A/N: Entry for Circulation 3 of the Newsies Pape Selling Competition
Broadway Version
Task Two: Change means "Doing" is a force for the betterment of a group of people's lives.
Ship/Pairing: None
Word Count: 515
Specs didn't want to do this. He was scared, and he hated this part of the city, and he was still a kid for God's sake, but this had to be done. The Newsies weren't selling enough newspapers to survive, and now with the strike... Everyone was denying it, but they didn't have money, which they desperately needed to survive. So, Specs walked with his arms wrapped tightly around himself through the dark, dreary streets of the nasty part of New York City, avoiding hungry gazes and glares as he trudged towards his destination, determined.
He reached the large, rather ominous building that doubled both as a bar and a brothel and stepped inside. The bar wasn't very occupied, but it was well lit, and clean, unlike its appearance on the outside. Specs shivered and started hugging himself tighter, shaking slightly as he made his way up the rickety wooden stairs of the tavern. Specs glanced about as giggling women raced up the stairs past him, dragging well-dressed men after them by the ties or the wrist. Some looked to be around his age, some even younger, sending a sick wave of shock through Specs' body. Well, he should have suspected as much. He wasn't the only 16-year-old who needed a bit of extra money.
"What're ya doin', young man?" Specs squeaked as the owner of the gruff voice grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. Specs gulped and looked up to see a burly, bearded man glaring down at him, a cigar that sadly reminded the boy of his friend Race's. The bespectacled teen swallowed hard and without trying to get out of the man's grip, managed to back up a bit.
"I-I'm here for a job in...you know. It's just temporary. Need to earn a few extra bucks," Specs explained hurriedly. He could have sworn the man's eyes softened, that he looked at Specs with just the smallest bit of sympathy, but the way he was quickly dragged up the stairs quickly erased any and all hope left in Specs' mind. He stumbled as the man shoved him into a small room with a desk, a lamp, and a lumpy bed. Specs wrapped his arms around himself and sat on the bed, tears threatening to run down his face as he trembled.
It seemed like hours passed before the door opened and a woman who appeared to be in her late twenties entered the room, dressed in nothing but a white, thin dressed that left hardly anything to the imagination. Her eyes fell on the crying boy on the bed and she smirked, sparing no time for pleasantries as she shoved Specs down onto the bed and kissed him passionately, her hands going to his hips. Specs closed his eyes tightly and did everything he could to not push her off, to kiss her back, to help her take off her dress and do something he swore he never would.
This was for the Newsies. This was for his brothers. They needed this. There was nothing Specs could do to change that.