July 6th, 1897

Niner returned to the lodging house early with many mixed feelings. He'd unloaded the last of his light load of papers and walked past the circulation floor to jeers from Wiesel that it was "about time he got out from underfoot." He made his way back to the bunkroom before the rest of the boys to pack up his things, though these weren't many, leaving just his bedspread alone for the night. He would be leaving first thing in the morning and he needed to be ready.

He recalled how much things had changed since he first came to the lodging house: all the old friends that he'd grown up with were long gone. The last of those was Blue, and he left the Newsies to find work as a construction laborer when he was eighteen. Now the lodging house belonged to a new generation of young workers. Niner was the last holdout of the previous crew: either unwilling to leave his boys or unable to find other work for the last several years, he had stayed on for longer than usual. He was now going on twenty-one, which easily made him the oldest Newsie in the city. Perhaps he could have blamed it on the odd situation the Manhattan house found themselves in with the ages of their senior members. Even though Blue, Skip, and the others were older than he, they all left before Niner did, and leadership couldn't be handed down until the next-oldest was ready. But now?

Niner had to admit to himself that he was tired. He loved the Newsies. The World had been his whole world since he was seven, protecting the others his only priority since he was sixteen, and as much as he appreciated his daily routines, it had finally worn out and gotten old. He had gotten old, and he was ready to move onto something bigger than just hauling papes around the city day after long day and managing the childish interactions of the others. Now, that responsibility would be passed onto Jack. He'd just entered the bedroom and crossed over to meet Niner by the table in the corner of the room where they often conducted business. They exchanged a long look before Niner finally smiled and pulled the younger boy into a hug goodbye.

It was an inevitability; one both saw coming for some time in advance. Niner had begun reading the job postings in the papes in search of something he would be happy doing whenever he did move on, and eventually landed on a position as a mailman. He would exchange his bag of newspapers for a bag of letters, and walk a different route, and share an apartment with different friends, but he hoped it would strike a good balance between a change of scene and comfortable familiarity. Since their misadventure with Snyder and his ilk a few years back, Jack had taken a more active role in helping to run the lodging house and he protected his family with a single-minded protectiveness and devotion. He was ready and eager to take on that responsibility, even if he wasn't ready to lose the constancy of his older friend's presence.

And so, this was how they found themselves, standing patiently in the middle of the lodging house, crowded by the rest of the newsies as they trickled into the bunk room. Crutchie took up his place on Jack's right side and put his hand on his friend's shoulder in a silent show of strength and support. Race on his other side and fixed both with a wide smile, determined to make what might be a bittersweet moment a cause for celebration and hope.

Niner took a final headcount to make sure everyone had arrived before beginning the night's proceedings. There weren't any written rules to the lodging house, besides "don't burn it down" (which, appropriately enough, had been inscribed in one of the wooden windowsills with a magnifying glass several years ago) but an eclectic variety of traditions persisted nonetheless. These included the ceremony (if one could call it that) for handing down the leadership of the lodging house from one captain to another. No one knew who started the tradition, but as far as any of them were concerned, the Lower Manhattan Newsies had been doing this ever since there was a Manhattan. Race shouted for silence, and the energetic murmur of voices chattering about the day slowly died down to whispers as they looked on in expectation.

Niner pulled the last of the day's papes from his bag – one he'd deliberately not sold – and placed it on the table next to a small can of sky-blue paint and a paintbrush that Jack had volunteered for the occasion. He took the brush, dipped it into the paint, and reading aloud the message, wrote in small even lettering just above the date, "Remember Me. This paper is yours." He handed the brush to Jack and Crutchie handed his friend a paper of his own. Jack inked in all capitals and read, "Remember us. This paper was yours."

Jack tucked the paintbrush behind his ear and looked up to see Niner take off his bag now. Newsies rarely marked their bags in any way – they were all standard-issue anyhow, and most kids came to the profession hoping to turn it in again soon as they moved on to better prospects. Not so of the captain's bag, which had been mended and patched dozens of times and scribbled all over with the names of the Newsie leaders of the past. The ink started on the strap and spread out from there. Niner added his name to the list when he'd taken up the satchel and the responsibility of protecting his boys. Now, Jack jotted his name beside his older friend's and put on the bag. It felt comfortable and worn-in, and he ran his hand along the strap as he read the names.

