Disclaimer: I don't own any of the original characters from the movie "Newsies"

Hiya. Thanks to the people who reviewed :) And, uh... Yeah, that's all I really have to say haha.

Alright. I know it really doesn't matter much now, but when I posted this story I made a HUGE mistake. I couldn't find out why everyone was so confused in the beginning, and it turns out I missed a very long and important chapter while updating. I'm really sorry for this. Anyway, I added it to the beginning of this chapter, so everything should make sense now.

--START—

"I'm sorry Miss McKennan... But we're just not looking for work right now." He looked at my ripped dirty clothes and turned away to take the bread out of the oven. I slammed my hand down on the counter out of frustration. "Really? Because da sign on the window seems to say different."

The baker, unsure how to respond, ignored my statement. "Have you tried looking for work at the factories?" he asked. "Almost every single one in New York City." I replied. "They won't take me."

"Well, I don't blame them. Not with that attitude of yours, anyway. That's why I refuse to hire you. You'll scare away my customers with a temper like that. Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do." He said, walking towards the cash register. I followed him along the counter and stood in front of the register.

"No... The factories didn't hire me because they had no more spots left. And you hiring me has nothing to do with my temper. It's got everything to do wit the fact that I'm dirt poor and homeless, don't it? And the fact that I'm a girl doesn't help da matter, either."

I was starting to get angry, but so was the baker. "Miss... If you do not leave my shop, I will be forced to call the authorities to escort you out." He demanded. I narrowed my eyes at him, but accepted the fact that I had been defeated. "Go ahead 'nd call the bulls... I ain't afraid of 'em..." I mumbled under my breath. Still, I turned to leave the store.

I sat on the bottom step of one of the apartment buildings. With my head in my hands I watched the people of New York City hurry by. This is so unfair...People refuse to hire me because I'm poor and homeless, but if someone would just give me a job I wouldn't be poor and homeless anymore...

I was broken out of my thoughts when something fell to the ground in front of me. A little girl, somewhere around 5 years old, had dropped her doll. I could tell she was rich by the clothes her and her mother were wearing. They both had on beautiful dresses that puffed out at the waist and touched the ground. The little girl's was a light pink color.

"Wait! You dropped your doll!" I called after her. She couldn't hear me over the sound of the noisy streets. I looked down at the doll. It reminded me of one I used to have... about 6 or 7 years ago. I stared at it and picked it up, mesmerized. There were very few things I remembered about that long ago. But my doll was one of the things I remembered clearly. Her name was Tara and she used to be my most prized possession. What ever happened to that thing? I thought. I couldn't remember...

Since then, I had gotten a new prized possession. Quite honestly, it was the only thing I owned besides the clothes on my back. It was my journal. Nothing but a small brown book, it had blank pages that I would fill with my thoughts and ideas. Writing had become a hobby of mine, since I had a lot of free time to kill out on the streets. It helped me to keep my mind off the hunger or the cold.

"Hey! That's my doll!" The girl said, suddenly at my side. She grabbed the doll out of my hands, making me realize I was still staring at it. "Oh, I'm sor-" I started to say, but the girl's mother had already started screaming. "Theif!" She pointed a finger at me and yelled. "She stole from us! She's a thief!"

"Oh crap." I muttered. A policeman nearby heard the commotion and the sound of a shrill whistle filled the air. My legs told me to run, but my brain fought it. No... Stay put. If you run you'll get in even more trouble... I told myself.

I can just explain what happened to the bulls, and... Oh god, what am I thinking? They won't believe me over her! I'm a street rat and she's practically royalty compared to me. I freed myself of the daze and began to run as fast as I could.

I turned into an alleyway, attempting to lose them. It didn't work. Soon enough I was trapped between two police officers and a brick wall. They grabbed me by the arms and I was pulled out to the street again. A carriage was waiting for me, but it had an enclosed wooden cage instead of a seat in the back.

I was forced into the back of the carriage. The door made of metal bars was closed and locked before I even got a chance to say a word. "We got another guttersnipe. Bring her to the refuge." The officer said. I tried to fight my way out of the carriage by slamming my shoulder against the door a few times, but it was no use. The door was shut tight. Sighing, I sat down on one of the narrow wooden benches that lined the sides of the box I was locked in.

