Hello, everyone. I've decided to try my hand at a Newsies fic. Reviews are always welcome and helpful; let me know if I've got the characters down or how to improve! Also, this is probably going to be roughly six chapters, so just a heads up that there is more to come. Anyway, read on, my ostriches.
Jack Kelly was up in his penthouse, when he heard the soft scrabbling of someone making their way onto the roof to join him. Probably not Crutchie, Jack thought, ignoring the slight bitterness that crept into the pit of his stomach. The strike had ended almost two weeks ago and Crutchie still wasn't completely alright. He didn't show it, of course, but he would sit on his bed with a soft smile frozen in place and his eyes glazed over in memory. Jack had tried to talk to him about the Refuge—for that had to be the problem—but, Crutchie had gently told Jack he was okay. And then when Jack pressed a bit more for answers, Crutchie had told him—not so gently, this time—that he didn't need Jack's help.
That had been two days ago and Jack's pride was still smarting. If Crutchie didn't need him, he didn't need Crutchie. So, the two friends had been dancing around each other, the cold shoulder creating a rift, not only between the two of them, but affecting the other newsies also. A soft aura of awkwardness had settled among the boys and no one was really talking to either Jack or Crutchie. Which was just fine with Jack. He wanted to finish this drawing anyway.
"Hey, Jack?"
Jack recognized the soft voice of Les Jacobs, Davey's younger brother. He sounded anxious. Most likely because he knew that Jack wasn't currently in the best of moods.
"Yeah, Les?"
"There's, uh, there's a lady 'ere."
Jack glanced at the young boy. "So?"
"She wants to take Crutchie with 'er," Les muttered, lowering his eyes.
"What ya talking about?"
Les shrugged. "She says she'll take care of him and…" he hesitated, but suddenly spoke up, his voice passionate, "I don't wanna lose Crutchie. You'se gotta tell 'er Crutchie can't go. We'se his family and he's gonna stay with us. Not 'er."
Jack stared at the younger boy. Some lady had come for Crutchie? Why? He was about to question Les further, when Davey stuck his head up to the penthouse. "There you are, Les," he muttered, before focusing on Jack. "You'se gotta get down 'ere. I don't know what to tell this lady. Or Crutchie, for that matter."
When Jack continued to sit there, still trying to comprehend what the Jacobs brothers were talking about, Davey motioned even harder for the older boy to get down there. "Okay, okay, I'm coming. What do you mean she wants Crutchie?" Jack asked, as he followed Davey and Les down to where the other boys were gathered around a tall, proper lady.
She was tall, with long dark brown hair pulled into a perfect bun at the nape of her neck. Not a single strand of hair was loose or out of place. She wore a tight, dark green dress that extended up her neck to the base of her chin, the collar buttoned so tightly that Jack wondered how she was able to breathe. She was standing apart from the newsies, careful not to touch any of the grimy children. When she caught sight of Jack, she started forward, towards him, the boys breaking out of her way, parting like the Red Sea. "Are you Mr. Kelly?" she queried.
"I am," Jack responded, uncertain how to react around this lady, for that is what she clearly was. He had never seen her before in his life and he still was not quite sure what she was here for.
Her nose turned up, slightly, as she announced her reason for showing up. "I am here for Christopher Morris."
"'is name is Crutchie!" Specs informed her, his arms crossed across his chest.
She turned piercing black eyes on the boy, frowning at him. "Christopher Morris is his Christian name and that is what he shall be known by."
"Like that religion ever did any good for 'im," Race muttered.
"Anyway," the woman continued, ignoring the newsies and turning her attention back to Jack. "Where is young Christopher?"
"Whatcha want him for?" Jack asked.
The woman fixed Jack with a cold stare. "I want to give him a good life, a better life than he could ever dream of getting here."
"Well, maybe he don't want to leave here," Specs cut in, nodding confidently.
"Let me ask him, then," the woman proposed. "Let Christopher make his own decision."
"We don't need to ask him 'cuz we already know his answer," Jack said. Crutchie wouldn't want to leave them; they was family and you don't just up and leave family. He and Crutchie had been friends for nearly as long as Jack could remember.
It had been a crisp, cold winter morning and Jack had been hawking headlines, hoping to get all his papes sold, when he noticed a small boy, huddled against the wall. The kid was studying his grimy hands with a curious ferocity, scrubbing at the dirt. "Oi, kid!" Jack had shouted, approaching the boy. He had startled easily, hitting his head against the wall as he looked up in surprise. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."
"Maybe you shouldn't go about shouting at people, then," the kid had muttered, rubbing the back of his head.
"Watcha doing out here?" Jack asked. It was cold and Jack knew that snow was likely to fall soon. At least, it felt like it. Most kids would be seeking refuge from the winter in warm homes, near roaring fires. But, this one just sat next to the wall. Jack curiously wondered if the kid didn't have a home.
The kid shrugged, careful not to make eye contact with Jack. "Dunno. Just sitting."
"What for?"
"I guess my leg's just tired."
Jack sat down next to the kid, quickly noticing the crutch leaning up against the wall. "You got a gimp leg?"
The kid glanced up at Jack indignantly. "Yeah, what's it to you?"
The fire in his voice caused Jack to grin. "You know, that gimp leg of yours would really sell the papes. Crips sell faster than the regular boys."
"What're you talking about?"
