"Papes! Getcha papes here! Fresh, hot, delicious pa—wait a minute."
A short and scrawny girl stood teetering on the top of a wooden crate, shouting out the advertisement of her goods to all the passerby that, well, passed her by. Much to her disappointment. Weren't they supposed to actually buy her papers when she asked them to?! She reached up to adjust her spectacles, and tried to fix her bag of papers. With a squeak, she stoppled off the crate and fell into the middle of the street. Within a few minutes, she was surrounded by a few other newsies. The girl shook her head, seeing stars as she slowly sat up.
"Is she dead?"
"No, stupid. She's movin'. Look."
"That's a girl!"
"No way! What'd you think she was, a potato?"
"I'm not a potato!" the girl squeaked, glaring up at the tall boys surrounding her. "I'm a little girl! A newsie."
"Newsies can't be girls!"
"Yeah!"
"Yeah!"
"Hold up!" Another girl pushed through the crowd, pulling the younger girl up by the hand. "What's your name, kid?"
The girl shook her head. She tried to say something, but all that came out was a squeak. The boys burst into laughter.
"She's squeaky!"
"That should be her name! Squeaky!"
"Squeaker! Haha!"
"HEY! Cut it out, all of you!" the older girl reprimanded them. She glanced down to the bespectacled girl. "Can you talk?"
The girl nodded yes.
"Will you talk?"
The girl nodded no.
The older girl sighed. "Alright. We'll call you Squeaker. Come with me to the girl's Lodgin' House, alright? Oh, I'm Pigeon Follow me." She took another glare around at all the other newsies. "Shame on you! Girls can be newsies. Our Lodgin' House is just down the street from all you!"