Disclaimer: Any characters from the movie Newsies belong to Disney, I'm just borrowing. Anyone else belongs to me (ha! They came from my own head!). If you wish to borrow one of my characters, feel free, just let me know so I can read the story!

A/N: Hello folks! Treble here. Now, this story may seem a bit familiar to some of you. Well, there's a reason for that. This story was originally written a little over a year ago, under the title "The Other Side to Time Travel". I posted it on ff.net, updating it when I could (which turned out to be not very often). I gave up about halfway through it. Well, recently my interest was reawakened and I've decided to repost the story. Since I've got the majority of it already written, you folks don't have to worry about infrequent updates or anything of the sort- I will be posting a new chapter every week (hopefully a little less than a week, we'll see how things go). I've written a few new chapters since I stopped posting, so I'll be working on those and reworking some already written ones as I'm posting this stuff, so you're guaranteed an edited, almost-brand-spanking- new and definitely interesting story. For those of you who don't have the slightest idea what I'm talking about, I hope you enjoy the story. And for those of you who are still reading this author's note, what the heck is wrong with you? Go read! Happy Reading! And, oh, by the way.please review!! More reviews=more often updates (muwhahahhaha)

I woke up, groggily, when my alarm clock went off at 6:30 a.m. Like almost every other teenager (yes, there are always exceptions) on this side of the sun, I hit the snooze button and threw the blanket back over my head. Stupid snooze button. It doesn't turn the radio off. It's really hard to sleep when Down with the Sickness (by Disturbed) is blasting in your ears. So, unfortunately, I got up. Also unfortunately, my sister had beaten me to the shower (again). I was forced to wait outside the bathroom while she finished up. I could've been doing something productive, like finding clothes to wear, but who wants to be productive when your eyes aren't even open all the way?

Eventually, my sister finished and I got the shower. I did the usual morning thing, eventually waking up.after the hot water had run out and I was rinsing conditioner out of my hair while slowly freezing to death. That and a cup of coffee got me going. I had a headache and wasn't in the best of moods; four hours of sleep will do that to you. Stupid English paper- time management isn't my strongest skill.

My ride showed up at about 7:00. Of course, being me, I wasn't ready yet, so I had to forego breakfast and run. Emily was about as conscious as I was, so little was said in the ten-minute ride to school. I wandered into the auditorium (my sanctuary) with fifteen minutes before first block. I'd thrown my discman and my CD's in my bag, so I was able to enjoy fifteen minutes of my favorite band- Staind- before my first class (English).

English was its usual- mostly discussion, a few laughs. The block actually went by fairly quickly, despite my lack of consciousness. I had to stay after a few minutes to figure out a time when I could make up a quiz I'd missed, so I had barely enough time to make it to my Algebra II class before the bell rang. *Sigh* There went my usual mid-morning trip to the good old vending machine for a nice healthy breakfast of Goldfish. There was nothing different or interesting about my Algebra class that morning (can't you tell I just love school?). My friend Kate, who sat behind me, and I spent most of the 90-minute block staring out the window, daydreaming.

I feel I have to warn you, the majority of my daydreams consist of newsies. Newsies, me and newsies, me meeting newsies, me being a newsie, you name it I've daydreamed it. About two minutes before the bell, I stood up with my backpack on, still staring out the window daydreaming and not really paying much attention to what was going on around me (namely, being informed of what the homework was). It was pretty normal; at about 11:30 the next night, Kate and I would be chatting on IM, asking each other what the homework was. (Admit it, you've done it too.) And then the next morning, I'd copy it off of Matt in the auditorium. I was feeling a bit light-headed, probably from lack of sleep and lack of food, but I guess I must have fainted. And I most definitely wasn't in Algebra when I woke up.

For one thing, I was kind of cold. Sure, March isn't the warmest of months, but still. I'd been in a classroom (and wearing a tank-top, not the brightest of ideas). I was also laying on what appeared to be cobblestone, which was definitely no where within miles of my school.

I stood up. I'd been laying on the ground. My backpack was still on my back. I took it off and looked in it. Everything was still in it- discman, all my CD's, an 8-pack of batteries (unopened, I kept them in there just in case, and that hadn't happened yet), English notebook, Algebra notebook (no book, I'd left it in my locker by accident), my copy of The Scarlet Letter (oh joy), stuff for gymnastics practice later on (namely, a leotard, a bra, a hairbrush, and some deodorant) some pens, pencils, a few notes from friends, and some random elastics. I didn't know where my planner was; probably buried somewhere in my room. Oh, and a guitar magazine too, but that was it. The typical backpack of a high school teenager.

