Thanks to those of you who reviewed for chapter 21!

British Invasion 2009
LivingByWill
Mighty Lion
chaoticmom
luvchyld21
elleestJenn
Nichole
...

11/7/10
This chapter has been edited... sorta. Tell me if you find any mistakes!

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Chapter Twenty-One - Something goods gonna happen today

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"'ow fast did ya 'ave ta run ta get 'ere, Hawk?"

"Fast as I'se could. I'se think dat Jack musta given us one of da first papes dey made cause Itey an Snitch said dere was tons more."

"'ow much more do you'se figure dere was?"

"Can't tell ya's fa shoah."

"'ey, would ya look at dat."

We were nearing the side of the bridge that entered into Manhattan. It took us most of the morning to reach it and I was exhausted. I now see why Spot had Blitz get us a ride to the Brooklyn side of the bridge the day before. Everyone else was doing fine; I felt like I was going to pass out from the pain emitting from my feet. About halfway across Spot stopped and made me get on his back. He had absolutely no problem with hauling me the rest of the way to Manhattan. And I've got to say, the break for my feet felt quite nice.

"Look! Dere's more of dem."

Driver's second holler had me stretching my neck to see what he was talking about. Several people along the edges of the bridge were holding the reason we were here for. The newspaper Jack had created had been distributed along this side of the bridge and the closer we got to Manhattan, the more people we saw holding it. I watched as a young girl read aloud to a group of other kids as we passed by them. An older gentleman was nodding along to what he was reading. Several adults were conversing back and forth as they argued about what was written.

I bumped my forehead against the side of Spot's head and he turned to smile at me.

"I have a feeling something good is going to happen today," I whispered into his ear.

He gently squeezed the undersides of my knees. "I'se was thinkin da exact same thing, Mads."

The closer we got to the World newspaper distribution office, the more nervous I got. Instead of just the Brooklyn newsies following behind us, we had twice as many people who decided to tag along. If we had picked up this many people is just a matter of minutes, how many of them were going to be standing right outside Pulitzer's front door?

"We'se ain't late, ah we'se?" I heard Blitz ask.

We turned one last corner and I could hear the roar of a very large crowd as we came into view of the Horace Greeley statue. Spot lowered me to my feet and then took my hand, the other reaching for his cane and pulling it from his belt loop. I could see the Manhattan newsies cheering as they jumped up and down, waving at us. Racetrack was the first one I focused on and he was yelling, his arms swinging back and forth with his hat clenched in a fist.

It seems we weren't late at all and that we showed up at just the right time.

"Brooklyn!" Echoed around me and I almost felt the need to put my hands over my ears to block out the signal of our arrival.

Seconds later our group was enveloped into the large crowd gathering in front of the World Distributor. Several newsboys came to tease Spot about taking his time with getting there. Spot just grinned in amusement and gripped my hand tighter as we were surrounded by more and more people. We made our way through the horde of the working class citizens of New York, trying to reach where our friends were standing.

Eventually we arrived to where Jack had his arm around Sarah and was grinning widely at us as we approached. Sarah's grin quickly vanished at the sight of me. She took a step towards us with a frown on her face, spared Spot a fleeting glance, and then threw her arms around me. David gave us a concerned look when I glimpsed his face over her shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, Madeline," she said softly. "I should have gone home with you to make sure you were okay instead of going straight-"

"It's ok, Sarah," I quietly interrupted her. She leaned back, her arms still wrapped around my shoulders and gave me a sad smile. I was surprised she even heard me with my low tone of voice and the loud one of the crowd around us. "It's not your fault."

"But I should hav-"

"Don't blame yourself, Sarah. Don't even think for one second that this wouldn't have happened if you had come home with me. It just would have been made worse."

A small body took this moment to shove it's way between the two of us and we both looked down to see Patches gazing up at me.

"Maddie!"

Sarah released me and Patches immediately reached up. I picked him up and his legs wrapped around my waist and his arms tightened around my neck. I hugged him just as tightly as he did with me and he nuzzled his forehead into my neck.

"I'se missed you'se," I heard his muffled voice sound. Spot nudged my arm before pulling me through the array of workers.

"I was only gone for about a day," I mumbled to the small boy.

His fingers clenched the back of my shirt and his knees dug into my sides. Something was wrong. He was gripping me too tightly, as if he never wanted to let me go. I moved to set him down on his feet but he kept his steady hold and clung to me. A feeling of dread hit the bottom of my stomach and I rubbed at Patches' back as I continued to follow Spot through the people.

"Patches," I asked him quietly. "What's wrong?"