---------

I was forcefully thrown into the cell and almost lost my balance. "Hey! Watch it!" I yelled back at the officer. In response he shut the door, making a loud clang echo throughout the room.

I reached into the oversized pocket of the boy pants I was dressed in. My journal was still there, somehow managing not to fall out throughout the struggle. I sighed and went over to one of the two bunks that were attached to the wall. I looked around the cell. It wasn't very big, but it felt so empty. The sun had set, so the small barred window provided no lighting. Shadows were cast all around the damp cobblestone cell.

"Finally, some company." A voice said from the corner, making me practically jump out of my skin. I whirled around and saw a person sitting against the wall in the shadows. I hadn't noticed him when I first came in.

I put my hand over my heart and tried to catch my breath. "Not often we get a goil in heah. So what did'ya do?" He asked. He lifted his head so I could see two eyes beneath the brim of a cowboy hat.

"First off, I didn't do nuttin'. It was a mistake. I ain't supposed to be here." I replied. He put his hands up in defense. "'Scuse me, didn't mean to offend ya." He said. "But I gotta tell ya, miss. I don't think da bulls care whetha ya did anythin' wrong or not. They'll use any excuse to get a few street rats locked up in heah."

"How long do ya think it will be until they let us out?" I asked, beginning to panic. He shrugged. "Dunno. Few days, maybe a week or two for you. For me, it's a different story."

I gaped at him. "How can you be so calm about this? We're locked in an oversized cage!" I said. He chuckled to himself. "Goil, dis ain't da foist time I'm in heah. Not even close." The worst thoughts ran through my head. Oh god... I'm sharing a cell with a murderer or something... I just know it...

The boy pushed himself off from the wall and stood up. It turned out he was a lot taller than he looked. He had light brown hair and wore a red bandana around his neck.

He approached me and spit in his hand. Holding it out, he introduced himself. "Da names Jack Kelly." I looked from his hand to his eyes a few times. He pulled back his hand. "Can I at least get a name from ya?" He asked. When I didn't answer, he sighed and climbed up to the top bunk.

"If I were you, Shamrock, I'd calm down a bit..." Jack said, the nickname he used referring to how my light skin, along with a few freckles splashed across the bridge of my nose, gave away my Irish nationality. A slight brogue was also noticeable if you listened to my speech carefully, but after 7 years it had been almost fully covered up by a New York accent. Jack continued. "Da guy's should be heah in no time to break me outta heah, and you'se welcome to come."

"What are you talkin' 'bout? What guys?" I asked. He laughed to himself and rolled over on his bed, facing his back to me. "You'll find out soon enough, I guess." He replied.

---------

Jack was right when he said I'd find out what he was talking about soon. Actually, he hit the nail right on the head. I found out that night.

I was having a hard time falling asleep. Something about the cell made me unnerved and fidgety. There was no way to tell how much time had passed, but I assumed I had been listening to Jack's light snoring for over an hour now.

I heard movement come from outside, and someone was at the small window. "Jack... Cowboy, ya in heah?" Someone whispered. I got out of bed and went over to the window. The boy stared at me for a second. "Guess I got da wrong cell..." he said. He had a heavy New York accent. His dark brown eyes almost matched the color of his hair.

"No... Jack's in here..." I whispered back. This time, at the mention of his name Jack quickly sat up in bed. Since he was sleeping on the top bunk, he hit his head on the ceiling. "oww..." he groaned, rubbing his forehead. I couldn't help but laugh.

"Jack, apparently 'da guy' you was talkin' about is here." I said. "Shhh!" he hushed me, climbing down. He grabbed his cowboy hat on the way over. "Heya Race." Jack said to the boy in the window. "Hey Cowboy. Ready to get outta heah? Da goil comin', too?" He asked. Jack nodded without asking me.

"Hey Boots, a little help..." The boy said. Apparently there were other people with him that I couldn't see, because someone handed him a crowbar. Within a few minutes, he had slid the bars out of the window and it was just large enough to crawl through.