I walked out of the alley, hoping to figure where I was and put on something warmer. Once I walked out of the alley, I had to pinch myself a few times to make sure what I was seeing was real. "Forget about where I am let's talk about when I am!" I said to nobody in particular. I took a few cautious steps away from the alley, entranced by what I was seeing. It was a street, lined from end to end on both sides with vendors' carts. I smirked. "Try Bottle Alley or da Harbor," I hummed under my breath. I, apparently, was standing behind an apple vendor's cart. The sight of the apples made my stomach rumble, reminding me that I hadn't eaten since dinner the night before. The vendor had his back to me, and I looked longingly at the apples, wondering if I dared. I was hungry, sure, but not starving, and I'd never stolen anything before.

Just then, a boy of about ten walked up to me and asked, "Hungry?" Assuming he was the vendor's son, I nodded. "Guess so," I said nonchalantly, not wanting to be beholden to a ten-year-old. I was 16 and, like it or not, I had my pride. "Heah," he said in a New York accent, one I knew all too well from Newsies. He tossed me an apple and I caught it. "Thanks," I said, taking a few bites. He smirked and disappeared.

A few seconds later I heard a police whistle (again, which I knew from Newsies.) I really didn't need the call of "Stop, thief!" to make me realize they were after me. "Shit," I mumbled under my breath and took off, throwing the apple down. While I was running, I thanked each and every one of my lucky stars for two things: 1, that I had been on the cross country team so I knew how to run; and 2, that it was the end of the gymnastics season and I was actually in good shape.

I lost them a little while later, and sat down in an alley, trying to catch my breath. "Jeez, talk about luck," I muttered. I didn't have the faintest clue where I was. At least I'm not cold, I thought to myself, though I knew I would be shortly. I still had all of my stuff, and I wasn't any worse for the wear.

"Well, well, well, what have we heah? Looks like we'se got a goil in our territory," someone above me said. I knew that accent, but it took me a few seconds to place it. Shit. Brooklyn. I crossed a bridge and I didn't even realize it. A big bridge, no less. I'd been too busy running and focusing on not running into things or cops. I looked up into the faces of two very tall, mean-looking guys around my age. They were built; if they wanted to hurt me, I didn't stand a chance. Naturally, my mind immediately thought the worst, and I had to fight down panic as I stood up to face them.

"Who're you?" I asked, determined not to let my voice shake.

"Who're you?" the one who had spoken before challenged, and I had to admit I must have looked pretty odd. I'm pretty short for my age, 5 feet nothing. (Which sucks, by the way.) I had my long blond hair in two braids that hung in front. I was wearing a black spaghetti-strap tank top that was a little low; very low for when I thought I was, and my stomach was showing a bit. I had on baggy dark blue skater jeans and sneakers. They had looked me up and down (something I'm not fond of) before I answered.

"The name's Faith. What's yours?" He grunted in reply. "Nice name," I commented. "Shut up, bitch," he said, in a menacing tone. I took a step backwards, I couldn't help it. "What do you want?" I asked, coolly, trying to stay calm. He smirked. "I wanna have a good time," he said, playfully, moving closer. For once I was justified in thinking the worse. I reacted- I kneed him and took off running. I was getting sick of running.

I looked behind me to see if they had followed. If either had I didn't see them. Just then, I felt myself slam into something. I fell backwards. "Watch it," I grumbled, getting up. It was a well-dressed man who looked to be in his late forties. "You had better watch were you're going, young lady," he scolded. "And you shouldn't speak to men like that, especially your elders. Know your place," he said, before sticking his nose in the air and continuing to walk down the road. I flipped him off and retreated to yet another alley to think about what he'd said.

"Know my place, what is he talking about?" I grumbled. Then it hit me. I ran through my history really quickly; women's lib, right to vote, etc. "Ah shit!" I said out loud. "I've landed myself in a time where the feminist movement hasn't even been conceived yet." I was not a happy person. I was completely and utterly lost in a male-dominated society where women didn't even have the right to vote.