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Fairy Higgins shouldered her papes and walked away from the Distribution Office whistling a small tune she had made up on the spur of the moment. She watched as her siblings spread out to their respected places where they sold the most, Grabs to the corner near Tibbys, Picks and Pockets outside the horse races, Cowboy to the entrance of Central Park, Angel and Sunshine to the block away from the Brooklyn Bridge, Taps and Ice, selling anywhere in between. She sighed and called out a headline loudly, smiling endearingly as her papes were bought by her eager customers. The fire yesterday had made a good headline. Everyone wanted to know about it, wanted to find out who did it and if they would be punished. Fairy knew that the only reason they wanted to know is not because it once housed Oscar Delancy, but because it once housed the Mayor and his family. Not the Mayor in charge now, but the Mayor during the strike that her own parents had participated in.
She often wondered about those years in which her Mama and Papa participated in. She wondered what it would be like to be on strike and to be soaking Newsies every day, and going to Irving Hall for a rally. She had been inside Irving Hall often, but that had been to see Medda. Medda had long since retired her singing voice and was content to set up appointments for hopeful singers. Thought it had been a while since she'd been inside, she still remembered the sparkling crystal chandeliers, the wooden banisters, their curilicues and frills glinting like gold in the lamplight, the large stage and the numerous velvet seats. Her Papa often said that the strike and the rally wasn't as glamorous as she thought, but she didn't care. It sounded intriguing to her. Although she wondered what it had really been like.
It was hard for her to imagine her parents young and fighting for their rights. It was just unusual. For as long as she had known her parents, she had just known them as the quiet kind people who only fought when they had to. It was too hard to imagine that her father, who now worked in the Distribution Office had once stood outside that very office and protested the price of papes to the Distributer, a guy named Wiesel, or Weasel as her father called him. She remembered her parents talking about him. Her father would call him Weasel and her Mama would smile, but then smack him and say, "Let the poor man rest in peace." She knew that Weasel was long since dead. Mama didn't like to talk badly about the dead, even if it was Weasel.
She also wondered what her parents' friends were like when they were younger, Spot, Blue, Red, Jack, Kid Blink and all the rest. She knew them all and knew their children, but she often wondered what they were like in their younger years. Was Spot like Sketch, cocky and a total flirt? Was Blue still as tough on the outside but sweet on the inside as Jade described? And the other Newsies, where they the same?
Many of the original Newsies had long since passed on. Mush had packed up his family and left, eager to see other things besides the streets of New York City. Kid Blink and his wife were still around, but they had moved back to Queens, even though Craps and Joy still sold in Manhattan. Crutchy, whom Fairy had only known for a few years of her life, seven of them actually, had since died. Her father and Jack always said that he wouldn't live to an old age, and it was sort of a miracle that he had made it to twenty. Fairy smiled in rememberance at the rather old fashioned young man, whom she had called "Crunchy", mispronouncing his name completely. But Crutchy hadn't minded, in fact, he often said it was an improvement. She sighed, remembering the younger, happier times of her life.
Angel turned to look at her sister. Sunshine was busy on the next corner selling papes. Angel looked into her hands at the one pape she had left. She smiled and walked quickly to Sunshine. "Hey Sunny, I'm takin' a short day okay? I'll be back." She said as she walked away briskly. "Where ya's goin' Angel?" Sunshine asked, frowning. Angel smiled as she turned around. "Dunno yet! It don't matta none! I'll be back in plenty of time Sunny! Doncha worry!" She called as her walked eased into a run. Sunshine rolled her eyes and shook her head, calling out the headlines.
Angel stopped a few blocks away to look at her sister. She was still selling her papers and hadn't noticed the urgency with which she left. That was good. Now she only had to sneak onto the Brooklyn Bridge without being noticed by her sibling. She didn't want her knowing where she was going at ALL. She crept past her sister's line of vision, ignoring the stares she got from the people walking off and on the bridge. Then she gulped and ran for it, leaping onto the bridge and ducking beneath the railing. She peeked around the edge. Sunshine hadn't noticed. She was busy accepting change from a customer. Angel grinned and took a chance, running down the length of the bridge and into the Brooklyn territory.
