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When Bright Eyes reached the World Building the next morning, nearly everyone detected a change in her. The boys had noticed it, a gleam in her eye that surely had some significance of an event to come. The man at the front desk of the World had noticed the gleam, everyone had noticed it, save for Joseph Pulitzer. When Bright Eyes waltzed into his office, he greeted her as he always did. "Good morning Miss McClaen. How are the stories coming?" Bright Eyes grinned and leaned over the man's desk. "I have a proposition for you Mr. Pulitzer." The words rang through Pulitzer's body like an electric shock. Many times he had said it, and many times he had said it to those street arabs who sold his papers. But Joseph Pulitzer, was not a man who dwelled on the past, and thus discarded the feeling. "Really? What might that be?"

Bright Eyes smiled mischieviously and sat down in one of the chairs quickly. "Remember the Newsies rally, oh don't speak sir, I know you remember." Bright Eyes added quickly as she saw the fire begin to glow again in Pulitzer's eyes. "Anyway, why couldn't we have one of our own? It would be wonderful for the paper sir. Think of it, a night of glory for the paper, and an interview with the man who has captivated the whole of New York with his writings, Andy McClaen." Bright Eyes spoke, her upraised arm puntuating her every word as she spoke. Pulitzer gazed at Bright Eyes for a moment, speechless. "I like it, I like it! But how do we present a Mr. McClaen to the public when only you and I know the truth?" Pulitzer said doubtfully. "Don't even think of it sir. I have just the man. He is upright, a wonderful speaker, and he would make an exquisite Andy McClaen." Pulitzer rubbed his beard thoughtfully. "It would be a good idea. A good way to compete with Hearst. I'll do it! I'll arrange the food and costs, etc. And you get this Andy McClaen. And we will be in business!" Pulitzer said happily as Bright Eyes shook his hand heartily. "You won't regret it sir! Not at all." Bright Eyes murmured.

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"No Bright Eyes! I refuse! This is utterly preposterous! It will never even work! This is even worse than," "David, if you won't help me, then I'll tell everyone that you did and maybe still do have a crush on me." David stopped in his tracks and stared hard at Bright Eyes. "You wouldn't dare." Bright Eyes raised her eyebrows mischieviously. "Oh, wouldn't I?" David sighed and shouldered his coat and resumed walking. "Fine. I know you will if I don't. You are SO stubborn Bright Eyes. But I'm over ya. What do I have to do?" Bright Eyes grinned and took out a packet of papers. "Well first of all you have to be familiar with all of these." David took the packet and ruffled through them, eyes wide. "All of these?" Bright Eyes rolled her eyes. "Of course Davey, you can't be talking about my articles and not know them! And here's my talk that you are gonna give for me." David's eyes widened farther as Bright Eyes plopped a thick wad of papers on top of the packet of papers.

"Bright Eyes you can't be serious!" David whined. "I am very serious. Now promise me that you'll do it. I can't have you chickening out on me at the last minute." Bright Eyes insisted. "Bright, what if Pulitzer remembers me from the strike? You didn't think about that did you?" Bright Eyes rolled her eyes and patted David's arm. "Of course I did, everything is taken care of Davey. Don't worry about a thing. Me an' the boys got everything under control." David groaned. "Thats what I'm afraid of!" Bright Eyes rolled her eyes and patted David on the shoulder. "Don't worry about a thing Davey. I'll let you know when Pulitzer picks a date, but from this day forward, ya gotta read those things. Undastand?" David sighed reluctantly and took Bright Eyes' hand and shook it. "Great! I'll see ya lata Davey!" Bright Eyes yelled as she skipped up the Lodging House stairs. "Oh boys!!! I'se got a fava ta ask ya!!" Bright Eyes yelled as she stepped over the threshhold.

