CHAPTER ONE:
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the newsies, though I do own Cutter.
"Git up! Git up! Carry the banner! Sell the papes! Sell the papes!" Kloppman burst into the bunkroom, yelling loudly as he roused the newsboys. Kloppman, the 'warden' of the Manhattan lodging house, was always up and hollering at five o'clock every morning, getting the usual groans and protests from everyone. "Skittery! Boots! Specs! Snitch! Cutter! Blink! Mush! Git up!!" he walked down the row of bunks, shaking and whacking those who slept on. Cutter yawned and rolled over, wishing that she could sleep for another few hours or so. Kid Blink jumped off the bunk directly above her, sending her flying from her perch on the very edge of the bed to the floor. She shivered as her body hit the hard wooden boards, which were freezing cold. She opened her mouth to shout after him, but he was already in the washroom. She picked herself up off the floor and stumbled into the washroom, scooping up her clothes as she got up. Being a girl, she was not allowed to change with all the other newsboys. Instead, she had to change in a two foot by two foot shower stall with no room to move.
"Damnit!" she hollered as she hit the faucet with her elbow, turning on the water and drenching herself. She'd have to walk around in soaking wet clothes all day long. On top of that, her pants had acquired yet another hole in the arse. "great, now my knickers'll be seen all over Man'atten." She muttered to herself, rolling her eyes.
By the time she was done changing, most of the newsies had already left. Only Kid Blink, Racetrack, and Cowboy were remaining. Racetrack was still combing his hair, something he'd been doing since Kloppman had woken them up, Cowboy was shaving, and Kid Blink was waiting for Cutter. They were best friends, and they always walked to the pape yard together.
"No matta which way ya comb it Race, it'll still look nasty." Cutter said, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. "Ya know."
"What'd ya say ta me mudda fucka." Race said, looking at her. "Don't mess wit me,man."
"Oh, and whatta you gonna do 'bout it," Cutter smiled,
"Prolly throw you'se in da lake, just like last time." Racetrack and Cutter had kind of a love-hate relationship, and they got into these fake fights all the time.
"Way to be a sonuvabitch Race." Cutter snatched the comb out of his hand and ran it through her own hair, which was windblown from selling the day before. She never bothered to brush it usually. It was useless and a grand waste of time in her opinion. She just wanted to piss off Racetrack, who cared about two things and two things only. Himself and gambling. Gambling was his favorite pastime; he usually bet on races down at the Sheepshead track, hence the name Racetrack. Cutter sometimes went with him, but usually she stayed nearer to the lodging house in case she got tired and wanted a break. She wasn't as big as some of the boys, so the other newsboys from surrounding burrows picked her on a lot more. The only person she ever told about it when she got beat up was her best friend, Kid Blink, and he was worn to secrecy. If Cowboy found out he would force her to stay with a buddy whilst selling, and she hated doing that, even with Kid Blink. Being with a buddy meant less selling, because the people would buy from one of the two and pooling the money and splitting it was unheard of.
Kid Blink and Cutter arrived at the pape yard later than most of the newsies, but they didn't mind. Waiting in line wasn't that much fun. Had they gotten there early they probably would have just stood around talking until the line had gone down anyway.
"What 'appened to dat punk from Queens, Cutta?" Kid Blink prodded Cutter between the shoulder blades, "He hasn't been 'round much lately."
"Cut dat out man. I broke up wit 'im." She slapped his hand away and continued. "He was kinda boring, ya know?"
"Nice." Kid Blink fished his money out of his pocket as they neared the front of the line. Cutter only had enough money for twenty papes, which wasn't good. She'd have less to sell and less money at the end of the day, creating the same problem for tomorrow. "I told ya 'e was a duffer, but since when do you'se listen to me."
"I listen to you'se plenty. You'se was da one who told me ta go out wit 'im." Cutter put her money down on the counter. "Fifteen papes please." She only bought fifteen so she'd have some guaranteed money at the end of the day, regardless of what she sold today. Hopefully she'd sell enough so she could buy more than fifteen tomorrow.
"Yeah, well you'se was da one who was stupid enough to listen to me." Blink countered, buying his papes and sitting next to her on an overturned crate. "You'se coulda just not gone out wit 'im."
"I was bored though. There's nobody interesting 'round 'ere to tawk to."
"Owtch, dat hoit." Blink pretended to look sad until Cutter punched him in the shoulder.
"Well face it, nothin interesting happens 'round 'ere. Nothin interesting has happened here since we went on strike, and dat was two years ago." Cutter had just started living in the Manhattan Lodging House when the newsboys had gone on strike, asking for lower prices on papes. She hadn't really participated in the strike until the home stretch, but she'd been involved enough to know the basic concept of what had went on. She'd been a newsie in New Jersey until she ran out on that, hoping to find something better in New York. The only thing better about New York versus New Jersey was that she was the only girl; whereas in New Jersey she'd been one of seventeen girls in just one particular lodging house.
"Hey Blink, I'm gonna get goin' man, I'll catch up wit you'se later."
"Tibby's at foah, okay?"
"Gotcha. Later." Cutter walked out of the gates and set off down the road towards her selling spot, a sunny corner near the market. She could tell that this was going to be a rough day.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the newsies, though I do own Cutter.
