The reality of Kai Fong's life was that he did not, in fact, live in a small, clean town. He lived in a boarding house that was too filthy and dilapidated for anyone but a bunch of desperate teenage boys to be willing to live in. Tenzin Gyatso, one of the leading newspaper sellers, had been generous enough to offer it to the newsboys as living quarters, as most of them didn't have parents, let alone an actual home. As long as they were ready to go out into the streets of Republic City to sell his papers at the sound of each morning's bell (the only thing working properly in that dump), the boys were allowed to stay for as long as they needed to.

If only Mr. Gyatso could be bothered to check if his living quarters were actually livable. Still, Kai couldn't complain. It was better than sleeping in the rain, anyway.

Kai stepped over the scattered cots, lightly kicking sleeping boys awake. How they managed to sleep through the bell's screech, he'd never know. Skoochy was behind him nudging people awake with his crutch.

"Get a move on! Them papes ain't gonna sell themselves!"

The building filled with the groans of the unwillingly awake, the rustling of shoving sheets away and the clamoring of post-pubescent boys trying to clean themselves up in any way they could, from shaking the dirt out of their shirts and scrubbing themselves as best they could with the one bar of soap in the building. Buckets of cold water were passed around to those that had actually bothered to make an effort to clean away the grime of the city. Not that they'd succeed, but they were always welcome to try.

"Papes ain't movin' like they used to." Kai's ears perked up at the conversation to the left of him, and he turned to see Jun and Lee speaking in hushed tones, their newsboy caps crooked on their heads. Lee sighed and crossed his arms. "I need a new sellin' spot."

"Try any banker or barber," Jun said, scratching at his wispy mustache. "Almost all of them knows how to read."

Kai shook his head to himself as he took his own cap off one of the hooks and shoved it over his messy hair. They could sell papers to as many literate schmucks as they wanted, but it wouldn't matter as long as Gyatso kept pushing out the same tired old headlines.

He made his way down the stairs, helping Skoochy along each step, till they reached the first floor and burst out the doors. The smell of cigar smoke and preserved meat hit Kai's nostrils as soon as he stepped outside, and he wrinkled his nose before continuing out.

Well, that part of Republic City had never been known for its smell. Or anything but poverty, really.

He, Skoochy, and the other newsboys made a slow trail towards the newsstand – the one for the newsies, anyway. News got around faster if there were kids running around selling them off than if people just manned newsstands. No matter how uncouth and scruffy the newsies were, the news depended on their willingness to run around Republic City with messenger bags and loud mouths. The only things faster than them were the news wagons, but there weren't enough of those to go around. Not as many as newsies, anyway, and wagons couldn't yell out more seasoned versions of the stale headlines they were forced to work with.

"Y'know what would sell more papes?" Skoochy said. Kai nearly let out a heavy sigh.

"What, Skooch?"

"Actual news."

Kai snorted – okay, that one was pretty good.

The group in their floppy caps and loose, thread-bare vests lingered outside the church on the way, waiting for their daily breakfast. Their meals came from the nuns inside, who were generous to feed them, even if none of them would ever step foot inside during service.

Kai leaned back against a wall, watching the people go by, sighing to himself as some of the more well-to-do pedestrians grumbled at the congestion along the sidewalk or bumped into one of them without so much as an apology. As long as these saps were willing to keep paying them for bad news, Kai found he couldn't complain.

A figure bumped into him and he was about to snap at them to watch where they were going when a soft voice murmured an embarrassed "Sorry," and sheets of paper scattered everywhere.

"Don't worry 'bout it," Kai muttered, bending down to help pick up the papers around them. He looked up to see the person that had bumped into him, and for a moment he forgot where he was.

The girl he'd bumped into – definitely a girl, made of soft sloping curves and skin like cream – was busily picking up papers, her soft eyebrows furrowed in frustration, muttering inaudibly to herself as she tried to shove them back into a neat pile in her hand. Her brown hair fell past her shoulders and curled up at the ends, around her face and neck, and her long, thin fingers had splotches of ink along the tips and running down her right pinky. The smudges of ink stood out against her fair skin and her otherwise clean presentation. Her white blouse was tucked into the tight waist of her yellow skirt, which flared out from her small hips and bunched around on the ground as she leaned over to pick up the last piece of paper.

"Excuse me, sir?" The girl's voice brought Kai's attention back up into her face, and his eyes met her brown ones, wide and focused and so very acutely aware of the world around her. "Sir, my papers?"

"Oh, right. Sorry," Kai said, handing them to her.

She smiled softly. "Thanks."

They both stood up, and before the girl had a chance to take her leave, Kai said, "May I interest you in the latest news this morning, Miss?"