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After Bright Eyes had outlined the conclusion of the plan to the boys, they were silent, as grins spread over their faces. But then, the lone voice of Spot Conlon, who had been invited to the session, spoke out, "Hey Bright. If we's gonna do dis, I tink dat dere needs ta be some esplainin'." Bright Eyes sighed and dropped her head. She had known that this minute had to come, but she wished that she was more ready for it. "Well, its like dis. I probably neva woulda left New Yawk if it hadn't been fer da rally an' all dat. All dat was, my fault." Whispers and gasps trickled out softly, like water breaking through ice. Bright Eyes ignored them and continued. "Yeah, it was me who came up wit' all dat. Me who let da Delancys in. I did all dat. Me who got you boys all hoit, an' den hoit ya more by leavin'." Bright Eyes said softly. There was silence in the room.

"How in da woild was dat yer fault Bright? You, didn't really let da Delancys in, did ya?" Mush questioned, his voice quavering. "Yeah, I did. I did it. Dat one night when I left an' ran off, an' Les found me an' said I was by da docks, I was seein' Pulitzer." Angry shouts burst around the girl like bomb shells as her words impacted on them. The shouts were loud and sharp, cries of disbelief and fiery tempers were aroused as they yelled. Finally Spot stood, his face red and angry. "Okay, quiet down! I have a feelin' dat Bright ain't done yet." Bright Eyes looked at him swiftly and then at the boys as they stopped shouting.

"Anyway, I was wit' Pulitzer. He tol' me what ta do an' everytin'. He was da mastamind behind everyting, I jest carried it out. Da Delancy's were in it an' so was every udda bad guy in New Yawk. But Pulitzer was behind it, he made me do dis stuff, an' I coulda refused, but I woulda had ta pay a price, dat even now I'm not sure dat I would live through. Dat price, woulda been havin' me fadda come back and take me inta his care. His care meant daily beatin's!" Bright Eyes ejaculated angrily into the silence. "So I coulda refused, but you boys woulda neva seen me again. Eva. Turns out da reason fer usin' me ta do all dis, was ta git back at you boys fer da strike. He was hit pretty hard aftawoids an' he neva really recovered from it. So he figured dat da best way ta git back at you, was ta hit ya right on da hearts an' take what you loved an' make her turn traita. It didn't make me feel good, no way. An' den when Pulitzer said dat I had ta leave town, dat was da last straw. An' I woulda backed out, 'cept dat me fadda was dere."

Bright Eyes stopped, reliving the horror of that moment, when her worst nightmare had come true. When she had seen the phantom that had haunted her dreams since her childhood, the phantom she wished that she could forget. "He was dere, wit' Pulitzer. Both of 'em. Talkin' up a storm. He made me stay, an' den he left, leavin' me an' Pulitzer alone. Den I was gonna back out again widout listenin' ta what Pulitzer wanted me ta do, but den, he threatened ta take out Race fer good if I did." Bright Eyes looked up and saw the looks of horror on the boys' faces at what might have been. Racetrack's pale face caught her eye, and she smiled weakly. "I, wasn't 'bout ta let dem do dat. I'd woulda ratha died, den let him get a hold of you boys. So I gave in, an' said dat I would leave New Yawk. Da only catch was dat I couldn't tell any of ya's. I wanted to, so many times, but I couldn't. Dats da only reason dat I was in Brooklyn ta see ya dat last day Spot. So dat I could say goodbye." Spot nodded slowly. "Yeah, its all startin' ta fall inta place now."

"I wish dat I coulda said goodbye, but it was life 'er death, not my life, but all of yours. So I left. But I'm back, an' ol' Pulitzer cain't tell da difference. So I need ta ask, no beg yer boy's fergiveness. If it kin be given. I'm so sorry fer what I put ya through." There was silence, but only for a few moments before forgivenesses were thrown at her from all ends of the room. Bright Eyes smiled at all of them, then noticed Spot standing alone by the door. She walked up to him and waited. He looked up at her incredulously. "So what? Ya want a peisonal apology from me?" Bright Eyes flinched. "I jest, wanted ta say I'm sorry ta you. I put ya through a lot more dan the uddas. You was dere dat night when I left. I had no idea. I'm so sorry dat I had ta put ya through dat Spot! Please, please fergive me. Isn't dere any way dat ya can?" Bright Eyes pleaded.