In one quick motion, Jack pulled himself up and through the window. "Race, let's go see if da coast is clear out front. Mush, you help da goil get out." Jack said. "But... wait, Cowboy!" A voice quietly started to protest, but Jack was already disappearing from view.

He sighed and crawled over to the window. I had been trying to get up by myself, but I was much shorter than Jack and having twice the trouble. A different face appeared at the window, and I paused where I was and stared. He was unbelievably cute, with dark brown eyes and brown hair. His hair was covered under a newsie hat, and the innocence in his eyes looked somewhat familiar...

He extended his hand towards me. "Need some help?" He asked sheepishly. I accepted, placing my hand in his, and he pulled me out of the window. We both ended up on the ground with our faces inches apart. I stood up rapidly and brushed myself off. "Sorry 'bout that..." I said, looking away. The lighting from the moon was dim, but I'm pretty sure I saw his face turn a dark shade of pink. "No... it was, uh... my fault." He replied quickly.

"Guys, c'mon... hurry." Jack called from the side of the building, waving us over. We ran towards him, careful to stay in the darkness of the shadows. The five of us jumped the large gate using a rope the boys had brought with them. We talked at normal volume only once we were out on the street and far from the refuge.

Jack took the liberty of introducing us. "Dis is Mush, Racetrack, and Boots." He said, pointing at each individually as he said their name. "Fellas, dis is... uh..." Jack paused, realizing he didn't know my name. "Well, I don't really know who she is." Jack waited for me to tell them my name, but I didn't. "Guess she's Shamrock now, though." He said, using the nickname he had made up for me back at the refuge. "Dat is, if she don't mind us callin' her dat." Jack added as an afterthought. I laughed and shook my head. "Nah, it's fine. I kinda like it." I replied.

"So ya got a place to stay, Shamrock?" Jack asked me. I shook my head. "Nah, I'm pretty much just on me own." I replied. Jack seemed to be thinking about something. "Hey Race... Did ya happen to take notice of how many newsies were stayin' at da lodgin' house tonight?"

Race shrugged. "Just da usuals. Not too many udders, so we'se got a few extra bunks." Racetrack replied. I seemed to be the only one who didn't know what Jack was thinking. "I dunno if it's a good idea, Cowboy. We ain't sure how Kloppman feels 'bout goils in da lodgin' house." Boots said. Kloppman... something about that name rung a bell...

"Ah, come on, Boots. Lighten up." Jack replied, slapping Boots on the back. "We'll find out in da mornin', but for now it's real late 'nd she's got nowhere to go." I cleared my throat and the guys looked over at me, almost forgetting I was there.

I arched an eyebrow at them, wondering what was going on. Jack laughed and put his arm over my shoulders. "Shamrock, you'se welcome to stay wit us for da night. Da four of us live in da newsboys lodgin' house on da udder side of town. It ain't far from heah."

I shifted my weight nervously and didn't answer right away. Could I trust these guys? I mean, I had just met their leader in a prison cell.

Then again, I was put in the refuge too and I wasn't dangerous... They had helped me escape. Plus if they lived in the lodging house, that meant they were newsies. I had run-ins with newsboys before since I had been all around New York City. Many of them were dirt poor, but they didn't prove to be bad kids or anything.

"Da rest of da guys are real nice. Dey wouldn't pull anythin' stupid if dat's what you'se worried 'bout." Jack added. I looked up from the ground and met Mush's gaze. He seemed embarrassed and looked away, blushing furiously. If he's not innocent-looking, then I don't know what is... I told myself. Convincing myself it was safe to trust them, I cautiously agreed.

We began heading towards the lodging house. Involved in their own conversation, the rest of the boys walked a few paces ahead of Jack and I. I took this opportunity to ask Jack something.

"Hey Jack..." I whispered, tugging on the sleeve of his shirt. "Hmm?" He asked. He moved closer to me, understanding that I didn't want to be overheard by the other guys.

"What's wit your friend Mush?" I asked Jack, keeping my voice down. He shot me a confused look. "What do you mean?" he replied. "I dunno... he just seems kinda..." I couldn't think of the right word. Anxious? Uneasy, or really shy?

