i
just realized that I've been forgetting the disclaimer. Whoops. Anyhew, here it is:
I don't own any of these
characters except for Antonio Giuseppe, Martha Higgins, and anyone else who
wasn't in the movie. Disney owns everyone else. Don't sue me 'cause that would just be stupid and pointless if you did.
Alright, I want to thank
everyone who's been reviewing. Kathryn O'Brien, Gailstorm,
Ginger, Bam, Dice, ChibiSerenity, Joela
Alcott, Rede, Olivia, T.H., Agent Hotpants,
Princess MacEaver, you guys
all rock! All your encouragement and advice has helped me sooo much! You all get Chocolate Chewy Chips-Ahoy!!! (those things are addictive,
I'm telling you!).
I also want to especially thank
Caroline and Princess MacEaver for helping me when I
was stuck on this story.
This story is dedicated to Bam, who asked me to do this
story in the first place, getting the wheels ticking, and Danisha,
who's constant help with all the
planning/brainstorming for this story has helped keep the wheels moving.
Thank you sooooo much, the both of you!!!!
Chapter 3
"Get up, get up! Sell the papes! What is it with you kids, you're sleepin' your lives
away!" No. NOT again. I'm not gonna get up this
time. Forget it. They can't make me, YOU
can't make me. A guy has the right ta stay in a soft bed if he wants.
"Hey Race! Ya better get outta
bed or Ise gonna let Snipes
have your cigar!" calls Blink on his way to the washroom. Ha. Does
he think that some petty threat is gonna—What?! I fly out of bed and pull on my clothes
at record speed. If the horse that I had a so-called "hot tip" on
yesterday had gone as fast as I just did, I'd be
rich. Well, maybe not rich, but I coulda slept
in 'cuz I wouldn't of needed ta
sell today.
Glancing over at the side table, I feel a wave of anger wash over me.
Cyclops really did give my cigar to that little…when I get my hands on…
"Blink! When I get my hands on you!" I
rush into the washroom, preparing to pummel Blink when I see him standing there,
trying to suppress laughter. He reaches into his pocket, takes my cigar
out, and hands it to me.
"Well, it worked. Gotcha outta
bed." I snatch my cigar back from Blink with a
scowl. Alright, maybe I'm being a little
short with the guy, but I can't help it. I was up late last night with a
poker game. I didn't lost all my money, but I
definitely didn't win either. Blink notices my slight attitude.
"Hey man, I'm sorry 'bout the cigar thing. But we had to getcha up somehow." I manage to give Blink a small
smile,
"Yeah, I know. It's alright. I'm just a
little grumpy this mornin'." Blink nods and
goes to finish getting ready. I'm not gonna bother telling you about the rest of the morning
because it gets old, the same thing every day. So just hold on, and I'll talk t'ya again when somethin' worth tellin' ya about happens.
***
Well,
that didn't take long.
Here I am, about ta get my papes, when I
notice that everyone has gathered around the steps, and no one looks happy. I go over to Skittery,
about to ask him what's going on, when Jack arrives. After that, it doesn't
take long for the whole story to come out.
And am I mad.
Am I ever mad.
I haven't been this mad since that fixed game
back in '98, but that's a separate story.
Then I realize something: this whole price raise thing ain't any different than that
fixed game. There's
nothing we can do about it, heck, there's even less that we can do about it
'cause Pulitzer's one of the most powerful men in New
York.
By now,
Jack's in the middle of the group, and everyone's crowding around him, telling
him what we oughta do. Of course, I gotta put my two cents in. "It's a rigged deck, alright? They got all the marbles." As usual, I gotta say my piece in a gambling, what d'ay call it, meddafour? Anyway, Jack don't
like that idea. That little kid, Les,
runs up ta his side and tells us ta
let Jack think. Ha, this oughta be good. Like I expected, we're
standing here forever and Cowboy's still thinking. I roll my eyes, "Ya
done thinkin' yet?" and that seems to help him. When I hear what he comes up with, though, I can't help but laugh.
I mean, a strike? Sure, the idea's noble and all, but who are
we trying ta fool?
We're just a bunch of street kids and
Pulitzer's too powerful…
But once Jack's got an idea in his head, there ain't no stopping him, like that whole Santa
Fe thing. I
gave up on trying ta figure that one out awhile ago. Anyway, Jack's in full general of the army mode now (he gets like
this sometimes) and…wait, what is he doing?
He'd better be careful, I don't think the bulls
like it when you go climbing on statues of dead guys. It's supposedly disrespectful
or something. All of a sudden, I feel
some sort of feeling begin to wash over me.
I don't know what it is, but the things that
Jack's saying are starting to make more and more sense. I start off all not thinkin'
any of this is gonna work, then he starts ta make sense, then this kinda
fire comes all over me and I realize that I'd follow Jack anywhere. 'Cept maybe the
dentist…just the thought a' that makes me shudder.
This whole
mix of feelings is sweeping over me now: anger, pride, excitement…this is how
the…what were they called…oh yeah, colonists, musta
felt when they decided ta revolt against England. Now Jack's standing
on the headline board (what is that thing
called?), writing 'STRIKE' on it. If
he wasn't in trouble earlier for climbing on ol' Horace, he's in trouble now. But this time, it doesn't matter, 'cause this time we're the Newsboys Union and nothing can
stop us till we get what we want.
Next thing
I know, I'm on my way ta
Midtown. That brief period of time after
we decided ta go on strike was like this whirlwind of
activity, like those few moments right after they let all the horses go for a
race. Before I know it, I've volunteered ta go let the
newsies in Midtown know that we're on strike and ta
try ta get 'em ta join us. So that's where I'm headed now. Ya can come along
if ya want. And ta pass the time, I'll tell ya 'bout what it was like growin'
up.
Alright, dumb ending, I know, but I had to set up
the next flashback and I wasn't sure how.
N'kay, well, this is the part where I tell you
to review. So review!!!! (pwease?) And once you're done
reviewing, you can go r/r two other stories for me, k? First, go check out "Newsies: The Next
Generation" by Caroline Gottschalk Jackson, then go to "Memories of a Scab" by ChibiSerenity. If
you two are reading this: HI!!!!!. Now, if you like my story, you'll
love theirs. So go check those to
stories out, and review, or I'll hunt you down and
ring your doorbell (or knock on your door) and run away all day, kay? Toodles!
