The next few days passed in a mild stupor for Kid Blink. He found himself torn between his desire to see Alicia again and his need to sell the papers. At the end of this stupor, David became the new newsie in their lives.
The day after, the world changed.
It started like any other morning. Kid Blink arrived at the circulation desk before the others.
"Fifty papes, Weasel," he ordered, slamming a quarter on the desk. Wiesel looked up and smiled maliciously.
"That won't cover it anymore," he told Blink through his evil grin.
"What? What do you mean?" growled Blink irritably. Behind him, a line was beginning to queue up.
"Mr. Pulitzer changed the price," Wiesel replied. "Sixty cents a hundred."
"What?" exclaimed Blink. The newsies behind him were beginning to get impatient. He slammed his hand back on the counter and snatched his quarter back. He turned to the others and yelled angrily, "Price jack-up. We can't buy these!"
"What's goin' on?" asked Jack as Blink pounded down the stairs to stand nearby him.
"They jacked up the price," Blink shouted indignantly, feeling the eyes of the newsies on him. "You hear that, Jack? Ten cents a hundred! It's bad enough that we gotta eat what we don't sell. Now they jacked up the price. Can you believe it?" The complaints spread to other newsies.
Jack hopped up the steps to the desk. "Why the jack-up, Weasel?"
"Why not?" Wiesel replied. He licked his finger and stuck it in the air, as if testing for a breeze. "It's a nice day. Why don't you ask Mr. Pulitzer?"
"They can't do this to me, Jack," muttered Blink.
"They can do whatever they want," grumbled Racetrack. "It's their stinkin' paper." The next few minuteds passed quickly, ending with the decision to go on strike. The newsies left the area of the circulation desk, Jack talking with David. Eventually, Jack turned to ask if they actually wanted to go on strike.
"The choice has gotta be yours," Jack told them. "Are we gonna take what they give us, or are we gonna strike?" The newsies remained silent. Kid Blink looked around, waiting for someone to say something.
"Strike!" yelled Les from behind Jack. David quickly covered his mouth, but a rousing cry of agreement was swelling up from the newsies.
"Well, keep talking, Jack! Tell us what to do!" exclaimed Boots. Jack turned back to David.
"Pulitzer and Hearst have to respect our rights," David told Jack, after a pause.
"Hey listen!" called Jack. "Pulitzer and Hearst have to respect the rights of the working boys of New York!" There were numerous cheers from the crowd. "That's right!" added Jack. He turned back to David and had a quick muttered conversation, then jumped up on the nearby statue pedestal.
"Pulitzer and Hearst, they think we're nothin'!" he shouted to the newsies that crowded in around the base of the statue. "Are we nothin'?"
"No!" bellowed Blink along with the other newsies.
"If we stick together, like the trolley workers, then they can't break us up!" David said to Jack.
"Pulitzer and Hearst: they think they got us. Do they got us?" Jack asked, tearing a stack of newspapers in half.
"No!"
"We're a union now, the Newsboys' Union," David continued. "We have to start acting like a union."
"Even though we ain't got hats or badges, we're a union just by saying so!" Jack said, circling the statue. "And the world will know!" They continued with their song, and Jack got up to the headline board and wrote "STRIKE" in huge letters.
He climbed back down the ladder and went over to David after the final chorus.
"We need to get word out to every newsie in New York," Jack said to David. "We need some of those…uh…what 'cha call 'em…" He made frantic hand gestures, trying to send his meaning to David.
"Ambassadors?" David suggested.
"Yeah!" Jack exclaimed. "Right, you guys, you gotta be ambassadors and go tell the others we're on strike!"
Here was his opportunity. Blink's heart pounded and the world slowed as he felt Racetrack pull on his shoulder. A smile spread across his face, and he tried not to stutter.
"Say, Jack, I'll take Harlem!" he cried, tapping his chest. Jack nodded slightly as Blink turned to leave the crowd.
"I got Midtown!" he heard Racetrack shout. Blink looked back to see Racetrack following him.
"Why'd you sign up so fast for Harlem?" Racetrack wondered aloud. "No one likes Harlem!"
Blink shrugged. "Why'd you sign up for Midtown?"
Racetrack laughed. "Fair enough."
