugh out loud.
Why did I say that? He's not in charge! That other kid is! Oh, why do I even bother? Bryan's smile faltered. Move on Bryan, it's okay, just a little slip of the tongue. A simple flub. An error. "What's your name?" He asked hastily, suddenly remembering his plan.
Smiling now that he felt more comfortable with the mistake hanging in the air, the boy squinted against the sun. "David."
Denton grinned toothily. Bingo . . . "David." He said, letting the name roll off his tongue. "David as in . . . David and Goliath?"
Davey blushed crimson and giggled, turning his face away.
Enough with the formalities . . . He took out his pad of paper and removed the pencil from behind his ear. "Do you really think old man Pulitzer's going to listen to your demands?"
David's blush faded as he came out of the clouds and returned to earth and the matter at hand. He dropped his smile. "He has to."
This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship . . .