Chapter 3: A Little Discovery
A/N: Since I have forgotten it on the past two chaps, here it is; the disclaimer. "I don't own Newsies, (as much as I wish I did) and I don't have any money so don't sue." There, that's over and done with now. On to the fic!
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Kit turned around and shut the door behind her, firmly bolting it. When she turned around again, Ticks stood at the foot of the stairs, shooting a questioning glance.
"Kit, wha' da hell jus' happened?" she demanded.
Shaking her head, Kit replied, "I's got no clue." Tucking a stray lock of her strawberry blond hair behind her ear, Kit shoved her way past Tricks. She walked up to the room that she and Tricks shared, pulled off her clothes, slipped into a nightshirt and proceeded to crawl into her respective bunk. She had no desire to speak to anyone at the moment. Tricks, in her more than unnatural wisdom, sensed this and went to bunk with Song and the twins for the night. Besides, the younger girls were in need of a stable friend at the moment.
Staring at the moldy ceiling, Kit tried to make sense of everything. "Who da hell were dose guys?" Vaguely she could recall faces, and kind faces at that, but no names came. She figured that they were insignificant, considering that they were only helping because she was on their territory. But why then did they prey on her mind? There was some feeling that they gave her that she had not felt in a long time.
What was the elusive feeling? Well, to narrow things down, it was quite the opposite feeling that the Delancy's had given her. She knew that feeling all too well. They gave her the feeling of worry and fright that the past would be repeated. That was not something she wanted to think about at the moment. But what about the feeling from the Newsies? It certainly was not love, but something closely related to it. Then, it slowly came to her. It was a feeling of safety and comfort. That same feeling had been lying dormant for the past couple of years in the Orphanage. Madame Ashworth practically killed the feeling when she came.
"Den why da hell am I's getting' it from Newsies? I don' know dem! Aw hell, dis ain't gonna be good." Kit continued to ponder this unusual turn of events until early in the morning.
Kitten was rudely awoken form her precious fifteen minutes of sleep by Madame's piercing screech. "Girls, get down here now!"
So much for yesterday.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Currently, the Manhattan Newsies were sitting in Bryan Denton's office. They were trying to figure out what the High Street Orphanage was and why that had never heard of it before.
Denton was looking at each Newsie in turn growing more confused by the minute. "Wait, hold on a second. Let me get a few things straight. Last night you boys came across a group of girls ranging from about six to sixteen?"
"Dat's wha' we's been sayin' fer da past ten minutes!" Mush exclaimed looking slightly flustered like only he could.
"And they were bring harassed by the Delancys?"
Blink rolled his good eye. "Yep."
"Then the oldest, Kit did you say, told another to get the rest away?" Denton looked at the Newsies who were nodding their heads in varying degrees of anguished agreement. "So, after a fight Race, Blink, and Mush walked her home to an Orphanage that you swear you've never seen or heard of before?"
Now, Racetrack is not the most patient of men. While waiting for Denton to shut his mouth, Race had burned through his cigar and was now searching for another one. Hell, he would settle for a pack of cigarettes at this point. Noticing that Denton had indeed stopped talking for the moment, Race ceased his search and seized the opportunity to get his few words in.
"Denton, I's been a Newsie in dis city fer longer den anyone. I know dis entire city top ta bottom. Never have I hoid a da High Street Orphanage. Dat was, until las' night. Dere it was, big as life an' da goil walked inta it like any normal person would a walked inta a buildin'."
"So, what do you boys want me to do?"
"We want yous ta find out anythin' 'bout dis place." Jack leaned forward as he spoke. "It'd look a bit fishy if a bunch a Newsies was lookin' fer stuff 'bout a goil's lodgin's."
Sitting back and sighing, Denton thought. Finally he spoke. "Give me an hour."
He left and the Newsies settled down to a nice, civil game of poker. However, any game of poker played while Race was there was hardly ever nice or civil. It usually ended up being a cut-throat game with lots of black eyes.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
One by one the girls came down the stairs, each dressed as they usually did. The one good thing about the orphanage was that there was no established dress code. All of the girls, with the exception of Song and Sun, dressed like guys. Only Song and Sun felt the need to assert their femininity.
