Seamstress to Playgirl
Disclaimer: Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, I owned Newsies. But then a dark day came and they were stolen away, by terrible, powerful, people at Disney. And I never got over it, to cope I became a terrible liar.
A.N. I would first like to say thank you to my ever faithful reviewers SparkHiggins, Firecracker, and Bittersweet. Now I want to say thanks to my wonderful new reviewers Hope and Plaid Pajamas. Yes I know that 65 hrs. is a bit much, but I survived!!! So you lucky people get to continue to read my fanfic. By they way Hope, I know you will have a blast on your trip, band kids always have the most fun. Hang in there until your spring break. And now on with the story!
Race didn't see any sign of Sweeper and sat miserably on the steps. Their papers lay forgotten, trampled and now unreadable, on the sidewalk. She was gone. That's all there was to it, and Race knew she wouldn't have just left. They'd been getting along so well. They'd become instant friends in the minutes they'd known each other.
Race's head snapped up as he heard a voice loudly proclaiming that a three headed baby had been born. He looked quickly around trying to see who it was. Finally he spotted the newsie. It was Specs. "Specs can help. Specs is smart. He can help me find her." Race thought as he ran to the corner where his target was selling just a block away.
"SPECS!" Race called franticly as he ran toward him.
Specs turned around and saw Race hurtling at him. His forehead creased in concern, Race was never this upset unless something was seriously wrong. "Race! What is it? What's wrong?" he asked concerned, as Race slid to a halt in front of him.
"Sweeper's gone!!"
Specs concern quickly changed to confusion. "Who or what is sweeper?"
"She's a goil I met, used ta be a chimney sweep. She got hit on da head and I'se went ta pick up da papes and she was gone!" Race rattled on.
"O.K. Slow down. Maybe she jus' left on her own." Specs tried to tell him, his hands gripped Race's shoulders.
"No, she wouldn't of. She woulda said someting."
"Alroight." Specs sighed, "What did she look liok?"
"She's about 5' 7" or 8", she's wearin' some old, boy's clothes, and she's real diorty." he paused, "and really long, brown hair."
Specs stood looking thoughtful for a moment. It couldn't be. But maybe, just maybe. "Race, where did she disappear?"
"Just down da block, why?"
"Dis is importaint now, when did it happen?" Specs questioned concerned.
"Uumm, 'bout five minutes 'go. Why?" Race asked impatiently.
"I'se tink I'se seen her. Someone carried her off 'round da corner, not tree minutes 'go." Specs said carefully. He watched Race's face. The expression turned from one of worry to happiness then to concern. "Race," Specs said quietly, "Da Delancy's took her."
"What?!" This was not good. He couldn't take on the Delancy's alone, and Specs wasn't good enough either.
As if reading his mind, Specs spoke, interrupting his panicked thoughts. "I think we need Jack an' some of da odders."
"Ya roight." Race said punching his fist into his hand. "Let's go." Race grabbed a hold of Spec's vest and pulled him along as he sped off. Sweeper was definitely not safe wit the Delancy brothers and the sooner they got to her the better.
"I'se tink Jack's sellin' over at the rings taday!" he gasped as Race continued to pull him along.
Race responded only by changing course slightly and running harder.
* * * * * * * *
Cassie groaned as she slowly came into awareness. This was definitely not her day. First she'd been whisked from her quiet sewing room and forced on to a stage, then she'd somehow fallen into newsie history, she'd smashed her head, and now she didn't know where she was. Nope, this was definitely not her day.
Slowly she sat up in the near darkness of the room. The only light in the room was penetrating weakly through a window nearly black with dirt. She wondered where Race was. She wondered where she was. Her hand came up to rub her injured temple. Her back was killing her from the force with which she'd hit the light poll. No, this was not good.
Cassie struggled to stand up and rub some of the black dirt off the small window. Blinding light streamed into the room, dazzling her eyes so that she had to cover them with a grubby hand. Once she'd adjusted to it she uncovered them and looked around. The room was small and airless. A door stood closed in the far corner. Cassie walked slowly over to test it. She had the sneaking suspicion that it was locked.
Cassie's hand closed around the cold metal of the knob and turned it. It was indeed locked. She rattled it a few more times, just to be sure and finally gave up. The window was her only way out now. There was no way she would stick around to find out who had brought her here. If they locked her in it was not for her, but for them. The latch on the window was old and rusted, and stuck. With effort born of desperation Cassie forced the latch up, cutting her hand in the process.
"This is just not my day." Cassie groaned as she searched her clothes for the cleanest part of cloth there. She ripped part of her shirt away and wrapped her bleeding hand tightly.
The window opened easily but Cassie stood there staring at it in thought. She might not be able to fit through it; if she couldn't then she'd have to signal somebody. Anybody would do, as long as they helped her. If she could fit, then she'd have to make her way either back to the apartment or to Race, wherever he was. He was probably worried about her. She was sure he didn't know where she was or he would have gotten her out by now. By the sun it was almost noon and it had been about seven when she'd had the accident.
Cassie wasn't exactly sure about what had happened, but it must have been painful, because it sure hurt now. She sighed and decided she might as well try to get out first. Cassie put her hands on the sill, and pulled herself up. She hissed in pain at her injured hand. She shrugged it off and pushed on through. First her head, then shoulders. It was a tight squeeze, but she'd made it so far. Cassie braced her hands on the sides of the sill and squirmed around until she was flipped over. Now she was sitting on the lower part of the sill, when a voice startled her.
"Goin' somewheres doll face?"
