Disclaimer: I, in no way, shape, or form take any credit for Newsies and all rights for Newsies belong to Disney.

Summary: Kate's average day consists of working more hours than most adults, and only at the age of 14. It starts off working at the textile mill from 9 to 5, and afterwards her above average smarts landed her a job teaching the children at the Newsboy's Lodging House as well. She isn't related to any of the boys, but might as well be. She lives in an orphanage run by a group of nuns. Nonetheless, the older boys still treat her as a younger sister, and the young ones view Kate as the mom that they always pictured. But will Kate and the Manhattan Newsies survive when her boss at the factory starts making trouble? All suggestions and constructive criticism are welcome! *Now Edited*

Chapter 1- An omen

On the avenue, there ain't never a curfew, ladies work so hard
Such a melting pot, on the corner selling rock, preachers pray to God
Hail a gypsy-cab, takes me down from Harlem to the Brooklyn Bridge
Some will sleep tonight with a hunger far more than an empty fridge

I'm gonna make it by any means, I got a pocketful of dreams
Baby, I'm from New York

~Alicia Keys: Empire State of Mind Part ll~

"You call this quality work?!" The boss, becoming significantly more aggravated, shouts at me. "I am supposed to be making a business out of this, and that's difficult when I have imbeciles like you messing up everything right and left! I am even paying you for God's sake!"

Throwing the sweater at me, he storms off to go criticize someone else's hard work. I don't know why I even try anymore. It's impossible to make the boss, Mr. Dunnigan, happy. Yesterday I had accidentally punctured my finger with one of the sewing needles, causing it to be even more difficult to handle the material. Don't worry; it happens all the time here. Caught hair, punctured limbs, and some are just completely torn off. And yes, it is beyond disgusting, but we all have to make a living somehow.

I live in an orphanage run by a local group of nuns, staying there from the age of four. I find myself daydreaming about leaving the orphanage one day, because the odds are not in my favor when it comes to someone actually adopting me. No one wants a teenager with abandonment issues and whose only friends are the local newsies.

Thinking about that subject always conjured up thoughts of the final days with my mom and dad.

"I am diagnosing you with typhoid fever," the doctor relays to my bedridden parents, "it would be in your best interest to get plenty of rest. Other than that, there is not much else we can do to help."

The doctor then turned around to face me. "Stay strong, little girl. You parents are going to need it."

My four-year-old self nodded vehemently at the older man, and looks with grim eyes at the sight of my dying parents. Even at my young age, I could tell they wouldn't be around for much longer.

Moving to America at such at young age hindered me from remembering the name of the country I previously had been living in, but I still had a small hand full of memories from there. Immigrating to New York a couple months prior of my parent's passing is the reason for why we don't have any other relatives here.

Sighing, I grab all of my possessions and make my way to the doors, just recently unlocked by the owners of the factory. The working conditions here are inhumane, but at least I was free from this place for the next few hours.

I journey through the busy streets of New York, distracted by the distinct noise of horses clomping and muffled sounds of a thousand different conversations. While heading towards the Newsboy Lodging House, someone calling my name brings me out of my thoughts.

"Kate!" an excited shout came from behind me. I turn only to see David Jacobs jogging towards me clutching his bag quarter-full of newspapers and his little brother Les trailing behind.

"David! Haven't seen you around lately. What are you doing still out selling newspapers?" I question him. In my new line of sight, my eye catches a glimpse of the clock located at an entrance to a nearby building, only to see it was 5:46. I would be late – again. Who knows? Maybe one day my boss will let me out on time.

"Bad selling day," David said, answering my previous question. "But at least Pulitzer will buy off our newspapers that we don't sell."

"Yeah, haven't heard much from Pulitzer since the strike, come to think of it. Now that it's getting colder we might have another problem on our hands, though," I shuddered. Winter was always a bad time for the newsies. The boys always got the worst of the illnesses, but they all seemed to manage without a doctor and come back strong by spring. That also meant I was about to get a lot busier. I could also vividly remember the strike from a couple years back, and recall how much has changed since then. For the better – mostly.

In addition to an occasional gust of strong wind, I spotted the ominous, gray clouds rolling in from the southwest. Annoyed, I brush loose strands of long, brown hair out of my face that had escaped from my ponytail. Reaching the lodging house, I greet the elderly man at the front desk with my usual cheerful banter.

"Hello Kloppman!" A sparkle appears in my green eyes as I address him, my hair swishing back and forth as I continue to walk past the threshold. I let the warmth envelop me from the fire in the common area as heads turned to see who had just entered. Smiles and hugs from a few of the older boys welcome me as Kid Blink went to round up all of the younger boys.

"How's that factory job goin', Kate?" Jack asked, knowing my boss wasn't "fun-loving" sort of guy. His eyes then focused in on my bandaged up finger, and his brow furrowed even further. Always the overprotective one, that boys is.

"Work is work, and I am just glad to have something that pays." I told him, trying to calm any of his worries.

"Alright, but let me know if anything else happens." Jack made sure to add.

It was at that moment that the boys came bounding down the stairs eager and ready to learn. Kloppman began to think it would be good for some of the younger boys to start learning some of the basics, and that is where I come into the picture. I had been jumping at the opportunity to teach, fully aware of my love for helping kids.

Runner, one of the boys about 9-years-old, caught my eye when I noticed he kept looking down. I lightly guided his chin up, only to see a nasty purple bruise forming. I looked to Jack as if to say what on earth happened to him?

"Don't look at me like that," Jack said putting up his hands up in surrender, "He got into a lil' bit of a soaking with one of them Harlem boys ova' territory, but don't you worry cause Runner taught the kid a lesson."

I hear some of the boys congratulating Runner with pat-on-the-backs and high-fives. I just scoff and shake my head, a small smile forming at the sight before me. And as an afterthought, I make a mental note to check up on Runner later.

"Alright," I said ending the celebration, "Time for learning. Boys go upstairs. Are you coming today, Les?"

He shakes his head up and down enthusiastically, and I then guide the boys to bunkrooms. Turning to face the stairwell, I look out a window to see the snow falling in near-blizzard conditions. Somewhat concerned, I simply shrug and then follow the boys upstairs.

A/N Please make sure to comment with any suggestions. I will read all of your comments and take them into account. I wasn't sure on the length of this chapter either, too short or too long? This chapter might have been more boring since we had to go through the background info too. I hope you enjoyed it so far :)