Hiya. I was listening to David Bowie, and "Rebel Rebel" came on. And while I was listening to it, I thought, "I should try a song fic." So yeah, I did. And I really don't like them.
Disclaimer: The Newsies are Disney's, and "Rebel Rebel" is David Bowie's.
Two newsboys loitered on a street corner, watching the traffic of the quiet New York street. A door across the street opened, and a worn, mousy woman leaned out.
"Cora!" She called. "Cora Anne!"
She paused and waited for some response. Where there was none, she screeched, "Cora Anne Davidson! Get in here, now!"
From the other direction, the boys noticed a girl dashing out of an alley.
"I'll deal with you'se latah!" She yelled back at the two boys that had been in the alley.
As she ran past them, holding her skirt well above her knees, the boys noticed that she had the beginning of a black eye. She shot across the street, dodging wagons and carriages, and pulled up outside the door. The woman waiting in the door scowled at the girl.
"Cora! Were you fighting again? I swear, I don't know if you're a boy or a girl! Now get in here and finish your chores!" The woman said shrilly. She dragged a protesting Cora in by her ear. The boys exchanged a look.
You've got your mother in a whirl.
She's not sure if you're a boy or a girl.
Later that day, Cora sat on the step outside of the tenement building that she called home. She slipped her long fingers through a large hole in her skirt. Just one more thing to patch. She wiped her nose with one dirty hand. Her face was already so dirty it didn't matter anymore. The skin around one of her eyes felt tight and sore. She'd have a nice black eye in the morning. She winced as she heard her mother banging down the stairs to come fetch her back inside to scrub potatoes or some other menial task. Cora decided right there and then that she'd never lead the life that her mother had led.
Rebel Rebel, you've torn your dress.
Rebel Rebel, your face is a mess.
Rebel Rebel, how could they know?
The two boys found themselves returning to the same corner the next day, after they had finished selling for the day. They lounged in the shade of an awning, passing a cigarette back and forth between them. They kept watch out for the girl but didn't see her. They were just about to leave, when they heard a commotion coming from the alley across the street. The jogged over to find the girl finishing her fight from yesterday.
Her red hair was short and spiky. It looked like she had cut it herself with a kitchen knife. It hung over blue eyes that blazed with fury as she pummeled the face of the boy she was straddling.
"I'se t'ink I'm in love, Race." The taller boy murmured to the shorter boy. The shorter boy snorted. He'd heard that before.
The taller boy waded into the fight, moving the girl aside and finishing the fight for her with a quick punch between the boys eyes.
"I'se c'n finish me own fight!" The girl snalred.
"Yeah, but den I'd hafta wait dat much longah ta introduce meself. Name's Jack Kelly." He held out a hand to her. The girl snorted. So did Race, who was leaning against the wall at the end of the alley.
"Cora. Cora Davidson." She replied smoothly, with a hint of sarcasm. She shook his hand firmly, rather than letting him kiss it, like he so obviously intended to do.
"Cora. Dat's pretty. Tell me, Cora, will you'se go ta suppah wit' me tahnight?"
Hey babe, your hair's alright.
Hey babe, let's go out tonight.
"Really, Jack? You'se t'ink dat goil'll care if ya haih's not poifect?" Racetrack sighed as Jack fought with his hair. Jack sighed in defeat as his hair fell across his forehead once more.
"I'se guess not. Well, wish me luck." Jack settled his cowboy hat on his head. Racetrack smacked his back.
Less than a mile away, Cora was getting ready as well. She gasped as her older sisters hauled on the strings of her stays.
"Geez! C'n you'se go a li'l easy?" She groaned.
"Can you go a little easy." Her sister corrected. "And stop talking."
With one final tug, she tied the stays and helped Cora pull her dress on.
"Beautiful." She smiled. There was a knock at the door. "I think that's your beau."
After supper, Jack and Cora wandered the gas-lit streets, arm in arm. They were quite. Conversation hadn't exactly flowed that evening.
"So, eh, would you'se like ta go… dancin'?" Jack asked, trying to break the awkward silence. Judging by the way Cora's face lit up, he'd said the right thing.
You like me, and I like it all.
We like dancing and we look divine.
Jack and Cora quickly became inseparable. The other newsies didn't approve of Cora. She wasn't feminine enough, she was too rough, too outspoken, too cheap. Jack thought it was funny, coming from boys with such low standards. He knew though, from the glances they sent her way, that it was only jealousy.
They put you down, they say I'm wrong.
You tacky thing, you put them on.
Unfortunately for Jack, the fiery Cora was a little more than even he could handle. The couple warred constantly, mostly because of Cora's inability to remain content with just one guy for very long. Cora always begged Jack to take her back, and every time he did.
One night, as they were curled up together in front of the woodstove in the lodging house's sitting room, she asked,
"Why do you'se always take me back? I'se knows what da boys say 'bout me."
Jack though for a minute before answering. "Well, you'se may be a bit of a tramp, goil, but I'se still loves ya."
He kissed the top of her head.
Rebel Rebel, how could they know?
Hot tramp, I love you so!