Disclaimer: I STILL do not own Newsies...gah! Aggravates me to no end. Oh well...one day...one day I will.
Author's note: Wrote this sort of as a last minute, second-thought deal for Dewey's Holidays With the Newsies Fan Fic contest. Wasn't originally going to and then thought, "Oh what the heck?" So I did. Special big shout-out thanks to my bestest beta Hair for checkin' things over for me and letting me know what needed to be fixed where and such. Here's hopin' for that $25 gift card this year!! LOL!! And if I don't win this year, well...at least ya's got another Christmas story out of me!! Hope you enjoy it and as always, may all your Christmases (or Holidays) be white!
~Corky
Chapter One: Christmas Eve, 1930
"Hey! That's mine! Give it back!"
"Baby Boy! Baby Boy! Has to sleep with his precious little teddy bear!"
A heated game of Keep Away erupted in the small common room. Two boys about eleven years old each, smiled viciously as they waved the love worn brown bear high above the head of the eight year old they were keeping it from. The little one had chased the older boys all the way down from his third floor bunk room, doing his best to keep the tears from rolling down his still chubby little cheeks. He'd silently hoped that with Christmas just around the corner, Knuckles and Bleeder would grant him a reprise from their daily torture. Boy! Had he ever been wrong.
"C'mon guys! Give it back! Please?"
"Aw, ain't that sweet? He even says 'please'!" Knuckles laughed, tossing the bear high into the air and letting his partner-in-crime catch it.
"He's just as sweet as sugar, ain't he? Better be careful theres kid, or your tears might just make ya melt!" Bleeder smirked as he ran further into the common room.
Though the building was old and dank, having barely survived two fires and more boys running up and down its stairs than anyone could remember, the Newsboys Lodging House on Duane Street held certain warmth in it that could not be matched. Of course, the windows were drafty, the floorboards were bitterly cold (especially in that harsh winter of 1930) and more than a few doors no longer met their frames. So long as a fire kept burning in the hearth and the sounds of kids and teens rough housing filled the air though, it was never completely cold. Despite the Stock Market Crash the previous October, the caretaker at Nine Duane Street had done his best to make sure his establishment was full of holiday cheer.
Most of the children living there at the time weren't newsies per se, though they would occasionally try their hand at selling a pape or two if they were out and about in need of a few cents; they were the children of out placed parents, unable to afford to properly care for their own flesh and blood anymore due to the lack of work the country was facing. It was going to be a hard Christmas for a lot of those kids. Many of them had never been away from their families for very long and now, on the holiday that was meant to be shared with loved ones, they had no one but themselves.
This was not the case for little eight year old Sebastian "Runt" Munroe. The boy with sparkling grey-blue eyes and a full head of curly blond hair had never known any other place to call home besides that lodging house. Runt had never met either of his parents that he could remember; everything he knew how to do he learned within those dingy walls. He understood that his sworn enemies, Knuckles and Bleeder, (who for whatever reasons had made it be known that they were not his friends within hours of arriving) were still hurt and upset that their parents had all but tossed them to the street earlier that year, and it didn't bother him…much. He was plenty used to that behavior, after all, they weren't the first to be abandoned by their parents and they certainly wouldn't be the last. What bothered him was the way they acted towards everyone who ever tried to help them.
Knuckles and Bleeder laughed wickedly as they continued to toss the bear back and forth between themselves. Their bright green eyes flashed with enjoyment as Runt tried not to cry. Teasing and taunting him had been their favorite passtime since arriving in that Godforsaken home. He was, after all, an easy enough target; gullible, naïve, sweet, polite; the complete opposite of themselves. There was a reason they'd earned their nicknames, and it wasn't for helping little old ladies cross the street either. Nearly a head and a half taller than Runt, they relished in the fact that the sweet faced little boy was all but terrified of them. Who wouldn't be? Their wild red-orange hair stuck up in every direction as if it had never been combed, their eyes were the color of fresh spring grass with freckles completely splattering their faces, and their laughs sounded like a pack of squealing, rabid hyenas.
"Hey, Bleeder! Toss me that stupid bear!" Knuckles called as he leapt onto the rickety old sofa.
Tossing his twin the bear, Bleeder laughed once more as he pushed his hand against Runt's forehead, sending him tumbling to the floor, knocking his shoulder hard against the tiny table in front of the sofa.
