Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies. Which is good, because I am seriously absent-minded!

Okay, sorry, everybody! Lordy, I am really out of it sometimes. Yeah, how ironic that it was called Did I Miss Something… Yes, dandelion fairy! Yes, you did! Thanks, my faithful reviewers, for telling me! I fixed it now, though, so enjoy!

Before Moth closed her eyes, she reviewed the day's events in her head. It was odd, she decided, that Spot believed her seemingly insane story about how she'd come to be in Manhattan, but in return for his belief in her, she had made up her mind not to bother him any more about the key. Now… Now Moth felt like she could trust him. Anyway, it was better if they didn't hate each other. Spot had helped her sell that last of her papers, and after they talked for a while and ate lunch, it felt like Spot understood her perfectly. So one person in this city doesn't think I'm brainwashed, Moth thought. Maybe… Maybe I'm starting to like this dream after all.

"Moth? You awake up der?"

Moth peered over the edge of her bunk, slightly annoyed. "What?" she asked probably not in the most encouraging tone.

"You still thinkin' about that key?" Jack asked.

Moth sighed. "Sorta," she replied. "I mean, I believe him now. Spot. About the key. I just wonder how I could have found it, then."

Jack smiled. "You an' yer crazy moments," he said. "Who in their right mind would b'lieve they've got little boxes that heat da food for ya?"

Moth gave him a look. "I would," she replied, "and so would Spot. Now shut up and let me go to sleep."

"Yes, yer Highness," Jack said grumblingly.

Moth threw her pillow at him.

"Hey!" Jack said, throwing it back. Moth caught it and grinned.

"That's why they don't call me Your Mercifulness."

And she threw the pillow back. It missed as jack ducked out of the way and it hit Blink instead, right on the back of his head.

"What the--?" Blink said, then picked up the nearest pillow and threw wit at Snipeshooter, who happened to be standing nearby.

"It wasn't me!" Snipeshooter cried, chucking a pillow at Mush.



Soon the whole room had erupted in a giant pillow fight. Moth leapt down from the bunk and joined in, yelling along with everyone else. There was a great clamor and everyone was jumping around, throwing all the pillows they could find at anyone standing nearby. No one was really sure who had started singing first, but pretty soon everyone had joined in the chorus:

I trow my pill-a at my neighba, an' hit 'im on da head!

Hit 'im so hard, dat since las' week, he ain't got outta bed!

Pretty soon, just like any classic (and usually, in Moth's opinion, corny) movie, feathers were floating down around them all like snow. But to Moth, at that moment, it didn't seem corny or stupid at all. It felt wonderful, free, and it made her so giddy that she herself climber atop a bunk and swung from the side, singing:

I trow my pill-a at my neighba, an' hit 'im on da head!

Hit 'im so hard, dat since las' week, he ain't got outta bed!

They all shouted, as loud as they could, feathers drifting all around, "HE AIN'T GOT OUTTA BED!"

Suddenly, seemingly from nowhere, there was the old man, grinning and shaking his head. A few feathers settled on the brim of his hat, and when the newsies saw that they laughed until the old guy brushed them off.

"Yep, boys," he said. "Off to bed!" He looked around the room. "What's this with all the feathers?"

"Just… a little pill-a fight, Kloppman," Mush replied, trying his best to sound innocent.

The old man—Moth now realized his name was Kloppman—surveyed the room and saw her still hanging from the bunk. Moth grinned sheepishly.

"Lovely singing, young lady," he said, a twinkle in his eyes.

Moth hopped down and bowed deeply. "Thank you, thank you," she said, grinning broadly. "It was all my idea," she added, half with a smile and half in case the newsies would be in trouble for busting half the pillows.

Kloppman smiled. "Very well, then. You'll be in charge a makin' these boys sweep up these feathers." Then he reached down and picked up some feathers. Slowly, he lifted them up in his palm and blew them into the air again. With another kind smile, he tipped his hat and left the room.

Moth turned to the boys. "Well?" she said. "You bums hoid da man!" She did her best impression of New York accent. "Now get ta work!"

Jack grinned at Moth while the other newsies did their best to gather up the feathers and pile them up I the corner for the moment.



"Nice try wit da accent," Jack said teasingly.

"I do my best," Moth replied, picking up a few feathers herself. "You know," she added. "I hope I don't wake up too soon."

Jack raised his eyebrows.

"It was just too much fun to see you guys get beat by a girl!" she cried gleefully.

"Hey! Dat ain't fair!" jack protested, and Moth blew the feathers in his face.

"Hmm… yes, I suppose it is—for you!" she cried and ducked behind the bunk before melting into the crowd of newsies—no, they were more than that, she now knew. They were her friends.

Ok, hope you liked it! Keep up the reviews, it makes me happy! D

Peace out!!