Some of you may have read my other Newsie story… I am leaving that one up for now, but I will probably take it down sometime soon. Anyway, it didn't get me where I wanted it to so… Welcome to The Truth and Nothing But the Truth: Take Two. J I really appreciate reviews. They are very motivational. I hate to beg, but please let me know what you think of my story so I can adjust it or fix things. Thanks to those of you who have reviewed my story already! It gives me motivation to update sooner!

Disclaimer: Grace is mine. I love the name and I have a plan for it so I am recycling it from my old one.

Chapter: One

As I walked toward the theatre, three boys shoved past me, throwing me off balance and sending me sprawling to the dusty ground. Unfortunately, I landed directly on my dignity, putting a good-sized dent in it. The fall hadn't injured me, but it had startled me. Up until this point, the walk to the theatre had been calm and uneventful despite the busy streets cramped with people and horses.

The tallest boy who had bowled me over skidded to a stop, jogging back toward me. Strands of his long brown hair hung over his dark brown eyes. The other two stopped as well, glancing back over their shoulders to see where they had lost their companion.

"Jack, we don't have time!" called the older boy, grasping his younger brother's hand. They had to be brothers. They looked too similar not to be. In fact, the only real difference between them was that one had curly hair and the other had straight hair, but both were colored the same with similar features. The older one wore a blue striped shirt with a brown vest over it. What were they doing with this boy walking toward me? He obviously wasn't related to them. By blood at least… And what had possessed the trio to sprint through a busy New York street? Were they running from the police? They must be if they willingly risked getting trampled by a horse on these dangerous New York streets.

So the one coming toward me was named Jack… I eyed him warily. "One minute!" he called over his shoulder. He held out his hand to me. "Are you okay?" he asked. I accepted his hand, but waited until I was on my feet to shoot him a glare and tell him exactly what I thought of him running through the streets like that.

"You know, you should really watch where you're going," I said accusingly. I straightened up, pushing my shoulders back in an attempt to look intimidating which was impossible, given the fact that he towered over me. My head didn't even reach past his shoulder! If I stared straight ahead at him without tilting my head back, I would be talking to the small buttons on his shirt.

"I'm sorry," he offered, His apology was not quite sincere. There was a hint of laughter in his voice.

"No you aren't, Jack," I said briskly before brushing the dust from my fall off my skirt. I whipped around to continue on my way.

"Yes I am."

Was the dear boy daft? Hadn't I just dismissed him? I turned around to face him which I regretted for once I saw the smirk on his face I wanted to march right up to him and smack it off his face. But that wouldn't be ladylike.

"I'm still not convinced." Once again I resumed walking toward the theatre. A good reporter must be punctual. I wasn't, however, expecting him to follow me.

"Where are you going?" he asked casually as he fell into step beside me.

I rolled my eyes and sighed. "What can I do to make you go away?"

"Tell me your name and let me buy you lunch at Tibby's tomorrow." There was a hopeful gleam in his eyes.

I glanced up at him to see if he was serious. "Grace and no thank you."

The boy with dark curly brown hair jogged to catch up with us. His little brother ran alongside him. He took one look at Jack's face and burst out laughing. "Ha! It looks like the great Jack Kelly just got rejected!"

Jack gave Davey a playful shove on the shoulder. "Shut up Davey." Jack turned his attention back to me. "Then I guess I'll just have to keep walking with you."

I made a mental note that the boy with the curly brown hair was named Davey. Hm. Odd name.

"Fine. You can buy me lunch at Tibby's. Now will you go away?"

"Actually, I was headed this way, too. You goin' to the theatre?"

"No," I blurted before letting my shoulders sag. I hated to lie. "Yes. I'm working."

"Are you a show girl?"

I gasped. How dare he?! "No. Why on earth would you think such a thing? I would appreciate it if you three would leave me alone." Though very unladylike, I lifted the hem of my skirt and trotted to the door of the theatre. Once inside, I purchased a ticket and made my way to a seat.

After a few minutes the lights dimmed and the eager audience became silent. For a second I allowed myself to imagine what it would be like to be on stage having everyone wait in anticipation for catching a glimpse of me. I sighed, preparing a fresh page in my notebook. No one ever wanted to see me. I was chopped liver, an outcast. I was also different. No woman had ever dared to attempt a man's job before which I suppose was why I kept getting these mundane, unimportant assignments, but the editor at The Sun couldn't deny that I wrote well. Hopefully someday I would achieve my dream of getting an actual story published in the paper under my real name.

