Web of Lives
Distribution: Links only- please DM to ask for approval.
Disclaimer: Newsies and all characters and property of the Disney Corporation. All rights reserved. Writing is not intended for profit.
Rights: Though "Newsies" the film is not mine, the storyline and subsequent chapters are. Please do not plagarize.
NOTE: There is a story entitled 'Brooklyn's Secrets' by the author iheartron547. This is an old account of mine that I shared with a friend, and we coauthored a story. 'Brooklyn's Secrets' was mine alone, and this story is a revised version of such. Due to lack on login information, I was not able to delete 'Brooklyn's Secrets' before posting this story. IT IS NOT PLAGIARISM BECAUSE IT IS MY OLD WORK. Please understand.
CHAPTER TWO
Headline's weren't horrible, but Twirls still was embellishing a bit.
"Fire rages! Oiphans killed! A few gone missing!"
The actual headline read 'Fire at Orphanage: All Saved.' While the first part sold, the whole saving and no death part was a major turnaway. So yes, she was embellishing. And yes, a little more than a bit. But really, who cared about the heroics of the firehorse when no one died?
A pedestrian passing by stopped and said, "One pape, please." Twirls, being polite as the gentleman in a top hat and looked like a big wig, hanged the man a pape and took his money with a chipper, "Many thanks, mista.". The man walked away without a backward glance. Just to be safe, Twirls huffed. "No one's got any manners any moah."
"Welcome ta New Yoak," Pockets said. coming to her side. "Let's head ova by da fact'ries. Da woikers have break an' maybe dad bulls won' be crawlin' around so much."
Twirls nodded.
"Good idea," she agreed and both newsies scampered down the nearby alley and towards the river line, where the industrial district made its factory workers, sweaty and covered in soot and dirt, were indeed on a break, just as Pockets had predicted.
"Good call, comin' heah," Twirls said. Pockets grinned.
"Seh, I ain't so stupid," he replied boastfully. Twirls pursed her lips.
"Hey, don' get carrieid ahway," she said, holding up a hand in a signal to stop. "Yah picked a good spot tah sell. No one said anythin' 'bout yah no' bein' stupid."
It took Pockets a moment to process what her diss had mean, just proving Twirls' point. When he did get it, he grumbled, no so quietly, about "goils and dere mouths bein' in da wrong place." Twirls rolled her eyes and went to sell.
She observed as she sold that many more workmen were purchasing papes, eagerly flipping through the pages in search of an article.
"Wha' is everybody lookin' foah, mista?" she asked as man as he held out a few coins, which she exchanged for a pape.
"Oh, we were jus' looking to see if old man Hearst ran anythin' on the newsie rabble," he aswered. Twirls' eyes widened in shock and fought the urge not to show her baffled self.
"An' wha' rabble would dat beh?" she asked, trying to act nonchalant.
The man waved the pape.
"That's why I bought this," he explained and went to sit beside his fellow workers. Twirls ran off before they discovered there was no story and started asking for their money back.
The rest of the day passed by and Twirls heard no more of a rabble, but Pockets seemed even more tense as they neared the docks at the end of the day. The majority of the Brooklynites were already there, milling around and jumping into the river.
Twirls quickly scanned the swarm and found her sister sitting on the dock, dangling her legs in the water. She looked so serene, just staring off across the river onto the skyline of Manhattan. Twirls, smiling devilishly as a thought entered her mind, walked swiftly towards her.
Creeping up silently from behind, Twirls yelled, "Boo!" and when Bells jumped, dramatically, like she usually reacted to things, Twirls pushed her into the water below with a satisfying splash.
"Twoils!"
Bells' scream pierced the air as newsies who heard dashed over to see what was going on.
"Twoils!" Bells cried again, swimming to the side of the dock and, with the help of two of the boys, heaved herself out. She stood up, sopping wet, and gave her sister the infamous Conlon glare. Her hat had fallen off when she had hit the water and one of the boys who had been swimming tapped her ankle and handed it to her. She jammed it back on her head angrily, the water dripping down into her eyes.
"Chilly?" Twirls asked, holding back laughter, which came out once she looked at her sister again. Bells looked ridiculous. "It's a good look foah yah."
Bells shook her head. The newsboys around her were chortling. She shot them a look and the noise stopped instantly.
"Wha' is goin' on?"
All heads turned to see Spot, flanked by Pockets, standing on the bulkhead above them. Pockets smirked at the site of a sopping wet Bells, which she returned with an offense hand gesture.
"Back tah dah house," Spot said commandingly. "An' no stayin' around and spyin'. Yah know wha' will happen if I catch yah. Which I will."
