GAMBLING ON LIFE
Disclaimer: I only own Booker and anyone else not mentioned in the movie...I'm writing for pleasure, not profit, so if ya wanna sue, you'd only make a profit of a penny.
Author's Note: I hope you like this story...haven't written a "Newsies" story for a long time but my muse wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote this one. Please r&r..Oh yeah, Booker is a girl, just so your not confused.
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Chapter One:
"Theah she goes again!" Racetrack yells as Jack chases me for the return of his cowboy hat. "Jack, ya ain't gettin' yer hat back!"
Jack glares at the other newsy as I continue to run away from him. When I am at a fairly good distance, I stick his hat on my head and start to pose. Jack yells at Race, telling him he should help him get me and his hat.
"Heya Jack!" I yell, smiling. "Don't I look mahvel-." I pause, trying to figure out how to say the word. "How do ya say dat woid, Jacky boy?"
He turns and casually walks over to me, stopping when he's right in front of me. He takes his hat off my head and says, "Yeah, ya do. Very edible!"
He leans in to kiss him when Race yells, "No PDAs!"
Before Jack gets real close, we pull back laughing. Jack puts his hat around his neck and puts his arm around my shoulders. Jack and I have been best friends forever and the idea of kissing him is out of the question. We're so close that it seems like we're related to each other.
"Race, yer stupid," I say, softly, as we meet him halfway outside the circulation center.
Most of the newsies have arrived and have come to hang around Jack, Race and I. I sigh as I notice Oscar and Morris Delancey coming up, hoping that today will be a good day instead of a bad day.
"Dear me, what is that unpleasant aroma," Race says, flapping his hat to get rid of the foul smell. "I fear the sewer may have backed up durin' the night."
" 'ey, lookie theah," Oscar says, pointing in my direction. "Manhattan's whore. Who'd ya sleep wit' last night? Cowboy?"
I go to punch the Delancey but Jack holds me back. I grumble as Jack steps forward, staring Oscar in the face. I haven't been on Oscar's good side for the better part of 2 years, ever since I turned down the Delancey when he had wanted me to be the girl he married. I told him that I wasn't interested in getting married at fifteen and that I wanted to marry out of love. It didn't sit too well with him and he's made it his life mission to make my life living hell.
Jack says something to Oscar that I didn't hear and then he flips of Morris' hat, before running around. It must've been something bad because they wouldn't have thought twice on chasing him.
The newsies have begun to cheer on our leader and I keep my eyes plastered on Jack, hoping they don't beat him up. Even though he's stronger, they might gang up on him and when Jack's ganged up, he has a lesser chance at winning.
I notice a new kid, followed by a younger kid, get bumped into by Jack. The kid doesn't look too happy about getting knocked into and continues to make his way through the crowd of yelling newsies. I sigh, hearing the gates to the distribution center open up. I go inside, hoping to get out of the brawl. I have no wish to get beat up today.
Once I'm halfway inside, I hear the newsies clap and I know that Jack has won today's battle with the Delancey's but that might mean that I won't get to eat. I go up the ramp, followed by the two new kid's, and soon, every newsy makes their way up. Jack runs up and gets in front of the older kid.
"Hey, there's a line," he says.
The kid goes to cut Jack but I grab his vest and pull him back. "Jacky always goes foist. No matter what. If ya don' like the rules, go ta Brooklyn."
Race, who is behind me, laughs. "He wouldn' last a day in Brooklyn. Not wit' Spot bein' leadah over there."
I roll my eyes. Jack knocks on the window and waits for Mr. Wiesel to start handing out the papers. I know Jack'll ask for his usual, which is 100 papes. I usually get 100 papes, on good days that is.
"Da usual Weasel," Jack says, putting down the money on the table. Weasel takes the money and hands Jack the 100 papes that Morris counted out.
He moves on when the new kid goes up. "Name?"
"David," he replies, taking off his hat.
"How many?" Weasel asks, looking up.
"20 papes, please," the boy, David apparently, replies. When Morris hands David the papers, he counts them and says, "I paid for twenty, you only gave me nineteen."
"You accusin' me a lyin' kid?" Weasel bellows.
Jack sees the commotion and gets up, counting the papers before saying, "It's nineteen Weasel. It's an honest mistake. Ya see, Morris, he can't to twenty wid his shoes on."
Race and I start laughing as Race tosses Jack two bits. He tells Weasel to give David 50 more papes, which David doesn't like. Doesn't he know that every newsy wants more papers? The more papers you get, the more money you make, but on days where you can't sell, its a bad thing.
