A/N: I recently saw a play called Freewheelers, which was about the growing popularity of the bicycle at the turn of the century and women's attempts to break free from their restraints of society to ride it. As Susan B. Anthony said, "The bicycle has done more for the emancipation of women than anything else in the world." Just thought I'd give you some background on where this story (and Katherine's comments about her corset and the League of American Wheelers) came from. Enjoy!

Bright, summer sunlight shone down on the stately, grimy buildings of New York City, providing some glow to the rag-tag groups of people that walked between the lamp posts and carriages that trundled along the dirt-covered streets. Persons of high-fashion paraded around the vendors and street children, sporting colourful gowns and embroidered suits. Men and women passed each other by, occasionally stopping to consort with a member of the class below them, often buying a paper from the pale-faced, rag-adorned newsies that hawked the headlines on every available street corner. Steam rose up above the general cheerful chatter of all the people, coupled with the enticing smells of the street vendor's wares. A small boy clad in a purple and pink plaid shirt brought a refreshing degree of excitement as he rushed through the dusty streets, keeping one hand on his black bowler hat. His black boots kicked up small flurries of dirt as he ran on, trying to find his brother and friends. Two newsies on a street corner turned to see the boy, and one ran up to him.

"What is it, Les?" Davey Jacobs asked, a bit worried. "Did somethin' happen-"

"Katherine's got a wheeler!" Les interjected, a grin on his face. "Come on! Jack's trying it out-you gotta see!"

Davey's hand was grabbed and his arm nearly yanked out of it's socket as Les dragged him down the streets. After catapulting through the masses of dresses and suits, and narrowly avoiding a horse-drawn carriage that rolled it's way through the crowd, Davey slowed to a stop, glancing after his brother after he let go of his hand. His gaze was soon trapped by a machine he had only seen in pictures-a gleaming white bicycle. Or a wheeler, as they were commonly called. Katherine, outfitted in a pink dress, swung her leg over the black leather seat, hopping off. She faced the small crowd of newsies with a smile, but was immediately confronted with cries of, "Can I have a turn?!"

"Race, you go first," she said with a laugh, pointing at the newsie. She gave a loving look to Jack, reaching up to kiss his cheek. "Thank you, dear."

"I didn't get you the wheeler," Jack said with a small smile as he looked down on her. "Your father did."

"I know," Katherine said sweetly. "I meant, thank you for telling the boys. They don't usually have things like this-Race, slow down, you're going to crash!" She turned away from Jack, shouting. "Turn! Race, turn!"

Soon her shouts were coupled by the newsies' cries of, "Turn! Turn!" Race got the hint and swerved wildly right into the assembled crowd. The newsies quickly scattered as Race crashed into one unfortunate, bringing them both down in a pile of metal, wheels, clothing, wood and flailing limbs. Katherine hitched up her skirts and ran over to the two, followed by Jack.

"Race, are you okay-Oh no, Crutchie?! Are you okay?!"

"'M fine, Katherine, really, 'M good-"

"Never mind me," Race cut in as he stood, "is the wheeler okay?"

"It ain't broken, is it?" Crutchie asked as Jack pulled him to his feet and gave him back his crutch. Katherine shook her head, setting the machine back upright. "It's perfectly fine. I must say, you two are very concerned about the bicycle than yourselves."

Race and Crutchie glanced at each other sheepishly. Jack looked them up and down. "Neithah o' yous hurt, are ya?"

"'M fine," Crutchie offered, and Race nodded his own okay. Les rushed up, nearly knocking the boys over again. "Can I have a go, Katherine?" He asked excitedly, and she willingly obliged. Davey helped to hoist him onto the bicycle, and his little brother took off like a professional. Davey turned to Katherine, not trying to sound too stuck-up but curious all the same. Katherine was only too happy to answer all his questions, however; she rather liked this young intellectual.

"D'you know what type of wheeler this is?" Davey asked, and Katherine nodded, looking off after where Les was literally going around Specs in circles. "It's a Pneumatic-Tired Safety," she said a bit proudly. "My father bought it when he went down to Connecticut two weeks ago, and sent it to me. It's hell on my corset, though-" She stopped, looking at Davey, slightly embarrassed. "Sorry."

"It's fine," he said distractedly as he was too busy paying attention to his brother. Jack walked up with a scoff. "Look at 'im. He looks like he's gonna join that-what did ya call it, Ace?"

"The League of American Wheelers," Katherine said with a slight frown. "Which I could join, if I wasn't a girl."

"Yeah, that," Jack knew how Katherine was when it came to talking about things that men could do that women could not. With a breath that Jack knew would be followed by some comment about women's rights, Katharine went on. "It's not even the fact that I'm a girl. It's the fact that girls can't even go riding around in public without being stared at like animals in a zoo! If my father knew I was riding around in Central Park-luckily Bill's asked his father to not print any stories about me, but-"

"Hey," Jack broke in, putting a hand around her waist. "The real reason why that League don't want any women tah join is because they don't want goils like you showin' them up."

That cheered Katherine up immensely. "You're just not saying that?"

"I'm bein' serious! It's women like you they'se afraid of. Now, if they could get their hands on Les, then it's a different matter..."

"I'm sure he could be the best of those men," Katherine sighed slightly.

"If any o' those newspaper giants write anythin' about ya," Albert walked up, "We'll soak 'em!"

"Yeah!" Came the shout from the assembled newsies, and Katherine held up a hand, blushing slightly. "Thank you, boys, but that won't be nessescary."

"An' don't you all got papes tah sell?" Jack yelled at them good-naturedly. Les rode the bicycle back and left it at Jack's side. "Thanks, Katherine!" He chirped, and ran off to join his brother and Specs to go sell more. The air was soon alive with the papers' headlines, which all but dwindled away as the newsies left for other streets. Crutchie took one last longing glance at the wheeler, and turned the corner with a small spring in his step. Sometimes the bad leg was a gold mine for selling papers, but when it came to bicycles, Crutchie wasn't so sure. He had watched earnestly while the other boys rode, amazed at how easy it seemed, even when Katherine rode it in her skirts. And now he was filled with an unquenchable desire to ride it for himself, to feel the same as his friends while riding that machine. Crutchie knew nothing was impossible if he put his mind to it-after all, he had learned to dance last Christmas. He just needed a plan.