Will We Still Be Newsies?
Winter had invaded the streets of New York City like one of the seven plagues, bring with it below freezing temperatures that sent people flocking for the warmth of their homes. Not that there were many places for people to go anyway. The storm from the night before left the city covered in a thick white blanket of snow, making it nearly impossible for anyone to leave their homes. Winter left New York a barren land through most of the day, and at night only the homeless or the insane dared to venture out into the frigid winds of Jack Frost.
The Manhattan newsboys were not homeless or insane; they were just everyday boys who carried the banner to make a living. But tonight was no night to be out calling headlines, so the boys resorted to causing chaos in their bunkroom. Blankets were thrown haphazardly over the bunk beds, creating forts, while pillows soared through the air as mock bullets. All around the room newsboys were screaming and yelling, as they ran around the room like wild men. Dutchy and Specs dived behind one of the forts to avoid a well-aimed pillow thrown by Pie Eater. Swifty burst from beneath one of the bunks hitting Snotty in the chest, causing both boys to tumble to the grounds. On top of a bunk on the far end of the room, Snitch and Itey stood on top of one of the bunks, throwing pillows at the boys bellow.
With all the chaos, no one notice the absence of one of their own. They were too wrapped up their fantasies to notice Snipeshooter was not among them.
He sat outside on the fire escape, letting his legs dangled between the bars, as he rested his chin on his folded arms. The cold wind wailed, blowing trash around the deserted streets. But, Snipeshooter didn't seem to notice the cold, despite his thin clothes. If he did notice, he never indicated it bothered him. The young newsboy was too lost in his thoughts to even comprehend he was outside on the fire escape in the middle of a New York winter with little to no protection. Compared the cold feeling of sadness brewing inside of him, the New York winter was like a summer vacation in Hawaii.
He heard laughter from inside, and for a moment he turned to look through the window at the other boys. Snitch was lying at an odd angle on the floor, as if he had fallen from his bunk on the top. All around him the other boys were rolling in laughter, and Snitch could do nothing but join in. Snipeshooter growled, turning away angry at all the boys inside. How could they be so happy? How could they be laughing? Jack and Bumlets were gone, and soon Mush and Kid Blink would follow. One by one their family was breaking apart, never to reunite again.
From behind him, the window opened, and Racetrack stuck his head out, "Where's my cigar brat?"
"I didn't take it," Snipeshooter mumbled.
Racetrack didn't hear him.
"I asked you where my cigar was! I know youse took it!"
Snipeshooter turned around, "I didn't take it! Why do you always balme me?"
Racetrack was taken back by Snipeshooter's sudden outburst. While the two newsies rarely got along, they never yelled at each other. And Racetrack thought for a moment he saw tears in Snipeshooter's eyes.
"Okay kid, what's up? Why youse cryin' for?"
Snipeshooter, turned his head to the left, "I ain't cryin'! I just gots somethin' in my eye."
"And I'm a billionaire," Racetrack replied sarcastically.
He waited to hear Snipeshooter laugh, but the younger boy just remained as quite as he was before.
"Snipe's youse is like a younger brother to me. An annoying younger brother that I always wanna kill, but a brother."
Snipeshooter remained quiet.
"Can't youse just tell me what's going on?"
Snipeshooter still didn't talk, and after a minute of silence Race began to think Snipeshooter wasn't going to say anything. But just as the older newsie began to get up, Snipeshooter beagn to speak.
"Bumlet's and Jack are gone. And Kid Blink and Mush are gonna be leaving soon too," Snipeshooter beagn. "And everyone's actin all happy and all like it ain't a big deal that there gone."
"Snipe, newsies leave lodging homes all the time. The other guys are older and they's need to look for a real job."
"But selling newspapers is a real job."
Racetrack smiled. Sometimes he forgot how young Snipeshooter was. The kid acted walked and talked like the big boys, but deep down inside he was still young, and his response was filled with the innocence of childhood.
"Being a newsie is real job if youse is a kid like you and Tumbler is, but not when you're older like Jack, and Bumlets, and Kid, and-"
"And you," Snipeshooter said bitterly.
Racetrack didn't reply right away, because he knew Snipeshooter spoke the truth. Later that week, Racetrack was planning on revealing he too would be joining the ranks of former newsboys. How could he break it to the younger newsie that he too was looking for bigger and better opportunities that awaited all the boys when they left their newsieshood behind for the real world? He wasn't a little kid anymore, and while he was among the most successful sellers, he was barley scrapping by with his measly pay.
"No matter where we all goes or what were doin', we'll always be newsies, and we'll always be family. You don't just grow up and forget the people you knew when youse were a kid. And none of us are gonna forget being newsies. It's who we are. The Manhattan newsboys, the toughest bunch you'll ever meet. The boys that started the newsies strike that took down the evil Pulitzer."
For the first time that night Snipehooter smiled, and Racetrakc couldn't help but to smile back. Sure, the kid annoyed the hell out of him, but he was family.
"Come on kid, it's freezin' out here."
Racetrack got up, and began to make his way to the still open window. He only got a few steps before Snipeshooter's voice yelled out to him.
"Racetrack."
Race turned around, "What is it kid?"
"About your cigar earlier, I did take it."
"You dirty rotten thief!"
Sure, Snipeshooter was family, and Racetrack thought of him as a brother, but that fact didn't stop him from attempting to kill the younger newsboy.