It was cold.

Sure, Jack Kelly knew what cold was. He'd lived in New York his whole life.

This year was different.

This year he didn't have a home. He had watched the life leave his mother's eyes and his father disappear into the back of a cop car. He watched people take his house from him and throw him into one much worse than the one-room he had grown up in.

This year he was left on his own on the streets after he left that terror of an orphanage, the very streets he now wandered in search of a warm corner to sleep in.

The sun was setting just over the brick buildings. The cold would only get worse, and the seven-year-old had only a thin sweater covering his slight frame. The shivering had been happening nonstop since the clouds first rolled in, and Jack was afraid of what would happen if they didn't stop. '

Jack rounded a corner on a street that he was unfamiliar with. Hopefully, it held a dumpster that could shield him from the wind. Just up ahead he saw a crowd of boys gathered in a cluster, whooping and hollering at something between them. Jack tentatively moved closer, his intrigue getting the better of him. These boys were much older than him, almost sixteen or seventeen. The conversation grew clearer as Jack advanced.

"They gave us all this just for helping them shovel the square! This will keep us warm for weeks," A lanky blond announced proudly, gesturing with his long arms.

The boys moved back and forth as they talked to each other, giving Jack short glimpses of a large pile of wood. He could image a large fireplace with a fire burning so brightly it blinded him. It warmed him to the core, and his hands reached out to tou-

"Hey kid!"

Jack's thoughts shot back into reality. He took a hesitant step back. Every time someone had called him like that, it wasn't for anything good.

One boy stood in front of him, his hands raised in a welcoming gesture. He reminded Jack of his father, an easygoing exterior but a hardness in his eyes. The boy grinned playfully. "You ain't got nothing to be scared about. What's your name, kid?"

"I'm Jack," Jack whispered softly, wrapping his arms around him, "Jack Kelly."

"Hello, Jack." The boy stretched his hand out towards Jack, and he shook it carefully. It was something that grown-ups did, not little kids like him.

"My name is Carter. We're looking for some help loading this wood into our building. Do you think you can help us? You look awfully strong."

Jack puffed up his chest and nodded. Of course, he could help. He was Cowboy Jack Kelly.

The others welcomed Jack into the circle while Carter gave out instructions for a line to haul the wood. After lining down the block to a worn-down brownstone, the boys began to toss the pieces of wood to each other. Jack stood right at the front, helping a boy named Willie pick up the blocks to go down the line. The wind started to blow towards the end of the pile, and Carter rushed everyone inside the brownstone after the wood had been stacked.

Jack stood amazed in the doorway of the building, staring around him in wonder. The place was run down, even much worse than what he had grown up in, but somehow these boys had made it cozy and homey. A blazing fireplace was just off to his right, and Jack hurried over to it to warm up. The others were doing the same, chatting about splinters and dropped logs on toes.

Carter came around to Jack's side, holding his hands out towards the flames. "So Jack, tell me where your parents are tonight."

"They died last year."

The conversations died out.

Carter stared at the fire with a pondering expression. "So where have you been living since then?"

"Well they first put me in some house, but it wasn't really a house. It felt like school or something because it had so many rules."

Willie laughed from his seat he had taken on the floor. "Do you want to stay here, Jack?"

Jack took a step back in surprise after Willie's offer. Someone wanted him to stay? He would never be cold again or hungry or-

"You would have to work though. This ain't no free gift," Carter told him sternly.

Jack frowned. "Work? Lugging more wood in here?"

Carter shook his head with a smirk. "Nah, selling newspapers. We're newsboys of the Manhattan branch, and this here is our lodgehouse. We only get to stay here if we work for the paper companies. Ours is The World under Joseph Pulitzer," he furthered explained.

Jack recognized that name. The guy was big news in New York. Even young Jack had heard of Joseph Pulitzer.

"What do you say, kid?" Carter asked, patting Jack's tiny shoulder.

"All I gotta do is sell papes, and that's it?"

"It ain't as easy as you think it is," Willie replied with a yawn.

"But I could do it?"

"That's up to you, Jack," Carter remarked, "Are you a newsboy now?"

"If you guys will have me."

The boys laughed, and Carter threw an arm around Jack and gave him a squeeze.

"Of course we will have ya, kid. The more the merrier!"

"So it's only the five of you guys? You must have to sell a lot of papers."

Carter grinned. "There's a whole bunch more than just us. HEY BOYS!"

There was a quiet rumble which turned into a roar as a hundred newsboys flooded down the nearby staircase. Jack looked around him in amazement as they all stared at the new addition.

"Who's the pipsqueak?" Someone called across the room.

"This is Jack, and he's decided to join the Manhattan newsboys!"

The room erupted in cheers, and Jack was engulfed in hugs. He couldn't help but to cry.

He finally had a home.