Disclaimer: Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, I owned Newsies. But then a dark day came and they were stolen away, by terrible, powerful, people at Disney. And I never got over it, to cope I became a terrible liar.
A.N. I would first like to say thank you to my ever faithful reviewers SparkHiggins, Firecracker, and Bittersweet. Now I want to say thanks to my wonderful new reviewers Hope and Plaid Pajamas. Yes I know that 65 hrs. is a bit much, but I survived!!! So you lucky people get to continue to read my fanfic. By they way Hope, I know you will have a blast on your trip, band kids always have the most fun. Hang in there until your spring break. And now on with the story!
Race didn't see any sign of Sweeper and sat miserably on the steps. Their papers lay forgotten, trampled and now unreadable, on the sidewalk. She was gone. That's all there was to it, and Race knew she wouldn't have just left. They'd been getting along so well. They'd become instant friends in the minutes they'd known each other.
Race's head snapped up as he heard a voice loudly proclaiming that a three headed baby had been born. He looked quickly around trying to see who it was. Finally he spotted the newsie. It was Specs. "Specs can help. Specs is smart. He can help me find her." Race thought as he ran to the corner where his target was selling just a block away.
"SPECS!" Race called franticly as he ran toward him.
Specs turned around and saw Race hurtling at him. His forehead creased in concern, Race was never this upset unless something was seriously wrong. "Race! What is it? What's wrong?" he asked concerned, as Race slid to a halt in front of him.
"Sweeper's gone!!"
Specs concern quickly changed to confusion. "Who or what is sweeper?"
"She's a goil I met, used ta be a chimney sweep. She got hit on da head and I'se went ta pick up da papes and she was gone!" Race rattled on.
"O.K. Slow down. Maybe she jus' left on her own." Specs tried to tell him, his hands gripped Race's shoulders.
"No, she wouldn't of. She woulda said someting."
"Alroight." Specs sighed, "What did she look liok?"
"She's about 5' 7" or 8", she's wearin' some old, boy's clothes, and she's real diorty." he paused, "and really long, brown hair."
Specs stood looking thoughtful for a moment. It couldn't be. But maybe, just maybe. "Race, where did she disappear?"
"Just down da block, why?"
"Dis is importaint now, when did it happen?" Specs questioned concerned.
"Uumm, 'bout five minutes 'go. Why?" Race asked impatiently.
"I'se tink I'se seen her. Someone carried her off 'round da corner, not tree minutes 'go." Specs said carefully. He watched Race's face. The expression turned from one of worry to happiness then to concern. "Race," Specs said quietly, "Da Delancy's took her."
"What?!" This was not good. He couldn't take on the Delancy's alone, and Specs wasn't good enough either.
As if reading his mind, Specs spoke, interrupting his panicked thoughts. "I think we need Jack an' some of da odders."
"Ya roight." Race said punching his fist into his hand. "Let's go." Race grabbed a hold of Spec's vest and pulled him along as he sped off. Sweeper was definitely not safe wit the Delancy brothers and the sooner they got to her the better.
"I'se tink Jack's sellin' over at the rings taday!" he gasped as Race continued to pull him along.
Race responded only by changing course slightly and running harder.
* * * * * * * *
Cassie groaned as she slowly came into awareness. This was definitely not her day. First she'd been whisked from her quiet sewing room and forced on to a stage, then she'd somehow fallen into newsie history, she'd smashed her head, and now she didn't know where she was. Nope, this was definitely not her day.
Slowly she sat up in the near darkness of the room. The only light in the room was penetrating weakly through a window nearly black with dirt. She wondered where Race was. She wondered where she was. Her hand came up to rub her injured temple. Her back was killing her from the force with which she'd hit the light poll. No, this was not good.
Cassie struggled to stand up and rub some of the black dirt off the small window. Blinding light streamed into the room, dazzling her eyes so that she had to cover them with a grubby hand. Once she'd adjusted to it she uncovered them and looked around. The room was small and airless. A door stood closed in the far corner. Cassie walked slowly over to test it. She had the sneaking suspicion that it was locked.
Cassie's hand closed around the cold metal of the knob and turned it. It was indeed locked. She rattled it a few more times, just to be sure and finally gave up. The window was her only way out now. There was no way she would stick around to find out who had brought her here. If they locked her in it was not for her, but for them. The latch on the window was old and rusted, and stuck. With effort born of desperation Cassie forced the latch up, cutting her hand in the process.
"This is just not my day." Cassie groaned as she searched her clothes for the cleanest part of cloth there. She ripped part of her shirt away and wrapped her bleeding hand tightly.
The window opened easily but Cassie stood there staring at it in thought. She might not be able to fit through it; if she couldn't then she'd have to signal somebody. Anybody would do, as long as they helped her. If she could fit, then she'd have to make her way either back to the apartment or to Race, wherever he was. He was probably worried about her. She was sure he didn't know where she was or he would have gotten her out by now. By the sun it was almost noon and it had been about seven when she'd had the accident.
Cassie wasn't exactly sure about what had happened, but it must have been painful, because it sure hurt now. She sighed and decided she might as well try to get out first. Cassie put her hands on the sill, and pulled herself up. She hissed in pain at her injured hand. She shrugged it off and pushed on through. First her head, then shoulders. It was a tight squeeze, but she'd made it so far. Cassie braced her hands on the sides of the sill and squirmed around until she was flipped over. Now she was sitting on the lower part of the sill, when a voice startled her.
"Goin' somewheres doll face?"
