Chapter 14: The Day After

A/N: So I decided to update a little more recently than usual. I know, oh my goodness! Anyway, I'm happy with all the feedback. I appreciate all the comments (you guys make me happy on the inside =D ) and I will try to make this chapter longer than usual so bear with me! -Fox

Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies. Sadly, Disney does. I just own this story and some of the characters in it.

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Tiger

I felt the beginning of the warm, sun rays shine on my face as I slowly began to edge into consciousness. Immediately, though, I felt as if someone had taken a huge hammer to my head, making the warm sun become my worst enemy. I kept my eyes closed as I quietly groaned, feeling the aches spread throughout my body, awakening apparent injuries that I had received earlier.

As I kept my eyes closed, I painfully asked myself, "What happened last night?"

Beer. Lots and lots of beer. A big guy punching me. Something about Race. And...

I tried to shake my head of the memory but it flooded back to me, almost as painfully as the aches and pains I had now:

It was very cold and dark. So dark that I could barely see my trembling hand in front of my face and it was so quiet that all I could hear were my ragged breaths. I could feel my body shaking with the combination of anxiety, pain, and the cold as I leaned against the brick wall in the small room, waiting for the inevitable. I prayed that this wouldn't happen tonight but, as always, I knew my prayers would not be answered. He would come and there was no way to stop him. If I tried to fight him off, his men would either hold me down or the chains that encircled my wrists would weigh down my already-weakened body to the point that I would have no way to stop him.

Almost as if on a timed schedule, I heard the familiar steps of a heavy man's shoes walk towards my cell, a small light shining through the bars, blinding me due to being in the dark for so long. I tried to cover my face and shield myself from the light but my arms were too weak to hold up. So I waited. Waited for the never-ending pain to begin.

I kept an emotionless face as I saw the lamp and Mr. Snyder, the man holding it, open the heavy door to my cell, a slight smirk on his face.

"Hello Tiger," he smoothly said, looking at me, probably in anticipation.

"Wha' Snydah?" I quietly asked, sarcastic. "None 'a yer friends comin' ta' join in dis time?"

He darkly chuckled. "Oh," he replied. "They're coming."

Like they were conjured, several pairs of boots sounded as they made their way in our direction, making me cringe.

"You didn't think they would miss this, now would you?"

I just stared at Snyder as the small group of men, reeking of cloves and cheap liquor, stepped into the tiny room.

I sighed. "So, who's foist?" I asked, just wanting for this to be over.

Without an answer, I felt a swift hit to my head, like someone just kicked me. I slumped down on my wall, dazed, as the group of men chortled as if I just told them the greatest joke in the world.

"Aw, c'mon Tigah," I heard one of the men say. "Yer makin' dis too easy."

Still dazed, I squinted in the direction of the voice. "It ain' haid kickin' a guy when 'e's gotta disadvantage, Tank," I replied.

I felt the chains around my wrist give way as Snyder bent down, obviously careful as to not get his expensive suit dirty to unlock them.

"Now, you don't." Snyder sneered, absolutely interested to see what was yet to come.

I slowly and shakily got up, clenching my fists and keeping them near my sides.

"It's moah fun when ya at least try," Tank mocked, knowing the outcome as well as I did.

Tank was a pretty big guy, some muscle but mostly fat, a red face due to his constant drinking, and wispy brown hair that had a brown hat that covered the bald spot on the top of his head. His clothes were covered with grease, dirt, and probably soaked in sweat. He towered over me, cracking his knuckles in anticipation, the other guys behind him smiling about the hilarity of the match-up.

After shaking my head a little to try to clear the pain from being kicked, I put up my fists to start.

He swung first with a right hook, hoping to get me with another single blow. Luckily, I ducked quickly to dodge the fist and punched his large gut with my left fist. He stumbled back, doubled over from the pain.

I happily watched for one second before I was grabbed by one of the men who had unseeingly snuck behind me, painfully pinning my arms back, keeping one at an awkward angle.

I cried out in pain. It felt like he was going to break my arm any second. That left me distracted and vulnerable against the other men, which they soon took advantage of. I couldn't stop the blows to my face, stomach, chest, legs, head, anywhere where they could inflict damage.

I struggled in the man's grasp. "No! Get offa me!" I began to yell, thrashing in his arms, making my arms hurt even more. "Get away! No!"

But they kept beating the tar out of me, getting to the point where it hurt me to even breathe.

"Just give up, Tiger," Snyder said, standing calmly near the door. "It will make this much easier for you." With that, I heard the cell door shut with a booming, final 'BAM'.

"No, I won'!" I protested, trying to loosen the grasp on my arms and defend myself from the blows. "Dun'...no! No! Get offa me!" I yelled, struggling.

