This was written for the second round of the second season of the Newsie Pape Selling Competition, and it was, to say the least...hard. My prompt: Write about a newsie's favorite Superhero, and explain how/what this superhero means in the boy's eyes.

Word Count: 801

Disclaimer: I own nothing. The beginning lines are from an original Superman episode.

"And so boys and girls, be super citizens and have a super future by saving regularly with United States stamps at school. And keep on making me and everyone else as proud of you as we are today. Bye now."

Even though he knows the show will be on again at the same time next week-"Same bat time, same bat channel," as Batman would say-there's still a lingering sadness that just won't be pushed away when the credits begin to roll. He sighs, trying to find the motivation to remove himself the floor, where he's lying on his stomach, chin propped up in his hands, when the door slams shut. "Ma, we're home!" calls his brother.

He glances over his shoulder in time to see his brother make his way from the kitchen into the living room. His friend Jack Kelly is with him, and he gives Les a smile and jerk of his head. Behind him, Sarah glances up from where she'd been almost reading on the couch, and catching sight of Jack, dips her head again and pretends to be thoroughly invested in her book, a blush creeping up her neck. Mrs. Jacobs calls something back to them.

"Hey, Squirt, how ya doing?" Jack says, and Les' stomach flipped; Jack Kelly was only the coolest kid in the neighborhood. He worked two paper routes and was the biggest drugstore Romeo, had all the girls practically sipping soda directly from his hand. Jack smiles at Sarah, who does little to acknowledge him. When she gives a smile as her only greeting, Jack turns his attention back to Les. "So uh, what are you watching?"

"It was Superman."

A little puff of air escapes Jack's nose as a laugh. "Superman, huh? He's alright."

"He's more than alright," Les begins, spluttering indignantly. He was Superman, doggone it! He was handsome and charming, and kind and strong, and he always did the right thing.

Jack merely listens to Les' rant with a slight smile. When the younger boy is done, he says, "Yeah, he's alright."

Even though he's supposed to be in bed, Les rummages around in the refrigerator; his mom would not be happy if she learned of his late-night snacks. Finding nothing appetizing, he pours a glass of milk and meanders into the living room, still half-asleep, when a small orange dot in the window catches his eye.

A cowboy comic on his lap, Jack is sitting on the fire escape, smoking a cigarette, and Les gets the feeling that his parents don't know Jack is there; Les gets the feeling that he's not supposed to know Jack is there. But it doesn't stop him from slipping outside to Jack.

"Hey, Squirt," Jack says, tipping the ashes from his cigarette, trying to hide his startle. He takes a drag from his cigarette. "What are you doing up so late?"

"Couldn't sleep." Les blinks. "Why are you on the fire escape?"

"Ah, you know. Just thinking," Jack shrugs, and takes a long drag, then blows a perfect ring; Les watches in sleepy awe, although he watches almost everything Jack does with awe. In fact, how David even managed to befriend the Jack Kelly is beyond him. Les glances to the cowboy comic Jack holds; if it were him, it would be Superman, and his mind wanders to earlier in the afternoon when the real hero had scorned the fictional one.

"Jack...why don't you like Superman?"

Jack stuffs his cigarette between his lips hurriedly and takes another long draw. His mouth screws up and twists before he answers. "It's not so much that I don't like him, it's just…"

"Just what," Les presses, unable to comprehend how he can't think Superman is the best.

"Because Superman has too many powers that he didn't even work for. He's perfect without earning it, and there are too many people who have everything without even trying. And then, on top of that, he has all of these powers, but you put him next to a rock, and poof-they're gone. So much for Mr. Perfect. And, and all of his morals-like that actually gets you anywhere. Let's face it, the world doesn't have morals, and if Mr. Goody Two-Shoes were actually real, he'd never make it anywhere. Plus I don't understand how everyone can love a guy who runs around in his underwear. And how they don't know who he is when he puts on glasses."

Jack searches the younger boy's unsullied face, now wide awake and waiting for Jack to give him the perfect answer, and Jack's stomach sinks. No wonder the kid likes him, he's still a kid, Jack thinks, knowing perfectly well what would happen if he said all of that, what would happen if he ripped away Superman's perfect idealism. Exhaling smoke, he says, "I guess I just like Batman better."