Heads nodded and the newsies left, running off in all direction, making their usual amount of noise as they did so. Even those older than Spot respected, if not feared, him. He was the King of Brooklyn, chosen by the last leader, and for good reason. That was why all listened to him.
"Now foah you'se two." Spot turned to his sisters, who hadn't gone running. They tended to never listen to him, even when the rest did. Bells had pulled her cap off and was ringing out her hair.
"Wha' the hell happened?"
He jumped down, Pockets behind him, as Twirls replied, "Jus' havin' a lil' harmless fun."
"You'se a right-" Bells began to call her sister several unladylike names before Spot cut her off.
"Hey now," he warned, directing it to Bells. "Get yoah cap on. We'se got a lot tah talk about."
Bells tied her hair up with her now damp ribbon and pulled her hat over it.
"Okay?"
"Fine."
She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest.
"Now," Spot continued, "movin' on. I'm guessing you'se hoid some'in about a rabble somewheah tahday."
Twirls nodded.
"I was gonna ask yah about dat," Twirls said. "Wha' happened?"
"Dat's why I sent 'dem home." He jabbed his finger over his shoulder in the general direction of the lodging house. "Cowboy's comin' ova an' so's Gambla, from Queens. We, meaning them two and me and Pockets, need tah talk."
Bells and Twirls looked at each other, and then back at Pockets and Spot.
"So why areh yah botherin' tah tell us any o' dis?" Bells asked. "Does it involve us?"
"Nah, it doesn'," Spot replied. "But I need yah tah make shoah no one leaved dah house. No one can know wha' is goin' on."
"So yah orda us tah babysit, but won' tell us wha' da heck is goin' on?" Twirls questioned.
"Exactly," Pockets said as the twins moaned.
"Come on, Spot!" Twirls pleaded. "Why can' weh know wha' yoah talkin' about?"
"Stop whinin'," Spot ordered. "An' you can' know foah da same reasons da rest o' da New York newsies can' know."
"Why would dat beh?" Bells questioned angrily.
"It'll cause trouble, lass," Pockets replied.
"Why, cause we goils?" Bells questioned.
"Mahbe," Pockets challenged. "Or mahbe cause yah got such a big mouth!"
Twirls looked taken back. Pockets and Bells never argued.
"Wha' are yah saying?" Bells' temper rose with the volume of her voice. "Dat I can' be trusted tah keep a secret?"
"A'right, enough," Spot said, stepping between the bickering duo. "Pockets, shut up. An' Bells-" his tone softened slightly as he turned to his sister. Well, soft for Spot. "Everyone's gonna know soon. Jus' trust meh and do wha' I'm askin' yah tah."
"If everyone's gonna know anyway, why can't we just find out now?" she demanded. "Call me a big mouth all ya want, but ya know at the end o'da day I'm jus' as loyal tah Brooklyn and da newsies as any o' yous."
"I neva said ya weren't," he answered. He looked toward the base of the bridge, which was in view. He held up his hand to block the setting sun from glaring into his eyes and said, "Dere heah." He turned to look at sisters, standing close together, their arms crossed defensively as they glared at him.
"Alright, fine," he finally said after several tense moments of silence, his resolve breaking. "But you'se betta promise to keep yoah mouths shut until I say it's okay tah talk about it."
Both girls nodded, their eyes earnestly wide, clearly pleased and slightly shocked he was allowing them to stay.
"No worries," Bells said, sitting down on a crate, pulling at Pockets' hand; he sank to the ground next to her.
"I promise," Twirls said, giving her brother a grateful look. "Thanks."
Spot nodded, part of him relieved to have Twirls involved. His sister was uncannily smart and had a way of logical thinking and rationale that he knew he would probably welcome.
The four turned as Grace 'Gambler' Marquez, the Queen of Queens, made her way down the dock, her second-in-command Concetta 'Razor Blades' Conti a few steps behind her. Queens was dominantly a female territory, a safe haven for orphan girls and runaways who sought to make a living that didn't involve selling their bodies: most of the Queens girls were newsies or wash-girls, working in factories and living together in apartments. Gambler Marquez was a formidable leader and had earned respect among the other male-dominated territories for her daunting fighting style and no-nonsense attitude.
"Buenas noches," Gambler greeted, spitting into her hand as Spot did the same, the two exchanging the customary handshake. "Kelly here yet?"
"Right behind ya," Pockets answered, nodding in greeting to both girls. "How are ya, Razor Blades?"