But I soon felt the punches and blows melt away with the scenery as I felt a calming feeling wrap around me, making me feel safe and protected. The pains and the coldness drifted away as I felt like I was being filled with this warming sensation filled me.

I looked around to see where I was. It was a bright area, almost too painful for me to open my eyes. But it was calm, peaceful and, after a second, it felt like I didn't need to attempt to shield my eyes at all. Although it was just white around me, I thought of this place as one of beauty and tranquility. Then, I knew that I was safe and nothing would harm me. Not here, not now. Here, I just stayed until I felt the feelings of unconsciousness fade away as the warmth dwelled on my face and I began to feel the surroundings of reality settle in.

I reminisced about the last part of my dream that started out with my nightmare. I really, really didn't want to open my eyes. But when I heard a sigh and felt a small gush of warm air hit my face, I finally forced my eyes open. What I saw in front of me surprised me so much, I had to swallow back an audible gasp.

My best friend, Racetrack Higgins, had his face facing mine in a very close distance between each other. But what bothered me the most was the fact that his arms were loosely wrapped around my body, as if to keep me safe.

I glanced around the room, checking on the other newsies. Thankfully, they were still sleeping, the snores and sleeping murmurs evidence of that.

I looked back at Race. He seemed so peaceful, younger and more carefree. Almost as if this was a face of a young, innocent boy with a family rather than the face of a wise-cracking newsie with a lifetime filled with hardships. I smiled at the idea.

Being careful to not wake him, I slowly and quietly began to ease out of his embrace until-

BANG! I hit the floor with a loud clatter due to me rolling. I guess I rolled too much and went off the bed. I bit back a string of swears and pain-filled groans as I quickly looked around the room with my now tear-filled eyes, stinging as a result of the fall.

But it was as if nothing happened. The boys and Race slept on, maybe one stirred slightly before rolling to the other side and continuing to sleep. I breathed a sigh of relief as I painfully got up and hobbled to the bathroom, my hands rubbing my temples in hopes to get rid of my awful headache.

As I turned on a sink, I hesitantly looked in the mirror and stared at my supposed reflection in horror. My left eye was swollen, making it seem like there was a slit of space that I could see out of. Following the bruises and dried blood, that I'm not even sure was mine, on my face and neck, I felt a dull pain around my rib cage. Hesitantly, I lifted up my shirt to see a dark purple bruise covering almost the entire front of my rib cage. I doubted that anything was broken, just badly bruised so I focused on the worst of the damage: my swollen face. Taking a washcloth, soap, and warm water, I gently dabbed at my face in hopes of at least cleaning it or making any type of swelling to go down. After a few minutes, most of the dirt and dried blood was gone but the swelling had not gone down at all.

Swearing softly, I put a hand through my short, dirty hair in frustration. Giving up on what to do right now, I focused more on another pressing matter at hand: changing before any of the guys woke up. I moved quickly back to my area next to the bed with the sleeping Race on it, quickly grabbing a pair of gray pants that used to be Jack's, black suspenders, a white shirt, a gray-and-white-striped vest, my only pair of shoes and a gray cap that used to belong to Race and walked back into the bathroom, taking off the clothes that I had kept on from yesterday and adjusted the binding on my chest. After years of needing to bind my chest, I was able to fix the bind so I wouldn't suffocate and, as quickly as I could, put on my clothes for the day, wincing as I had to bend down and lightly brushed the bruises on my body.

Just as I finished the tedious task, I heard Kloppman's familiar voice getting louder as he walked from the top of the stairs to the bunk room.

"Get up! Time ta' sell, boys!" he yelled, his voice sounding even louder after the almost quiet area for that long period of time. "Ain't no time ta' be dreamin'! Sell the papers!"

Hearing the groaning and mumblings of the groggy newsies, I walked back into the room, rubbing my head as his voice echoed in my pain-filled head.

"'ey, Tigah," I heard Blink mumble as he sat up in his bunk. "Enjoyin' yer hangover?"

I groaned in response. I really didn't want to hear it today.

"Prolly moih den 'e's enjoyin' dat shinah 'e got from Chailie."

I looked to see Cowboy getting off his bed and stretching and I grimaced.

"Did I really fight dat big goon?" I asked, making a face.

He nodded. "'ad ya awlready pinned ta' da ground befoah me an' Race jumped in."

"I doubt I could soak anybody last night," I replied, rubbing my head. "Dis hangovah jes' proves it."

"Yea, I doubt dat chyou would need ah help any udda' nigh'," I heard Race's voice speak up behind me. "Ya do need ta' maintain yer reputation an' awl."

I turned and smirked. "Yea, ya know I dun' need nobody's help," I lied, straightening my cap. The truth was, I needed Race, no matter if I was getting soaked or just another matter.

I thought back to the warm light from my dream that saved me from my nightmare. He reminded me of that, always to shield from harm no matter what.

