The story now takes place a year after the strike. Enjoy!
Thank you to Ealasaid Una for reviewing! It means a lot to me. We'll see what became of Samantha next...
Blah, blah, blah don't own newsies.
Chapter 1: Seven Years Later…
The lights were out in the Queens orphanage but Samantha Taylor was wide awake. Sitting up in her rickety cot she placed a piece of burlap in her lap and untied the piece of twine that kept it in a bundle. Making sure that the madame wasn't patrolling outside her door, she began to count her money, her dirty, slender fingers moving deftly in the dim light coming from the moon.
"One…two…three…" she counted, looking up every few seconds to make sure she was still in the clear. "Fifty-five…fifty-six…fifty-seven—" she stopped abruptly when she heard one of the other girls stir. When the girl rolled over and began snoring she continued. "A dollar…a dollar one…a dollar two. One dollar and two cents." She concluded with a sigh. This was her whole life savings and she couldn't help but feel disappointed. She had plans that involved that money, and a measly dollar and two cents was barely going to cut it. She had never been rich, no, but she had never been poor before either. She had also never been so alone before.
The newly turned sixteen-year-old had once had what she thought was a loving family, with a mother, a father, and a brother. But quicker than she had thought, that family had turned into a father and a brother, to just a father, to no family at all. Her heart ached as she thought about her father, who had died of pneumonia six months ago. Her father wasn't always a very nice man to others, especially to her brother, and he participated in various illegal acts to make money, but he had always tried to treat Samantha like a princess. Oh how terribly she missed him! When he had died the authorities sent her to an orphanage with virtually nothing to her name. The city had taken everything to compensate for her father's tax neglect. The orphanage was a wretched place that had no interest in taking care of children at all. Those nights as she listened to kids cry for mothers that would never come, she was forced back into her memories, a place that she hated to visit. She would sob silent tears for her mother, a woman that she was slowly starting to forget although she need only look in a mirror to remember. Yet she would become angry when her thoughts brought her to Jonathan, her older brother who ran away to escape her father and said he would come back for her but never did. On the day that they pried her away from her father's lifeless body she was half expecting Johnny to appear and whisk her away to a place where she would feel safe again. When he didn't show she cursed herself for even having the tiniest glimmer of hope that he would show up. In reality she knew that she had given up on him a long time ago. He didn't want her. If he did he would have let her go with him the night he left, for at one time she had loved him more than her father and would've followed him anywhere. But one couldn't dwell on the past so she had gone on with the rest of her life trying to be as happy as she could be.
Samantha sighed as she tied the twine back around her tiny sack and shoved it under her pillow. There was no room for happiness in a place like this. She looked pensively out of the small, dirty window, her heart beating faster as she pondered the freedom that lay behind it. Tucking herself into her bed she smiled. Tomorrow she would get that freedom.
Samantha slunk through the shadows of the buildings, constantly looking over her shoulder to make sure nobody was following her. That morning she had woken up and gone to her job at the textile factory with the other older girls. After excusing herself to use the bathroom, she had snuck out the back door and hurried through the back alleys to get away. She knew what she had done was risky enough on a regular day, but people had noticed a change in her that morning.
"Miss Taylor, you're rather quiet today," Madame had said as she inspected the girls' bunk earlier. Samantha had raised her eyebrows but gave no response. There was too much on her mind for her to have another futile conversation with her cadaverous warden. Madame had circled her, trying to sniff out the reason for the normally vocal girl's silence. Samantha had kept her hands at her sides, concealing the sack of money in her pocket. The girls were not allowed to bring their money outside of the orphanage for fear that it would give them an incentive to run away.
Finding nothing unusual about Samantha, Madame cleared her throat and gave her a skeptical look. "You had better not be up to any funny business, Samantha, or it's bed with no supper."
Samantha had smiled sweetly and lowered her head in faux respect.
"Of course not, Madame."
Samantha had taken off to Manhattan where she had heard that there were more job opportunities in the most popular borough. She was at a loss for what to do now. Yes, she had escaped, but hadn't thought of what would happen next. She took a moment to smile, however, and couldn't help but think about how proud Jonathan would be if he knew that she had run away, not giving in to the oppression she had faced, much like he had. The smile vanished when she realized it was getting dark. Her stomach grumbled. When was the last time she had eaten properly? Trudging through the city, her eyes searched for a haven that would protect her through the night. She was so very tired and her eyes began to droop. She was thinking about just collapsing on the sidewalk when a voice called out to her.
"Hey pretty girl, where're ya headed?"
Samantha whirled around to see two burly men approaching her menacingly. Facing forward again, she continued on at a faster pace, hoping that they would get bored and leave her alone. Unfortunately they had other plans. The shorter of the two ran in front of her, blocking her path. She tried to walk the other way but she bumped into the taller one, knocking the wind out of her as she struggled to keep two feet on the ground.