Spot looked up into the girl's face and smiled smugly. "So now dat yer on yer knees ya tink dat I'll have pity on ya? I don't know if dere is any way Bright. Pain don't heal ovanight. And not even in a year. So I cain't comply ta yer request, an' I cain't answer yer question. But I can help ya's an' da boys." Bright Eyes lifted her head quickly. Spot shrugged. "Its da least I kin do ta make Pulitzer undastand dat we ain't da street rats dat he tinks we are." Spot winked and walked out the door, his hands in his pockets, his shoulders slouched. Bright Eyes watched him leave with a mixture of sadness and at the same time happiness that he would help her. "So, is he gonna do it?" Racetrack's voice startled Bright Eyes and she turned suddenly. She smiled an grasped his hand that lay limp at his side. "Yeah, he's gonna help. Dats all I kin ask of him fer now."

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Bright Eyes was summoned the next day to Pulitzer's office. A date was decided by the two of them and Jonathan, Pulitzer's advisor of sorts. The rally was to be set for that very Saturday. It would be a grand affair with all the pomp and circumstance Pulitzer could muster, to prove himself once and for all to be better than Willy Hearst. "Willy" Hearst, was the first guest on the invitation list. When asked about servers, Bright Eyes stepped in. "Oh Mr. Pulitzer! I can take care of that! I know just the business. Just allow me to take the money and I'll take care of it." Pulitzer nodded and handed over a pile of bills absentmindedly as he listened to Jonathan drone on and on. Bright Eyes fingered the bills with gleaming eyes and pocketed them. The rest of the work day was spent in preparation for the upcoming affair. Invitations were sent, caterers were called, and decorations were ordered. Everything was going according to plan, both plans.

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Bright Eyes sat in the blue satin dress, squirming uncomfortably. She had just finished overseeing the final decorations with Pulitzer, a thoroughly boring affair. Now she was just waiting for the food and servers to come. A loud banging on the door broke into the girl's thoughts and she rushed up to open it. Outside were the 3 dozen waiters, all dressed in nice suits, even with flowers in their lapels. The first server stepped in and winked, indicating the other boys to set up the tables in the next room. Bright Eyes smiled and took his arm, and walked outside to the back door. "Is this going to work out?" Bright Eyes asked the waiter. "It will. Everything is ready and nothing is going to ruin your evening." The waiter said confidently. Bright Eyes smiled again, this time in relief, and patted his arm. "Go on and help everyone else. Oh and by the way, love your beard and goatee." The waiter smiled and ran to catch up with his work. Bright Eyes followed him, only with a sophisticated walk.

Bright Eyes walked past the waiters and to the back of the platform which was to serve for the speeches. Behind the curtain, she found who she was looking for. A man of rather medium height, with smoothed back curly hair that threatened to fall over at any second, with a small mustache. This man was reading a large stack of papers and reciting to himself. "Davey?" David jumped a foot and nearly dropped the papers in his surprise. "Good grief!! Bright," Bright Eyes held up a warning finger. "Anne. You nearly gave me a heart attack! And do you know how long it took me to put these papers back in order after Les threw his school books on them? Do you?" Bright Eyes smiled.

"You'll do fine Davey, or Andy. No one will notice." David leaned up against the wall, worry etched on his every feature. "I don't know. You still have to introduce me to Pulitzer. And what if he recognizes me? Huh? What do we do then?" Bright Eyes shrugged. "Then we say that you are a cousin and an unfortunate look alike with a mustache. Trust me. He won't notice. He's still so excited about getting more publicity than Willy Hearst that you could spill caviar on his suit and he wouldn't notice." David frowned and rubbed his mustache. "I hate this thing! Its so annoying! I mean, I know that it covers up my face, but a faux mustache? Come on. If it falls off during the ceremony, I'll kill you after they kill me!" Bright Eyes rolled her eyes and walked off the stage, David's arm firmly in hand.

