::: Lysaka walks out::: Well I know you're all going to kill me now. I started a new fic when I could be working on 'The Left Shoe Show' But don't worry, I got this idea for a Christmas fic and typed it out in 3 days. So this fic is done, just needs to be posted.

Dedications: I'd like to dedicate this story to a certain Jillary, she has always been there, telling me my stories are good and feeding my ego, I'm gunna miss you these next couple weeks, this fic is for you.

And without further ado, here's the first chapter of Skittery's Christmas Story

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The lodging house was decorated in Christmas decorations. The newsies were all excited about the upcoming Christmas, Kloppmen even got a tree for the newsies to decorate. The weather was cold, but no snow had come. It was already December 18th. One week until Christmas. The younger newsies were filled with excitement, the Christmas spirit seemed to be in everyone…except for one.

Skittery hawked the headlines, and collected another penny. He loved and hated this time of year. He loved it because everyone was willing to donate an extra 5 cents to the poor newsie, which left him and the other newsboys with extra change. He hated the snow, it froze his feet along with his heart, and he also hated the cheer all the newsies had. It made them more unbearable then they already were.

Skittery sighed before he opened the lodging house door. Knowing he'd have to deal with his friends and them being disgustingly cheerful. But he didn't want to freeze so he opened the door and walked inside. His nose was attacked by the smell of pine and cinnamon.

"Merry Christmas Skittery." It was Kloppy. The one person Skit would never tell off. Skittery looked at his shoes.

"Merry Christmas Kloppy." He mumbled, disgusted that the words even left his lips. Skittery trudged his way up the stairs, hoping the week would pass and he wouldn't have to deal with Christmas for another year.

"Merry Christmas Skittery!" Random newsies called as he walked through the door. Skittery glared, and said nothing. He walked to his top bunk and climbed on, with hope he wouldn't be disturbed the rest of the day. But his hoping was in vain.

"Alright!" Jack called, "I believe we're all 'ere now, it's time ta do secret Santa." The younger newsies smiled, Skittery groaned, Jack either didn't hear him or ignored him and continued, "now most of you know the deal, but for all the new ones I'll explain." Jack took a breath.

"Write yer name on a slip of paper and stick it in da hat." Jack held up Specs hat, "Da name ya draw ye gotta get a gift for, the gift can not be more then 15 cents and oh! Tell us immediately if ya draw yer own name, we don't wanna repeat dat again." All the veteran Newsies glared at Mush, for the fiasco he caused three years ago. He had drawn his own name and neglected to tell anyone until after the hat was back on Specs' head. The whole thing had be done over again.

"Hey," Mush put his hands up in defense, "can't you'se jist forget, it was a long time ago."

The newsies grabbed the slips and wrote their names, Skittery was upset they made him climb down off his bunk. But wrote his name anyway. Jack spoke again when the names were all in the hat.

"Ok, we'll start with da younger ones." Jack announced, and soon the hat was in front of Skittery. He reached in and grabbed the first paper and pulled his hand out. He unfolded it and saw the name in scratchy handwriting it said.

'Tumbler'

Tumbler was a new newsie, around the age of 8. He was known for being dragged around by the older newsies and would do anything to sell a pape. Tumbler had the makings of becoming the next Jack Kelly, if he worked hard enough.

Skittery glanced at the little newsie, surrounded by his friends. He was keeping his paper out of sight, Tumbler clutched it as if he didn't someone could see right through his fist. Skittery sighed and looked away, 'ah to be young and stupid again.' He thought.

It was the 21st of December, and the Christmas cheer was getting on Skitterys nerves. If he had to be falsely cheery to another customer he would go insane. Or if he heard another newsie wishing him Merry Christmas he would lose it. The younger newsies were pushing buttons he didn't know he had. Presents were already piling up under the tree. Skittery had caught Tumbler sifting through them yesterday. Seeing if one had his name on it, Skittery caught the disappointed look in his eye when he didn't see one.