Kai nearly kicked himself. They hadn't even got the papers yet. He could hear Skoochy snickering behind him, and he made a mental note to give the guy a good beating with his own crutch later.

The girl raised an eyebrow. "The newspaper isn't even out yet."

With a breath and a grin, Kai took a step closer to the girl. He could make this work. He'd always been able to make these things work. "I'd be delighted to deliver it to you…personally."

The girl's eyes widened with comprehension at exactly what he was trying to do, and she stepped away, her eyes taking on steel and meeting his. "I have a headline for you: 'Cheeky Boy Gets Nothing for His Troubles.'" Kai's eyebrows lifted in mild surprise, and the girl pursed her lips as if trying not to look too pleased with herself before walking past. Skoochy's snickers turned into barking laughter.

He slung his arm around Kai's shoulders. "Back to the bench, slugger, 'cause you just struck out!" Kai shoved him off.

"Like you could do better," Kai said, pulling Skoochy's hat over his eyes and ruffling his long, greasy hair. Skoochy shoved him back and Kai let out an easy laugh in spite of his recent flub – that had been the first and hopefully last time he'd struck out so badly with a girl. Kai supposed it was for the best; they clearly didn't run around in the same circles.

"Hey, Skoochy!" A voice interrupted them and they looked up to see Otaku, a pudgy newsie that always seemed to be the last one out of the boarding house. "What's the leg say? Gonna rain?"

Skoochy exchanged a knowing glance with Kai – they'd both made the leg into a bit of a superstition over the past year, and it still floored them that something so simple had actually stuck – and he brought his busted leg up to his chest, supporting himself against his crutch, and looked into the distance, nodding every so often, as if listening to his knee's whispers.

"Mm, no rain," Skoochy said, before breaking out into a smile. "Oh-ho! Partly cloudy, clear by evenin'." He released his leg as Lee practically collided into them, ruffling Skoochy's hair.

"Makes ya wish we could bottle this guy!" he exclaimed, and Skoochy shoved him off with a grin as Kai laughed.

"And that limp sells at least fifty papes on its own," Otaku added in admiration. Skoochy scoffed.

"I don't need the limp to sell papes." Skoochy straightened himself up as much as he could and tugged the end of his vest straight, puffing out his chest. "I've got personality."

"As wooden as your crutch?" Kai teased, and every newsie within earshot let out a loud "Ooh," as Skoochy shoved at Kai's head.

"Smartass," Skoochy muttered, shaking his head. "You know what it takes to sell papes? A smile that spreads like butter, the kind that turns a lady's head. Just like mine," he said, grinning to himself.

"It turns a lady's head, alright. Away to protect her poor eyes," Kai said, earning another shove to the head.

"Says the guy who just got turned down faster than a bad hand of cards," Skoochy snorted. Another "Ooh," rose from the crowd around them, and Kai shook his head.

"Never gonna let me live that down, are ya?"

Skoochy flashed Kai a cheeky grin. "Nope." He was met with a shove to his arm when the church doors opened.

Three nuns draped in black glided through the group of boys with full trays of bread and small glasses of water and coffee. How the nuns kept their habits on with several teenagers clamoring for the sustenance they provided, Kai didn't know, but he was grateful they put up with it anyway. God knew the newsies would be outright starving without the charity of the Lower Republic City church.

Kai nodded at the eldest nun as he took a piece of bread. "Thanks for the grub, Sister Iio."

"Always our pleasure to do the Lord's work," the nun replied with a soft smile. "But when will be seeing you boys inside the church?"

Skoochy came up next to Kai. "I dunno, but it's bound to rain sooner or later," he said, and Kai couldn't help but snort even as Sister Iio rolled her eyes and shook her head at them.

Bless those nuns and their boundless patience.

Kai ripped his piece of bread in half and pocketed the larger piece before chowing down on what remained. After a swig of both coffee and water, he joined Skoochy as they migrated the rest of the way down to the World's newsstand.

That was the newspaper's name. The World. The words shone in large, metallic letters on the gates to the newsstand, with the "w" dented along its right edge. Kai pressed his hands against the bars of the gate, along with as many newsies as could crowd the tiny entrance.

He stared at the blank chalkboard near the newsstand and watched with bated breath as the sour-faced seller walked up to the board to write the day's headline in white, blocky letters.

"I hope it's a good, bloody headline with a clear picture," murmured one of the boys next to him. Kai silently agreed; everyone knew the most disastrous headlines sold the most papers.

When Zhao walked away back to his place behind the stand, Kai's eyes scanned the writing, and every newsie within viewing distance collectively groaned.

The chalkboard read: "Headline Today: Trolley Strike Enters Third Week."