Paint now dry, they rolled up the papers for safekeeping and exchanged the newly made memorials of the day. Niner tucked his memory into the satchel that held the rest of his things, packed up and ready to move out. Jack placed his paper inside his new bag. Finally, they shook hands, before going in for another hug, and then Niner lifted Jack's hand above his head and cheered in a voice just on the edge of cracking, "NEWSIES OF MANHATTAN! CAPTAIN JACK!"

A chorus of exuberant shouting and clapping erupted from the assembled crowd as Crutchie and Race, then the others all clambered round to congratulate them both: Niner for his new job and Jack for his new position. Race stood on a chair to lead a cheer. A few boys had brought snacks with their extra savings from the past week for the night's revelry, and soon they were passing around popcorn and apples. Others brought out improvised instruments and led a song and dance of celebration. It would be the most memorable party they'd ever seen grace the halls of the lodging-house, and a perfect way to end the night, and the boys dropped into sleep one by one as the night dragged on. At the end of it all only Niner and Jack remained awake, comfortable, and content, looking over the peace of their sleeping brothers and sharing some final memories before finally, Jack nodded off leaning against his older friend.

When Jack awoke the next morning, he was in his own bed, and Niner was gone. He pulled himself out of bed, shouldered his new bag, and taking a deep breath, began rousing the Newsies to carry the banner another day.

July 8th, 1897

Clara reached in her dress pocket for the hundredth time that day to feel the heavy paper of Hannah's letter from earlier that week. Even though she had the address memorized, she checked again before calling the carriage driver to let her off at the location she'd be meeting her for lunch – a local restaurant called Jacobi's. It clattered and slowed to a stop, and Clara handed the driver his payment quickly before climbing down and making her way to the door as she caught a glimpse of her tall red-headed friend. The older girl whirled around in time to see a teenager with blonde hair twisted into a high bun rushing towards her and caught Clara up in a hug of welcome.

"Hannah! How are you? It's been ages!"

"It's been barely a month," Hannah laughed, "It's a miracle your parents let you come to Manhattan on your own, but I sure am glad they did."

Clara pulled away after second and smiled at Hannah as she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm sixteen, Hannah, I'm practically an adult." She looked around expectantly now, "You said in your letter you would be bringing a friend from work. Where are they?"

"Katherine's inside reserving our seats. Come on."

They turned and she led the way inside and to their table, where there sat a girl about Clara's age with curly brown hair and bangs. She wore a lacy blouse, smart red blouse, and a skirt that looked like it came straight out of the pages of a fashion magazine. She was looking over the menu and didn't see the others approaching at first. Clara fell a half-step behind Hannah as she tried to puzzle out the sort of person she was about to meet – why would a kid like this be working with Hannah? And she was clearly rich, why would she need to work as a secretary if she could afford clothes like that? Hannah's letter, unfortunately, had been rather short on details on whom she was bringing to their lunch date. At first, Clara had assumed she'd met a nice gentlemen friend and wanted to introduce her to him to earn the best friend seal of approval, or else it would be another lady who shared her rank. In any case, she'd replied enthusiastically to humor her friend, although she was a tad disappointed that she would have to share Hannah with someone new, especially when they didn't see each other very often anymore. She was determined to make the best of it, for Hannah's sake, but now with her assumptions clearly proven wrong, she wasn't sure just what to make of this girl.

Hannah broke the hesitant silence as she slid into their booth and invited Clara to sit beside her. "Katherine! This is Clara Lemay, the one I told you about from my old school."

Clara wondered what Hannah had said about her as Katherine looked up with a winning smile and extended a hand to her. "It's nice to meet you, Clara!" Katherine said.

She took it and smiled politely. "Pleased to make your acquaintance. Hannah told me you worked together."

Katherine exchanged a conspiratorial look with Hannah and tried not to laugh. "Yes, you could say that. We met at the office."

Clara raised an eyebrow at the roundabout answer but didn't have the chance to question any further as the waiter arrived took their orders. Soon enough their lunches emerged from the kitchens, and Clara took the opportunity to change the conversation, asking "Hannah, did you ever get that promotion you told me about?"

"I did!" She beamed, "I'm now the official secretary to Mr. Pulitzer himself. Only the Lord knows if that'll be any better of a job, but at least I don't have to contend with Bill anymore!"