"Ahh, cheer up Tumbler," one of his friends attempted to cheer him up, "yer Santa has three days ta git ya something."

"Yeah," another joined in, "maybe he already has it, but hasn't put it down 'ere yet."

Tumbler's face brightened at their ideas and the trio left to go upstairs.

'I guess I should start thinkin' 'bout what the kid would want.' Skittery thought and went upstairs.

So now here was Skittery, out shopping for a kid, he knew almost nothing about, out in the cold, wishing nothing more then for it to be another time of the year. Skittery looked up at a store.

'Might be warm in here.' Skittery thought and walked inside. The bell jingled as he walked in.

"Can I help you?" A woman asked as he stepped in.

"Um, no," Skittery said, "jist lookin'." Skittery then, indeed, began to look. He wasn't finding anything an 8-year-old would want. He was just about to leave the store when he saw it…well, saw them actually.

A pair of gloves. Priced at 15 cents, Skittery had noticed Tumbler's gloves had many holes in them and they probably were two sizes too small, these gloves would be perfect.

"'cuse me," he got the lady's attention, "can I get dese?" He held up the gloves.

"Why of course," the lady smiled at him, "That'll be 15 cents."

Skittery dug in his pockets, and pulled out 15 cents.

"We can wrap these for you for only 5 cents," the cheerful lady smiled.

Skittery thought, it would save him some time. However, the rules were that the gift had to be under 15 cents. But it never said anything about the wrapping. Skittery nodded his head.

"Sure."

The lady took the gloves, and arrived with a wrapped box. Hopefully the gloves were in there.

"Here ya go," She handed him the box. Skittery took a pen and wrote "Tumbler" on the 'to' column and a '?' on the 'from.' He then muttered a thanks and walked out of the store with his box.

The lady smiled, "Merry Christmas!" She called as Skittery walked out the door. He winced, but said nothing.

The common room was deserted when Skittery walked inside. He quickly dropped the box under the tree and walked upstairs. He hoped they weren't doing anything festive. Once again, his hoping was in vain. The younger newsies had somehow convinced Racetrack to tell them Christmas stories. Skittery smirked at the sight of Race being surrounded by 10 little kids. But scowled at the story he was telling.

'God,' Skittery scoffed, 'there is no god,' and he climbed into bed.

The days past painstakingly slow for Skittery, but it was Christmas Eve. It was cold, but no snow had fallen. It was around 6 o'clock, and the sun had already set. The younger newsies, and a couple older ones too, were shaking their boxes. Skittery had caught Tumbler shaking his a couple times. He was still clueless of what the box held.

Each newsie had their holiday niche, some were telling stories to the younger ones. The older newsies had a lovely poker game going on. Others were making hot chocolate for the others, all had their niche, except Skittery. The newsies had learned long ago that Skittery hated Christmas. No one knew why, but it was unspoken rule among the newsies that if they didn't tell when you were first asked, then to leave them be. Or in Skittery's case…just leave him be when he's in a bad mood.

So none of the newsies were surprised when Skittery left the lodging house, without a word, and only his jacket and memories to keep him company.

Skittery walked with his hands in his pockets. He meandered around the city, until he came to a place. A cemetery. He found two tombstones.

'Thomas O. Willington' ~ 1845-1890 loving father and husband.

Next to Skittery's father was another, his mother.

'Marie S. Willington' ~ 1847-1890 loving mother and wife.

Skittery said nothing, he dropped to he knees and stared at the etchings in the stone, he refused to cry. 'Crying won't bring them back,' he thought, 'they're dead, get over it.' But something made him whisper these words.

"God," he whispered, choking back the tears, "if you're even there, send me a sign, show me that I won't be alone the rest of me life."

No sooner had he spoken these words when a hand touched his shoulder and a voice asked, "Are you all right?"

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ha! I'm evil, I left a cliff-hanger. MUHAHAHAHA! I do live on reviews, so review and I'll post faster! Thank you, have a good day.