"Git up! Git up! Carry the banner! Sell the papes! Sell the papes!" Kloppman burst into the bunkroom, yelling loudly as he roused the newsboys. Kloppman, the 'warden' of the Manhattan lodging house, was always up and hollering at five o'clock every morning, getting the usual groans and protests from everyone. "Skittery! Boots! Specs! Snitch! Cutter! Blink! Mush! Git up!!" he walked down the row of bunks, shaking and whacking those who slept on. Cutter yawned and rolled over, wishing that she could sleep for another few hours or so. Kid Blink jumped off the bunk directly above her, sending her flying from her perch on the very edge of the bed to the floor. She shivered as her body hit the hard wooden boards, which were freezing cold. She opened her mouth to shout after him, but he was already in the washroom. She picked herself up off the floor and stumbled into the washroom, scooping up her clothes as she got up. Being a girl, she was not allowed to change with all the other newsboys. Instead, she had to change in a two foot by two foot shower stall with no room to move.
"Damnit!" she hollered as she hit the faucet with her elbow, turning on the water and drenching herself. She'd have to walk around in soaking wet clothes all day long. On top of that, her pants had acquired yet another hole in the arse. "great, now my knickers'll be seen all over Man'atten." She muttered to herself, rolling her eyes.
By the time she was done changing, most of the newsies had already left. Only Kid Blink, Racetrack, and Cowboy were remaining. Racetrack was still combing his hair, something he'd been doing since Kloppman had woken them up, Cowboy was shaving, and Kid Blink was waiting for Cutter. They were best friends, and they always walked to the pape yard together.
"No matta which way ya comb it Race, it'll still look nasty." Cutter said, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. "Ya know."
"What'd ya say ta me mudda fucka." Race said, looking at her. "Don't mess wit me,man."
"Oh, and whatta you gonna do 'bout it," Cutter smiled,
"Prolly throw you'se in da lake, just like last time." Racetrack and Cutter had kind of a love-hate relationship, and they got into these fake fights all the time.
"Way to be a sonuvabitch Race." Cutter snatched the comb out of his hand and ran it through her own hair, which was windblown from selling the day before. She never bothered to brush it usually. It was useless and a grand waste of time in her opinion. She just wanted to piss off Racetrack, who cared about two things and two things only. Himself and gambling. Gambling was his favorite pastime; he usually bet on races down at the Sheepshead track, hence the name Racetrack. Cutter sometimes went with him, but usually she stayed nearer to the lodging house in case she got tired and wanted a break. She wasn't as big as some of the boys, so the other newsboys from surrounding burrows picked her on a lot more. The only person she ever told about it when she got beat up was her best friend, Kid Blink, and he was worn to secrecy. If Cowboy found out he would force her to stay with a buddy whilst selling, and she hated doing that, even with Kid Blink. Being with a buddy meant less selling, because the people would buy from one of the two and pooling the money and splitting it was unheard of.
Kid Blink and Cutter arrived at the pape yard later than most of the newsies, but they didn't mind. Waiting in line wasn't that much fun. Had they gotten there early they probably would have just stood around talking until the line had gone down anyway.
"What 'appened to dat punk from Queens, Cutta?" Kid Blink prodded Cutter between the shoulder blades, "He hasn't been 'round much lately."
"Cut dat out man. I broke up wit 'im." She slapped his hand away and continued. "He was kinda boring, ya know?"
"Nice." Kid Blink fished his money out of his pocket as they neared the front of the line. Cutter only had enough money for twenty papes, which wasn't good. She'd have less to sell and less money at the end of the day, creating the same problem for tomorrow. "I told ya 'e was a duffer, but since when do you'se listen to me."
"I listen to you'se plenty. You'se was da one who told me ta go out wit 'im." Cutter put her money down on the counter. "Fifteen papes please." She only bought fifteen so she'd have some guaranteed money at the end of the day, regardless of what she sold today. Hopefully she'd sell enough so she could buy more than fifteen tomorrow.
"Yeah, well you'se was da one who was stupid enough to listen to me." Blink countered, buying his papes and sitting next to her on an overturned crate. "You'se coulda just not gone out wit 'im."
"I was bored though. There's nobody interesting 'round 'ere to tawk to."
"Owtch, dat hoit." Blink pretended to look sad until Cutter punched him in the shoulder.
"Well face it, nothin interesting happens 'round 'ere. Nothin interesting has happened here since we went on strike, and dat was two years ago." Cutter had just started living in the Manhattan Lodging House when the newsboys had gone on strike, asking for lower prices on papes. She hadn't really participated in the strike until the home stretch, but she'd been involved enough to know the basic concept of what had went on. She'd been a newsie in New Jersey until she ran out on that, hoping to find something better in New York. The only thing better about New York versus New Jersey was that she was the only girl; whereas in New Jersey she'd been one of seventeen girls in just one particular lodging house.
"Hey Blink, I'm gonna get goin' man, I'll catch up wit you'se later."
"Tibby's at foah, okay?"
"Gotcha. Later." Cutter walked out of the gates and set off down the road towards her selling spot, a sunny corner near the market. She could tell that this was going to be a rough day.