"Oh... dat." Jack whispered, understanding what I was talking about. "He's just real shy around goils. Get's noivous sometimes when he's around 'em. Which is weird, I guess, because he shoah gets a lot of 'em...He's a real nice guy, though. Don't let yaself think he's got somethin' against ya or anythin'." Jack told me.

I nodded, showing him I understood. "One more question..." I said. "How come ya didn't aks me my name back dere? Instead ya just used dat nickname for me..." I asked. Jack shrugged. "We'se all got pasts dat we wanna keep secret or forget 'bout. Da newsies know dat best of all. Figured I'd just save ya da trouble."

We reached the lodging house and entered. Jack reminded us to stay as quiet as possible by putting his finger up to his lips. "If Kloppman catches us sneakin' back in dis late at night, we'se all dead meat..." He whispered, his voice barely even audible. The lobby was pitch dark and dead silent.

Still, something was familiar about it. I couldn't place what, though. We snuck up the old staircase, trying to keep it from creaking so much. We reached the bunk room and I looked around.

Dozens of boys were asleep. I couldn't see so well in the lighting, but it looked like their ages ranged from 9 to 19. Jack pointed across the room at an empty bunk, indicating that was where I was to sleep.

I heard low shuffling as the guys climbed into bed. My eyes lingered on Mush for a few moments. I thought about what Jack said about Mush's shyness around girls. I wonder why he's like that... I thought, climbing into my own bunk. Unlike at the refuge, as soon as my head hit the pillow I was asleep.

----------

"A'right! Rise 'n shine! Up, up, up! Sell da papes, carryin' da banner! Dutchy, let's go. Pie Eater, you too. Da presses are rollin'! Jack, when did ya get back from da refuge? Come on, wake up! And anyone wanna explain dat goil over dere?"

"I'll explain 'er, Kloppman." I heard Jack's voice, suppressed by a yawn. The rest of the boys groaned and got out of bed like zombies. It took me a minute to remember where I was. I opened my eyes and sat up to see Jack and an old man having a conversation in front of my bunk.

"She didn't have a place to stay, so I brought 'er back here wit me. She ain't dangerous or nuttin'. She's innocent of whatever da bulls got her for." Jack explained.

"Ya mean ya broke out again, Jack!?" Kloppman asked, crossing his arms and trying to look angry at him. Cowboy shrugged. "It ain't my fault da security dere ain't so great. I dunno when dey gonna realize dat they should stop tryin', because no one can keep Jack Kelly locked up." Jack replied, grinning. He left Mush, Race and Boots out of the story so they didn't get in trouble for sneaking out.

Kloppman sighed and rolled his eyes, but a slight smile crept onto his face. "Don't expect me to cover for ya if dey come heah lookin' for ya, Jack." Kloppman told him scolding him with his pointer finger, but it was obvious he would protect Jack from the cops if he could.

Jack laughed. "So Kloppman, bout da goil... is it a'right if she stays?" he asked. Kloppman turned to look at me, realizing for the first time that I was watching their whole conversation.

He shrugged. "I suppose so. Long as she's sellin' papes to support herself. But ya gotta make shoah she's comfortable wit da guys, because I ain't got any other room to put 'er in." Kloppman, after taking one last glance around the room to make sure everyone was awake, walked out the door again.

I stood up from my bunk. "What makes ya think I wanna stay here?" I asked Jack, causing him to look up at me. He was tying his bandana around his neck.

"Well, from what I collected from ya last night, you'se alone 'nd don't got a place to stay, right? Which leads me to believe dat you're without a job, too. So if ya stay heah, ya got da newsies, ya got da lodgin' house, and ya got papes to sell. The way I look at it, it solves all three problems, don't it?" He replied with a smirk.

He was right, but I still didn't want to admit it. His ego was already too big for his own good anyway. "Say there's more than three problems, though? For instance, what if I can't be a newsie?" I replied.

