Good morning, everyone! It's still freaking cold.

Review Responses:

AndrewKeenanBolgerFan: Haha, "keep on tucking". That sounds like something that could be on promotional t-shirts for Tuck Everlasting. Your theater brain should be pleased by this chapter, as it is the one with the big Tuck Everlasting reference. Do enjoy, and thank you! (I've kinda been second-guessing myself on the scab stuff, but you all seem to have liked it.)

JustVildaPotter: (Chapter 28) LET'S GOOOOO! STRIKE! What you've just described, as a reaction my chapter gave you, is basically a summary of the song "Seize the Day", which is what that chapter was supposed to be, and I... *pleased author noises* Seriously, thank you. (Chapter 29) Mush is not on board with the idea of them becoming kings of New York, evidently. Quick answer in the middle of the review response: I DID get a PM notification! That pleases me greatly. Yeah, come on Delanceys. Ya jerks.

Alright, have Crutchie content, everybody.

Chapter 30- Charlie

Friday, September 17, 1999, 2:15 p.m.

Charlie watched Jack run into the theater after lunch, looking like a kid on Christmas morning. "That was amazin', guys!" He exclaimed, skidding to a stop in front of his friend. Charlie raised his eyebrows, but he couldn't help smiling. "I know it was three hours ago, an' we got shut down early, but I'm still excited!"

Faking a gasp, Charlie teased, "No, really? I couldn't tell."

Next second, he was being pulled out of his seat and spun around by Jack. "I'm on top a' the world, Crutch!" The mature leader of the newsies started bouncing up and down, so Charlie copied him.

But it- or rather, he- came crashing down seconds later, when he lost control of his crutches as well as his balance and went tumbling to the floor. Jack helped him up as Miss Medda walked in on the scene. Pointing at the pair, she ordered in a good-natured tone, "No trips to the emergency room today please, you two."

"Sorry, Miss Medda," Charlie called, bracing himself against a seat. With a pointed look at his companion, he added, "Geez Jack, calm down. Ya look like ya discovered the secret ta immortality or somethin'."

Jack laughed. "How d'ya know what that looks like?"

"Ya never know, maybe I'm immortal."

"I hope ya ain't. Livin' foreva' sounds awful ta me."

"But you'd have unlimited time ta visit Santa Fe. Hangin' out in the desert 'til the end a' time sounds great ta me."

"Liar." Jack stuck his tongue out at Charlie, then ruffled the younger boy's hair.

For once, Charlie retaliated, reaching up to mess up Jack's dark hair. Then he hopped away as fast as was possible for a person with forearm crutches.

"Get back here, ya little scamp!" Jack yelped, giving chase and easily catching up to his friend within seconds.

Charlie tried to defend himself against another hair ruffling, but was unsuccessful. "Hey, that's not fair! Ya can't pick on a crip!"

He tried to move away again, but Jack caught him, wrapping his arms around Charlie's waist with a shout of "Oh yeah?" Then he started tickling the younger boy.

Charlie tried to call out "Also not fair!" but he couldn't manage to do so, as he cut himself off with a shriek of laughter. "Jack, stop it!"

From the place she was standing in front of the stage, Sarah raised her camera and snapped a photo of the two boys. Jack called, "Hey, no pictures!" but didn't cease his attack on Charlie.

It took one breathless shout of "Jack, I can't breathe!" for the craziness to stop. When it finally did, Charlie collapsed onto the floor, staring up at Jack with a grin on his face. His cheeks hurt from smiling so wide.

Katherine bustled over, her long pink skirt swishing around her legs; which were all Charlie could see of her at the moment. "What is going on over here?"

Jack pointed to his friend lying spread-eagled on the floor. "Man down."

"Okay then." Katherine quickly diverted her attention. "Jack, Brian Denton from The Sun wants to speak to you later today. I scheduled an interview."

"Why me?"

"Well, out of every one of these misfits who haven't got a nickel to their names-"

"Hey!" Charlie interrupted, "Ya don't gotta be insultin'." He didn't bother to get up from the floor as he continued, "I got a nickel."

Jack gave him a gentle kick in the shin of his good leg. "Quiet. You ain't da one they wanna interview."

"But I could be, some day."