Madame looked them all over with a look of apparent disgust as they took their places for breakfast. The morning meal usually consisted of rusty water, moldy bread and some form of slop which was supposed to be oatmeal. "You are a despicable bunch. Well, at least you had the sense to finish the cleaning I left you. I guess that means that you deserve a day off. Kitten, after breakfast you will see me in my office."
"Yes Madame," Kitten replied quietly before returning to her breakfast that was making her stomach flip cartwheels. She knew what was coming. Madame probably found out that Kit had indulged in her games with the girls again. Or she had found out that she had taken the girls into the city for a decent supper. There were hundreds of reasons that Madame could find or make up to punish Kit for.
Faster than usual, breakfast ended. The little dreamer and stoic Moon patted Kit's leg gravely before she joined her friends near Tricks.
"Park," Tricks mouthed to Kit before she led the girls away for the day.
Inside Madame's office, Kit pace the familiar floor. That all too familiar wooden floor that told faint tales of Kit's beating since she was twelve. Madame Ashworth had gotten rid of the beautiful carpets that Madame Whitefield once had in there. She was afraid that Kit's blood would stain the carpets beyond repair.
"Well Kitten, let's have a little chat; shall we? Just remember that any wrong move earns you ten lashes."
"Yes Madame."
"Out delightful neighbor Mrs. Fisk says that she saw you in the company of Newsboys last night. Is this true?"
There was no point in lying. Mrs. Fisk was always watching everyone that passed by her window. This was not something that Kit could easily and quickly get out of. "Yes Madame."
"She also tells me that she saw you leaning against a streetlight acting like a whore to the aforementioned Newsboys. Is this true?"
How could Madame even think such a thing? Kit was in no way shape or form a whore; nor did she ever act like one. Sure her chest was slightly unnaturally large for her age, but she usually hid that fact under a lager men's shirt. "No Madame, it's not true."
As predicted, Madame did not believe it a single bit. She rewarded Kit with ten harsh lashes on her back.
"Now, tell me the truth like a good girl," Madame cooed.
"I am. I was leanin' against da streetlight cuz we's was runnin' from..." Kit paused, trying to think of a plausible reason for running with a bunch of Newsies.
The, the morning's paper was bought in by Tricks. The headline gave Kit the answer she needed.
"We's was runnin' from da slum riot."
Madame glanced at the paper to check out Kit's story. Kit's luck held; the riot had taken place in a nearby slum. "Fine then, you may leave." Then Madame's eyes grew dark with a hidden purpose. "But not without a few lashes for good measure." She stepped forward and pulled off Kit's shirt. The heavy leather whip bit into Kit's back as Madame proceeded to let her fury at the world out on Kit.
For some unknown reason, it was Tricks' day for saving Kit. This time she walked into Madame's office with a newspaper reporter.
"Madame, dis reporter's heah ta talk witchou."
Madame's head snapped up as she shoved Kit away. "I'm terribly sorry that you had to see that Mr....?"
"Denton; I'm from the New York Sun. I'm doing a piece on Lodging Houses and Orphanages and I wondered if I could ask you a couple of questions."
"But of course!" Madame said in a sickly sweet voice. "Dun along now girls."
Kit and Tricks needed no second bidding. They ran out of there as quickly as they could.
"Da lady's off her rocker!" Tricks remarked to Kit as they sat around Central Park. Tricks was trying to tend Kit's wounds but Kit was having none of it. She shoved Tricks' care aside, saying that it was no big deal and that it did not hurt all that much.
"Enough, I's gonna be fine. Jus' enjoy da day off a'fore we's gotta go back tad a bloody Orphanage." And enjoy they did. They created a day to remember because they knew they would not have another one for a long while.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
After his 'meeting' with Madame Ashworth, Denton headed straight back to his office. He opened the door to find the boys in a very intense poker game. One that Racetrack was winning, naturally.
"Read 'em an' weep boys," Race said as he laid down his cards.
"Damn it!" Jack burst out. Race's royal flush definitely beat his pitiful pair of tens.