"And why not?" Jack asked, putting his black vest on over his shirt. "Well, for one, I ain't a mornin' person. It's gonna take more than dat guy's yellin' to get me up every mornin'...as loud an' obnoxious as it may be." I added. Jack laughed. "And two," I continued, "I ain't never tried, but I can bet ya I can't sell a paper for my life."
"Well, Shamrock, I happen to have a way around dat. Look around." Jack said, motioning around the bunk room with his hand. "Me and da guys aren't exactly in the best of moods. None of us are mornin' people, but I can assure you'll get used to it." I scanned the room with my eyes. Racetrack had just grabbed something out of a boy's mouth. The boy looked about 12 or 13, and was a small kid. "What am I, a cigar vender!?" Racetrack yelled, smacking the kid upside the head. I suppressed a laugh and turned back to Jack.
"And what are ya gonna do 'bout da fact that I can't sell papes?" I asked. Jack smirked again and put his arm around my shoulders. "You'se in luck. I-Jack Kelly-happen to be one of da best sella's on dis side of da Brooklyn Bridge. Ya stick wit me today, and I'll teach ya everythin' ya gotta know." He said.

I rolled my eyes and took his arm off my shoulders, but I smiled. "Yeah, yeah. I guess we'll see if ya have a right to be so full of yourself." I said,

"That mean your stayin'?" He asked. "Hey, don't get ahead of yaself. I said I'll sell for a day. I didn't say nuttin' 'bout stayin'." I started walking towards the washroom. "Hey Shamrock..." He called after me.

I turned around to face him. "You think my ego's bad, wait till ya meet da infamous Spot Conlon." Jack said, grinning.

--------

"So ya basically lie 'bout the headline?" I asked, arching an eyebrow at him. Jack sighed and shook his head. "No, Shamrock. How many times do I gotta tell ya? It ain't lyin'... It's jus' improvin' da truth a little."

I let out a sarcastic "Uh huh." and crossed my arms. "Sounds a lot like lyin' to me, Jack Kelly." He laughed. "What are ya, me mudda? You're just out to make me da bad guy, ain't ya?" I shrugged. "What can I say... I can be just as much of a pain in da ass as you can."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Just get out dere and do what I told ya, a'right?" He said, pushing me playfully off the sidewalk and into the street. I glared at him before turning around to face the New York City crowd. "Extry, Extry! Mayor alleged of punching some guy in the—" Jack grabbed me by the elbow and pulled me back before I could even finish.
"Dammit, Shamrock. I said catchy woids. Not borin'. What are ya tryin' to do, make da people of New Yawk fall asleep on deir way to woik?" I smirked and shrugged. "Maybe." I said.

Jack sighed. "Are you tryin' to be bad at dis just to prove me wrong?" He asked. I laughed. "As much as dat's a great idea, I ain't tryin' to be bad at it. Guess it just comes naturally."

"Yeah, yeah... watch a pro at woik, okay?" Jack stepped out into the middle of the sidewalk and held a paper over his head. "Extra! Mayor suspected guilty of murderin' someone! Corpse found!" A few young girls heading off to school stopped to buy a few papers. "Much obliged to ya, miss. Thank ya very much."

Jack and I slowly made our way to Central Park, selling papers on the way. Of course, he was done selling his papers long before I finished, but he gave me tips on improving headlines and choosing angles. According to him, the first thing I had to learn was that "Headline's don't sell papes, Newsies sell papes."

I had about 5 to go before I was done, when a kid ran up to Jack out of breath. Frantically, he began tugging on his shirt. The boy looked about 13 years old with pale skin and bright red hair.

Jack turned and kneeled down to the kid's level, trying to get something out of him. "Freckles! What's a'matta?!" Jack asked. The boy desperately tried to speak. "Spot's... havin' trouble... wit..." Freckles struggled between gasps for air.

"Spit it out, kid!" Jack said, shaking him by the shoulders. "Queens... fight ova' territories... told me...to come get ya." The boy replied, finally starting to catch his breath. "Ya mean ya ran all da way heah from Brooklyn, Frecks?" Jack asked. Freckles nodded quickly.

"Ah crap..." Jack muttered. He stood up and turned to me. "Listen Shamrock... I gotta go wit him... Spot don't aks for help from anybody unless he's got a real problem on his hands." He said. "Jack! Ya can't just leave me here... I got no clue where I'se goin'!" I exclaimed.