"'ey Tigah," Mush asked, breaking my thoughts, "You okay to sell ta'day?"

I scoffed. "A coise," I replied. "One shinah ain' gonna put me outta bu'iness."

After the rest of the boys finished getting ready, which everyone had stopped asking me why I got up so early sometimes. Just grumblings of being an 'eoily-risah' would follow with a look to my appearance. With that, we all headed out to the circulation office, some hoping for a good headline.

Cowboy shook his head at the hopefuls. "What do I awlways tell you'se guys?"

"'Headlines dun' sell papes, newsies sell papes,'" the newsies blankly recited in unison.

"'ey, I'se jes' tryin' ta' give you'se guys a good education," he replied, scowling.

I laughed. "C'mon, Jack. We awl know da chyer da best." With that, we reached the office in Newsies Square, getting in the short line for our papers.

Cracking jokes with other newsies, I finally reached the head of the line, Weasel in front of the window.

"'ey Weasel," I said, smirking, "What's da stoihry ta'day?"

Weasel grimaced. "How many times do I gotta tell you newsies that it's.."

"Dun' bodda cause we dun' listen," I interrupted. "'ow 'bout...thoity papes?"

With a angry look, he takes my money and practically throws the papers at me. I give him a small salute and walk off, looking at the papers, and leaned against the edge of the dock.

"Ya t'ink you can sell moih papes wid dat shinah a yers?" Race asked, sitting next to me, putting a cigarette in his mouth.

I shrugged, still looking at the papers. "Depends on wheah we sell ta'day."

"'ow 'bout da streets befoah da paik?"

I look up from the papers. "Why deah?"

He shrugs. "Moih women might be deah who might feel sorry foah ya."

Giving him a look, I shrug. "Awlrigh'."

Tucking our papers under an arm, Race and I begin to walk down the streets, towards Central Park.

"'Affaih in high oiffice!'" I shout. "'Respected, wealthy man lives life in sin!"

I stop to sell a paper to two women when I hear something odd in the morning crowd-filled street. I turn to see who's behind me. A brown-eyed brunette wearing a frilly pink dress and her hair up in a bun who looks to be about 15 or 16 is standing behind me, giggling.

"Er," I begin to ask, confused. "Somet'in' I can 'elp ya wid, miss?"

She smiles and shakes her head, still giggling.

I give her a quick confused look before putting my papers back under my arm and walking away with Race.

A few minutes later, after we stop for Race to sell a paper, I hear another giggle. The same obnoxious giggle. I turn to see the same girl, giving me a look and smiling.

I turn to Race. "I t'ink deah's somet'in' wrong wid dat goil," I somewhat whisper, not looking back. "I t'ink she's followin' us."

He looks back and gives me a smirk. "I t'ink she's followin' you," he joked, nudging me in the ribs.

I let out a small yelp, wrapping the arm that didn't have papers around my middle, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk to take a breath.

Race immediately stopped, shocked at my reaction. "Tigah!" he exclaimed, looking at my recovering self. "What's wrong?"

I shook my head. "Nuttin'," I tried to reassure him. "Nuttin's wrong."

A high-pitched gasp was heard behind us. "You poor thing!" The voice said. "Did he hurt you that badly?"

With the best of my ability, I narrowed my eyes (or eye, since I couldn't really do that with the other eye with the shiner) and turned to see the same girl with the same frilly pink dress, now with a look of pity on her face. "A coise not!" I snapped. "Jes' got in a bad fight, dat's awl."

The unknown girl walked over to put a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Are you sure?"

I angrily shrugged her hand away. "Suah as I'll evah be!" I looked at her for a second. "Wha' do ya t'ink yer doin', anyway?"

She smiled and looked at the ground for a second. "I saw you walking and I was curious about boys like you.."

"'Boys like me?' An' what is exactly 'like me'?" I asked, still in an angry mood.

She shyly looked up at me, clearly not scared to be talking to me. "Newsboys. Boys that fight all the time and have the injuries to show for it..." she took a second, "I think that's almost admirable."

I gave her a look. Clearly, something was wrong with her. "'Admirable'?" I sarcastically asked. "Wakin' up in da mornin' an' not knowin' wheah ya got da new shinah oih wheah da blood on yer shoit came from is 'admirable'?"

She looked down at the ground again, not saying anything this time.

"I fight ta' survive," I continued, not swayed. "Not ta' show owf oih jes' foah kicks but because I have ta'."

The girl hadn't moved an inch. I sighed. "What's yer name?" I asked, trying to move past my bad mood.

She looked up, clearly not put off by my anger. "Celia."

I nodded. "Pretty."

"Aren't you going to tell me your name?"

I paused for a second. "Tigah."

Celia gave me a look. "'Tiger'? Is that your real name?"

