Disclaimer: I do not own the Newsies but I do own Sara and the Brooklyn Newsies (except Spot)

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I couldn't believe how hot it was getting today. My legs burned through my pants, and my brow was sweating even with the cover of my hat. The warm air that surrounded me reeked of salt water and fish.

I knew exactly where I was. Brooklyn.

Most people say Brooklyn is no place for a girl, but I am not just any girl. I am Sara Clarke, the most cunning girl in all of New York City.

But I am not staying here. I had just made my way out of Queens and was headed to Manhattan to find the only job that gives you work and a place to stay. Newsies.

I walked through the streets of Brooklyn keeping a low profile, my brown curly hair up in my hat and my face to the floor. Hiding my face was a priority if I wanted to pass as a boy in this city. People just didn't respect a lady in pants.

I had made my way over to the bridge, and was mesmerized by the beauty of the late sunrise. I kept walking until I hit the bridge. The streets of Manhattan were empty, save for a few business men headed to work.

The further I ventured into Manhattan, the more people I saw. Rich, poor, young and old. I still not spot one Newsie, not that I would exactly know what one looked like.

My stomach growled and I frowned as my hand rested on my waist. I hadn't eaten for at least two days.

I saw a bread vender in the distance, and put my hands in my pockets to feel for some coins. Nothing. Would it hurt that much if I took just one piece of bread, unpaid for?

I shrugged it off and continued to walk towards the cart of tempting breads. I leaned on the brick wall next to the cart nonchalantly, and kept a close eye on the vender. He didn't see me, because I was slightly behind him. He moved further away from me inside the cart, and that's when I decided to strike. I reached forward and grabbed a piece of French bread off the cart.

Just my luck, the man turned around just in time to see snatching the bread. He gave me an angry look. His portly face red. He pointed to me and screamed, "Thief! Thief!"

That's when I heard the whistles. Great, its da bulls. I shoved the bread in my pocket and ran through people, all of them much taller than me, which wasn't hard because I was only 5'3". I heard the whistles approaching me and I ran full force into a tall boy.

He looked at me with a bright smile; he had a red bandana and a cowboy. The other thing I noticed was the stack of papers he had in his hand. He reached his free hand down to help me up. "You'se bein' chased I see?" He asked. I simply nodded and looked frantically over my shoulder.

The whistle came closer, and I turned my head to the boy, "Please! Help me, I can't go to da refuge!"

He laughed and grabbed my arm, "I wasn' thinkin' a takin you dere. Newsies always help da street rats," he said as we weaved through the streets until we reached a building. The sign on the building read, 'Newsboys Lodging House,' I smiled feeling accomplished.

We headed inside, and the boy said to the old man at the desk, "Do us a fava Klopps, and don' tell anyone we'se up here," the old man nodded and the boy lead my up stairs.

He let go of my arm as we both rested our hands on our knees, panting for air. He looked up and extended his hand, "Jack, Jack Kelly. But people call me Cowboy. I'se the leadah of the 'Hattan newsies."

I looked up at him, extended my hand, I cleared my throat and in the deepest voice I could muster, I said, "Sam Clarke. I don' got a cool nickname like you'se."

The boy just laughed and said, "You knows, you don' really pass fer boy," he paused, "what's ya real name?"

I sighed, feeling slightly disheartened, "Sara Clarke, and since you'se is da leadah, I was hoping ya could help me out a bit," I said, he looked at me confused, "Look I'se need a job and a place to stay, can I join da newsies?"

He looked at me, and then frowned. "Dere ain't no such thing as a goil newsie. Not in all of New Yoik, dere ain't."

"Please! I'se gonna die if you don'! Please!" I said, looking at him with wide, pleading eyes.

"You can stay for da night. I don' have any extra bunks in me bunkhouse, so you can't stay fer long," I looked at him sadly, "but," he paused," tomorrow I'se'll you ta Brooklyn, see if Conlon wants ta take ya. Good luck wid that one."

I frowned to that, but shook cowboys hand, "Alright, sounds fair ta me."

That day Cowboy took me out selling. He taught me some ins and outs of selling papes. Like, "Bend da truth, but don' lie completely."

I sold fifteen papes that day, meanwhile Cowboy sold a hundred. He laughed at my failure, put his arm around my shoulders and told me he would pay for my lunch.

We reached a diner called, 'Tibby's' and Cowboy sat at a table with four other boys. He motioned for me to sit next to him, and he casually threw his arm behind me.

"Boys, dis is Sara, she is a newbie, and possibly Brooklyn's next victim," at that they laughed. Jack looked at the boys expectantly, then rolled his eyes, "Aren't ya gonna introduce yaselves? "

One boy extended his hand first, "Racetrack," he said in a thick, Italian accent.

The next boy grabbed my hand and kissed my knuckles, "Mush," he said, "A pleasure to meet ya," I rolled my eyes.

The other boy put his hand out, "David, but you can call my Davy," he smiled. His voice was normal, no accent, he sounded like he had gone to school. He pointed to the younger boy next to him and said, "This is my little brother. Les. Les, say hi."

The boy smiled brightly and said, "I'ts always a pleasure to meet a lady," he paused, "Are you going to ask how old I am?"

I chuckled, "How old are you?"

He smiled and finished chewing his food before saying, "Just turned eleven last week!" He exclaimed proudly.

We ordered our lunch, joked around and got to know each other. For the first time in my life, I think I made friends.

At the end of the day, we all mad our way back to the lodging house. We paid for the night, and headed up stairs.

Boys were getting in bunks, and I just stood there, unsure of what to do. Jack came up to me and said, "You'se can sleep in my bunk fa tonight. I'll sleep wid Snitch," he said pointing to a boy with curly, dark hair.

I nodded, "Where is dis bunk of yoah's?"

He pointed to one in the corner of the room, "Top bunk."

I nodded and thanked him as I made my way over to the bunk. It was right above Racetracks bed, and he was already fast asleep. I laid down and shut my eyes.

I thought about what would happen the next day. I was afraid. I had heard of the infamous leader of Brooklyn, Spot Conlon. He was mean, ruthless and arrogant. I frowned and decided that he and I would not be getting along throughout my stay there.

Oh well, I would just do my best to avoid him. Slowly my breath slowed down, and I was fast a sleep. I a room filled with about twenty five boys.

Tomorrow would be an adventure.

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