"Next!" Weasel calls, as I step up. "How many, Booker?"
"The usual," I say, leaning in. I see Morris stop counting papers and Oscar step up.
"Don't give 'er any," he says. "She doesn't desoive 'em."
I gasp as the older man shrugs and says, "Next!"
I slam my fists on the desk, and yell, "That ain't fair!"
Weasel says nothing but squeals when I reach in and grasp him by his collars. He goes from frightened to cocky in a second and that ticks me off.
"I can get ya sent to the refuge, Booker," he sneers. "And I can get your real name out to all da newsies in New York. Ya don't want that, do ya?"
I let go with a 'humph' and walk off. How can he do that to me? This is the third time in a week I've gone without any papers to sell and the fifth time in 2 weeks I've had to starve. The other two times I never made enough money to buy food. I know Jack is going to tell me he will share his profits but he needs his money to go to Santa Fe.
He meets me halfway, my hands balled into fists. I try hard not to lash out, especially when its Jack. He gives his papes to Race to hold and envelopes me in a hug. This is his way of comforting me.
"He refuses ta give ya papes?" I nod. "Well, we can share mah profits."
I get out of his arms and say, "No Jack. You'se savin' for Santa Fe and each time the scab refuses ta give me papes, you always help me and you lose money."
"I don' care 'bout the money, Booker. I care bout you," he says. "Now, c'mon. I hafta show Davey da ropes."
I shrug and follow Jack out of the distribution center. I'm in a better mood once we are far away from the scab and his nephews. I sigh as we walk to a boxing match. Jack whispers, "Jackpot" once we get there because there are a lot of men who would read the paper.
Jack and David start hawking the headlines, Davey making the headlines seem boring but that's only because he's a rookie and doesn't know how to "improve the truth". When Jack tells Les to start in the back again, Davey looks pained.
"Our father told us not to lie," he says.
"Yeah," Jack says. "Well, mine told me not to starve so we both got a education."
I roll my eyes as I shove my hands in my pockets. I never knew my father and never wish too. I've been told stories about him by my mother, who passed away when I turned ten years old but that was it. For seven years I have been without a true family and the only family I have is the newsies.
I walk around, trying to get a better view of the match when I hear the bulls' whistle blow. Jack starts to run while Davey and Les chase him and I see Snyder. Great. Leave it to Snyder to ruin a day of working. He starts to chase the three of them and I know I should run too. Even though I'm not as wanted as Jack, I'm still a wanted person.
Knowing where Jack is going, I decide to go a different way. Walking quickly through the crowd, I bump into a rich man who is placing bets on the dark haired man fighting in the ring. He knocks me down and when I go to stand up again, he sneers.
"Stay on the ground, orphan," he says. I don't reply to him and crawl off.
When I'm finally away from the crowd, I get up and run towards Irving Hall, Medda's place. Medda has always helped Jack and I whenever we needed her help and today shouldn't be any different.
I see a lot of cops, probably looking for Jack, as I run, dodging everyone in the streets. Why did today have to be so crowded? I'm out of breath once I reach Irving Hall but I know I can't go through the front so I sneak off to the back. The back door is open and I slowly open it, hoping I'm not disturbing anyone inside.
I see Medda at her desk, getting ready for the show that is scheduled for today, and I creep inside. She turns around and gasps.
"What are you doin' here?" she says, loudly. "Wheah's yer otha half?"
"Runnin," I reply, "from the bulls. He's got two otha newsies wid 'im so it'll take him a while ta get here. Mind if I wait?"
She shakes her head. "Booker, you know your welcome here. You hungry?"
I shake my head no while my stomach is telling me otherwise. I slip down to the floor and lean against the wall, sighing. She kneels down and looks me straight in the eye.
"If ya need anythin, there's food over there," Medda says. "You gonna be a'right?"
I nod. "Go rehoise, Medda. Don' worry 'bout me."
She laughs but says nothing as she heads up the stairs to the stage. I sigh, again for probably the thirtieth time today, and lean back, willing myself to sleep. I haven't been sleeping for a while so right now is a good time to catch up on wasted sleep.
By the time I finally get comfy, the door bursts open and the door handle hits me square in the face, right above my eye and on my forehead. I scream, wiping my head from the blood.
"Oi! Bloody 'ell!" I yell, when I see that the knob has left me with a good scar on my head. "Watch weah ya swing dat door!"
Jack comes in followed by Davey and Les and he notices me sitting on the floor, my hand pressed against my head. Davey notices it too and goes to find a wet cloth while Jack kneels in front of me and looks worried.
