The next morning couldn't have come faster. Jack wouldn't let me sleep as he was pacing the balcony the whole night. When the sun finally rose, Jack left, allowing me to at least get an hour of sleep. Henry woke me up all too soon, and now Elmer, Henry, and I were making our way to the distribution square. A few of the boys had already gone over this morning, but Jack had gone out the earliest. I was shaking with excitement or fear, unable tell the difference. Elmer and Henry were talking idly about their breakfast. I wasn't really paying attention. The flag I had sown hastily to my crutch after making it this morning brushed my arm with each step. The strike written on it had finished drying not long before we left. We turned the corner, and I expected to see the square full of protesting kids with signs. That was not the case for it was completely empty.

"Where is everybody?" Elmer asked as we paused to take it in.

I shrugged off his question. "They're probably on their way. They's coming from all over," I explained, moving forward and leaving the boys to follow behind me.

The gates to the office were open. As our trio got closer, I spotted only six of our boys. Specs stood up on the headline board balcony, and he waved to us sullenly. Jack leaned against the gate, picking at the ground with his shoe. Les sat beside him on the ground. His elbows rested on his knees and his chin on his fists. Davey looked like he was trying to reason with Mush and Race. The latter was shaking his head angrily.

I hurried up to Jack. "Hey," I said excitedly.

He looked up and put on a quick but fake smile.

"Hey Celia."

"See what I made?" Using the gate to keep my balance, I lifted my crutch in the air with a yell. The flag shook in the wind, and the boys smiled weakly.

"Celia, that's great!" Race exclaimed. He turned back to Davey. "That's pitiful," he whispered.

"I can hear you," I snapped playfully, re-adjusting the crutch under my arm.

He mouthed that he was sorry.

"Who's to judge? Maybe Pulitzer will see it out his window and feel sorry for us." Les mentioned, standing up from the ground and shrugging his shoulders.

Jack sighed. "Specs?" He yelled, turning upwards.

Specs leaned over the railing.

"Any sign of re-enforcements?"

Specs shook his head and gave a thumbs down. Race groaned, and Mush smacked the gate angrily.

Jack looked at Davey, who was the better one at stringing words together. "Dave?"

"Guys, courage cannot erase our fears! Courage is when we face them. We need to tell those with power that are sitting safe in their offices that we will not obey! We have to seize today!" Davey said, trying to lift our hopes. Nobody reacted to his words, and he sighed.

I stepped up."Okay, so what that we are too few in number? We're here because we're also too proud to hide. The Manhatten newsboys are supposed to be a brave battalion that stands side by side. Think of those that aren't here or didn't follow through. They're still our brothers! We have to fight for them. Remember our purpose?" I looked at each of the boys in turn. "We got each other's backs."

The bell rang through the courtyard.

Jack turned to us with a smile."This is it, boys. Let's stare down these odds. Once we've begun we stand together. This strike starts right now!"

The cheers were amplified by the rest of our newsboys, who had come up behind us. We lined up opposite of the distribution office. Its door opened, and Wiesel and the Delancey brothers came out. Each of the brothers had a set of brass knuckles on one hand. Wiesel held a baseball bat. He smiled, looking around him with a serene expression.

"The sun is up! The birds are singing! It sure is a beautiful day to crack some heads," He crowed happily. He slammed the bat against the side of a nearby wagon, and I jumped.

"Hey," Morris spoke up. "either you're workin' or you is trespassing. What's your pleasure?" He and his brother smiled. I'm sure they would like us to be trespassing rather than working. That way they could pound us to a pulp. Suddenly, I got shoved over. Three boys pushed through our tight newboy formation and headed towards the office. A cry arose from the boys. The Delanceys and Wiesel chuckled before going back into the office.

"Who are they?" Davey asked.

Jack stomped his foot in front of one kid, and the kid shrunk back and went around. "What do you think? They's scabbers!" Jack exclaimed.

Finch stood fuming beside me. He started to storm towards the office. "They think they can waltz in here and take our jobs?" he yelled.

Jack and Davey shoved him back and tried to console the fast-growing mob.

"Let's soak 'em!" Somebody screamed. There was a surge forward.

"STOP!" Davey's voice silenced everyone. "Stop."

The crowd stopped squirming, but I could feel that their anger was being kept just below the surface.

"We all stay together or we don't have a chance!" Davey told us.

Finch again made a break for it.

Davey tossed him back into the group. "Jack!"

"I know! I hear ya," Jack said, waving his hand. He went quiet for a minute, obviously in deep thought.

The three kids stood close to the office, the same fear I felt echoed on their faces. The oldest was probably fifteen, and the youngest was around thirteen. The two oldest had fiery red hair and could have been brothers. The little guy had hair as fair as mine.

Jack took a deep breath. "Listen fellas, I know someone put youse up to this. They's probably paying you some extra money too. Yeah?"

The little guy nodded his head. "Yeah." He said quietly. One of the boys elbowed him.

"Well, it ain't right!" Jack yelled before quieting. "Pulitzer thinks we are gutter rats with no respect for nothing including each other. Is that who we are? Huh? We's stabbing each other in the back? Yeah, that's what we are. If we stand together, we change the whole game. It ain't just about us. All across this town there are boys and girls who ought to be out playing or going to school. Instead they are slaving away to support themselves and their folks. Ain't no crime in being poor and neither one of us complains the the work we do is hard. All we ask is a square deal! Fellas, for the sake of all the kids in every sweatshop and factory slaughterhouse in this town, I bet you throw down your papers and join the strike."

"Please?" Les asked.

The square was silent. The youngest kid began to walk over to Jack. The others tried to stop him, but he easily broke free. He stopped directly in front of Jack.

Time seemed to freeze.