Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies, however I do own Stumbles and Gills.
As I got up from my seat, something caught my eye. That something was new. A new newsgirl, actually. Hold up, I'm the only girl newsie! Oh well, She doesn't look much older than me, so maybe she was just passing by and wanted to see what the commotion was... Or she could be coming to work here... HEY she's looking right at you! Go talk to her! Be social.
"Hey there!" I yelled quite friendly.
"Hey, ummm... I just want to come get papers, and I'm kind of new, so can you show me what to do? Oh by the way my names Gillian! Whats Yours?
"My name is technically Serenia, but they all call me Stumbles."
"They as in?"
"The Newsies of course, do you have anywhere to stay at night? You look kind of worn out." Oh trust me she did, she was in an old mud splattered dress, She would need new clothes soon.
"Oh, if you count a old wooden crate as a home, then yes."
"Come on, lets get you some papers, you can sell with me and Race today."
"Whatja want?" Racetrack responded to the sound of his name. I walked up to him with Gillian.
"This is Gillian, She's new so shes gonna be selling with us today, Ok?"
"Yea that's fine, lets get her some papes," he stood up and stood in front of the distribution stall for the second time. "Hey Morris, Can this young lady have thirty papes?
Oscars head shot up when he heard the word Lady. He looked through the iron bars at the newcomer. The now interested Oscar awkwardly talked to Gillian, "Why couldn't a pretty lady like you come get your own papers."
"Come on Oscar Stop fooling around," I sassed, she had only been here for 5 minutes, I didn't want her to become scared of the Delanceys so quickly. Morris immediately smacked his older brother in the arm, and handed Race the papers.
"Lets go Race. Now to start the headlines are always crud. So embellish the truth a little. For example," I started to tutor Gillian, "If a headline says lost cat found, you says Lost child found, ok?"
"I got it, so we kind of say whatever sells?"
"Exactly," Race said piping up.
"Question where are we going?" a very lost Gillian questioned.
"Well, wherever papers sell, and Race can go see races."
"So that means..."
"Brooklyn."
