Hey! So be ware I try do make the newsies dialect a little more realistic so I tried writing it that way. I don't know if I like it, so tell me if I should continued with it or should not. Hope you enjoy!
"Darcy Reid! Come down here at once, your father wants to see you!" Shouted his mother. Darcy sigh, he was working on his latest project in his workshop.
"I'll be there in a minute!" he answered back and sadly left his workbench. His workshop was the top level of his family's house, it was spacious with large windows that allowed lots of light. He had his desk in the lower right corner of the room by the window and two large workbenches lined the left wall. A bookcase full of his journals and notebooks and a chalkboard was on the right wall. Blueprints and sketches of machines (mostly printing presses) covered up every inch of space left on the walls. There was also a file cabinet by his desk that hold the papers that could not fit on the walls. The room smelled rich of oil, ink, crisp paper, and freshly cut wood. On more than one occasion one could hear a loud explosion from upstairs and there is often the noises of a pounding hammer or gears clicking in place. It was a bit messy, but Darcy like it that way. It looked like the way a workshop should look like. He forbids the maids from coming up to clean it, he didn't like anyone coming up really. The workshop was his only place of escape, it pained him to leave every time. He sigh and removed his work apron and hanged it on the coat rack. He open the door to stairs and walk quickly to his mother waiting for him at the bottom of the staircase. She was wearing a pale blue tea gown, her hair up in a stylish knot and she was wearing her pearly white gloves. She smiled when she saw her son.
"Working as usual, well go get clean up and change into your parlor suit. Also talk off your shoes so you won't stain the carpet." She told him kindly.
"Yes, mother." He replied and took off his work boots that were cover in dirt and oil. Replacing them with the pair of plain, black shoes he kept at the bottom of the stairs for this very purpose.
"Good, I'm off to tea at with Mrs. Hearst and Mrs. Pulitzer." She said and walked away down the long, grand hallway. The wide hallway had a floor made of crimson red carpet, with snow white walls. Paintings of members of the Reid Family line the walls in their elaborate frames. He followed her, but made a left down another hallway and stop at his room. He walk in his room and laid face down on his mahogany bed with a red velvet comforter and at least a half a dozen pillows covered in the same fabric. The room was of course large with mahogany furniture and was perfectly clean. Not a speck of dust can be detected. After a moment, he dragged himself from his bed and to his closet. He removed his work clothes, which was a faded red plaid shirt that sleeves he push up to his elbows and brown trousers which was covered in ink, oil, and dirt. He changed into his white dress shirt, yellow tie, blue silk vest, tan checkered parlor suit, and black dress shoes. He washed his hands and face, quickly combed his short brown hair and finely put on his gold rimmed glasses in their case and slides it in his pocket. He only needed them for reading, but since he read so often and worked in the workshop so often, he just forgets that he wearing them. He exited his room and made his way down the large ornate staircases from the third floor to the ground floor. He walk to the doors of the parlor, stop a moment to catch his breath, and open the doors. His father was waiting for him in one of the ornate chairs, reading his newspaper. He looked in to see his son and smile.
"There you are, come sit. The new maid Margret just brought tea. She seems like a hardworking girl." Darcy smiled at this, his parents were the kindest people he knew. They never are cruel to the servants and never treat them as if their nothing, and in return they give them absolute obedience and respect. He walk over to the chair facing his father and sat down. Mr. Reid put down his newspaper and grew serious.
"Son, as you know, you will one day take over the business. Unfortunately, things have not been going too well. The thing is, we need supporters and sales been going down since the end of the war. As you know, you will receive your inheritances from your great-grandfather, may he rest in peace, when you're eighteen. So, with that said, The Mayor Robert Van Wyck has a daughter your age name Samantha. She also has a large inheritances come her eighteen birthday. What I'm trying to say is she will make a good match for you." He said gently. Darcy was speechless, this was marriage he was talking about. Yes, he knew his marriage would be arrange, but he was still only sixteen.
"Father, I understand what you are saying, but I'm still only sixteen. I don't think I'm ready to marry yet." He said respectfully, his father nodded in agreement.
"I understand what you mean, but if this match goes through, you won't be wed until you're both either eighteen or nineteen. What I'm saying is that you are too court her until then. The Van Wycks are coming for dinner tonight, just to see if you two, eh, hit it off. Whatever you young people say these days. Just act charming, show the mayor your intellectual side, talk about politics, and talk to the girl, ask her interests." He finished. Still, Darcy was still unsure. He knows he really has no choice in the matter and it was his duty to his family to marry well, but he was still nervous beyond imagine. Mr. Reid since this and looked at his son with pity, he remembered when his father told him about his arranged marriage.
"Darcy, I just remember, Mr. Pulitzer has asked me to ask you if you would escort Katherine to work today, so you better get going." Darcy relaxed, Katherine was his best friend and he was anxious to leave.
