Chapter Four
They didn't listen, and the next morning, the newsboys of Manhattan officially went on strike. They rioted on Park Row and on Broad. The ground of City Hall Park was littered with newsprint.
The newsies stood in the center of the World distribution center, triumphant, papers surrounding them as they tore and toppled stacks of the yellows. Sully was right; the police were too busy to respond- for a while. It was late afternoon before the cops showed up.
"Cheez it!" someone yelled, noticing the mounted police riding into the square. "It's the bulls!"
The newsies scattered as the cops rushed into the square, grabbing fleeing newsies as quickly as they could. One cop grabbed Annie's arm and pulled her away, toward the wagon.
"Hey!" Huey cried, diving for the cop. The bull let go of Annie's arm, giving her a chance to get away, and struggled to get the squirming fourteen-year-old off his back. He did eventually, and tossed the boy in the wagon, along with three others nabbed by the bulls. The newsies could only watch as the wagon rode away, Huey's face pressed against the bars.
"You've got five minutes," the officer said.
Morris silenced Sully before he could retort and they entered the jail. "Well, Kuehn, look what a mess you got yerself into this time."
Huey looked up from the breakfast gruel he was picking at and grinned. "Heya, fellas. How's it going?"
Sully grinned. "Better, now that you ain't around to screw everything up."
"How'd you get in here?"
Morris smiled and said, "We're your union representatives, after all."
Sully scoffed. "Morris bribed the bull five bucks," he informed him with a grin. In a quick motion, Sully tossed a small package of candy to Huey. "From the guys."
Huey grinned and tore into the package. "Gee, thanks!"
"What'd they give you?" Morris asked, leaning against the bars.
"Three months prob'ly," Huey said through a mouth full of licorice. "They're sendin' me to the Refuge later this mornin'."
"Should be loads of fun," Sully muttered sarcastically.
"At least I'll get three squares a day, better than I get on the streets."
Morris opened his mouth to reply when the guard shouted, "Times up, boys!"
Morris reached through the bars to shake Huey's hand. "Take care of yerself."
Sully imitated Morris and grinned. "Beware of the rats."
"Get out of there or you'll be staying for the night!" the cop warned, ushering them out.
Sully shot back, "Hold yer horses, we're comin', we're comin'."
They barely heard Huey's call of, "Good luck."
"We gotta do something."
Morris kicked the ground, sending a cloud of dust up around the crowd of boys standing around City Hall Park. "Whaddya mean?"
Sully replied, "You know exactly what I mean! They keep locking us up, there ain't gonna be no one left to strike!"
"And what are we supposed to do about it?" Morris demanded, not liking where Sully was going with it.
"There ain't enough of us."
"We've got Jersey-"
"We need Brooklyn."
"We've got Yonkers."
"We need Spot."
"No."
"Morris-"
"Jack! I said no! We've got `em on the run. I am not going to Spot!" Morris sighed and looked to Sully. "You with me?"
Sully nodded reluctantly, running a hand through his curly blond hair. "I'm with you."
Two hours after sunset, the streets of Manhattan were quiet. The gentle clopping of horse hooves was the only sound to be heard. The group moved silently through the darkness, following the wagon. It had almost reached the World distribution center, when the boys let out a war cry and attacked.
They hit the sides violently, tipping the wagon. The driver was jerked from his seat as other boys tore papers and threw them around.
Nobody heard the police riding up.
Morris climbed atop the fallen wagon, leading the boys in a chant of, "Strike, strike!" when Annie saw the cop ride up. She opened her mouth to shout a warning to the guys when she saw the glint of a gun in his hand.
"Morris!" she screamed, fighting her way forward.
He didn't hear her. But Sully, standing next to him, did. He moved fast, shoving Morris off of the wagon. Just as he did, the shot rang out. It missed Morris, who fell to the pavement, the wind knocked out of him.
Sully landed hard next to him. Morris struggled for breath, then sat slowly up, coughing. "Thanks, Sully."
The people were scattering in a panic. But even so, Morris was sure he would have heard a reply. Hands shaking, he reached out tentatively and touched Sully's still form. Even as he turned him over, he knew.
The policeman's bullet had hit its mark: the heart of the strike.
Annie shoved her way through the last of the crowd until she'd made it to Morris and Sully. She opened her mouth to ask if they were all right when her eyes focused on the sight before her.
Morris kneeled on the cobblestone, crouching over Sully's lifeless body. He was crying and his clothes were bloodstained. She didn't think he noticed or cared.
Her eyes filled. "Oh, dear Lord," she cried.
Morris looked up at her, face tear-stained and tortured. He opened his mouth, then shook his head and stood. He slowly walked away. She tried to call out to him, but her voice got lost in the wind.
Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 0.6.7 -->