"Da only name ya need ta' know."

She nodded and put her hand out. "It's nice to meet you, Tiger."

I unwrapped the arm from around my middle and shook her hand. "Nice ta' meet chya."

Race cleared his throat, careful to not nudge me again.

I turned, all of a sudden aware of his presence. "We should go back ta' sellin, shouldn' we, Race?"

Celia looked at Race. "Your name's 'Race'?"

He nodded. "Shoit fer Racetrack." He smirked. "Pleasure ta' meet chya, Celia." With that, he gently grabbed her hand and kissed it, making her slightly blush and look away, giggling.

I rolled my eyes. "We got papes ta' sell Race," I jokingly said. "You can gaiwk at pretty goils latah."

With a nod of my head, Race and I turned and began to walk down the street.

"Wait!" I heard her exclaim, the sound of her running footsteps coming towards us. We turned to see Celia there, some of her brown hair out of her bun, covering her left eye and she smiled. "DO you mind if I stay with you two for a little while? I won't be a bother. I swear."

Me and Race looked at each other for a second before I nodded. "Suah," I replied, shifting my papers. "You can get a foist class education from two 'a da most clevah newsies in New Yoik."

"It ain' jes' about a headline," Race continued as we walked down the street. "It's about how ya act when ya sell."

"So are you calling yourselves con artists?" Celia asked, looking confused.

We both shrugged. "We give ya a product," I continued. "Jes' in a different way den uddahs."

"How?"

We both looked at each other and smiled. "You'll see."

With that, we continued their walk to the streets near Central Park in hopes to earn some money with a new person tagging along.

At a corner before we reached the park. "Awlrigh'," Race inspected, seeming to be pleased. "Dis looks like a good spot."

Celia stared at Race in awe. "A spot to sell?"

I scoffed. "Nah, a spot foah me ta' sit heah an' twiddle me thumbs."

Race chuckled before continuing. "Tigah, you stay heah an' I'm gonna go ovah a street oih two."

"Er, Race?" I asked, giving him a look. "What about..ya know?"

He looked at Celia, then back at me. "I figah she could stay wid ya foah a liddle while since yer so 'admirable'."

I gave him an angry look that shut him up quickly. "Whatevah," I replied, giving up. "As loing as I sell somet'in', I guess."

Race nodded at me, winked at Celia, and walked around the corner.

I shook my head. "Whatevah," I muttered under my breath.

"Extry! Extry!" I exclaimed, hoping to draw a crowd. "Respected man goes against morals an' virtue! Spawn a' Satan oih defoimed man?!"

Celia watched silently as I sold a few papers to a few passersby.

After a few minutes, I looked back at her. "So what made ya wanna spend da day wid not only a strangah but a newsie at dat?"

She shrugged. "It seems like an interesting life."

"Ta' wha'?" I asked, selling another paper while still talking to her. "Starvin' an' barely makin' a decent livin' is interestin' ta' ya?"

"Well," she replies, watching the people walk past, "I sort of know a newsboy..."

I looked back at her. "What's 'is name?" I asked. "Maybe I hoid a' 'im oih somet'in'."

Celia looked down at the ground. "Er," she fumbled, nudging at the ground with the toe of her boat. "I don't really know his name."

I scoffed. "Wow, you'se guys must be real good pals, den," I answered, sarcastic. "Bet dat chyou aih da best a' friends."

"I see him every day. He has the air around him that just sort of makes me do whatever he says.."

"...Like 'is cold, blue eyes control yer every move." I finished for her, looking out to the street.

"Yeah!" she exclaimed, like I was the first person who understood. "Do you know who I'm talking about?"

"Spot Conlon of Brooklyn."

"How do you know him?"

I turned to her, my face emotionless. "Let's jes' say dat 'e can t'row a mean right hook."

Celia gasped. "You fought him?!"

I nodded. "Newsies fight each uddah awl da time," I explained, smirking. "One guy gets soaked an' da uddah wins."

"So it's just a...?"

"Strictly foihmal relationship wid 'im." I answer. "'e's Brooklyn, weah Manhattan."

"Does anyone think that it's wrong?"

I scoffed. "What? Ta' not be awl buddy-buddy wid 'im?"

"No," she answers, looking right into my eyes. "To let one boy beat up a girl who's pretending to be a boy."

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A/N: So, what'd you think? Guaranteed this is the longest chapter with over 4,000 words and about 9 pages long on my computer. I introduced a new character (and more will be on the way and some 'old' characters will re-visit our Tiger) and let you have a peek at Tiger's old life. For clarification, NO, she was NOT raped or sexually abused. This story is T-rated and I am intending to keep it that way. Just to clear that up with anyone. More on the way as school is coming to a close and I have more free time on my hands. Review, por favor! -Fox