She took a deep breath and looked around. She was past the Brooklyn boundary, and now she just had to find her way back to the building. Angel figured that it wasn't still burning, but it was somewhat. It had been such a big blaze that a thin line of smoke still drifted to the sky. She frowned and began to edge up closely to the wreck, poking around in the cinders. She was wondering how they started such a blaze, and if whoever had done it had left a clue for her to follow. All too soon, she found one. Off to the side, obviously blown by the wind, was a little note, stuck in a grass patch. She picked it off and looked at it. It was the address of this house, poorly written and with many words mispelled. She frowned as she attempted to read it. It wasn't just the address, it was directions. It read:
W., go dowen to Brooklin and take a write. The bulding is onli a few blox a way from it. It is big, with blu trim and wite paint. Oscar D. used to meet ther. The number is 4425. You now the stret. Hope this helps you. Keep in tech. Mikey
Angel frowned as she read the letter over and over again. Who was this W. and why was he did he burn the building down? Who was Mikey and what was his connection to W.? And Oscar D.? That had to be Oscar Delancy. He was the only one with those initials that she knew had met there. How did he fit in? Oscar had long since left Manhattan, but was still causing trouble, but so what? Why would W. want to burn down a place that Oscar Delancy USED to meet in? Unless. Unless there was a personal reason behind it all. Maybe revenge? Was it one of Oscar's former gang members or something? Angel didn't know what to think. She put the note in her pocket and backed away, walking slowly into the business section of Brooklyn.
She walked up to a restaurant and walked in, sat down and fingered the note again. She looked at it and laid it on the table. Obviously Mikey wasn't very well educated. He didn't know how to spell in the least. Most of it was right, but the other half wasn't. But most of all, who was W.? Her head came up out of habit as the bell on the door jingled as another customer came in. Actually, seven customers. All of them grubby boys. They sat down at a table and instantly were engrossed in conversation. Angel shrugged and looked away, fingering the note and pressing her hand to her head as she thought. She slipped it back into her pocket as she ordered, but pulled it out again as she ate. She barely tasted the savory hot dog as she eyed the note and almost didn't see anyone, so with good reason, she jumped when she was addressed by a low, male voice.
"How are ya teday? Huh? Ya look like a sweet-heart." Angel looked up and saw a tall boy standing by her table, his large, dirty hand pressed on the table. He was grinning and as Angel glanced over at his table, she noticed that his friends were watching with interest, amused smiles on their faces. The stranger had big, staring blue eyes, orbs that seemed to swallow her up if she looked too long. Those eyes contrasted so sharply with his jet black hair, that Angel was temporarily taken aback. She had never seen anyone like him before. Then she shook her head, telling herself to snap out of it. Immediately she narrowed her eyes. "Dats all dat you know. Lemme tell ya one ting, I ain't no sweet-heart." She said firmly.
The boy grinned and leaned down. "An' ice cream sundae says you ain't." He said. Angel faltered, but glared at him. "I don't want nothin' from you. I don't take nothin' from nobody." The boy put on a sad expression, though Angel could clearly see the laughter in his eyes. "Not even ice-cream?" He mourned. "Not even ice-cream. Now if you'll 'scuse me." She said, pushing him aside as she stood up. "Aw, you ain't gonna give me nothin'? Not even a little kiss fer da compliment?" The boy laughed. Angel frowned and turned around. "Listen buddy, you might be able ta trick udda goils wit' dat pouty 'spression, but you ain't foolin' me. You don't deseive nothin' from me, 'specially not a kiss. I don't even know you an' I don't care to. So git outta my way." She said, pushing into him again. The boys at the table, hooted and laughed at their companion. To Angel's surprise, the boy wasn't offended. He merely grinned bigger. "Don't worry 'bout it. Yer right I don't deseive nothin'. 'Specially not from an' angel like you." He grinned, winking at her as his companions howled. Angel was taken aback as he called her by her very name, but didn't say anything, just pushed out the door, leaving the boy and his laughing friends behind her.