Blink simply glared at the Italian gambler who cockily gathered his winnings from the center of the table. Mush sympathetically patted Blink's shoulder. Mush never played poker; he was pitiful at it. He had no poker face what so ever and he could not lie to save his life. So he was there simply for moral support; usually reserved for Blink only.
"Hey boys," Denton called. "I hate to bring you out of your poker game but I found out what you wanted. Apparently there are some rather interesting things to be said about the High Street Orphanage."
"Do tell," Jack said.
"It's run by a Madame Ashworth who took over after the previous owner died. Let me tell you, this lady's off her rocker. The place is run down beyond recognition and she makes the girls work like slaves. The poor girls seem starved of a good meal and they almost seem to avoid outside contact. Oh, and get this. She beats the girls and then acts as if it were nothing. She told me that it was to "improve morale and establish a sense of loyalty" or some other bit of bullshit like that." Denton paused for a moment recalling his visit to the High Street Orphanage. "What did this Kit of yours look like?"
The Newsies thought about it for a moment. Then, Race finally came up with a description that seemed reasonable to what they saw of her last night. "'Bout my height, pale an' thin, long, bright, strawberry blond hair. Why?"
"Because I had the wonderful experience of walking in on the Mistress while she was beating Kit. The poor girl was a mess! It looked as though this had been happening for many years by the look of the scarred back."
This news worried the Newsies. Now, they were not the type to go around saving Orphanage girls from disaster, but they were disturbed by it nonetheless. They felt as though something should be done, but that something was unclear. They walked out of Denton's office with a feeling of dread and apprehension.
Passing Central Park, Jack recognized Kit's shock of strawberry blond hair lying in the grass. "Wha' do ya t'ink guys?"
"We's gotta do somethin'," Race said. "Might as well start by getting' ta know her an' her goils."
With a plan in mind, the Manhattan Newsies walked into Central Park. While their mission was noble, they had no idea if it would even work. Here's hoping fir the best.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
A/N: I know this wasn't the best chapter, but please read and review. It'll get better I promise! Thanks so much!
A/N: Since I have forgotten it on the past two chaps, here it is; the disclaimer. "I don't own Newsies, (as much as I wish I did) and I don't have any money so don't sue." There, that's over and done with now. On to the fic!
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Kit turned around and shut the door behind her, firmly bolting it. When she turned around again, Ticks stood at the foot of the stairs, shooting a questioning glance.
"Kit, wha' da hell jus' happened?" she demanded.
Shaking her head, Kit replied, "I's got no clue." Tucking a stray lock of her strawberry blond hair behind her ear, Kit shoved her way past Tricks. She walked up to the room that she and Tricks shared, pulled off her clothes, slipped into a nightshirt and proceeded to crawl into her respective bunk. She had no desire to speak to anyone at the moment. Tricks, in her more than unnatural wisdom, sensed this and went to bunk with Song and the twins for the night. Besides, the younger girls were in need of a stable friend at the moment.
Staring at the moldy ceiling, Kit tried to make sense of everything. "Who da hell were dose guys?" Vaguely she could recall faces, and kind faces at that, but no names came. She figured that they were insignificant, considering that they were only helping because she was on their territory. But why then did they prey on her mind? There was some feeling that they gave her that she had not felt in a long time.
What was the elusive feeling? Well, to narrow things down, it was quite the opposite feeling that the Delancy's had given her. She knew that feeling all too well. They gave her the feeling of worry and fright that the past would be repeated. That was not something she wanted to think about at the moment. But what about the feeling from the Newsies? It certainly was not love, but something closely related to it. Then, it slowly came to her. It was a feeling of safety and comfort. That same feeling had been lying dormant for the past couple of years in the Orphanage. Madame Ashworth practically killed the feeling when she came.
"Den why da hell am I's getting' it from Newsies? I don' know dem! Aw hell, dis ain't gonna be good." Kit continued to ponder this unusual turn of events until early in the morning.
Kitten was rudely awoken form her precious fifteen minutes of sleep by Madame's piercing screech. "Girls, get down here now!"
