Okay, two brief notes: I got the name of the restaurant (Van Wurtz) from City Hall Park

A brief note (okay, two of `em): I got the name of the restaurant (Van Wurtz) from City Hall Park. And I really, really, really suck at writing accents.

Chapter Two

Muted light filtered through the dirty windows into the crowded bunkroom. The boys shifted uncomfortably, shielding their eyes. Morris was the first to rise, trying to stretch the crick from his neck. He yawned and slapped Sully's arm. "Wake up, ya lousy bum."

Sully shifted, the dreamy smile on his boyish face faltering. "I hate waking up to your ugly face."

"Well, you ain't the picture of grace and beauty yerself," Morris said, turning to enter the washroom. Before he did, he noticed David's bed still hadn't been slept in. He shrugged it off and headed to the washroom.

Bleary hazel eyes gazed into the cracked mirror. The boy staring back at him was seventeen, with thick black hair and skin bronzed by the sun and weathered by the wind. He looked old for his age, like many of the newsies did.

He turned on the sink, dismayed to find the water freezing cold. "Great," he murmured. He splashed some water on his face and shivered.

By the time he'd dried his face, the other newsies were spilling into the washroom. Taking turns at the showers and sinks, they were all ready to go in less than a half an hour. They clopped down the stairs and headed across Manhattan.

The newsies all sold for different papers, but most sold for either the Journal or the World, the papers belonging to millionaires Hearst and Pulitzer. Morris and Sully parted when they reached the corner, Sully heading for the Journal, Morris for the World. Morris was first in a long line to get papers. "Hundred papes," he said, slamming down sixty cents.

"Selling light today, Cohen?" the distributor asked, sliding a hundred papers through the window.

Morris grabbed the papes. "Bad headline."

The headline was bad, but that had never stopped a newsie. Their life's work was to improve the headline and to cheat the customer. Morris paged through the paper, looking for something to sell. He rolled his eyes at the headline on the top of page two: Peaches not abundant at Manhattan open market. He let out a sigh, then smiled. Holding up a paper, he started calling out, "Extra, extra! Famine spreads through Manhattan! Get your papers here!"

Using that headline and others he found in the pages overlooked by most customers, he sold nearly half his papes before lunchtime. With a satisfied smile, Morris headed for the little restaurant where he always met Sully. He hadn't gotten a few steps from the crowded square that he usually sold in when a voice called out his name.

Morris turned to see a short, scrawny boy wriggling through the crowd, waving his arm and calling out to him. He grinned and shook his head. The boy's name was Joe Kiernan, but he was known as Hungry Joe on account of him eating so much, but always being skinny as a beanpole. Joe made his way to Morris in a couple of moments. Morris looked at him and asked, "Well?"

Joe struggled to catch his breath, then said animatedly, "Spot me a dime?"

Morris burst into laughter. "Where's your papes, Joe? Don't tell me you sold `em all."

Joe bit his lip and kicked the ground. "I kinda… I didn't have the money to buy `em. They're kinda `spensive, y'know?"

Morris sighed and dug into his pocket. He handed Joe a dime, then gave him the rest of his papers. "Ya might think about selling for the Sun, Joe. It's cheaper."

Joe laughed as he tucked the papes under his arm. "I don't wanna starve, Morris! Everyone knows the yellows sell the best!" The boy sobered. "Thanks. Yer a pal, Morris."

"Go sell some papes, ya lazy bum!" Morris said with a grin. Joe nodded and scurried back into the crowd, shouting some headline about a fire. Morris shook his head, almost worriedly, and continued to the restaurant.

The restaurant was called Van Wurtz and it was near the lodging house. Morris arrived before Sully, as he usually did and so he had some time to sit and read, one of the more unusual habits for a newsie. He drummed his fingers silently on the table while he paged through the book he'd bought the day before.

Sully sliding into the booth beside him made him raise his head. "Whatcha reading?" he asked.

"Alger," Morris said shortly.

"Algae?" Sully replied, confused.

Morris chuckled. "Horatio Alger. He writes about newsies and bootblacks, y'know. Like us. In the end they all become rich and famous somehow. Lovely thought, huh?" he said, putting the book down. "Davey didn't come back last night, did he?" He asked, changing the subject.

Sully snorted. "Nope. Maybe he fell off the bridge."

Morris was about to reply when the doors to Van Wurtz swung open and a girl entered. She was petite, with dark blonde hair streaked gold by the summer sun. She wore boys' clothes and carried a small bundle of the Sun over her shoulder. "Morris!" she called, hurrying to their table.

He smiled at her, one of his rare, flashing smiles. "Heya, Sunshine."

Annie looked too worried to smile at the nickname. "David's missing. We were supposed to meet last night and when he didn't come, I figured he was with you boys. But Blink told me he never came home."

Morris tried to look reassuring. "Maybe he wandered off to Brooklyn."

"Maybe he fell off the bridge," Sully repeated under his breath.

"We gotta find him. I'm worried," Annie begged.

Morris sighed. "I'll take bottle alley and the harbor. You take Central Park, okay? Those are his usual selling spots."

"What about me?" Sully asked, hating to be left out.

"You run over to Brooklyn, see if he was there last night," Morris said. He stood, tucking his paperback in his back pocket. "We'll meet back at the lodging house."

All three newsies left the small café and headed for their various search spots. Morris had no luck at the harbor, which was closest, but as he neared bottle alley, he could hear voices and fight noises. Rolling his eyes, he ran around the corner, into the alley, where, as he'd thought, two men were fighting- or rather, beating- David.

"Hey!" he cried, as a distraction. "Why don't you try your odds with two of us?" The guys both laughed and moved forward. Morris shook his head. "Y'know, boys, violence ain't gonna solve nothing," he said- right before catching the closest guy in the jaw with a mean right hook.

David had stood and gotten a bit of his bearings back, if not all and picked up a crate from the ground, smashing it over the second guys head. After a few minutes of fighting, both Morris and David saw an opportunity and turned and ran from the alley. They didn't speak until they reached the bunkroom of the lodging house. When they did, Morris said simply, "I thought you were gonna pay `em."

Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 0.6.7 -->