"I am sorry," he says. Davey hands him the wet cloth and he goes to wash my wound but I snatch the cloth away.
"I can do it meself, Jacky boy," I say, laughing before wincing as the hot water burns my wound.
"What's this? Out, out, out!" Medda says, before realizing who it is.
"You wouldn' kick me out widout a kiss goo'bye, would ya Medda?" Jack says.
"Oh, Kelly," Medda laughs, before noticing me. "Booker! What did ya do to 'er?"
"She, uh, got hit with the door," Davey replies.
Jack steps between Medda and Davey, and says, "Medda, this is David and Les."
"Hello," she says, before turning her attention to me. "No one is on your side today, are they, Booker?"
I try to laugh but I can't. "Yeah, seems like it."
"Mind if I le' Davey watch ya Medda?" Jack asks and it makes me feel a tang bit jealous.
"Only if ya take Booker back to the lodgin' house as soon as I'm done," Medda says.
Jack promises and leads Davey up the stage. I know that they aren't going to be in the audience but on the side, which is were we usually sit and watch. I'm not much of the jealous type but I can't help but feel that something bad is going to happen once Jack and Davey get to know each other better.
Les doesn't go up with them and sits next to me, eating the candy that Toby, Medda's assistant, gave him. "So, yer name is Booker? I thought that was a guy's name."
I shrug. "It is but I used ta be a gambler, on everythin' and instead of callin' me Bookie all the time, Jack jus' called me Booker one day and it stuck to me like glue."
Les laughs. "Why are you the only girl newsy? I've never seen a girl working. My sister, Sarah, doesn't work and neither does my mom."
"Hmm," I say, thinking about it for a moment. "I guess its because I'm an orphan and I don't have a family anymore. Most families have a fatha, right?"
Les nods as I continue, "I ain't got one so I hafta make mah own money and the other reason you don't see many goil newsies is because most of 'em are in the refuge or given to otha families."
"Les, c'mere!" Davey whispers, loudly, trying to get his younger brother to watch Medda.
Les looks like he doesn't want to leave me alone but I tell him to go anyways. He needs to see it because God knows he probably won't see another one until he's Jack's age. I lean back once he leaves and fall asleep, hoping I won't get hit with another door.
Medda's voice lulls me to sleep and I smile. I always loved hearing her voice.
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bReview!/b
Disclaimer: I only own Booker and anyone else not mentioned in the movie...I'm writing for pleasure, not profit, so if ya wanna sue, you'd only make a profit of a penny.
Author's Note: I hope you like this story...haven't written a "Newsies" story for a long time but my muse wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote this one. Please r&r..Oh yeah, Booker is a girl, just so your not confused.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Chapter One:
"Theah she goes again!" Racetrack yells as Jack chases me for the return of his cowboy hat. "Jack, ya ain't gettin' yer hat back!"
Jack glares at the other newsy as I continue to run away from him. When I am at a fairly good distance, I stick his hat on my head and start to pose. Jack yells at Race, telling him he should help him get me and his hat.
"Heya Jack!" I yell, smiling. "Don't I look mahvel-." I pause, trying to figure out how to say the word. "How do ya say dat woid, Jacky boy?"
He turns and casually walks over to me, stopping when he's right in front of me. He takes his hat off my head and says, "Yeah, ya do. Very edible!"
He leans in to kiss him when Race yells, "No PDAs!"
Before Jack gets real close, we pull back laughing. Jack puts his hat around his neck and puts his arm around my shoulders. Jack and I have been best friends forever and the idea of kissing him is out of the question. We're so close that it seems like we're related to each other.
"Race, yer stupid," I say, softly, as we meet him halfway outside the circulation center.
Most of the newsies have arrived and have come to hang around Jack, Race and I. I sigh as I notice Oscar and Morris Delancey coming up, hoping that today will be a good day instead of a bad day.
"Dear me, what is that unpleasant aroma," Race says, flapping his hat to get rid of the foul smell. "I fear the sewer may have backed up durin' the night."
" 'ey, lookie theah," Oscar says, pointing in my direction. "Manhattan's whore. Who'd ya sleep wit' last night? Cowboy?"
I go to punch the Delancey but Jack holds me back. I grumble as Jack steps forward, staring Oscar in the face. I haven't been on Oscar's good side for the better part of 2 years, ever since I turned down the Delancey when he had wanted me to be the girl he married. I told him that I wasn't interested in getting married at fifteen and that I wanted to marry out of love. It didn't sit too well with him and he's made it his life mission to make my life living hell.