Although I had been in New York City for several years now, I always liked to wander. I never stayed in one part of the city long enough to get to know the area, so when it came to knowing my way around I was sunk.

"I ain't gonna be long, I promise... Just stick 'round heah for a lil' while, 'nd I'll be back to get ya as soon as I can..." Jack said. He turned and followed Freckles out of the park.

---------

"Dammit, Jack... Where are ya?" I mumbled to myself. I had been sitting on the same oversized rock for hours now. The sun was slowly disappearing behind the buildings, casting long shadows of trees around Central Park. Despite the fact that it was summer, my thin shirt didn't provide much warmth for me after sunset.

I sighed and let my chin drop into the palm of my hand. As the minutes of daylight slipped away, so did my chances of being found by one of the newsies. I assumed they would all be heading to the lodging house by now, if not already there.

It continued to get darker, but Jack still didn't show up. I got up, deciding the park wouldn't be too safe anymore after dark. The lodging house couldn't be far from here, and if I had to I would just ask someone for help finding my way back.

Wandering along the streets I tried to think back to that morning, but I hadn't really been paying attention on the way to the distribution office. I recognized a few signs, which led me to believe I was going in the right direction.

Not many people were around, especially as I got closer and closer to the poorer side of town. Most of the small shops closed after dark, leaving the streets almost deserted.

The only light was coming from the freshly-lit streetlamps along the side of the road. I wasn't one to be afraid of the dark, but the yellowish glow made things look almost eerie.

I stopped suddenly when I heard a trash can being violently thrown to the ground. After the racket stopped, I strained my ears to hear anything else. There was a soft whimpering coming from one of the alleyways.

I started running, carefully keeping my footsteps as quiet as I could. As I reached the alley, I saw five figures. They were all inching in towards a little boy, who was scrambling towards the wall of the alleyway. His back touched the bricks and, cornered in, he had nowhere else to go.

A strip of light hit his tear-streaked face, and I recognized him. His name was Les. That morning while we bought our papes, Jack had introduced me to him and his older brother, David.

They moved closer to him, forming a circle around the boy. I quickly approached the alleyway and stood in the opening. "Ya bums gotta be pretty desperate if you'se preyin' on a little kid for money." My voice was stronger and a lot more confident that I felt. They turned to face me.

I gulped. oh shit... They only looked several years older than me, but they sure as hell were bigger. Smirks appeared on their faces. "Hey, lookie dere, guys... da goil's got a problem wit our way of doin' business." Momentarily forgetting about Les, they snickered and began advancing towards me. I held constant eye-contact, glaring at them like I wasn't scared. Inside, my heart was beating faster than ever.

I glanced at Les and my lips formed the word, "Run." He just stared at me, wide-eyed for a moment. Then, like lightning, he slipped around the corner and ran down the street as fast as his legs could carry him.

Judging by the way their mouths twisted into scowls, they didn't seem happy about losing their victim for the night. Slowly, they began moving towards me. I backed away, waiting for the correct opportunity to run. I couldn't take these guys on by myself and I knew it, so I needed to get out of their fast.

The one that was closest to me lunged forward, knocking me to the ground. I brought my knee up hard into his stomach, forcing him to kneel over in pain. Using this chance for a clear shot to the face, I balled my hand into a fist and took it. I think I did more damage to my knuckles then to his cheekbone, but it created a distraction long enough for me to take a run for it.

I fled the alleyway without turning back to look over my shoulder. My footsteps pounded on the cobblestone and I could hear them gaining on me. Struggling to stay ahead, I pushed my legs to go faster. As soon as I thought I was losing them a hand covered over my mouth and dragged me backwards into darkness.

----------

:O Cliffhanger. Bad cliffhanger. I know... I'm pure evil. Sorry about that.

Anyway, please tell me how you think the start of this story's going. I'd love to hear your comments.

I'll post more tomorrow. Probably more than one, because I've got no life. I know what you're thinking. "Pffffft... What a loser." Yeah, yeah. It's okay. I've learned to just accept it :D