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Fairy Higgins shouldered her papes and walked away from the Distribution Office whistling a small tune she had made up on the spur of the moment. She watched as her siblings spread out to their respected places where they sold the most, Grabs to the corner near Tibbys, Picks and Pockets outside the horse races, Cowboy to the entrance of Central Park, Angel and Sunshine to the block away from the Brooklyn Bridge, Taps and Ice, selling anywhere in between. She sighed and called out a headline loudly, smiling endearingly as her papes were bought by her eager customers. The fire yesterday had made a good headline. Everyone wanted to know about it, wanted to find out who did it and if they would be punished. Fairy knew that the only reason they wanted to know is not because it once housed Oscar Delancy, but because it once housed the Mayor and his family. Not the Mayor in charge now, but the Mayor during the strike that her own parents had participated in.
She often wondered about those years in which her Mama and Papa participated in. She wondered what it would be like to be on strike and to be soaking Newsies every day, and going to Irving Hall for a rally. She had been inside Irving Hall often, but that had been to see Medda. Medda had long since retired her singing voice and was content to set up appointments for hopeful singers. Thought it had been a while since she'd been inside, she still remembered the sparkling crystal chandeliers, the wooden banisters, their curilicues and frills glinting like gold in the lamplight, the large stage and the numerous velvet seats. Her Papa often said that the strike and the rally wasn't as glamorous as she thought, but she didn't care. It sounded intriguing to her. Although she wondered what it had really been like.
It was hard for her to imagine her parents young and fighting for their rights. It was just unusual. For as long as she had known her parents, she had just known them as the quiet kind people who only fought when they had to. It was too hard to imagine that her father, who now worked in the Distribution Office had once stood outside that very office and protested the price of papes to the Distributer, a guy named Wiesel, or Weasel as her father called him. She remembered her parents talking about him. Her father would call him Weasel and her Mama would smile, but then smack him and say, "Let the poor man rest in peace." She knew that Weasel was long since dead. Mama didn't like to talk badly about the dead, even if it was Weasel.
She also wondered what her parents' friends were like when they were younger, Spot, Blue, Red, Jack, Kid Blink and all the rest. She knew them all and knew their children, but she often wondered what they were like in their younger years. Was Spot like Sketch, cocky and a total flirt? Was Blue still as tough on the outside but sweet on the inside as Jade described? And the other Newsies, where they the same?
Many of the original Newsies had long since passed on. Mush had packed up his family and left, eager to see other things besides the streets of New York City. Kid Blink and his wife were still around, but they had moved back to Queens, even though Craps and Joy still sold in Manhattan. Crutchy, whom Fairy had only known for a few years of her life, seven of them actually, had since died. Her father and Jack always said that he wouldn't live to an old age, and it was sort of a miracle that he had made it to twenty. Fairy smiled in rememberance at the rather old fashioned young man, whom she had called "Crunchy", mispronouncing his name completely. But Crutchy hadn't minded, in fact, he often said it was an improvement. She sighed, remembering the younger, happier times of her life.
Angel turned to look at her sister. Sunshine was busy on the next corner selling papes. Angel looked into her hands at the one pape she had left. She smiled and walked quickly to Sunshine. "Hey Sunny, I'm takin' a short day okay? I'll be back." She said as she walked away briskly. "Where ya's goin' Angel?" Sunshine asked, frowning. Angel smiled as she turned around. "Dunno yet! It don't matta none! I'll be back in plenty of time Sunny! Doncha worry!" She called as her walked eased into a run. Sunshine rolled her eyes and shook her head, calling out the headlines.
Angel stopped a few blocks away to look at her sister. She was still selling her papers and hadn't noticed the urgency with which she left. That was good. Now she only had to sneak onto the Brooklyn Bridge without being noticed by her sibling. She didn't want her knowing where she was going at ALL. She crept past her sister's line of vision, ignoring the stares she got from the people walking off and on the bridge. Then she gulped and ran for it, leaping onto the bridge and ducking beneath the railing. She peeked around the edge. Sunshine hadn't noticed. She was busy accepting change from a customer. Angel grinned and took a chance, running down the length of the bridge and into the Brooklyn territory.