Katherine finished, "As I was trying to say, you're the leader of this strike, Jack."

"Naw, Jack's just a cowboy we all like ta listen to."

Charlie expected Jack to fire back, but instead, he ran with his friend's statement. "Crutchie's right. I'm a blowhard. Now, Davey, on da otha' hand, he's da one ya wanna speak to."

Katherine scrunched up her eyebrows, or at least, it sounded to Charlie like she was doing so as she made her next comment. He couldn't really see her face. "You are the most modest, yet also conceited guy I have ever met, Jack Kelly."

"Thank you. I try."

"It wasn't a compliment."

Charlie made an "ooh" sound, and Jack took the time to help the boy up to hide his slightly offended expression.

"I'm gonna write about this fer the next issue a' the pape," Charlie decided. "I'll call it-" he spread his hands through the air, as if he were displaying a headline- "'Cheeky Boy Gets Nothing For His Troubles.'"

"Ya won't be writin' no such thing," said Jack, swatting Charlie's ear, "We's on strike, rememba'?"

"'Course. I don't got amnesia or anythin'. I meant afta' this's all ova'."

"That might be sooner than we want it ta be," Mush walked down the aisle, along with Blink, Sniper, and Tommy Boy, who was holding a small, scruffy dog. "We got a problem, Boss. Rhymes wit Dot Fonlon."

"I'm workin' on it!" Race bellowed from the other side of the theater. "Wouldja chill an' give me a chance ta talk ta him lata'?"

"I wouldn't do that. He's in league wit da Delanceys. They wanna come afta' us when we come back ta this strike next week."

Jack denied this. "You's talkin' crazy."

"No, I ain't. Go an' ask 'em if ya don't believe me."

"Spot would neva'-"

"I dunno, Jackie," said Davey, sitting on the edge of the stage. "From what I saw last night, I wouldn't be surprised to see Spot with the Delanceys."

Next to Davey, Smalls shook her head. "Naw, he's jus' like that. He's annoyin' as hell, an' kinda rude, sure, but he ain't no monster."

"Even so, I agree with Mush about not talking to him."

"Thank you," Mush said.

"Then what'm I s'posed ta do?" Race was still sitting halfway across the theater, not bothering to come over to talk.

Charlie called, "Ya still gotta talk ta him, Race!"

"Don't tell me what ta do, Crutchie!"

"Yer a chicken if ya don't talk ta him!"

"Shut up!"

"Stop yellin'," Jack ordered both boys. "Racer can still go an' make up with Spot. We'll jus' hafta make sure he don't reveal any a' our plans."

Davey hopped off the stage, coming to stand beside Jack. He lowered his voice. "Are you sure we can trust him to do that?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. I'd trust Racer wit my life."

"Really, Captain?" Smalls looked like she didn't believe a word of that claim.

"Yes. I'd even trust him with Crutchie's life."

"Thank you?" Charlie did not know how to respond to that. When he thought about any of his friends being put in a position in which they needed to save his life, Race was near the bottom of the list. From what Charlie had seen, Race wouldn't be the most trustworthy in a crisis.

"How's about I send Smalls an' Albert ta keep 'im in check? Will ya trust him then?"

Smalls rolled her eyes. "Right... 'Cause Albert definitely won't make things worse."

"Oh, an' you'd make things betta'?"

"I'll get 'im ta shut up, at least."

"Or maybe you'll get Spot thrown outta Jacobi's again. Along wit you an' Albert. That was real helpful this mornin', by da way."

"Just a second ago you were excited 'bout how long our protest lasted, despite it gettin' shut down."

"That was before I learned we might neva' get a chance ta get back at it."

"So we got delayed a few days. That ain't my fault."

"Actually, it kinda is."

"So yer gonna blame me fer everythin' now? Gee, thanks, Captain. I 'preciate it."

Jack made a strangled growling sound. "No, god, I jus'- jus' wanna get this thing ta work before Pulitzer forgets about it."

Charlie offered, "But it'll be in the real papes, won't it? So he won't forget, will 'e?"

Katherine stepped forward. "That's the thing. This interview with Jack and all, if it gets published, will be in anticipation of a second day of the protest. If the strike doesn't continue, neither does the news coverage, and if the story isn't in the paper-"

"Then it neva' happened," Jack finished.