Razor Blades was a tall Italian girl who earned her nickname for the three thin lines of scars she had on her cheek, mementos from a fight with her abusive father when she was younger; she nodded in greeting.
The group turned at the sound of boots clomping on the dock, Jack 'Cowboy' Kelly of Manhattan sauntering his way towards them.
"So yah brought Mouth ahlong witout tellin' meh," Spot called out. "Why?"
"Yah know why, so stop bein' stupid," Jack snapped back, exchanging a spit-shake with Spot. "Mouth heah'll talk his way out o' anything an' heh's got da connections. Plus, you'se let the princesses come along, so we'se all for surprises tonight."
Wha' connections?, Twirls wondered, watching the exchange with interest. Wha' connection does a newsie got?
"So it was yah that planted the story then," Gambler butt in, getting straight to the point as she addressed David. "Wheah'd yah find a pape to do that?"
"The Sun was the first to run it," the boy called Mouth explained with no trace of an accent.
"An' den da odda papes picked it up," Jack finished. "Hopefully it scared old Hoist and Pulitzer some."
"Some, but no' enough," Spot said.
Bells leaned close to Pockets and whispered, "Why would the newsies be needing to scare Hoist and Pulitzer? The strike was only three months ago."
"Just listen," Pockets said. "I'll fill ya in later."
"What do yah mean 'not enough'?" Gambler questioned. "I lost two girls to da bulls durin' that rabble."
"An' we'se woiking on gettin' 'em out," Jack retorted. "So stop whinin'."
"Me? Whinin'? Yeah right, Kelley," Gambler replied, shaking her head. "Usted tiene más de una chica de lo que soy."
"Try some English," Cowboy said angrily. "Damn immigrants."
Both Gambler and Razor Blades made a move to lunge at Kelly, clearly offended, but Pockets stood up to intervene; he too shot an offended glance at Jack. Cowboy needed to let David do the talking.
"A'right you'se two, calm down," Spot said commandingly. "We'se got a real problem heah an' I don' need yah two goin' at it like a married couple."
Twirls stifled a laugh.
"Hey, you heah somethin'?" Bells asked suddenly, hopping up from her seat. "Sounds like boots on da dock. Brooklyn?"
"Dunno," Spot said, his hand going to rest on his cane. "Pockets, take a look."
"I'll go," Twirls offered. "Pockets is more needed den I am, and besides, if it's a Brooklyn, I can handle it."
Spot nodded and waved his sister off before returning to matters at hand. Twirls made her way down the dock, looking left and right for any sign of a sneaky little newsie. She clearly wasn't paying enough attention as she turned her head to try to find the source of a scuffle noise and ran smack into something hard.
"AW! Damn, dat hoit!" she cried, clutching her forehead.
"Yoah in pain?" the masculine stranger's voice shot back. "Yah need tah watch wheah yoah goin'!"
"Sorry," Twirls replied, rubbing her forehead. She realized with a jolt that her hat had fallen off and her hair had tumbled down. She watched in horror as the stranger bent down, picked up her hat and offered it back to her, saying, "Heah's yoah- Jesus, yoah a goil!"
Twirls' thoughts were racing.
"Um, yeah, thanks," Twirls mumbled. She took her hat and stuck it on her head before turning to walk away.
"Hey! Wait!"
Twirls silently moaned and turned back reluctantly, looking up to the meet the stranger's gaze.
"Wha' do yah want?" she snapped, but her heart was thumping wildly. "You'se a 'Hattan? 'Cause yoah not Brooklyn. So get lost."
The boy, obviously a newsie but not a Brooklynite, was cute. Majorly. Twirls took in his curly brown hair, calm eyes and his scruffy, typical newsboy appearance. She had to smile at the fact that he wore his suspenders hanging down around his ankles.
"Wha' do yah want?" she asked again, folding her arms across her chest.
"Yoah a goil," the boy said again.
Twirls shrugged.
"Yoah point?" she said.
"Yoah a goil," he said slowly, "an' dressed as a newsie, in Brooklyn. No' Queens."
Twirls glared.
"I'm Mush, by da way," the boy said quickly as Twirls took a step forward. "'Hattan. I'm look foah Cowboy- uh, Jack Kelly. He's meeting with Spot Conlon. Yah seen 'em?"
"Oh, uh, yeah, down dis way," Twirls said, flustered. She scolded herself as the pair made their way back down the dock. She'd been living with a houseful of boys for the past four years and was acting like a stammering idiot around this one newsie. What had gotten into her?
"Mush! Yoah heah!" Jack cried, suddenly noticing him.