Jack says something to Oscar that I didn't hear and then he flips of Morris' hat, before running around. It must've been something bad because they wouldn't have thought twice on chasing him.
The newsies have begun to cheer on our leader and I keep my eyes plastered on Jack, hoping they don't beat him up. Even though he's stronger, they might gang up on him and when Jack's ganged up, he has a lesser chance at winning.
I notice a new kid, followed by a younger kid, get bumped into by Jack. The kid doesn't look too happy about getting knocked into and continues to make his way through the crowd of yelling newsies. I sigh, hearing the gates to the distribution center open up. I go inside, hoping to get out of the brawl. I have no wish to get beat up today.
Once I'm halfway inside, I hear the newsies clap and I know that Jack has won today's battle with the Delancey's but that might mean that I won't get to eat. I go up the ramp, followed by the two new kid's, and soon, every newsy makes their way up. Jack runs up and gets in front of the older kid.
"Hey, there's a line," he says.
The kid goes to cut Jack but I grab his vest and pull him back. "Jacky always goes foist. No matter what. If ya don' like the rules, go ta Brooklyn."
Race, who is behind me, laughs. "He wouldn' last a day in Brooklyn. Not wit' Spot bein' leadah over there."
I roll my eyes. Jack knocks on the window and waits for Mr. Wiesel to start handing out the papers. I know Jack'll ask for his usual, which is 100 papes. I usually get 100 papes, on good days that is.
"Da usual Weasel," Jack says, putting down the money on the table. Weasel takes the money and hands Jack the 100 papes that Morris counted out.
He moves on when the new kid goes up. "Name?"
"David," he replies, taking off his hat.
"How many?" Weasel asks, looking up.
"20 papes, please," the boy, David apparently, replies. When Morris hands David the papers, he counts them and says, "I paid for twenty, you only gave me nineteen."
"You accusin' me a lyin' kid?" Weasel bellows.
Jack sees the commotion and gets up, counting the papers before saying, "It's nineteen Weasel. It's an honest mistake. Ya see, Morris, he can't to twenty wid his shoes on."
Race and I start laughing as Race tosses Jack two bits. He tells Weasel to give David 50 more papes, which David doesn't like. Doesn't he know that every newsy wants more papers? The more papers you get, the more money you make, but on days where you can't sell, its a bad thing.
"Next!" Weasel calls, as I step up. "How many, Booker?"
"The usual," I say, leaning in. I see Morris stop counting papers and Oscar step up.
"Don't give 'er any," he says. "She doesn't desoive 'em."
I gasp as the older man shrugs and says, "Next!"
I slam my fists on the desk, and yell, "That ain't fair!"
Weasel says nothing but squeals when I reach in and grasp him by his collars. He goes from frightened to cocky in a second and that ticks me off.
"I can get ya sent to the refuge, Booker," he sneers. "And I can get your real name out to all da newsies in New York. Ya don't want that, do ya?"
I let go with a 'humph' and walk off. How can he do that to me? This is the third time in a week I've gone without any papers to sell and the fifth time in 2 weeks I've had to starve. The other two times I never made enough money to buy food. I know Jack is going to tell me he will share his profits but he needs his money to go to Santa Fe.
He meets me halfway, my hands balled into fists. I try hard not to lash out, especially when its Jack. He gives his papes to Race to hold and envelopes me in a hug. This is his way of comforting me.
"He refuses ta give ya papes?" I nod. "Well, we can share mah profits."
I get out of his arms and say, "No Jack. You'se savin' for Santa Fe and each time the scab refuses ta give me papes, you always help me and you lose money."
"I don' care 'bout the money, Booker. I care bout you," he says. "Now, c'mon. I hafta show Davey da ropes."
I shrug and follow Jack out of the distribution center. I'm in a better mood once we are far away from the scab and his nephews. I sigh as we walk to a boxing match. Jack whispers, "Jackpot" once we get there because there are a lot of men who would read the paper.
Jack and David start hawking the headlines, Davey making the headlines seem boring but that's only because he's a rookie and doesn't know how to "improve the truth". When Jack tells Les to start in the back again, Davey looks pained.
"Our father told us not to lie," he says.
"Yeah," Jack says. "Well, mine told me not to starve so we both got a education."
I roll my eyes as I shove my hands in my pockets. I never knew my father and never wish too. I've been told stories about him by my mother, who passed away when I turned ten years old but that was it. For seven years I have been without a true family and the only family I have is the newsies.
I walk around, trying to get a better view of the match when I hear the bulls' whistle blow. Jack starts to run while Davey and Les chase him and I see Snyder. Great. Leave it to Snyder to ruin a day of working. He starts to chase the three of them and I know I should run too. Even though I'm not as wanted as Jack, I'm still a wanted person.