"Why so scared, toots?" said the one in front of her. His voice was scratchy and high-pitched and unpleasant to the ear. "We don't bite, honest."
"Unless you want us to," said the deep voice of the other. Panic washed over Samantha as she pondered what to do. She opened her mouth to plead with the men but she figured that it wouldn't do any good. So she ran. Pushing past the shorter one, she took off down the street, hiking her skirt up so it wouldn't be a hindrance.
"Hey, get back here!" cried the one with the high voice. A cramp began to form in Samantha's side and she knew she had to find a place to hide before they caught up to her. Ducking into an alley, she looked through the rubble to see what could conceal her when she saw a door. Wrenching it open she stepped through and shut it quickly behind her.
Samantha found herself in what looked to be the backstage of a theater. There were costumes hung up on racks and lights and stage equipment scattered in various places. Feeling scared and exhausted, she ducked in a corner behind a rack of clothes to wait until she was sure the men had gone away. As she waited she heard voices coming from the stairs nearby.
"Toby, did you hear the door close just now?" said the melodic voice of a woman.
"I reckon it's just that ventriloquist, Arthur. Probably back from getting drunk again," said the voice of a man. They were getting closer.
"No, I saw Arthur. He's drinking at the bar tonight. Maybe I'm just hearing things," said the woman. Samantha held her breath as the woman sifted through the clothing rack she was hiding behind. As luck would have it Samantha's nose picked that very moment to become irritated by dust, and she let out a powerful sneeze that was impossible to muffle. Startled, the woman jumped and the man hurried to her side.
"You okay, Miss Larkson?" he asked. The woman didn't answer, but instead pushed the rack to the side and put her hands on her hips when she saw Samantha.
"I knew I heard the door close. What on earth are you doing here? We don't give free shows," said the woman. Samantha was taken aback by the beauty of the near middle-aged woman. Although she wore a stern look on her face Samantha could tell that her face carried very little traces of lines caused by stress and scowls. Her hair was a violent shade of red that clashed with her purple dress, though Samantha couldn't get over how stunning she looked. Hurrying to stand up, her knees wobbled in fear.
"Pardon me, ma'am, I'm not trying to see a free show," said Samantha. "I was walking and these two men started chasing me and I had nowhere to go so I was hiding out here. Please don't make me leave yet, I'm not sure they've stopped looking for me."
A frown appeared on the woman's face and she glanced at the man beside her, a plump fellow with a ridiculous painted on clown's face and a concession box around his neck.
"What is your name, sweetheart?" said the woman, her face softening and her voice becoming more pleasant.
"Samantha. Samantha Taylor," said Samantha.
"Well Samantha, my name is Medda Larkson and I run this vaudeville theater. You may stay as long as you like. Toby will get you situated," said Medda.
"Oh thank you, Miss Larkson," said Samantha, truly grateful for the kindness bestowed on her. Medda smiled and patted her cheek.
"It's Medda. And don't you worry about a thing, baby," she said. With that she turned and hurried back up the stairs.
"You get to sit in the best seat in the house," said Toby warmly, leading her through the room and right behind a curtain where she could see the stage clearly.
"Thank you," said Samantha.
"You look hungry." From his concession box Toby pulled out a soda bottle, a bag of roasted peanuts, and three licorice sticks. "It's on the house," he said with a wink. Samantha smiled broadly.
"I appreciate it," she said. Toby nodded and then he too left.
Not much longer, the show started. Samantha watched with interest as musicians, comedians, and magicians took the stage, some better than others. She was amazed by the acrobats and not that thrilled to see the female dancers, but she watched anyway, wondering if she could ever be as confident as they appeared. Then Medda took the stage and sang a sweet song that had all the men whipping their hats in the air and shouting ovations. When it was finally over Samantha had found herself slumped in her chair, ready to fall asleep at any moment. She jerked into reality when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up to see Medda's sweet face staring down at her.
"The show's over, darling, don't you have a home to go to?" she asked. Samantha hesitated, wondering if she trusted the woman enough to tell her where she was supposed to be.
"Not…not exactly," she stuttered. Medda pursed her lips.
"Isn't anyone looking for you right now?" asked Medda. Samantha nervously clutched her right hand with her left.
"No," she said. Medda gave her sad eyes. She extended her hand which Samantha took and pulled the girl up from the chair.
"Listen Samantha, I like you so here's what I'll do. I'll give you a place to stay tonight and tomorrow we can discuss you maybe getting a job here until you get on your feet," she said. Samantha smiled. She could've hugged the woman in gratitude.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you," she said. Medda laughed lightly.
"Come child, I'll show you where you'll sleep."
Well there you have it. Reviews would be nice.