"Yeah," Mush said sheepishly, looking down. "Got lost." Jack rolled his eyes and Twirls guessed that Mush getting lost wasn't an unusual occurrence.
"Yeah, so's I was walking tah dah logdin' house but ran inta um-"
"Twoils," she offered up. "He was da noise we hoid."
"Can we focus please?" Gambler demanded, clearly displeased with the interruption.
"Okay, I hate tah be annoying, but what da hell is goin' on?" Bells asked. "Dis whole thing has been criptic and Twirls can' really help unless we know what da hell you'se are all talkin' bout."
"Da Bronx," Gambler said flatly before Spot could interject and tell Bells to shut up. "We'se talking 'bout da Bronx. Daggers Smith's been stirring up trouble."
Twirls thought for a moment. The Bronx? That was Queens' tough next door neighbor, Daggers Smith's territory. And, next to Brooklyn, it was the most feared. Its newsies were rough and tough and Daggers was toughest of all, if not cruel. Territory leaders, Spot in particular, didn't get along with him.
"Daggers Smith," Twirls said thoughtfully. "Isn't he da one who Bells hooked-"
"Yeah, dat's him," Spot cut her off sharply, clearly not wanting to relive that day.
"So, wha's wrong wit da Bronx, odda then Daggas?" Twirls asked.
"It's no' jus' da Bronx that's da problem," Jack began. "It's Hoist and Pulitzer and da papes. Dere no' sellin'."
"Nah, I did real good tahday-" Bells broke in.
"No' newsie sales," Spot explained. "Da Bronx sells da Joinal, Hoist's pape, same as us."
"Yeah, I know dat."
"But da distribution centas ova dere are closin', one by one, not like heah. Hoist and Pulitzer, accourdin' tah what we've picked up, are trying tah stop usin' newsies." Gambler dropped the bombshell and let the news sink in.
"Den who da hell is gonna sell da papes?" Bells questioned. "Foah rich guys, dey seem dumb."
"Bike boys," Jack said flatly, "deliverin' straight tah da door."
"Dat's stupid," was all Twirls could think to say, she was so stunned.
"Yeah, well, it's startin' in da Bronx," Spot went on.
"So why is Kelly, you, and Gambla gettin' all wound up about it, wit da meetin's and all. It's like da mafia," she said. Spot scowled.
"Tell meh yah did not just compare me tah some Italian group," he said.
"Sorry."
Spot glared.
"So why areh yah guys gettin' all in a knot about it?"
"Cause if da Bronx boys can' sell dere, Daggas is jus' gonna look foah anudda territory tha move tah," Jack answered. "Yah understand why we're tryin' tah attack Pulitzer and Hoist foist radda den fightin'?"
Twirls nodded. That was another thing nobody knew about her brother. Even though he (and his cane) was a great fighter and the Brooklynites were known for their toughness and strength, Spot hatted the battles. He only used it as a last resort, only used it if he was positive he could win.
Twirls understood why he wanted to attack through press first, especially after the strike. Many Brooklynites had been caught and sent to the refuge, and breaking them out hadn't been easy, which is why Twirls and Bells had to be so careful around the bulls, since they took part in the escape.
But Twirls knew that her brother wasn't going soft, just because he didn't want to fight. Spot was anything but soft.
"So wha's gonna happen?" she asked.
"Right now, we'se jus' trying tah scare old man Hoist, like Pulitzer wit da strike," Spot told her. "And we'se watchin' da Bronx."
"Is dere anything I can do?"
Spot was about to say no, but changed his mind, remembering something. He decided to keep quiet, though, until the other leaders had gone.
"Dat's what we'se trying tah figure out right now," Gambler said. "What da next move is gonna be. In da meantime, everyboyd's gotta be careful. Daggers is a heartless bastard who cares 'bout nuttin' but himself. He shows no mercy. Nada. A su alrededor, estás muerto."
The group nodded: even if they couldn't understand her, the tone of her voice expressed her message clearly.
Spot looked across the river at the setting sun.
"Let's call it a night," he said. "You'se should get home befoah dark. Make sure yoah gangs are all safe."
Jack nodded,and spit in his hand and held it to Spot, saying, "Till next time, Conlon."
Spot returned the spit shake and said, "Always a pleasah, Kelley."
"Let's go, Mush, Mouth." Mush gave one last look back at Twirls, who felt her face go warm. She prayed she wasn't blushing.
Spot gave a nod to Jack in goodbye as he ran off, flanked by Mush and Mouth, before turning to Gambler, exchanging a similar goodbye before the two girls took off in the opposite direction.
"Alright," Spot said. "Let's go home."
