Disclaimer: I do not own Jack Kelly, Sarah Jacobs or any other member of the Jacobs family. The characters in this short piece are the property of Disney, ©1992—, and are from the musical, Newsies. I just like to play with them sometimes.

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Sister Suffragette

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It was a hot and hazy humid evening down on the Lower East Side and there was nothing really left to do.

The papers had already been sold—as much as they could be, that is—and the lace had already been tatted for the next morning's delivery; that left Jack Kelly and two of the three Jacobs siblings, David and Sarah, tired and hot and bored. Les, the third and youngest Jacobs child, had taken a quick meal with the family (plus one; Jack was not the sort to turn down a free meal when he could get one) before heading out to play marbles over at the lodging house with Boots and Tumbler.

The three of them had, after Esther Jacobs had cleared away the plates from the table, chosen to go up to the rooftop. It was cooler up there, what with the wind blowing, and, besides, Esther had asked Sarah to take the drying laundry off of the line. David and Jack, eager to escape the stifling apartment, had followed her up.

Jack had found a seat alongside the rooftop's edge, David sitting at the base of the small wall while Sarah went about removing the laundry and folding it into neat piles. It was a calm and cozy moment and, every now and then, Sarah would coyly look over at the sandy-haired newsie; Jack, with a bit of a cocky grin, always met that gaze. Then Sarah would smile and fix a stray piece of her long, brown hair before attending to the next piece of laundry.

David just pretended as if it was not strange in the least that his best friend had been courting his only sister for near on a year. However, after already enduring a few hours in their company that day, his patience had worn thin and, in order to entertain himself, he removed a rolled up copy of the New York World that he had stowed in the back pocket of his brown trousers.

The morning had been slow because, regardless of Jack's famous credo, a bum headline meant fewer sales. And, as the country's economy was going well and news on the War in the Philippines had been few and far between, there was not much to shout about to potential buyers.

That is, except for the upcoming election. The election of 1900.

There wasn't much in the articles that littered the front page that the two newsies had not already discussed when trying to sell the papers. Bill McKinley was running for president—again. He was running against the Great Commoner—again. And, David thought, he'd probably win, too—again.

The only thing that caught David's attention and kept Jack Kelly interested in the politics was the fact the Teddy Roosevelt, the old governor of New York, was running alongside William McKinley as his vice president.

Ever since Jack had ridden in Roosevelt's carriage last year he had looked up to the politician (even if David suspected it was because he enjoyed Roosevelt's cowboy persona); he would, Jack told David, vote for Teddy in a heartbeat if he could. David agreed, as did most of the newspaper customers they had.

That was all anyone in the City seemed to be talking about, the upcoming election when New York's own would have one foot in the White House.

Sighing to himself, and lazily stretching his arms over his head before letting the curled newspaper fall beside him, David glanced over at Jack. "Three months, Jack. You really think people are gonna vote McKinley in again? I don't know…"

Now, David knew he was baiting Jack. However, it was so rare that the book smart David could entice the street smart Jack to have an intellectual discussion that it was worth it. Besides, it was too hot for him to do anything but offer words in return.

Jack huffed but David was right—the other boy didn't even attempt to reach down to smack him. "Come off it, Dave. You know as good as I do that they're puttin' Bill back in. And Teddy, too. Now that'll be a government." Wagging his finger at the younger boy he added, "If Teddy Roosevelt can take care of a rat like Snyder, imagine what he can do for the rest of the country."

David nodded. "That's true and all, Jack, but what about Bryan? His stance on free silver and stopping the war in the Philippines sounds good."

"Nope," Jack said, shaking his head, "that plan of his is shit. Shuttin' down a war? Why? Ain't we winnin'? 'Sides, what would our ace war correspondent have to say about that?" he added slyly.

Bryan Denton, a reporter for the New York Sun and a supporter for the newsboys' strike last summer, had been given the job of war correspondent more than once in his tenure as a newspaperman. Even though he was presently following Roosevelt's campaign across country, writing pieces on the promotion of the former governor, Jack liked to refer to him as such.

David, on the other hand, ignored the jab. It was a reminder that the reporter—a man that David looked up to—had almost given up on them during the strike.

He shrugged. "I don't know, Jack. It sounds pretty convincing."

"What sounds convincing?"

Both boys turned their heads at the sound of the voice. Sarah, it seemed, had finished collecting the laundry and had just entered in on their discussion. She looked genuinely interested as she held the folded pile of clothing to her chest.

"Oh, nothing, Sarah," David answered, looking up at his sister, as he gestured to himself and Jack, "we were just talking about the upcoming election."

"Really?" Wrapping one arm around the stack she used her free hand to hold the skirt of her dress out before kneeling down on the rooftop. Once she was on the same level as the two other boys she said, "You know, I've been reading up on that in the papers that David brings home for Papa. I really think that Theodore Roosevelt would make a great president."

"But he's not running."

Sarah did not look concerned at David's words. "I know that. I just think that he would make a great president. I would vote for him if he ever ran."

Her statement was made so genuinely that she was surprised when the only response she got was laughter from both Jack and David. Her dark eyes narrowed and she frowned. "What's so funny?"