David ceased pulling on his arm after he noticed in whose direction that they were heading. Pulitzer was talking heatedly with Seitz, and after he had dismissed the butler, walked towards Bright Eyes and David. "Ah, Ms. McClaen. This must be your Andy McClaen. Welcome and thank you for doing this. Whats his real name Ms. McClaen?" David glanced at Bright Eyes warily as he shook the tycoon's hand. "His name is Joseph David Alexander, a very dear friend of mine." Bright Eyes said to Pulitzer confidently. Pulitzer nodded and patted David's arm once more. "Congratulations my boy! You will be the guest of honor here. Good work!" Pulitzer then hobbled off, complimenting everyone in site, even down to one of the guest's tiny lap dog, who was seated in the hallway in a tiny basket. Bright Eyes grinned as she watched the guests flood in the doorway and shoved David back towards the stage. "Get ready. You know the signal right?" She whispered. "Of course I do! I just hope this mustache doesn't fall off!" David murmured as he dashed back to the back of the stage.

One of the waiters approached her from behind and whispered, "Everything is ready. We'll be standing by and waiting for everyone." Bright Eyes nodded her approval as she scanned the crowd. Finally she found the individual and he saw her. He turned, a dashing figure in his black suit, with an exquisite red rose in his lapel. "He never wastes his style thats for sure." Bright Eyes murmured. The figure winked and pointed up to the front row. Bright Eyes nodded and pointed to her seat. The figure nodded and walked off briskly. Bright Eyes noticed that finally the seats were full, and the people were talking loudly. Pulitzer motioned her to her seat in the front row and she nodded, making her way there as quickly as possible. Pulitzer hobbled up the stairs to the stage and approached the stand.

"Ladies and Gentlemen. It is my pleasure to welcome you, to this party tonight. We have a splendid treat for you as you may very well know. He has made our paper prosper and the revolutionized the people of New York. May I present to you, Mr. Andy McClaen!" Pulitzer stepped aside as the applause ripped from the masses of people. David stepped out in full regalia, holding the huge speech in his hands, bowing and waving as he walked out. "Don't overdo it Davey." Bright Eyes whispered silently. David shook Pulitzer's hand and stepped up to the podium. "Thank you Mr. Pulitzer. And thank you all for coming to this event. It is thrilling to see so many of you out here today who appreciate my articles. I will start off now with a little something that I have prepared."

And David proceeded with the speech, without a falter to Bright Eyes' relief. David said the first hours worth of the speech without even a misplaced word. When he had finished the first half of it, he bowed and gestured to a person in the audience. David then retreated from the podium and stood towards the back of the stage. The short figure in the tuxedo, his red rose shining in the stage lights, stepped up on the stage and approached the podium. His gray eyes winked in the light as he spoke to the now murmuring audience. "Ladies and Gentlemen. We will now give Mr. McClaen a rest. In the meantime before he begins again, I suggest that you take some refreshments, which some charming lads will serve you. There are drinks and food and you are all welcome to it. Thank you." The figure stepped off of the platform and headed toward Bright Eyes' general direction. As he past her, his shoulder brushed hers and he whispered, "Good Lawd, I hope yer satisfied! I didn't think I'd get through dat widout breakin' inta some slang!" Bright Eyes smiled as the figure headed towards the food tables, spread with an abundance of food.

After a time, Bright Eyes turned to the clock as she sipped her punch happily. The time was 7:50. Bright Eyes turned to one of the waiters at the tables. He nodded and rubbed his brown eyepatch. Bright Eyes in turn, turned and faced the figure with the red rose. He nodded and walked briskly back up to the stage. "Ladies and Gentlemen. If you'll please come back to yer, um, your seats, Mr. McClaen will be back here shortly." The figure stepped off the stage, and when Bright Eyes looked at him questioningly, he shook his head and drew his finger across his throat. Bright Eyes laughed and resumed her place in the audience. After ten minutes David finally approached the podium and finished the speech, again, flawlessly. But when he had finished and the applause was at its highest peak, David waved down the audience.