So much for yesterday.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Currently, the Manhattan Newsies were sitting in Bryan Denton's office. They were trying to figure out what the High Street Orphanage was and why that had never heard of it before.
Denton was looking at each Newsie in turn growing more confused by the minute. "Wait, hold on a second. Let me get a few things straight. Last night you boys came across a group of girls ranging from about six to sixteen?"
"Dat's wha' we's been sayin' fer da past ten minutes!" Mush exclaimed looking slightly flustered like only he could.
"And they were bring harassed by the Delancys?"
Blink rolled his good eye. "Yep."
"Then the oldest, Kit did you say, told another to get the rest away?" Denton looked at the Newsies who were nodding their heads in varying degrees of anguished agreement. "So, after a fight Race, Blink, and Mush walked her home to an Orphanage that you swear you've never seen or heard of before?"
Now, Racetrack is not the most patient of men. While waiting for Denton to shut his mouth, Race had burned through his cigar and was now searching for another one. Hell, he would settle for a pack of cigarettes at this point. Noticing that Denton had indeed stopped talking for the moment, Race ceased his search and seized the opportunity to get his few words in.
"Denton, I's been a Newsie in dis city fer longer den anyone. I know dis entire city top ta bottom. Never have I hoid a da High Street Orphanage. Dat was, until las' night. Dere it was, big as life an' da goil walked inta it like any normal person would a walked inta a buildin'."
"So, what do you boys want me to do?"
"We want yous ta find out anythin' 'bout dis place." Jack leaned forward as he spoke. "It'd look a bit fishy if a bunch a Newsies was lookin' fer stuff 'bout a goil's lodgin's."
Sitting back and sighing, Denton thought. Finally he spoke. "Give me an hour."
He left and the Newsies settled down to a nice, civil game of poker. However, any game of poker played while Race was there was hardly ever nice or civil. It usually ended up being a cut-throat game with lots of black eyes.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
One by one the girls came down the stairs, each dressed as they usually did. The one good thing about the orphanage was that there was no established dress code. All of the girls, with the exception of Song and Sun, dressed like guys. Only Song and Sun felt the need to assert their femininity.
Madame looked them all over with a look of apparent disgust as they took their places for breakfast. The morning meal usually consisted of rusty water, moldy bread and some form of slop which was supposed to be oatmeal. "You are a despicable bunch. Well, at least you had the sense to finish the cleaning I left you. I guess that means that you deserve a day off. Kitten, after breakfast you will see me in my office."
"Yes Madame," Kitten replied quietly before returning to her breakfast that was making her stomach flip cartwheels. She knew what was coming. Madame probably found out that Kit had indulged in her games with the girls again. Or she had found out that she had taken the girls into the city for a decent supper. There were hundreds of reasons that Madame could find or make up to punish Kit for.
Faster than usual, breakfast ended. The little dreamer and stoic Moon patted Kit's leg gravely before she joined her friends near Tricks.
"Park," Tricks mouthed to Kit before she led the girls away for the day.
Inside Madame's office, Kit pace the familiar floor. That all too familiar wooden floor that told faint tales of Kit's beating since she was twelve. Madame Ashworth had gotten rid of the beautiful carpets that Madame Whitefield once had in there. She was afraid that Kit's blood would stain the carpets beyond repair.
"Well Kitten, let's have a little chat; shall we? Just remember that any wrong move earns you ten lashes."
"Yes Madame."
"Out delightful neighbor Mrs. Fisk says that she saw you in the company of Newsboys last night. Is this true?"
There was no point in lying. Mrs. Fisk was always watching everyone that passed by her window. This was not something that Kit could easily and quickly get out of. "Yes Madame."
"She also tells me that she saw you leaning against a streetlight acting like a whore to the aforementioned Newsboys. Is this true?"
How could Madame even think such a thing? Kit was in no way shape or form a whore; nor did she ever act like one. Sure her chest was slightly unnaturally large for her age, but she usually hid that fact under a lager men's shirt. "No Madame, it's not true."
As predicted, Madame did not believe it a single bit. She rewarded Kit with ten harsh lashes on her back.
