i read a story similar to this and realized how interesting an issue it could become...im actually quite happy with how its developing
Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, or Kid Blink.(my birthdays in 4 days though...) I do own Shadow.
Maybe I think too much. Maybe that's the issue. My mind just makes connections though, you know? I start thinking about one thing and that leads to another, and another, and another. I'm getting ahead of myself though. You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you? Let me start from the beginning...sort of. My name is Camille, but no one's called me that for a good ten years. I'm known as The Shadow, or Shadow if you know me personally. I'm a newsie and a spy in 1900. I sell my papers like a good newsie during the day, inform the city and all. Brookly is undoubtably the best thing that's ever happened to me.Doesn't add up to enough for me though. Maybe that's cause I spend too much on...well, on anything and everything. So I have a night job, if you will. I'm the greatest spy to ever walk the streets of New York. Boys in prep schools hire me to find out about the pretty finishing school girls they have their eyes on. Girls in finishing schools hire me to tell them more about the alluring newsboys they watch from their windows. Newsboys hire me to find out about their enimies, or to bring messages to their finishing school sweet-hearts(the ones that the boys in prep schools have their eyes on. It's a vicious circle). And that's how I can afford to takes days off if news is slow. That's how I afford the mask I wear at night. Most importantly, that's how I afford my collection of dragon sculputures. But that's beside the point, as most of this information is. So why, you ask, is my thinking an issue? I'll tell you.
I've learned to doubt everything I'm told, to look into everything more. This should be different. It should be so very very different,but it's not. Once again, this makes no sense to you, does it? Alright, I'll start from the beginning again.(Actually, it's a different beginning, but you understand, right?) About two and a half months ago, I got word that a girl named Maria was seeking my services. I dropped onto the fire escape of her room, which was in the highest class finishing school in probably the entire city. She let me in and told a story I'd heard countless times before. Every day, she watched the gates of the World building as the newsboys left.(I usually sold in Brooklyn, or this would have been so much easier.) There was one that she'd always find and watch as he made his way down the street. And every day, she run outside just to buy a paper from him. She was convinced she was completely in love. Issue being, she knew nothing about him. All she could tell me was he wore an eye patch. I took the job. Maria's heart-throb was a member of the Manhattan newsies. It didn't take me long to discover his name was Kid Blink and he was just about Jack's right-hand man.(Jack being the leader of the Manhattan boys.) The rest took a bit of effort. So every evening, I stashed my paper money in a jar in my room and change into my all black disquise, complete with a mask.(Hence the title The Shadow.) I then made my way out of Brooklyn and into Manhattan. I knew Spot always watched me until I was across the bridge. I think he worried about me, still does probably. Anyways, I'd find Kid Blink and follow him, paying close attention to everything. I never wrote anything down. I never needed to, my memory was unbelievable. I learned that he was fun-loving and close to the others. He loved to go with them to Irving Hall and watch Medda, drink, smoke, but more than anything, laugh. It was on one of these nights that I began to doubt myself. I was sitting in a closed balcony, watching the newsies through a hole in the wall when I realized how utterly charming his smile was. And how perfectly natural and naturally perfect it looked. No, I thought, absolutely not. I do not like guys I am told to watch by girls who are in love with them. I doesn't work like that. I turned away and closed my eyes to refocus. That's when my terribly inconvinient memory kicked in and recognized him. Last year, Spot had brought us to Manhattan for the strike. I saw him during the ralley, just like he looked now, happy and laughing. And I had seen him when the police came. He was trying to help Jack, and he was hit in the face. But it was the day after that I remembered the most. The day Jack came out dressed as a scabber. I saw Kid Blink angry, something I had not seen at all in the week I'd been following him now. And something about that made me stand up and leave the theater. Something about his face made me climb the fire escape at the highest end finishing school in probably the whole city and tap on Maria's window. She was terribly excitied.
"What have you found out?" I hesitated. This was putting my entire career on the line. Was it really worth that much to me? Unfortunately, my mouth worked faster than my brain.(go figure)
"I don't think you're going to like my report."
"Nonesense. Elizabeth, she's the one who told me about you, says you're the best spy anywhere. She said that if I wanted this newsie, you could get me this newsie. My gosh! She said you could get me Spot Conlon if I wanted!" I'm not kidding, that's what she said. I've never been a matchmaker. I tell people things they could find out for themselves if they weren't so lazy. But this, this was different. This chick was shallow.
"First off, I'm no matchmaker, got it?" I admit, my voice was a bit harsher than I meant it to be, but she actually stepped back. "I don't need you to tell me I'm the best out there. I know that. Now you listen to me. I've been trailing this guy for a week. He's not for you, alright?"
"And you know what I like?"
"Tell me this. What is one thing you simply could not put up with a boy doing?" I swear, it didn't even take her a second to answer.
"Smoking. Smoking and drinking. Gentlemen should not do these things, and I refuse to allow a man to call upon me who does such things." I almost laughed. I really did. But she had played right into my hand, I didn't even have to lie.
"Well, you may be dissapointed to know that those two things happen to be things he prefers to do in the evenings while watching the show girls." Her eyes grew wide and I saw her mouth "show girls." If for just a minute she couldn't hear me, I would have died laughing. She expected a newsie that didn't drink or smoke? Lower your standards some there chicky.
"Well, thank you for telling me these things." She handed me a dollar after recovering a bit and I was out the window and gone. And that's how this started. This ridiculus obsession and betrayl of trust that I swear will haunt me forever. But for you to completely understand this, I'll have to go back to another beginning.