"What'cha gonna do now, Baby Boy? Cry?"
"Heh, prob'ly! He still believes in Santa, ya know."
Runt felt his lip start to tremble as he rubbed his shoulder. So what if he still believed? There were worse things in the world than holding onto one tiny shred of hope, wasn't there? Standing back up, the little boy wiped his nose with his sleeve before looking back at the Terror Twins.
"Ya know Santa ain't real, right?" Bleeder asked as he moved to stand by the fireplace, attempting to warm his hands by the flames.
"Yeah, he's just some story the stores made up ta make people buy stuff. It's all a load of hooey, this whole Christmas junk. If Santa were real, then how comes Bleeder an' me never got anything we ever asked for?"
Pressing his lips together, Runt sniffled a few times before shrugging. "Because you've never been good a day in your life…and Santa only brings things to the good boys and girls."
Both older boys paused as they blinked at each other and then again at the little one before them. Thinking for a moment, both silently debating on how to best pummel him for that remark, they snarled. It was frightening to see them both acting as one in their actions. Runt knew that when they both started doing the same thing at the same exact time that he had just made a major mistake.
Gulping hard, he frantically searched for an escape route. He could run for the lobby, but they'd probably just catch him and slam him into the counter before he could get very far and if he went for the stairs they would corner him eventually and give him a good beating then. Bleeder was blocking the way to the front door now, while Knuckles had gotten down off the sofa and was circling behind him, taking his brothers place by the fireplace.
"You little bum, you're gonna regret that." Knuckles growled as he stepped closer to the dwindling fire, bear still in hand. Runt's eyes widened and his mouth went dry as he watched the older boy extend his arm to hold his beloved teddy over the flames.
"No! Please!" He cried, lunging forward to try and stop him. His arms suddenly getting grabbed and pulled behind his back, Runt's tears began to fall as Bleeder held him tightly, forcing him to watch as Knuckles dropped the bear onto the logs.
"Oops." Knuckles forced a fake look of sadness as he looked from the bear to the boy and back again. "I'm sorry, Baby boy…he must have slipped."
"What's goin' on in here? Bleeder, let Runt go! Knuckles, get away from the fireplace…I don't trust you." A voice suddenly filled the room from the archway, startling the three boys.
Quickly releasing Runt and turning around, Bleeder batted his lashes at the man before him and tried to play innocent while his brother jumped towards the window in an attempt to look angelic. Runt sniffled loudly as he ignored the man and moved for the fireplace. He had to get the bear back, it was the only thing he'd ever had his whole life and he wasn't about to part with it any time soon. He watched as the little worn feet slowly began to smolder and sizzle, its large button eyes staring at him pleadingly.
"Evenin' Mr. McKenzie. We wasn't doin' anything, just spendin' some time with Runt here. Wasn't we, Runt?" Bleeder questioned, not even bothering to look over his shoulder.
"Yeah, just spendin' some time with him is all." His twin agreed, nodding his head quickly as he reached for Bleeder's arm. "C'mon Bleeder, let's get on upstairs an' make sure our space is in order."
Like a flash, the two boys bolted past the caretaker and up the stairs to their bunk room. Mr. McKenzie knew they wouldn't be straightening their bunk area up, if anything they'd be going to the third floor to make Runt's bedding "magically" disappear once again. Those two boys were going to be the death of him, he was sure.
Snapping from his thoughts, the middle aged man looked back to where Runt still stood, staring into the fire which was quickly beginning to pick up once again. It wasn't uncommon for the boy to get lost in thought as he gazed into the dancing reds, oranges and blues—though most times he was sitting or lying down in front of them, his head propped on the head of Hubert, his bear. Taking a few steps closer, he watched as the little boy suddenly lurched forward and reached towards the burning logs.
"Runt, what's the…whoa! Hey there! Don't go shovin' your hand…oh." Mr. McKenzie trailed off as he looked into the flames and saw the body and arms being engulfed in fire. Thinking quickly, he yanked his jacket off before reaching out for the bear. Catching him by an ear and quickly pulling him out, Mr. McKenzie was able to get Hubert onto the stone hearth away from anything that might catch fire before smothering the flames with his jacket. He'd never be able to wear that dull wool coat again, but at least he'd been able to save his favorite little lodger's only belonging before it was completely destroyed.