"Now, tell me the truth like a good girl," Madame cooed.
"I am. I was leanin' against da streetlight cuz we's was runnin' from..." Kit paused, trying to think of a plausible reason for running with a bunch of Newsies.
The, the morning's paper was bought in by Tricks. The headline gave Kit the answer she needed.
"We's was runnin' from da slum riot."
Madame glanced at the paper to check out Kit's story. Kit's luck held; the riot had taken place in a nearby slum. "Fine then, you may leave." Then Madame's eyes grew dark with a hidden purpose. "But not without a few lashes for good measure." She stepped forward and pulled off Kit's shirt. The heavy leather whip bit into Kit's back as Madame proceeded to let her fury at the world out on Kit.
For some unknown reason, it was Tricks' day for saving Kit. This time she walked into Madame's office with a newspaper reporter.
"Madame, dis reporter's heah ta talk witchou."
Madame's head snapped up as she shoved Kit away. "I'm terribly sorry that you had to see that Mr....?"
"Denton; I'm from the New York Sun. I'm doing a piece on Lodging Houses and Orphanages and I wondered if I could ask you a couple of questions."
"But of course!" Madame said in a sickly sweet voice. "Dun along now girls."
Kit and Tricks needed no second bidding. They ran out of there as quickly as they could.
"Da lady's off her rocker!" Tricks remarked to Kit as they sat around Central Park. Tricks was trying to tend Kit's wounds but Kit was having none of it. She shoved Tricks' care aside, saying that it was no big deal and that it did not hurt all that much.
"Enough, I's gonna be fine. Jus' enjoy da day off a'fore we's gotta go back tad a bloody Orphanage." And enjoy they did. They created a day to remember because they knew they would not have another one for a long while.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
After his 'meeting' with Madame Ashworth, Denton headed straight back to his office. He opened the door to find the boys in a very intense poker game. One that Racetrack was winning, naturally.
"Read 'em an' weep boys," Race said as he laid down his cards.
"Damn it!" Jack burst out. Race's royal flush definitely beat his pitiful pair of tens.
Blink simply glared at the Italian gambler who cockily gathered his winnings from the center of the table. Mush sympathetically patted Blink's shoulder. Mush never played poker; he was pitiful at it. He had no poker face what so ever and he could not lie to save his life. So he was there simply for moral support; usually reserved for Blink only.
"Hey boys," Denton called. "I hate to bring you out of your poker game but I found out what you wanted. Apparently there are some rather interesting things to be said about the High Street Orphanage."
"Do tell," Jack said.
"It's run by a Madame Ashworth who took over after the previous owner died. Let me tell you, this lady's off her rocker. The place is run down beyond recognition and she makes the girls work like slaves. The poor girls seem starved of a good meal and they almost seem to avoid outside contact. Oh, and get this. She beats the girls and then acts as if it were nothing. She told me that it was to "improve morale and establish a sense of loyalty" or some other bit of bullshit like that." Denton paused for a moment recalling his visit to the High Street Orphanage. "What did this Kit of yours look like?"
The Newsies thought about it for a moment. Then, Race finally came up with a description that seemed reasonable to what they saw of her last night. "'Bout my height, pale an' thin, long, bright, strawberry blond hair. Why?"
"Because I had the wonderful experience of walking in on the Mistress while she was beating Kit. The poor girl was a mess! It looked as though this had been happening for many years by the look of the scarred back."
This news worried the Newsies. Now, they were not the type to go around saving Orphanage girls from disaster, but they were disturbed by it nonetheless. They felt as though something should be done, but that something was unclear. They walked out of Denton's office with a feeling of dread and apprehension.
Passing Central Park, Jack recognized Kit's shock of strawberry blond hair lying in the grass. "Wha' do ya t'ink guys?"
"We's gotta do somethin'," Race said. "Might as well start by getting' ta know her an' her goils."
With a plan in mind, the Manhattan Newsies walked into Central Park. While their mission was noble, they had no idea if it would even work. Here's hoping fir the best.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
A/N: I know this wasn't the best chapter, but please read and review. It'll get better I promise! Thanks so much!