"I have something more to say. It is part of my next and last article that I will be writing for Mr. Pulitzer." At this during the confusion of the audience, Bright Eyes turned to the lead waiter and nodded. The waiter turned to the figure with the red rose, who grinned and motioned up above. Slowly and surely, David began to read the article. "My fellow friends. This is my final article, and I want to make it my best. I have said many things about these people, called the Newsboys, or Newsies. I must say that everything that I have said, is a lie. Yes, to the rich people of New York and to Mr. Joseph Pulitzer himself, the Newsies are mere street rats not worthy to live. I believe otherwise, and I have proof, right now."

As he spoke, three lines of people made their way up the aisles. They were the servers, the waiters and a group of boys in tuxedos led by a figure with a red rose pinned in his lapel. They stepped onto the platform as David stood off to the side and grinned. The two leaders of the servers, waiters, and the suit clad boys, approached the podium, grinning at the audience. The taller of them, the leader of the servers and waiters, pulled off the faux goatee and mustache, while the boy with the red rose, pulled off his hat to reveal his brown-blonde hair slicked back to perfection. In the audience, Pulitzer stared in horror at the leader of the servers and waiters.

David approached the podium between the two boys and yelled to the audience. "Ladies and Gentlemen, Mr. Pulitzer. May I present to you, Jack Kelly, leader of the Manhattan Newsies, and the infamous Spot Conlon of the Brooklyn Newsies." Behind the boys and all around the auditorium, rang the shouts of praise from the other disguised Newsboys, causing the guests to look around in shock. The two leaders waved and whooped to them as Pulitzer stared at the two boys at the podium. Jack finally waved them down and yelled out to the audience. "Hey, lets hear it fer Davey!!" With the shouts echoeing around them, David walked up to the podium, and with his face red, pulled off the faux mustache, much to the delight of the Newsboys and to the amusement of a few of the guests, who could not help laughing with the infectious boys.

"Stop! Stop! This can't be! Get off that stage you! Get off!" Pulitzer yelled from the audience, shocking everyone into silence as he clomped up the stairs toward the podium. "Oh hey everybody! Joe wants ta say sometin'!" Jack yelled above the crowd, causing them to laugh, despite Pulitzer's yells for silence. "You! You did all of this! Who are you really? You get up here!" Pulitzer yelled, as he pointed an accusing finger at Bright Eyes. Bright Eyes sighed and stood up, the silk falling gracefully around her ankles. "I am Bright Eyes O'Connor, at your service Joe. I'm back, and I intend to stay." The boys whooped and cheered as Pulitzer stared, mortified. Bright Eyes ascended the stairs, feeling like a queen and walked up to Pulitzer.

"You aren't really the real writer Andy McClaen. It was all a trick to get here!" Pulitzer yelled. "Oh on the contrary Joe. You see, I am Andy McClaen. I wrote all of those articles, under a male name. My mother's maiden name was McClaen." Those in the audience who remembered a few of the Newsies in the strike and had supported them, even though Pulitzer forbade it, sighed happily as they listened to her explain. "But I told you to go away and never come back!! Never!" The audience and the Newsies gasped in shock as they listened to Pulitzer's confession. "Oh Joe. That, my friend was a big mistake." Bright Eyes said warningly. Pulitzer gazed out over the now changed audience, with new eyes, as he saw that they had turned against him and had gravitated to the side of the Newsies.