I saw the back of his head shake out of the corner of my eye. Something was definitely wrong. Before I could ask him the question again Spot came to a halt next to where Jack was standing with Les perched on his shoulders. Racetrack looked over his shoulder at me and grinned before motioning at the five police officers coming out of the World's front door. I could barely hear the gambler's words over the synchronous yell of, "Strike!" that was coming from around us.

"Dear me, what 'ave we'se 'ere?"

If it was at all possible, Jack's grin grew wider as he knelt to let Les down. After grabbing a hold of David's arm, he starting wading through the crowd to reach where a silver haired man was searching the faces of the yelling teenagers in front of him. Spot let go of my arm and his jeering grew louder when they entered the building.

I felt Patches lift his head from my shoulder for a brief second before he was digging his face further into my neck. My eyebrows furrowed and I gently tried to pry his arms from around my neck.

"Patches, you need to tell me what's wrong."

He stayed silent, and I felt his lips tremble against my skin. He wasn't crying just yet, but I had a feeling that he would be soon enough. I peered at the people around me and found that it was no one I knew. A cluster of little girls were to my left, their mother shaking her fist in the air as she shouted. A boy held a sign off to my right that said, 'Stable Boys on Strike' in messy writing.

"Oh no," I murmured. I searched through the tired looking people closing in. How did I get so far from Spot? He was beside me just a second ago. Where was he?

I pushed between the several groups that had congregated in the square. Desperately I stood on my tip-toes to find someone familiar, anyone at all. Even the ones I didn't really know, like Miller, Stubbs and Driver, would be a welcome sight. Minutes went by and I could feel the side of my neck becoming wet. The dam had finally broken. I felt helpless as my own eyes started to fill with tears. Something was horribly wrong with Patches and we were stranded all alone with no one to help.

Everyone around us was still cheering wildly, none of them taking the time to notice my frightened face or to hear the sobs wracking through Patches' body. I looked up and away from the crowd and saw that I was facing a brick building that was almost twenty feet away. I wiped my runny nose on the shoulder opposite of Patches and then thrust myself in the thick of the fray.

I squeezed through the edge of the large crowd and bashed my shoulder into the brick wall. I winced as the elbow of my left arm jabbed against the wall, jarring my hand and making pain lace through my fingers. I gasped at the feeling and held tight to Patches. His sobs lessened at the sound and he lifted his head to look me in the eye.

"Tell me what's wrong, Patches. I know something happened. Tell me."

"I-I'se saw M-Misty."

My heart stopped.

"What," I whispered.

"I'se s-saw 'er an I'se co-couldn't do noth-nothin ta 'elp 'er." His sobs grew heavy and it was almost too difficult to make out his words.

"Where, Patches. Tell me where you saw her."

He lifted a hand and pointed somewhere behind me. I quickly spun around and saw that his finger was pointed towards an alleyway across the street.

"I'se sahrry, M-Maddie! I'se couldn't do n-nothin."

I focused back on Patches and wiped at his tears. His eyes scrunched closed and his face was red from his crying. "No, Patches. You did nothing wrong. Now tell me, when did you see her? When was it?"

He coughed to clear his throat and ran the back of his hand under his nose. He calmed slightly so he wasn't stuttering his words when he answered, "It was jus' 'fore you'se 'rrived."

My eyes widened and I pulled Patches head back down onto my shoulder. I plunged back into the shouting crowd and sidestepped the rowdy ones as I tried to get the street. I was halfway across the road when there was a lull in the crowd and a pathway appeared before me.

I was instantly frozen at the sight of the frail frame of a girl that stepped out of the shadow of the alley. Her body was pale, her face blanketed with bruises and her bare feet torn up and bleeding. I couldn't breathe, couldn't even move. The congregation in the square quieted down slightly.

I took this brief amount of time to scream out, "MISTY!"

My cries went unheard as the yell of, "We'se beat 'em!" made the crowd go wild.

"MISTY!"

My sister's eyes drifted from looking at the ground to searching through the faces turned towards the World gates. Her pale green gaze met mine and her eyes glittered with unshed tears. She starting shaking her head furiously as I began to make my way towards her. She took a step out of the alleyway and her step was instantly halted as a fist clamped around her arm. Her body began to shake and she fearfully blinked at me as the unknown man pulled her away from the alley entrance.

I could feel Patches' fingernails through the fabric of my shirt as they punctured the top layer of my skin.

"Don't do it. Don't go," he started to whisper. He then began repeating his words. "Please, don't go. Don't do it. Don't."

When I was four feet away from where I had seen my sister, a hand wrapped around my arm and gripped it tightly. I was almost too afraid to look up to see who it was that was about to bruise my skin. I finally peered up and then unhesitatingly attempted to get the young man to release me. Patches' sobs turned into wails as the steel gazed, red haired teenager I knew as Shredder dragged me towards the alley.

Today wasn't turning out to be as good of a day as I thought it would.