Let me tell you, I am very much a fan of my school's finals schedule. I got to sleep in today, and I still have time to post a chapter of this! (My exams don't start until tomorrow.)
Review Responses:
AndrewKeenanBolgerFan: Ah, yes. "Smips". HOW DARE THEY INDEED! NOW, WHAT'RE WE GONNA DO ABOUT IT?
Let's just see what they're going to do about it, shall we? Here we go.
Chapter 22- Jack
Thursday, September 16, 1999, 2:05 p.m.
Jack stared at Medda incredulously. Forget Pulitzer raising the price of papes, this was the worst news of the day.
"I'm sorry," Medda told the shocked group of students. "I know this is very upsetting, but there's nothing I can do."
That statement brought the end of the momentary silence as the crowd erupted into a mess of people rapidly making comments and trying to talk over one another. Jack had a million questions himself- Would this last all year? What were they all supposed to do in place of Medda's class? Who gave Pulitzer the right to shut down whatever he wanted, without even considering other people? But he had no idea where to start.
Then Crutchie stepped forward, asking a question Jack hadn't yet considered. "If the program's shut down, does that mean yer fired, Miss Medda?"
"They can't fire Medda," Jack stated before she could try to answer the question. "They- they can't, right?"
Medda shook her head. "No. At least, not for a while. It pays to be rich sometimes. I put a lot of money into this theater."
"So ya could say, ya own it."
"The only thing I own is the mortgage on my apartment."
Regardless of this statement, Jack went on. "But that means they can't tell ya what ta do, so class is back on!" He grinned, hoping he could convince Medda to bend the rules.
The woman considered this. "Technically... yes. But accordin' to Mr. Pulitzer, absolutely not."
Crutchie asked, "The school board wants us ta stay here, right? How do they expect us ta do that when we don't have no reason?"
"Yeah, we might as well leave," said Race, turning in the direction of the exit.
Medda grabbed the collar of his shirt. "Hold your racehorses. I can't have you all leaving and running riot around the city." She tossed a set of keys to Jack, and he unlocked the theater doors. "You, sir, are in charge while I make phone calls. Don't burn the place down. My theater's supposed to be your escape from trouble."
"Sure thing, Miss Medda," Jack smiled as she disappeared down the hall. When Medda was gone, he turned to his friends, taking an authoritative stance. "Ya heard Medda, I'm in charge. Now get in there, we got plans ta discuss."
"What kind of plans?" Katherine marched up the hall, leading Sarah, Smalls, and Sniper.
"Wouldn't you like ta know."
Sarah perched a hand on her hip. "Let us into your boys club, Jack."
"You three-" he pointed at Sniper, Katherine, and Smalls- "can c'mon in, but not you." He barred Sarah's way while the other three filed into the theater.
"What is your deal with my sister?" Davey was leaning against the wall. Until this moment, Jack hadn't noticed him.
"I don't like her face." While Sarah flipped him off, Jack continued. "That's beside da point. Who do you think ya are, showin' up here righ' now?"
"A student who wants to get to class, despite it being canceled."
"I'm surprised you'd show yer face 'ere, considerin' ya think you're above all a' us."
"I never said I was above you."
"Ya certainly implied it."
"Because I wanted to have a normal day and not deal with some strike bullshit?" Davey put up his hands. "Oh, I'm so sorry."
"You can't escape the storyline, Dave," Sarah muttered. Jack and Davey both looked at her like she was crazy. "Uh, the storyline of your life, I mean."
Carrying on the conversation as if nothing weird had been said, Jack kept talking. "Ya told me ta come back ta you when we got somethin' real ta protest about. Is Pulitzer closin' da theater real enough for ya?"
Davey answered immediately. "Yes. Fine. If it makes you stop bothering me about it. I honestly don't care that much."
"Neither do we," said Ike. He and his twin, Mike, were standing on the inside of the doorway.
"Hey, it's you two!" Jack exclaimed.
"Yeah, we exist," Mike deadpanned. "You guys mind movin' yer conversation inta the theata'?"
Ike affirmed this request. "It kinda feels like ya sent us all in there ta get rid of us."
"Right. C'mon Davey." Jack followed the twins into the theater.
The door he had come in through led right onto the stage, so Jack sped up, deciding to run. But he misjudged the distance, causing himself to have to slow down at the last second. This resulted in him nearly falling flat on his face, but he managed to catch himself with much wild arm waving.
"Okay, guys," he said after clarifying to the others that he was all right, having almost faceplanted seconds before. "We's gotta do somethin' about Pulitzer. An' I say, we strike!"
A couple of his friends clapped, but most people stayed silent.
"Hold on," Davey came to Jack's side. "Weren't you listening to me earlier?"
"I know, ya think this whole thing's a bad idea."
"No, I'm on board with a protest. But you can't strike. You're students, not a union."