My heart pounded with excitement as the curtain lifted, pulling me from my thoughts. The show was just beginning when three silhouettes entered my row and sat down beside me. I recognized them as Jack, Davey, and the little boy whose name I had yet to learn. I glared at them in agitation as they sat down beside me. Jack rested his arm on the back of my seat. If the other seats next to me weren't taken and if the show hadn't already begun, I would have moved away from the trio. I shifted in discomfort.

"Please go away." When he didn't respond, I pinched his sleeve in an attempt to pull his arm from behind me, but he didn't feel like cooperating so I elbowed him lightly in the side. In response, he rested his other hand on my elbow, pinning it to the arm rest so I couldn't jab him again. I let loose a sigh of frustration. "Don't you have somewhere else to be?"

"Shh. The show is starting."

"You're an impossible boy." Hesitantly, I rested my back against the seat and tried to focus on Medda Larkson singing on stage instead of the tall, lanky boy sitting beside me. It turned out to be quite a challenge. He kept glancing at me occasionally. I kept glaring up at him. Occasionally I would scribble something down in my notebook. Of course he would look over to see what I was doing. My mother would have croaked if she had seen the way he, a street rat, was leaning against me, but I couldn't just leave. Times were hard and I was saving up for a new camera. I mean, I had a large, very sizeable sum saved up for emergencies, but I never liked dipping into that money. I preferred to use the money I got from doing random jobs to spend on luxurious commodities such as restaurants or hair ribbons. The rest I kept sandwiched between my mattress and bed frame waiting for something important to spend it on like college if I so pleased.

When the show finally ended and the big, billowy red felt curtain pulled to a close, the lights rose. Ladies and their gentleman began making their way toward the exits babbling about the show. I continued to write in my notebook, trying to block out the three boys periodically glancing at me. Why weren't they leaving? I continued to pretend that I was oblivious to their presence until I ran out of notes to write. I abruptly stood and exited to the right, the opposite of the seats they were occupying. They followed.

"So, you like that?" Jack asked Davey as they lazily followed my out of the theatre. "Medda's a good friend of mine," he boasted. I come to see her all the time."

"It was great. She's beautiful. How do you know her?"

"She was a friend of my father's." Jack vaulted up onto a shoe shining stand. "Come on, Les, shine my shoes," he said jokingly.

Davey glanced up at the darkened sky. "Oh, it's getting late. My parents are going to be worried. What about yours?"

Jack climbed down and resumed following me. "Nah. They're out west looking for a place to live. Like this." I glanced over my shoulder to see him remove a worn brochure from his pocket. A proud cowboy sat on a stunning palomino. A beautiful yellow and orange sunset provided adequate background for the two. "See that? That's Santa Fe, New Mexico." He tapped the cover for emphasis. "As soon as they find the right ranch, they're gonna send for me."

Working in the news business, or at least trying to, I knew that whatever graced the cover of an official looking document wasn't always true. Nothing written was guaranteed true either. What if his dream wasn't all he expected it to be? So far I wasn't getting anywhere with mine. How could he? Especially in this world. This dog-eat-dog world.

Little Les looked up at Jack with big dreamy eyes. Then you'll be a real cowboy," the adorable boy remarked.

Jack smiled. "Yep." His attention turned to me. "So, Grace, what were you writing down in there?" Jack questioned, gesturing toward the theatre.

"Notes."

"Why?"

"Because I write reviews. I'm trying to become a reporter," I answered honestly, knowing that he was going to laugh at me as soon as the words were out. "But in order to do that, I have to work my way up." This happened all the time. People asked what I was doing taking noted on everything. I gave them an honest answer and then they laughed. Some even told me to get back to the kitchen. That was my cue to walk away.

Right on cue Jack burst into laughter, slapping Davey on the shoulder. "You hear that, Davey? This girl thinks she's gonna be a reporter." Davey didn't know what to think.

I stopped walking to glare at him. "Laugh all you want, Jack, but someday when one of my articles makes the front page, it's going to be me who is going to be laughing at you. Now, if you will excuse me, I will be going and I would really appreciate it if you wouldn't follow me home." Ignorant Jack had just crossed a line and my temper was growing thin.

