Mush walked into the shoe shop, the smell of leather reached his nose and he inhaled deeply. The walls of the small shop were covered with various shoes made of black and brown leather, ranging from sizes small enough for a baby to ones big enough for a grown man at six feet tall.

The old man behind the counter looked up from his books, "May I help you?"

"I― I'm just lookin'," Mush sighed. His pockets were empty except for the few small coins that would pay for tomorrow's papes and a night at the lodging house.

"Oh," The man said disapprovingly. "Well don't get in the way, we have customers to attend to." He went back to studying the books in front of him.

Just then, the door to the shop opened and a women and her daughter stepped in. Both had very distinguishable auburn hair that stood out against the green dresses they wore.

"Hello Mrs. Leroux," The old man behind the counter came around to greet them. "What can I help you with?"

"I need a new pair of boots for the races," Mrs. Leroux replied in a monotonous voice. "In white."

"Well, come along into the back; that is where I keep all the white shoes. Away from grubby fingers."

"Very well, Mr. Mason. Sophie, stay out here."

Mrs. Leroux followed Mr. Mason into the back of the shop leaving Mush and Sophie alone. Mush, trying to avoid any awkwardness, sauntered over the shelves and started looking at the men's boots. There was a pair of brown leather boots that resembled his own, only six years newer. He ran his ink-stained hands over the newly polished leather.

Sophie stood on the opposite side of the room, glancing curiously at the boy who was admiring the shoes. She had seen him on the streets before; he stood outside the café that she and her mother visited frequently.

"What are you going to get?" asked Sophie quietly.

"What?" Mush asked, surprised that Sophie spoke to him. "Oh, I'm just looking."

Sophie walked over to him and looked at the pair of boots that he was admiring. "Those are nice, but those over there would last longer." She pointed to a pair of black leather ankle high boots that sat up on a higher shelf. The laces were woven in black and brown, and the eye-lets were silver.

"I can't afford those, hell, I can't even afford any of these," he sighed, slightly embarrassed.

"Oh," Sophie said quietly. She was embarrassed that she had even asked. "I've seen you on the street before."

Mush looked at her, wondering why she was still talking.

"You sell your papers outside Montague's Café. My mother and I go there for lunch sometimes,"

"Yeah," he grumbled.

"You seem good at selling those papers, even if the headlines are bad."

"Really?" he was flattered that she, a girl of higher status even paid attention to a newsie like him.

"Of course, I don't lie," Sophie smiled. "What's your name?"

"Mush,"

"Mush," she said. Sophie liked the way it rolled of her tongue. "How old are you Mush?"

"Seventeen," he told her. She pushed an auburn curl from her face and tucked it behind her ear.

"Oh," Sophie was disappointed. "I'm fifteen. Sophie Leroux, my daddy's a banker." She stuck out her hand for him to shake.

Mush wiped his dirty hands on his even more dirty pants. "Mush Meyers. I don't have a daddy, and I work as a newsie."

Sophie laughed, "I've always wondered what being a newsie was like."

"Well," Mush began. "A lot a times we'se gotta put up with bad headlines, an not sellin' all our papes, and maybe not even eatin' dinner. But the freedom that comes with it makes up for all of that."

"Freedom sounds lovely," she sighed. "Going to tea's and fancy dinners gets boring after a while."

"Well, be grateful, 'cause you'se gets to sleep in a warm bed."

"Sophie darling," Mrs. Leroux came from the back room followed by Mr. Mason who held a box in his arms. "Let's go."

"I'll have these sent over to your house," Mr. Mason replied, smiling until his eyes found Mush. "Your still here? Get out!"

Mush stared at Sophie a moment, his dark brown eyes saying goodbye, before going out the door and walking quickly down the street.

-Two weeks later-

Mush walked into the Newsboys lodging house late, he could hear that everyone was already upstairs.

"Hey Mush, a package came for you today," Kloppman said. "It's sitting' on your bunk."

"Thanks Kloppman." Mush ran up the stairs two at a time, wondering who on earth sent him a package.

He found a medium sized box sitting on his bunk wrapped in brown paper, a note was held tied to the outside. Mush ripped it off and tore it open. The note was written in an elegant script:

Mr. Mush Meyers,

Your not the easiest newsie to track down. If you see a boy name Skittery, tell him I said thank you.

I always wondered what it took to be a newsie, and then, as I thought about it, I realized that being a newsie was like being a pair of boots. You must be tough and willing to take the day as it comes at you.

I hope you enjoy this gift, for I'm sure you could use them.

Sincerely,

Sophie Leroux

P.S. I hope they fit

Mush tore open the box to find the black boots that Sophie had pointed out to him in the store.

"What'ja get Mush?" Racetrack asked from the window.

Mush smiled to himself, "A pair of new shoes with matchin' laces."