"I'm a newsie," Jack explained. He waved his remaining papes in the crip's face. "I sell papes. You could, too, if you don't have anything better to do. We get paid and a warm place to sleep. There's always a bit of food, so you don't starve. What do you say?"
The kid shrugged. "I don't need your charity. I'm just fine by myself."
"Hey, I'm not being charitable or nothing. You'd be useful. But, if you really just want to sit in this alley 'til you freeze to death, be my guest. Good luck, Crutch."
Jack pulled himself off the ground and started back out of the hallway. "Wait!" the thin voice cried out to him. "Would my leg actually be… helpful?"
"Of course! All them other boys have to fake a cripple, but you've got it down all natural-like. You'd sell so many papes that you'd be able to buy whatever you like: apples, oranges, anything."
The kid nodded to himself, before attempting to stand up. Jack quickly helped pull the kid to his feet, making sure he had his crutch securely stuck under his armpit. "I'm Jack, by the way. What's your name, kid?" Ducking his head, the kid remained silent for a second, prompting Jack to continue. "You can change your name if you don't like it. Don't think anyone back at the lodge goes by 'is real name. Just make something up and that's how I'll introduce you. Ya get to start over, fresh and new."
Softly, the kid muttered, "I don't know what to be named."
"How about Crutch?" Jack proposed. "You've got one; it'd be easy to remember."
The kid thought for a second, mouthing the new name over and over. "How about Crutchie?" he suggested.
Jack grinned. "Crutchie it is, then."
After that fateful winter morning, the two had become fast friends, brothers, really. Jack knew he could always rely on Crutchie to be there for him, to listen when he just needed to get something off of his chest. And Jack was always there for Crutchie. They were brothers and brothers didn't just up and leave with mysterious women, so Jack knew what Crutchie's answer had to be. "We don't need to ask Crutchie anything," Jack repeated fervently.
"Don't need to ask me what?" a voice asked. Jack quickly turned, noting that Crutch was making his way toward the group of newsies, hobbling quite fast.
"Look, it's nothing," Jack muttered. It really wasn't. Some lady thought Crutchie needed adoptin' or a family, without realizing that he had one right here.
"It ain't nothing if it needs my answer," Crutchie said, glancing at the lady. "Who's she?"
The lady smiled down at Crutchie. "My name is Mrs. Abigail Maddox. I have come to adopt you, young Christopher," she announced graciously.
"Adopt me?" Crutchie asked, hobbling past Jack towards Mrs. Hendricks "What d'ya mean?"
"My husband, John, and I have been unable to have kids. When we saw your story in the newspaper, we knew that we could provide you with the life that you deserved. You'll never be hungry or stuck selling newspapers in the freezing snow ever again. Plus, John is a doctor and he could provide you the help your leg needs."
As Mrs. Hendricks talked, Crutchie glanced down at his leg. It had been hurting him more than usual, ever since the Refuge, and it would be nice to have plenty of warm, home-cooked meals, no longer depending on the nuns' kindness. At the same time, however, the newsies were his best friends, his brothers. He couldn't just up and leave them, right?
"He's not going," Jack announced again, gripping Crutchie's shoulder.
"Let Christopher make his own decision," Mrs. Hendricks suggested.
Jack scoffed slightly. "I don't need to because I know what he's going to say: no."
Crutchie stood there for a second, immobilized in thought. He was starting to get sick of Jack never listening to him, always speaking up for him. Sure, Jack was his brother, but lately that relationship had felt more strained. Ever since the strike… Crutchie almost wished he could go back to before the strike ever happened, when he and Jack were brothers and they'd dream of Santa Fe. But, all of that was gone now. Davey had joined the newsies and now he was Jack's best friend. When Crutchie had been dragged off to the Refuge, Davey had filled his spot as best friend and Crutchie didn't know how to get his title back. Suddenly, he was sick of never being listened to or taken seriously. Suddenly, Crutchie just wanted out. And fate had presented him a perfect opportunity.
"Just shup up, Jack," Crutchie muttered.
Jack turned to him, probably shocked that the younger boy would say such a thing to him, but Crutchie didn't care. He just wanted out and this opportunity wasn't going to stick around forever. "What—what are you saying, Crutchie?"
"I'm saying that maybe I do want to be adopted. Maybe I don't wanna be slumming around with you'se fellas no more," Crutchie said angrily.
"Who says we'se slumming?" Race shouted back, even angrier.
Jack immediately stepped in, before a fight ensued. "I don't know, Crutchie. I just don't feel like this is a good idea. It doesn't seem… right. It just doesn't seem right to me."
Crutchie glared at Jack. "It doesn't seem right to you? What, 'cuz I finally found a family and am able to pull myself out of this hellhole?" The other newsies gasped at Crutchie's insult, glancing between each other. While everyone had known that Crutchie and Jack were avoiding each other, they hadn't expected a fight like this to come out of the disagreement. "Maybe I do want to be adopted."
"If that's the case," Abigail Maddox quickly jumped in. "You can sign right here. This paper guarantees that you are legally our child and under our protection." She smiled down at Crutchie. "It's as simple as that. One signature and you gain a loving family."
Jack gaped at his oldest friend. Would Crutchie really sign that paper? Would he really just up and leave the other newsies, his real family? "Crutchie," he began, stumbling over words. "Crutchie, I don't think—"
Crutchie cut Jack off, reaching forward to sign the paper Abigail Maddox held. "I don't care what you think. You'se not my mother."