"Yes, father." he said gratefully as he hurriedly walk to the front door, grabbed his hat, put on his glasses just in case (he might pick up a paper on the way home) and walk out to the Pulitzer house.
Jojo slowly flickered open his brown eyes. The sun had not yet risen, but he had work to do. He put away his make shift bed and place the blankets and the pillow on the shelf in the closet he slept in whenever he stayed the night here. He usually slept in the his bed at the lodge house under Mush's bed, but last night he had so much work from Weasel, he had to spend the night. He hated it here. Beside Weasel, his nephews the Delaney brothers made sure he always had too much work to do and made his life as miserable as possible. He slowly grabbed the bucket and brush from the shelf and left the closet. First, he place the brush down and went outside and filled the bucket with water from the pump, then got a bucket of coal, careful to keep the two separate. Inside he got the oven started with the coal to heat up the apartment, got the floor soap, and went back to the brush to bring in to the kitchen. He rolled up his sleeves and pants, got down on all fours, and started scrubbing the floor. After three hours of endless scrubbing, the apartment was done and the sun was starting to rise. He put away the buckets and brush just as Weasel woke up.
"What are ya doing ya lazy boy? Why aren't ya working?" he demanded, Jojo gritted his teeth.
"Ise have been working for hours! Now Ise gotta go sell papes and not have to see ya for the rest of the day." He snapped, Weasel raised his fist to him.
"Watch it boy, ya work for me until your eighteen and the next two years will be the worst of your life if you're not careful." He sneered, Jojo snickered.
"What do ya think the last six been." He asked sarcastically as he walk out the door without asking permission first like he's supposed to, again. He heard Weasel yelling at him from inside, but he can deal with that later. When he came to the streets, he was greeted by his best friend Race. He smiled when he saw the blonde newsie. When he saw him, Race sprang up from his seat, his blue eyes sparkling.
"Hey Jojo, the witch didn't work ya too hard, did he?" he asked, taking his cigar out of his mouth. The older boy rolled his eyes.
"He hasn't stop now, and he never is." He replied as they walked to the circulation center and met the other boys.
"Hey Jojo, ya ok? He didn't work ya too hard did he?" asked Jack with concern, as he did every time he spent the night at Weasel. He knew the answer, they all did. But they can't do anything about it, no one can. Until he was eighteen, Jojo belonged to Larry Wiesel whether he liked it or not.
"I'm fine Jack." He answered and got in the back of the line with Race. It was early in the morning and already the sun was starting to beat down on them. He notice two boys in the line he did not recognized.
"Must be new." He thought and Race's worried voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Jojo, why don't ya leave? Go off to Brooklyn were they can't find ya?" asked Race, Jojo sighed. He asked him this question every day with the same concern every day. He can't leave, he had to repay his parents debt. They gave up so much for him, this was the least he could do to honor their memory. It what they would want him to do, it's the honorable thing to do. It's his duty.
"Ise have too Race, my ma and pa work for Weasel for ten years. Ise can handle eight." He answered with determination. He walked up to Oscar (who told him happily that Weasel was beyond anger at him for disobeying him again) and got his papes. He paid for it with the little money he had, almost all the money he will make will go straight in Weasel pocket. As he waiting for Race and Buttons, he looked around the city, wondering about the world outside it. That's what he wants more than anything, to see the world. Back at the lodge, he has maps spread all over his bed and even a few library books about far off places. His dreaming was interrupted by Sniper, the only girl newsie of the Manhattan newsboys. She had a younger sister in Bronx who is part of a group of girl newsies. Why she does not go join them, he does not know. She has brown hair that reaches down to her middle of her back that she keeps tuck up in her hat. Her hazel eyes shine brightly. She was really pretty, but she was more like a sister more than anything else.
"Hey where ya dreaming about this time." She smiled. She knew him too well, every day it was a new place.
"Well today Ise was thinking about Ireland." He answered, more often the not, that place was somewhere in Ireland; Sniper rolled her eyes.
"Where?"
"Dublin, the capital." Before he could say any more, Jack voice ranged out.
"Alright boys, them papes not goanna sell themselves." Order Jack
They all began to march out, but before they could separate, Jack stop. And when Jack stopped, they all stopped. Jojo moved forwards to see what the big deal was. He saw the bid deal was a girl.
"Should have known." Thought Jojo and he looked at the girl. She was absolutely gorgeous. She had long auburn curls that tumbled down to her waist. Her eyes were a greenish-brown and she was wearing a bright, purple dress with a matching jacket. She also had a note pad, pen, and camera in her hands. Must be a reporter, but what caught his eye the most was the boy standing next to her. The boy had on glasses and wore an expensive looking tan suit. The boy also notice him and their eyes met. They held their breaths, it was as if the world and time had stop. They looked identical.