David, accustomed to that look on Sarah's face—it usually meant he did something silly and she was going to cuff him on the ear for it—stopped laughing; Jack, however, did not. He actually had to loosen the red knotted bandana he kept around his neck in order to catch his breath. "Well," he said, once he was able, "you ain't never gonna get to vote, Sarah."

Sarah lowered the fresh laundry so that it was resting on her lip before crossing her arms over her chest. "And why not?"

"Well, you're a girl." Jack looked surprised that she even had to ask that question.

David sighed.

If possible, Sarah's frown turned down even more. She lifted her head up and eyed Jack; David was glad it wasn't him. Sarah could be scary when she wanted to be. "So? Just because I don't wear pants or… or run the house… that means I can't pick the president? My brain isn't any smaller because I'm a girl."

David opened his mouth before he even knew what he was saying. "Actually, there's been studies that—never mind." He closed his mouth when Sarah whipped her head around to look at him. He awarded her a sheepish grin before she turned back to look at Jack.

He sighed again, this time in relief. Phew… that was close.

Jack did not know when to stop, though. True, he was floundering a bit under the weight of Sarah's stare but he was not about to give up and give in. "Girls can't vote, Sarah, cause… cause they're mothers, that's why."

He knew at once that that was the wrong sort of argument to use.

"Is that supposed to mean that a woman with a child on her hip doesn't have the ability to understand the issues and select a name on the ballot on voting day, Jack?" Sarah's voice was much lower than normal; she was angry and it was obvious.

Poor Jack. He was pretty sure that Sarah was peeved at something but he could not understand just what. It was, he figured, his fault but he'd never been too good with words; that was David's department. He knew why girls didn't have the vote—he just couldn't tell Sarah why.

That didn't mean that he wanted Sarah to be angry because he couldn't explain something that everyone should know; it just meant that he had to find a different way to settle this discussion. And, since David was not being much help, Jack decided to take another approach.

Holding up his hands in a sign of defeat Jack said, "Hey, if it makes you feel any better, I can't vote either."

His words may not have calmed Sarah but, at the very least, she did not sound so fierce. "Why not?"

David closed his eyes. He was hoping against hope that Jack would be smart enough not to answer this question or, seeing as it was his custom normally, just to lie to Sarah. But he didn't. For one of the only times that David knew of, Jack Kelly decided to tell the truth.

"I ain't twenty-one yet."

David had to refrain from shaking his head at that.

"Oh."

Sarah slowly stood up, adjusting the pile of clean clothing so that it was, once again, resting against the front of her chest. Jack and David watched her get up, David warily eyeing her and Jack smiling as if his simple answer had resolved the whole situation.

He looked proud of himself.

He shouldn't have been.

"Oh."

While the boys remained in their same seats, Sarah walked across the rooftop, pausing only when she had taken a few steps away from them. She stood there, frozen and silent for one second more, before turning around. "Twenty-one? That's only three years from now, Jack. Only three years and you're going to get to vote but me, you say, I'm never going to get to. And, somehow, that's fair. Fair…"

Jack shrugged, slightly rattled that Sarah was still harping on that. "Don't worry, Sarah. It ain't like you're missing much, really. I've never voted and it don't make me no different. Hell, I bet I never even vote even if they let me."

If his offhanded comment was meant to reassure her, it did not work. Sarah straightened up, clutching that laundry so tightly that her knuckles were turning white from the grip. Thick strands of her were sticking to her cheeks but whether it was from her growing upset or the continued humidity, David was not sure.

He was, however, quite positive that she was angrier than she was currently showing. Sarah did not like being told she could not do something—and that was something that Jack hadn't learned about her yet. Considering that Sarah had weaseled her way into helping out with the prior summer's strike, David was surprised that Jack was still oblivious to one of his sister's traits.

Jack also underestimated her ability to hold a grudge. David was not envying him just then.

"But I will. I bet you anything that, one day, all us poor girls will be able to vote, too. I'll do my best to make it so and then… then I'll be just as important as you two." Then, with an added humph, Sarah turned her back on David and Jack before stalking away from the boys.

It was quiet again; the only sounds were those of the City continuing to get ready to settle in for the evening. The noises were faint, barely reaching those two loungers atop the apartment tenement's roof; the almost solitude was broken up by Sarah's slamming of the rooftop entrance and David's near inaudible sigh.

David shook his head, not even bothering to turn around and face his friend. He was sure there would be a dumbfounded look on the older boy's face; he was also sure that Jack had never seen Sarah in such a snit before.

"Good going, Jack. I think you just turned my sister into a suffragette."

"Wait. So she really didn't know that girls couldn't…"

David shook his head again.

"Uh-oh."

"Yeah."

Author's Note: This short piece was written for three reasons. One: I really do believe that Sarah deserves more attention in the fandom. She was in the movie—and none of the characters seemed to dislike her. I don't understand (well, really, I do) the level of bashing centered on her character. Two: I wrote my senior seminar thesis on the Women's Suffrage Movement (and how it was documented by the media). I thought it might make an interesting one shot idea. And Three: This story is putting me over the million word archived point on this site. Holy damn, I'm wordy. And I love it.