A/N: This is my first Newsies story! I really hope you like it!

Disclaimer: I do not, or ever will, own any Newsies. They all belong to the god-like thing called Disney! I do own Kathlynn, Nellie, and any other characters you've never heard of before.

Now enjoy!

The carriage clattered to a stop in front of 102 Rose Lane. Number 102 was the largest house on the street, and the finest. With its glimmering windows and spotless front walk way, 102 looked too humble for to belong in Brooklyn.

If you knew what 102 was really used for, you would no longer see it as humble. You would see it as I do: a prison to young women. The one thing that changes minds about 102 is the ornately carved sign on the front gate that read: The Black Rose, Gentlemen's Club.

Every summer I look at that sign with hatred, every summer I wonder what possesses me to return there. And then I remember it's the only place I could ever consider calling home.

My mother worked at the Rose, from the time she was sixteen until she died. I was only three at the time.

"Your home Miss ," Jackson, our carriage driver announced, opening the door for me. He offered a hand down and I gladly took it.

"Thank you, Jackson," I smiled politely.

I stopped at the gate to glare up at the house. Not a single good memory had come from inside its walls since my mother died. Jackson's voice broke me from my thoughts:

"I'll have your things brought up to your room."

I forced my lips into a smile one last time, "Thank you."

Mme. Leroux was waiting for me in the parlor. Her arms were crossed, like she wasn't happy to see me, but her face said differently.

"Kathlynn, it's so good to see you," Her voice was shrill, like nails on a piece of slate. I didn't bother to smile at her, she didn't deserve a smile. "How was your term?"

"Fine," I lied. It was boring as hell, wait, Im sure hell was more entertaining than a fancy private school.

"Did you learn anything new?"

My mind searched back through the memories of the past year, nothing appealing came up except for what my friend Alice taught me, "I learned that bastard in Italian is pronounced bastardo."

"Oh," she sighed. "How sweet. Go clean yourself up and then meet me in my study for dinner."

"Yes m'am," I curtsied like they taught us at school: back straight, keep eye contact, and a head so perfectly balanced that you could place a book on it and it would not fall.

"Lovely," Mme. Leroux commented, her mouth hardly shaping out of a thin line.

I ran past her on the stairs, taking two steps at a time. She clicked her tongue in disapproval.

The second floor was bustling with maids who were hurrying to ready the rooms for the night's business. Floors three and four were just as busy. Those floors were where the Roses stayed, in their own little suites. My room was at the top, in the attic.

My room was my escape from all the madness of the house. It was rather large, lonely place. All of my furniture was hand-me-downs, from the large wooden wardrobe to the old cast iron bed that sat in the corner. I found the vanity in the alleyway behind the two summers ago. The mirror was cracked, but it worked all the same. All of the walls were decorated with pictures and articles from newspapers and magazines. One of my walls was entirely dedicated to the theatre. It had reviews and two programs from the shows I had seen.

The two steamer trunks I brought home from school were sitting at the end of my bed, along with the two packages of books I brought home from a book store over in Manhattan. I un-wrapped them and placed them on the dilapidated shelves along with the other novels I had acquired over the years.

I went to the wardrobe and changed into one of my finer dresses of green silk. Then I combed my hair back more, revealing the small silver hoop some of my friends and I had welded into our ears on a free day. (We were inspired by the many pirate books that we had read.) The look on the welders face was quite comical when four sixteen year old girls appeared, unescorted at his shop wanting hoops welded into their perfect little ears. We were certainly a sight to see.

Mme. Leroux wasn't in her study when I arrived so I went and roamed her bookshelves. There were so many classics: Homer, Shakespeare, and Chaucer whose volumes had never been opened. I pulled the pocket sized copy of The Iliad off the shelf and tucked it into the pocket on the front of my dress. She'd never even notice it missing.

"Kathlynn," Mme. Leroux came in through the door and ushered me to sit at the small table set up in the corner. "I wanted to discuss something with you."

"Oh?" She poured two glasses of champagne and handed one to me. I sipped it casually. It was very weak compared to what we smuggled into the school.

"I wanted to inform you that you're not going back to school next term."

I tightened the grip on my glass, not saying a word.

"We no longer have the required funds for you to attend," she continued. "I want you to work for me here now, as a rose, to pay back all those years of school."

I set the glass down, afraid that I would shatter it. "Excuse me?"

"You are now the same age as your mother when she started working here. Now I want you to do the same. There are plenty of young men who are dying to come here."

"I can't," I whispered.

"You do this, or I'm kicking you out with nothing but rags. And you should know that the streets of Brooklyn are not kind to young women of your age."

"So that's your reason for keeping me around all these years, to be one of your whores? My choice is to stay here and be raped endlessly in the confinements of a house, or be raped in the cold, heartless streets?"

"That is not how I see it. You are paying back a debt that is long owed, by you and your mother."

What a cold heartless witch.

"Kathlynn?"

I wasn't ready to live on the on the streets, not yet. "Yes m'am." I said deliberately. "I'm not hungry any more, may I be excused?"

"Yes."

As soon as I reached the hallway, I broke into a full run out the back door. I stopped looking where I was going. My intentions were to get lost, but that changed when I collided into someone rounding the corner onto the next street.

"Sorry Miss," The person said. I thought it to be a boy at first, because they were dressed in a boy's clothes. "I ain't lookin' where I was going."

I looked at the girl in confusion. It wasn't that odd to see girls in pants, but it wasn't that common either. "Its okay, I wasn't paying attention."

Pulling the hair from my face, I stuck out my hand for her to shake. "I'm Kathlynn ."

The girl looked at me in shock. "Are ya sure ya want ta touch me hand?"

"I could care less if it's dirty. Mine aren't all that perfect either." I reached out and grabbed her hand.

"I'm Nellie Jones," She smiled.

"So Nellie Jones, are you busy?"

Nellie looked at me in confusion, "No, I was just headin' back to the lodgin' house,"

"Do you happen to know of any decent pubs?"

"Not in Brooklyn. There's one over in 'Hattan though dat's pretty nice."

I smiled at her, "Do you mind?"

This was going to be the begining of a very lovely friendship.

How did you like it? I got my inspiration of Mme. Leroux from the movie A Little Princess, Ms. Hanigan from Annie, and Mrs. Nightwing from the A Great and Terrible Beauty series.

Any comments or suggestions? Please leave a review!

Thanks.

Red