Still don't own Newsies. Or The Little Mermaid Disney style. Or Pirates of Penzance..

Blondie started saying something about how we needed to go and get me a skirt. I had been wondering why I was the only girl dressed in boy's clothes... even Blondie with her short hair had a long brown skirt. But this didn't matter now.

"Where's my cane?" I was suddenly downstairs. I was still blocking my accent.

"You didn't come with one," Pinky told me.

"You think it's Co--" someone else started.

"Naw... he wouldn't give it to someone else, especially a girl," Pinky replied.

This made the feminist newsgirl mad. "What? We can be responsible for a cane!" More moans not unlike those that were provked by her earlier feminist remark followed.

"I told you she's from Brooklyn!"

No! I thought to myself. My cane, not the Cane. Grr. "Listen. No cane, alright? I get it. Sorry. I'm not from Brooklyn," I lied. "Don't freak out." They gave me puzzled looks. I searched through my mind for a phrase more suited to the time period. "Um... don't flip your lid." I don't know if that was one, but if it wasn't they were smart enough to use context clues to figure it out.

"Why is this cane so important to you, then?"

"It was my grandfathers," I quickly invented a story. "He died a few months ago."

"Oh." They didn't ask me any more.

"Um, we need to go down to Medda's to get you a skirt," Blondie cut in.

"I'm there."

We both went off. I guess the Swedish Medowlark did exist.

We had arrived. Blondie's real name was Mary. No last name, no newsie nickname.

Medda had red hair, but it was darker than movie-Medda's. She didn't wear pink (due to the red hair, I assume) and was a chain-smoker. Does wonders for your singing voice, doesn't it, Medda! I thought. Oh, and a heavy Swedish accent. Okay. She was acutally Swedish.

For my sanity's sake, you need to imagine parts of the accent. As much as I'm for accuracy, I'm not going to imitate all of it for you. I'm Scratch Adams, and you can't make me do anything.

"Yes, yes? Ah, new girl needs skirt? Right. Very vell, here vee go." She was fluttery, and (to my relif) was without an oversized feather to wave in my face. "My, you are short, aren't you?" I glared. "Fine, then, little girl. How old are you? Twelve?That's too young for skirts. Should you have dress then, no?"

"I'm fifteen, ma'am."

"Oh. Well. you could still use dress; make you look younger, no?"

"No, thank you."

She made a mocking face that resembled that of one of the naughty boys I have the honor of watching each Sunday after Mass. "Here's skirt, then. Now, shoo shoo. I have show." As soon as she turned her back I made a face right back at her.

"Pull your skirt on here," Mary told me,

I did as I was told.

We turned a different way. After a few blocks, we were at the distribution office.

I brushed the place on my skirt (it was a dark blue-grey) where the hidden pockets were. I had remembered to slip some change into them. My paper money had stayed the same, but my two dimes, my one nickle and my three pennies had changed into old-fashioned money that I could use. Thank heavens.

"Who's dis?" I turned to see a boy. He had dirty blonde hair (and by this I mean that he had a brownish blonde hair color; I'm sure his hair was dirty too but it was brownish blonde and this is what I mean, kaisies?). He was about five inches taller than I was. Fine, he was also very good looking. Unaveragely good looking. So good looking if he was a girl I'm sure Ursula would try to steal his beauty and stick it in a seashell instead of Ariel's voice.

"This is Wolfgang Adams." Mary was standing behind me and answered for me before I even had a chance to open my mouth. Which told me he was a leader. That's an unwritten rule: you don't introduce yourself to the leader. You need someone else to do it.

"Ah. Hello, Wolfgang Adams." Since he was a leader he most likely already knew my name and every single fact they had picked up about me. This was just a test to see if I could handle it. Don't ask me what "it" is or was; it just is "it" and all leaders test you for it. Including me. Don't tell me that I can't test for it if I don't know what "it" is. I can. You just need "it", kaisies?

"Hello." Well, actually, that's the translation. It came out "Uh well um helah... uh actually hello." Why was I feeling so tounge tied?

"I am Kid Blink." He was amused at my incoherent speech. I assumed most girls talked him like that. He was... well... there's not a word for that utter perfection...

"Beg pardon?" The strike leader? Here? In front of my face? Whoah.

He rolled his eyes amusedly at my remark. Oh, have I told you about his eyes? They're like this greyish blue until you look near the pupils and then they're this greyish blueish tan color and wow they're gorgeous.

"Kidh B-linkh," he mockingly enunciated for me, adding the "h" sound at the end like my drama teacher always tells us to do.

"Oh." I was waiting for him to reach out his hand...

...and...

...yes!

His right hand was extended toward me. I think he eliminated the spitting part because I'm a girl, but I took his hand anyway and firmly shook it, which surprised him. Never, ever make the first move to shake someone's hand as a newcomer. Especially the leader.

"Welcome to Manhatten."

"Thank you."

He nodded and went back to his spot in line, a ways away from us.

"He's a dish, isn't he?"

I turned to Mary. "Whah?" I have never talked girly with anyone besides Spades before. Especially someone I hadn't even known for a day.

"Keep him. I have someone else." She smiled, showing white teeth. They were nearly perfect; only one of them was only slightly askew.

"Thanks." We shared a girlish giggle. Wait, I just giggled girlishly? Never happened to me before. Not even talking with Spades.

"He's looking at you. Don't look back!" She caught my almost involutary turn of the head. More giggles. We were at the end of the line and the others weren't paying attention.

"Thanks again," I said during our second giggle session.

Reading people does not come naturally to me; I had to learn it. Which means I'm not the best at it. But I read that Mary considered me a friend, and that she knew that I knew that and that I considered her one, too.

"So who's your someone?" I inquired.

"Someone," she winked.

I smiled and caught a glimpse of him. He was looking at me. I did one of the most daring things a girl can ever do:

I waved.

And he, standing amongst the boys who looked like his main men: Pinky and Kit and a few others...

...waved back.

I turned and started what seemed like natural conversation with Mary. As in, our words didn't match our expressions. We were talking about her someone (his name I had yet to discover) while seeming perfectly nonchalant. Yay us.

The line had moved up; we were a little over halfway to geting our papers. I had already decided on twenty.

He ordered one hundred.

To say it as Major-General Stanley's daughters in Pirates of Penzance: "...how great his beauty."