She took a deep breath and looked around. She was past the Brooklyn boundary, and now she just had to find her way back to the building. Angel figured that it wasn't still burning, but it was somewhat. It had been such a big blaze that a thin line of smoke still drifted to the sky. She frowned and began to edge up closely to the wreck, poking around in the cinders. She was wondering how they started such a blaze, and if whoever had done it had left a clue for her to follow. All too soon, she found one. Off to the side, obviously blown by the wind, was a little note, stuck in a grass patch. She picked it off and looked at it. It was the address of this house, poorly written and with many words mispelled. She frowned as she attempted to read it. It wasn't just the address, it was directions. It read:
W., go dowen to Brooklin and take a write. The bulding is onli a few blox a way from it. It is big, with blu trim and wite paint. Oscar D. used to meet ther. The number is 4425. You now the stret. Hope this helps you. Keep in tech. Mikey
Angel frowned as she read the letter over and over again. Who was this W. and why was he did he burn the building down? Who was Mikey and what was his connection to W.? And Oscar D.? That had to be Oscar Delancy. He was the only one with those initials that she knew had met there. How did he fit in? Oscar had long since left Manhattan, but was still causing trouble, but so what? Why would W. want to burn down a place that Oscar Delancy USED to meet in? Unless. Unless there was a personal reason behind it all. Maybe revenge? Was it one of Oscar's former gang members or something? Angel didn't know what to think. She put the note in her pocket and backed away, walking slowly into the business section of Brooklyn.
She walked up to a restaurant and walked in, sat down and fingered the note again. She looked at it and laid it on the table. Obviously Mikey wasn't very well educated. He didn't know how to spell in the least. Most of it was right, but the other half wasn't. But most of all, who was W.? Her head came up out of habit as the bell on the door jingled as another customer came in. Actually, seven customers. All of them grubby boys. They sat down at a table and instantly were engrossed in conversation. Angel shrugged and looked away, fingering the note and pressing her hand to her head as she thought. She slipped it back into her pocket as she ordered, but pulled it out again as she ate. She barely tasted the savory hot dog as she eyed the note and almost didn't see anyone, so with good reason, she jumped when she was addressed by a low, male voice.
"How are ya teday? Huh? Ya look like a sweet-heart." Angel looked up and saw a tall boy standing by her table, his large, dirty hand pressed on the table. He was grinning and as Angel glanced over at his table, she noticed that his friends were watching with interest, amused smiles on their faces. The stranger had big, staring blue eyes, orbs that seemed to swallow her up if she looked too long. Those eyes contrasted so sharply with his jet black hair, that Angel was temporarily taken aback. She had never seen anyone like him before. Then she shook her head, telling herself to snap out of it. Immediately she narrowed her eyes. "Dats all dat you know. Lemme tell ya one ting, I ain't no sweet-heart." She said firmly.
The boy grinned and leaned down. "An' ice cream sundae says you ain't." He said. Angel faltered, but glared at him. "I don't want nothin' from you. I don't take nothin' from nobody." The boy put on a sad expression, though Angel could clearly see the laughter in his eyes. "Not even ice-cream?" He mourned. "Not even ice-cream. Now if you'll 'scuse me." She said, pushing him aside as she stood up. "Aw, you ain't gonna give me nothin'? Not even a little kiss fer da compliment?" The boy laughed. Angel frowned and turned around. "Listen buddy, you might be able ta trick udda goils wit' dat pouty 'spression, but you ain't foolin' me. You don't deseive nothin' from me, 'specially not a kiss. I don't even know you an' I don't care to. So git outta my way." She said, pushing into him again. The boys at the table, hooted and laughed at their companion. To Angel's surprise, the boy wasn't offended. He merely grinned bigger. "Don't worry 'bout it. Yer right I don't deseive nothin'. 'Specially not from an' angel like you." He grinned, winking at her as his companions howled. Angel was taken aback as he called her by her very name, but didn't say anything, just pushed out the door, leaving the boy and his laughing friends behind her.
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