"Well, what if I says we is?"
"There's a lotta stuff ya gotta have-" Davey cleared his throat as a hint of an accent came through- "in order to form a union."
"Like what?"
"Like, membership."
A beat, and then Jack scrunched up his eyebrows, waving an arm across the rows of occupied seats in front of the stage. "Um... whaddaya call these guys?"
Various forms of the word 'hello', whistling, and waving ensued from Jack's friends. Smalls even went so far as to yell "Hey asshole!" at Davey. Then she walked up to the edge of the stage and folded her arms on top of it, giving Davey a tight-lipped I'm-going-to-kill-you-later smile.
Davey ignored her. "Okay, that's membership. What about officers?"
"I nominate Jack president!" Crutchie called from his seat in the front row. No one disagreed with this nomination.
Jack put a palm to his chest like some fancy lady who had just been complimented, but he didn't smile. "Gee, I'm touched."
"How about a Statement of Purpose?" Davey challenged.
Jack rolled his eyes. "I must a' left that in my other pants."
Race stood up. "Uh, what's a Statement a' Poirpose?"
"A reason for forming the union," Davey clarified.
"Damn. We ain't got one a' those."
"Sure we do!" Jack disagreed. "We got plenty a' reason. Like, first a' all, what's wit Pulitzer raisin' our price? An' why's it always us gettin' affected by 'is stupid budget cuts? I mean, ya don' see da football players or da basketball or da math... whateva' getting taxed by 'im. It's always us; the art, theatre, journalism kids that gets the shaft." Jack had his friends' attention now. Most of them were nodding along to his words. "What gives Pulitzer da right ta make us his automatic scapegoat? We's just as important as anybody else. Jus' because we ain't da best students don' give 'im the right ta rub our noses in it."
Davey still looked skeptical. "What does this have to do with forming a union?"
Momentarily, Jack had forgotten about that point. As he pondered how to respond, Smalls climbed up onto the stage. "Well, it may not be a job or anythin', but fer some a' us, da pape an' this theater's the only place we belong." And as she said this, she looked at Jack. "An' ya thought we couldn't face da world bein' hard, but here we are, ready ta stand up ta it."
"Exactly," Jack stepped towards Davey. "An' I bet, if yer father had a union, you wouldn't be here in da first place, wouldja?"
This made Davey give in. "Guess I wouldn't."
"So..." Jack turned to face the crowd. "Our union is hereby formed ta watch each other's backs." He raised his arms. "Union'd we stand." He paused for a moment, then congratulated himself on that phrase. "Hey, that's good. Somebody write that down."
"I got a pencil!" Les volunteered. The little boy had been hidden in the audience again.
"Well, meet our Secretary a' State."
"Now what?" Smalls asked Davey.
"If you want to 'strike', the membership's gotta vote," he answered.
"Okay, so we'll vote." Jack addressed the crowd again. "Whaddaya say, fellas? Do we roll over an' let Pulitzer pick our pockets or do we strike?"
The answer was unanimous. "STRIKE!"
"Yeah! Ya heard da voice a' the membership. The newsies of Lower Manhattan are officially on strike."
"Yeah!" This came from Smalls alone.
"What's next?"
"Wouldn't our protest be more effective if someone in charge knew about it?" Crutchie suggested.
"Well, it'd be a pleasure ta tell Weasel myself," Race proclaimed, making to leave again.
Albert tugged him back into a seat. "Ya can get on that lata'."
"An' who tells Pulitzer, huh?" Jack questioned. "Davey?"
Davey still sounded unsure about the entire thing. "I don't know. I guess... I guess you do, Mr. President."
The other newsies cheered. "Alright, me an' you'll tell 'im. So... so what do we tell 'im?"
"Well, uh, what you were saying earlier, about being a scapegoat, that would be good."
"Okay. So Pulitzer an' Hearst 'ave gotta respect our rights as students."
"They can't just take something away whenever they feel like it!" Now Davey was getting into this. "And they can't keep taking money outta your pockets."
"Yeah!" The crowd cheered.
"We's da ones affected, so we get a say!" More cheering, plus a few scattered claps. Jack waited for everyone to quiet down before making his next point. "We gotta make a statement, guys. 'Cause Pulitzer an' Hearst, they think we're nothin'."
"Might as well be dirt on da bottom a' their shoes," Race agreed.
"Are we dirt?" Jack raised his voice. "Are we nothin'?"
"No."
"Pulitzer an' Hearst, they think dey got us down. Do dey got us?"
"No!" It wasn't just Race responding this time.
"We're a union now, a student union, and we mean business!" Davey shouted.
Jack reiterated, "Even though we ain't got hats or badges-" a few of his friends who were wearing hats inconspicuously removed them- "we're a union, just by sayin' so!"
"An' as of right now," Smalls declared, "the world will know."
There we are, it's The World Will Know! The strike is official!
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