Knowing where Jack is going, I decide to go a different way. Walking quickly through the crowd, I bump into a rich man who is placing bets on the dark haired man fighting in the ring. He knocks me down and when I go to stand up again, he sneers.
"Stay on the ground, orphan," he says. I don't reply to him and crawl off.
When I'm finally away from the crowd, I get up and run towards Irving Hall, Medda's place. Medda has always helped Jack and I whenever we needed her help and today shouldn't be any different.
I see a lot of cops, probably looking for Jack, as I run, dodging everyone in the streets. Why did today have to be so crowded? I'm out of breath once I reach Irving Hall but I know I can't go through the front so I sneak off to the back. The back door is open and I slowly open it, hoping I'm not disturbing anyone inside.
I see Medda at her desk, getting ready for the show that is scheduled for today, and I creep inside. She turns around and gasps.
"What are you doin' here?" she says, loudly. "Wheah's yer otha half?"
"Runnin," I reply, "from the bulls. He's got two otha newsies wid 'im so it'll take him a while ta get here. Mind if I wait?"
She shakes her head. "Booker, you know your welcome here. You hungry?"
I shake my head no while my stomach is telling me otherwise. I slip down to the floor and lean against the wall, sighing. She kneels down and looks me straight in the eye.
"If ya need anythin, there's food over there," Medda says. "You gonna be a'right?"
I nod. "Go rehoise, Medda. Don' worry 'bout me."
She laughs but says nothing as she heads up the stairs to the stage. I sigh, again for probably the thirtieth time today, and lean back, willing myself to sleep. I haven't been sleeping for a while so right now is a good time to catch up on wasted sleep.
By the time I finally get comfy, the door bursts open and the door handle hits me square in the face, right above my eye and on my forehead. I scream, wiping my head from the blood.
"Oi! Bloody 'ell!" I yell, when I see that the knob has left me with a good scar on my head. "Watch weah ya swing dat door!"
Jack comes in followed by Davey and Les and he notices me sitting on the floor, my hand pressed against my head. Davey notices it too and goes to find a wet cloth while Jack kneels in front of me and looks worried.
"I am sorry," he says. Davey hands him the wet cloth and he goes to wash my wound but I snatch the cloth away.
"I can do it meself, Jacky boy," I say, laughing before wincing as the hot water burns my wound.
"What's this? Out, out, out!" Medda says, before realizing who it is.
"You wouldn' kick me out widout a kiss goo'bye, would ya Medda?" Jack says.
"Oh, Kelly," Medda laughs, before noticing me. "Booker! What did ya do to 'er?"
"She, uh, got hit with the door," Davey replies.
Jack steps between Medda and Davey, and says, "Medda, this is David and Les."
"Hello," she says, before turning her attention to me. "No one is on your side today, are they, Booker?"
I try to laugh but I can't. "Yeah, seems like it."
"Mind if I le' Davey watch ya Medda?" Jack asks and it makes me feel a tang bit jealous.
"Only if ya take Booker back to the lodgin' house as soon as I'm done," Medda says.
Jack promises and leads Davey up the stage. I know that they aren't going to be in the audience but on the side, which is were we usually sit and watch. I'm not much of the jealous type but I can't help but feel that something bad is going to happen once Jack and Davey get to know each other better.
Les doesn't go up with them and sits next to me, eating the candy that Toby, Medda's assistant, gave him. "So, yer name is Booker? I thought that was a guy's name."
I shrug. "It is but I used ta be a gambler, on everythin' and instead of callin' me Bookie all the time, Jack jus' called me Booker one day and it stuck to me like glue."
Les laughs. "Why are you the only girl newsy? I've never seen a girl working. My sister, Sarah, doesn't work and neither does my mom."
"Hmm," I say, thinking about it for a moment. "I guess its because I'm an orphan and I don't have a family anymore. Most families have a fatha, right?"
Les nods as I continue, "I ain't got one so I hafta make mah own money and the other reason you don't see many goil newsies is because most of 'em are in the refuge or given to otha families."
"Les, c'mere!" Davey whispers, loudly, trying to get his younger brother to watch Medda.
Les looks like he doesn't want to leave me alone but I tell him to go anyways. He needs to see it because God knows he probably won't see another one until he's Jack's age. I lean back once he leaves and fall asleep, hoping I won't get hit with another door.
Medda's voice lulls me to sleep and I smile. I always loved hearing her voice.
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bReview!/b