Charlie could say nothing but what he was thinking, which happened to be the phrase, "Oh, shit."

"An' if I know da Delancey brothers, they won't forget about da prospect a' attackin' us." Smalls gave her input.

Mush concurred, "Not 'til at least the end a' next week."

Jack collapsed into a chair, growling louder. "Tha's too far away. Why does today hafta be Friday?"

"That's the first time I've ever heard you say that." Everyone turned to look at Miss Medda, who was walking into the audience. She came to stand in front of the stage, then announced, mainly to Jack, "I think I can help ya out."

Jack sprung to his feet. "Ya can't get involved, Miss Medda. Pulitzer'd fire ya fer sure."

"Oh, I'm not gettin' involved. However, if I had any part in this- which of course I do not- then I might remind you that all the teachers have to work Saturdays. So, if you were to continue your protest tomorrow afternoon, there's a fair chance it would be noticed."

"Well, that's certainly convenient," Davey remarked, but was ignored; the level of excitement in the room had skyrocketed.

Charlie jumped up from his seat, shouting, "Jack, we gotta do it!"

"Obviously, we gotta," Jack agreed, beaming at Miss Medda. "Thanks fer the tip."

The teacher winked at him. "Any time. But remember: ya didn't hear it from me. I'm not responsible for anythin' that you kids get up to."

"'Course not."

"So we all meet here tomorrow," Katherine planned. "Let's say, after lunch?"

Jack nodded. "Later in the day'd be good, so's we make sure no one oversleeps."

Smalls coughed. It sounded unusually like "Race".

Davey looked like he was mentally debating something. "Yeah, like this time in the afternoon? And if we're on strike, that isn't technically work, is it?"

"Nope," Katherine said.

"Good. Then that should be okay, with the Sabbath and everything."

"Aw man, we'll have to walk, won't we?" asked Sarah, realizing what the other two were discussing.

"Can't we break the rules for once?" Les whined.

His two older siblings responded in unison with Katherine. "No, Les."

At this news, the little boy groaned, so Charlie grinned and told him, "Hey, I bet you'll get ta lie ta yer parents 'bout where yer goin'."

As expected, Les perked up at this suggestion, eager to be rebellious. Davey reprimanded, shooting a look at Charlie, "Our father taught us not to lie."

"So did mine."

Jack laughed, saying in a self-depricating way, "Mine taught me not ta starve." Charlie wanted to question this, and Davey looked prepared to do the same, but Jack went on. "Ya don't hafta lie or nothin', jus' get yer butts ova' here tomorrow before two, alright?"

"We'll be there," Davey assured him.

"Ya better be. I ain't qualified ta lead this on my own."

"I could help ya lead," Charlie suggested.

"Sure." Jack didn't really accept the offer, but moved on to calling for everyone's attention. "Alright, so we meet back 'ere tomorrow afternoon an' no one lets this slip ta da Delanceys, okay? Everybody got that?"

The majority of people in the theater answered with some variation of "Got it!"

Blink, sitting a few rows away next to Tommy Boy, raised his hand. "Uh, Jack? I don't think Tommy Boy's dog agreed."

Jack half-laughed, visibly attempting to keep from smiling as he declared, "Well then, we's gotta get that untrustworthy lil' scamp outta here."

"Her name's Chuck," Tommy Boy mumbled, burying his face, which was slowly turning red, in the mutt's fur.

"Chuck?" Jack fully laughed this time.

"Clearly named afta' me," Charlie stated, pointing at himself with one thumb.

"Uh-huh." And with that, the hair-ruffling battle began again.

The strike continues!

You may be wondering why Tommy Boy even has a dog. Well, I had the idea and there needed to be something else to create chaos during the strike anyway so I thought, why not? At some point I'm going to write a one-shot about him finding the dog.

As for the dog's name, Chuck... Well, that's from The Maze Runner. Don't worry about it, that's just a personal thing I wanted. This dog will probably barely exist for the rest of the story.

I'll stop talking now. Have a lovely day, and if it's cold wherever you are, don't freeze! Stay in your room writing with a space heater on, like I'm going to do.

Ta ta for now!