"Ugh, Bill. You hated him." Clara groaned. She'd never met the infamous manager, but she'd commiserated with Hannah over the details of his recent offenses enough times to dislike him on her friend's behalf.

"I didn't… hate him," Hannah said. "I might have wished to sabotage his typewriter a few times though, and I shan't ever have to contend with his condescending remarks ever again."

Katherine lifted her glass of lemonade into the air, "A toast to that! It's wonderful news, Hannah! I'm so excited for you."

Clara clapped and raised her own glass of water as Hannah blushed. "Thank you, girls." She turned a pointed look at Katherine. "Now I just need to survive the first day of the new position without incurring Pulitzer's wrath. No offense."

"You're not scared of my father," Katherine said incredulously. "He's not that intimidating."

"Speak for yourself."

Her father? Clara's eyes widened as she realized she was sitting beside an heiress, and all the distant dots connected. Somehow, Hannah had befriended the daughter of the richest and most powerful man in New York City and considered her important enough to invite along to their lunch. She pulled at a stray hair and took a bite of her meal as her mind raced, trying to decide on how best to proceed, and finally settled on trying to play it cool, until she had the chance to talk to Hannah alone.

Katherine noticed Clara's sudden quiet and turned to draw her into the conversation again. "So, what do you do, Clara?" Katherine asked innocently enough.

Clara looked up at the sudden call of her name, and tucked the piece of hair back behind her ear, "I'm still in high school," she said. It was an easy enough question, and she could easily recite her standard answer. "Currently, I'm doing summer coursework so that I can graduate high school early and go to Barnard women's college. I want to study law, and become mayor."

Katherine nearly dropped her fork. "That's ambitious."

"That's what everyone says."

"No, I'm sorry. Really, I admire that. I wish you the best of luck, I'm sure you'll be brilliant in school," Katherine assured her, internally cringing at her earlier blunder.

"I'm afraid it will take more luck than anything else," Clara answered ruefully.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hannah asked. "Whatever happened to the job you wanted with the current mayor?"

"I applied for a position as an intern this summer – to get experience in the field – but he passed over me for my classmate Lucas."

"Ugh, Lucas." Hannah groaned.

"He bragged about it during study hall last week, and I just left to go to the library."

Katherine looked from one to the other in confusion, "I take it he's not your favorite person in the world."

"Hardly. The truth of the matter is that the mayor has never hired a woman for an intern or aide, and he's hardly about to start with me, even though I've met every other requirement. I didn't even get a response affirming I didn't get the job."

Katherine gave a long-suffering sigh, "I'm so sorry about that. I know how you feel."

Clara raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Unfortunately, it's largely because everyone treats me like a princess. They won't let me do anything. I'm a token," Katherine explained. "I told my father I wanted to be a journalist – a real journalist – and he laughed at me."

Clara fought the urge to roll her eyes at someone actively complaining about being handed anything she wanted on a silver platter, especially when they could all afford to eat out at a nice restaurant and take carriages all over the city and so many people had so much less, but she had to respect Katherine for wanting to earn her place, instead of being pampered forever. "I wish you the best with that."

"You seem to like the Sun. Try that," Hannah suggested casually.

Katherine gave a short, humorless laugh. "My father would lose his mind if I went to work for a competitor."

"What's the worst that could happen? He might be scared enough at losing your talent that he'd hire you for the position you want. Or you could get the job at the Sun. It's six one way, half dozen the other."

Clara nodded. "That's a good idea, Katherine. Hannah's good at figuring out all this adult stuff, you ought to listen to her every once in a while." She turned an ironic smile to her older friend. "Heaven knows I've had to learn to."

Katherine slowly smiled and nodded her agreement. "I'll ask Darcy tomorrow."

"Good girl," Hannah cheered, "Now shush about all this work talk and enjoy the meal like a regular human being and not a Pulitzer." She turned to Clara, "Or a Lemay."

Clara and Katherine exchanged an amused glance and nodded, happy to follow Hannah's decree and the conversation moved on to lighter topics, and when they parted ways an hour later, the topic of work hadn't been mentioned again.

A/N: Hi I'm back! Sorry for missing last week, I've been busy with a new job, but I'm happy to be back to writing again. I hope you enjoyed this chapter :)