"I just can't believe that. I mean, the fights in the streets! You came into the office with a bruise on the cheek from one of those ruffians!" Pulitzer protested, but the audience could tell that he was weakening. "But Joe, it was just kids coming in with the injuries. And we talked to those kids and their parents. The parents knew us and knew that if we hurt them we actually didn't mean to. It was all an act Joe. Even down to the fights between the Newsies." Bright Eyes said, grinning. "But your bruise," Pulitzer protested. "Lets just say that one of the actors got a little carried away." Bright Eyes said warily as she glanced behind her at a blushing Mush. Pulitzer was now out of words, as he had been at the end of the strike. There was silence in the auditorium now that the truth had come out. Finally, Jack figured out the right thing to say for the moment. "Hey everybody! Lets hear it for Bright Eyes McClaen O'Connor!!!" The audience burst with applause and cheers, from both Newsies and the guests.

As the cheers echoed around her, Bright Eyes turned around to the cheering Newsies behind her and sought out a lone face in the crowd. Even though he was dressed in a fancy suit, and his hair was slicked back, it didn't faze his smiling brown eyes that Bright Eyes found that she couldn't live without anymore. Bright Eyes ran into Racetrack's open arms. After a moment, Racetrack pushed her away from him and went down on one knee. "Bright, I'd give ya a ring, if I had one. An' I'd give ya a dress if I had da money. I'd give a ya a bouquet of roses, 'cept I don't got enough dough fer dat. So I've jest got myself. Is it enough? 'Cause I know dat I can't live widout ya anymore. Marry me?" Bright Eyes stared at Racetrack before she pulled her mother's silver ring off her finger and gave it to Racetrack, who grinned and slipped it on her ring finger. Bright Eyes' eyes filled with tears. "Of course I'll marry ya." Racetrack leapt from his knees and grasped Bright Eyes into his arms, nearly crying himself. The few Newsies who had witnessed the affair, clapped the two on the back and cheered, but many of them missed it, in their own moment of glory. For that moment was not over, and Bright Eyes' and Racetrack's moment had lasted for only a minute, but to them, would last for eternity.

As he hugged Bright Eyes, Racetrack remembered something and pulled the wilted white carnation out of his lapel and handed it to Bright Eyes, blushing. "It ain't no rose, but it'll look good wit' ya." Bright Eyes laughed through her still flowing tears as she accepted the wilted flower and touched its petals delicately with her fingers. Racetrack then pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, not the brand new, white one that had come with his suit, but his old handkerchief. The one that he had cut out of one of his mother's dresses before he fled from his home, the one that had been with him his whole life. He took this heirloom and touched it to his bride-to-be's cheeks. "Don't cry Bright. Dis is supposed ta make ya happy. Not sad." Bright Eyes laughed and clutched Racetrack. "I'm the happiest girl alive Race! An' I couldn't be happier!"

And so the curtain falls upon the Newsboys of New York, most of them cheering for their final and more satisfactory win against Pulitzer, but a few noticing the beautiful moment in their midst. Jack and Spot, watched as this moment unfolded and bloomed, much like the brilliant red rose in Spot's jacket. Spot watched the two and grinned. "I cain't believe dat ol' Race finally did it. An' I cain't believe what I'm gonna do." Jack looked at his friend curiously as Spot made his way over to Bright Eyes. As he approached, Bright Eyes turned and met the Brooklyn leader's gaze. "Bright, I know dat I said some pretty harsh words, before. Ya know when ya came back? I want ta know, well you see, what I'm tryin' ta say. Is dat I'm sorry. Can ya fergive me?" Bright Eyes gazed at Spot in happiness, and hugged him tightly. "Of course I can. I've been waitin' for ya to say dat fer such a long time!"

Behind them, Racetrack laughed. "Good grief Spot! I jest proposed to da woman, an' yer already tryin' ta steal her away!" Spot smacked Race on the shoulder as he laughed. "Too late Race. She's so attached ta you dat I tink dat me charms are beyond her." "Hey mind if old Jack Kelly joins da party?" Jack questioned as he approached the laughing trio. "Naw, what would we do widout ya Cowboy?" Spot asked amiably. The four friends stood together, finally united and not divided by petty differences that cause so much disaster among friends. The four laughed that night, at Pulitzer, at the World, and they laughed for the future generation, that would come all too soon.