Runt stared down at the charred remains of his toy. The legs were completely gone, as was half the body; the arms singed and black, the smell of burning cotton and fabric rancid in the air. He could feel his whole body start to shake as he blinked back the tears once again threatening to roll down his cheeks. Mr. McKenzie had done his best to save him, and for that Runt was forever grateful, but in his heart he knew it would have almost been better to just let him burn away.
"Runt, hey buddy, I'm real sorry about this. I wish," Mr. McKenzie trailed off once more as he sighed and shook his head. Standing up, he placed the bear lovingly on the mantle, careful to prop him up so he didn't fall down and get kicked into the flames again by accident. Turning back to the little boy, he offered him a small smile as he rested his hands on Runt's tiny shoulders. He hated seeing the little one upset; it broke his heart in the worst way possible and stirred up old memories of his childhood, long ago buried deep inside him.
"Hey, did I ever tell you about the time I met Santa Claus?" He asked, one brown eyebrow quirking as a playful smirk itched at the corners of his mouth.
Runt sniffled again, once more using his sleeve for a handkerchief as he shook his head. "B-Bleeder an' K-Knuckles said…there's no s-such thing as S-Santa."
"Oh, c'mon now! What do they know? They just said that because they've never been good enough to know him." Mr. McKenzie smiled as he turned the young boy around and led him back towards the lobby. "C'mon, you help me decorate the tree I was able to get and I'll tell you all about it."
Runt followed Mr. McKenzie out the door and onto the bare street. Hardly anyone that year had decorated for the season; a few shops here or there offered specials on their holiday goods, and occasionally they'd find a house that still hung a wreath on the door with a bit of garland on the railing or on an awning, but nothing compared to what Runt had seen in the previous winters. How Mr. McKenzie had even been able to afford getting them a tree—even a tree as tiny as the one he'd gotten—Runt wasn't entirely sure.
The only thing to make it feel as if it were truly Christmas was the gentle snow fall that had been dropped on the city the night before. If the grey clouds above were any indication as to what the weather was going to be like, Runt felt sure that it was bound to start snowing again soon. He didn't mind it really; he rather enjoyed seeing the whole city blanketed in the softness. On nights when the sky was clear and the moon was full, he could look out his window and swear he could see all the way to New Jersey the snow made things so bright.
"You, you really met Santa Claus? The real Santa Claus?"
Smiling as he handed the boy a small bag of greens and cranberries, Mr. McKenzie nodded as he hoisted the tiny tree up onto his shoulder. Shooing Runt back into the lobby where it was warm, he quickly shut the door behind him and kicked the snow from his boots. He wasn't like Runt; he'd never enjoyed the winter, it was far too cold for his likings. Then again, many would argue that he didn't like the summer either because it was too hot, or the spring or fall because it was too rainy.
"You bet'cha I did. Here, go set those things in the common room and help me get this set up."
Waiting for the boy to return, Mr. McKenzie smiled as he thought back on that fateful night so many years before. His friends hadn't believed him; no one had believed him—with the possible exception of the caretaker at the time, old man Kloppman. At first it upset him that no one believed him. After awhile though, he'd decided it was fine by him, it was a secret he could call his own and no one could take it away from him. Though he'd put on a grouchy façade the whole year through, at Christmas time, he would always try to look on the upside of things.
Running back into the lobby, Runt smiled up at the man who'd become the closest thing to a father he'd ever known. Reaching for the little stand they'd used each year to hold the tree up in, the little boy bounced from foot to foot, momentarily forgetting his distress over his burned toy.
"What was he like? Did he look just like he did in the store pictures? Did you see his helpers and reindeer?"
Mr. McKenzie laughed as he nudged Runt along into the common room once more. Pointing out where the stand was to go that year, he rested the evergreen against the wall before moving to help with rearranging the room a bit. Rolling up the sleeves of his grey shirt and faded pink long underwear, he couldn't help but shake his head, his brown-with-silver-flecks hair falling down in front of his eyes.
"Slow down with the questions kid. Ya gonna let me tell the story or what?"
"So tell it already then!!"
Smiling slightly, the man nodded to himself. "It happened way back when I was just a kid, not much older than you are now…"