I glanced over my shoulder to see them following me. Without thinking, I rounded a corner hoping I could ditch them. Several loud bangs echoed throughout the city. Men began yelling. I flipped open my journal, walking toward the scene. In my eagerness to remove pencil from behind my ear, I dropped it and it rolled into the street. I had just reached down to grab it when something seized my shoulder, yanking me backwards just as a team of draft horses passed in front of me. I could have been run over!

"What were you thinking? You could have gotten yourself killed!" Jack was fuming. But why? It would have been my fault if I had gotten myself run over. Besides, he had just met me today.

"Thank you for saving my life, but I thought I told you not to follow me!" I had to yell to be heard over the noise.

Jack marched into the street after my pencil. When he returned he thrust it into my hand and pulled me back even farther from the street.

"I heard the bells and rushed over here to protect you. I think I deserve a sincere thank you for saving your life and an apology."

The enormity of what had almost happened finally came crashing down on me. My temper was replaced with shock. "You're right. I'm sorry. Thank you for saving me," I said hoarsely.

"You're welcome," he snapped. "Now let's get outta here." Jack attempted to tow me away from the chaos unfolding, but I refused to move.

Down the street fire raged. Smoke lazily swirled into the air only to disappear into the dark night sky. Men fought, yelling at each other. Policemen whacked disobedient men with their batons. Glass shattered. It was pure chaos. My stomach churned. I scribbled everything down onto my notebook. The newspaper couldn't reject an article like the one I was going to write with this news. New York couldn't reject this kind of information, act like the trolley workers didn't exist. This could be my big break!

"What's happening?" I asked.

"It's the trolley strike. You know, it's been in the news for weeks." He gestured to the brawl. "These couple of dumba- dummies," he amended, glancing my way, "must not have joined or somethin'." He clapped Davey on the back. "We're going to have a good headline tomorrow, Davey."

I stared at the violent scene before me. One heavy-set man in a navy police uniform with shiny silver buttons reflecting the fire raised his baton over a trolley worker's head, but the man grabbed his arm to prevent the officer from striking him. Jack stepped in front of me to block my view.

"Jack! Let's go to my place and divi up! You can meet my folks!" David yelled over the noise. His expression suggested that he didn't want to stick around and watch this unfold especially with a little brother to watch over. Where was he, anyway?

"Alright! Let's go!" Jack suddenly smiled at something that had caught his eye. I turned around and followed his gaze to find Les asleep on some burlap bags sitting outside a store. "Look at this, Dave! He slept the whole way through it!" Jack picked up Les threw him over his shoulder. Les still held on to his treasured wooden sword, but his grip was loose. Afraid he would drop it on the way home, I gently pried it out of his hand and handed it to Davey.

"It wouldn't be good it he dropped this," I said as I placed the sword in his hands. Little kids had a way of becoming attached to certain toys. If he woke to find this gone, I was certain he would pitch a fit.

Davey smiled graciously. "Thanks."

Davey kept up a steady stream of chatter until we reached his house. "Well, this is where I say goodbye. It was nice meeting you boys."

"Will I see you around?" Jack asked.

I giggled. That was one of the first times anyone had ever seemed sincerely concerned about the possibility of not seeing me again. "Not unless you run into me. Again."

"I hope I do," he replied earnestly.

Davey laughed when I giggled. "Wow, Jack. You do have a way with the ladies." That comment earned Davey a glare from his buddy.

I waved. "Goodbye!" I called out as I turned to cross the street. Out of the corner of my eyes I saw Jack hand Les to Davey and start jogging toward me. Footsteps echoed through the alley. Suddenly he was at my side.

"At least let me walk you home."

"No thanks. I think I can make it."

He laughed. "Sure. Just like you almost made it across that street."

I sighed. "I really can make it home by myself. I don't live far from here. Thanks again for saving me"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Positive. Thanks for your concern, but this is the turn of the century. Women are gaining more and more independence."

He stifled a laugh. "Hey, don't forget about Tibby's tomorrow!" he called after me.

I glared at him before crossing the street hoping I would never be forced to lay eyes on that filthy street rat ever again. There was no way I was going to willingly meet him at Tibby's.