A/N: I deleted the other sequel because it was stupid. Haha. Anyway, Derby the Dork has finally gotten off her procrastinating ass. Yay! Enjoy =D (btw, if you want to use Yorkie for anything, don't bother asking just email me after. ^-^)

Disclaimer: Yorkie is mine, yaddi ya..
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The One Hundred Faces of Yorkie P: Journal Two
December 10, 1899

So we meet again. I suppose I should summarize how lovely my life has been so far..

Since November, when mother announced she was sending me away to Uncle Edward-Bildner in jolly old England, I have done nothing. That is how excruciatingly wonderful my days have been. Chores, chores and more chores (what a surprise!) Before you ask, no, I haven't had a chance to escape but that doesn't mean I won't. I do not intend to go to England.

Mother is sending me packing on December fifteenth. There is no God. I told this to my dear mother. She smacked me with a wooden spoon across my bottom. How shaming.

A day has not gone by when I haven't thought about Blink and my Manhattan family. (I consider them my real family, as my six brothers and sisters are much too obedient to be related to me.) I wonder what Blink is doing now? Selling papers, most like. Though he could be readying his pirate ship to come and take me away (I suppose you will have to read my previous journal to understand that bit.)

Five days until the dreaded journey to England. I pray Uncle Edward-Bildner won't be a newly released psychiatric ward patient or something of that sort. (How many rich uncles do you know who would take in their sister's 'disobedient' 'unruly' and 'tiresome' daughters in just for the sake of spiting their sister? Not many, I assume.)

But, as I said before, I do not have any intention of going to England. Uncle Edward will just have to do without me. Though I do not have much of a plan yet, I will soon enough. I suppose setting the train on fire is not very practical, besides I couldn't kill all those innocent bystanders anyway (unless there name is my Mother, Uncle Edward or the dirty man who laughed at my flipped up skirt. Oh dear, another reference to the past.... I can feel the tears brimming.)
I WANT MY BLONDEBEARD!!!!!!!
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Mother has just called me for dinner. As I was heading for the table, I managed to get my skirt caught in the door, therefore making me fall flat on my face in front of my youngest siblings. ('Netty is an oaf! Oaffy oaf!' Oooh, they are so hilarious, their undeniably imaginative insults are so amusing.)

Dinner was awful. As always. Watery soup with disgustingly withered things that resemble vegetables and an odd white sauce that contains little floating bits of... something. Mmm.

I am banished to my 'room' (also known as the broom closet, complete with a broom.) because Little Anthony threw a carrot at me. (Why do people feel the need to abuse me with carrots?) Mother believes I was encouraging him to do it. I despise her.

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Every time I look out the window, I swear I see Blink. I would do anything to see him, or Skittery, or even Spot. Just so I know that my life in Manhattan wasn't a dream.
---Derby: Fret not, friendly friends, (ooh alliteration at it's finest!) the newsies will appear soon enough. (She has to get to England first though ^-^)