Okay, the votes are in. The results are..~drum roll please~~ a week and a half and no sister! And just for you, Rebellious Observer, I am going to be writing in an alternate slashy ending. For the homophobes out there, do not worry. You will still get a romance free ending, but after that last chapter (and don't worry I will make it *painfully obvious that it is the ending, before you go on and burn your eyes out=) there will be *another ending for those who like the whole slashy Jack/Spot thing. And, Rebellious Observer, you were right it does fit in so nicely! Here's a cookie just for you!(::) And for Dead Poet-Here's your fig Newton! [] Have two. They're pretty small. [] Hee. For Blondy Bear, who has loyally reviewed *all my fics (even the ones I haven't got posted yet!)- You get this lovely little...er....thing. M^/F Do you know what it is? It's what we talked about at school the other day when Kurt was there. Remember? The three-legged rooster Singing the National Anthem while (edited due to content). Like it? Trust me. That's really what it is. Singah-You get a chocolate chip cookie(::). And hey! If you like slash-you get your romance too! Rae Kelly-thanks for continuing to review. Makes me feel all tingly inside when someone I don't tell that I've posted bothers to return! You get a cookie with icing on it! (@) . MooBug-You get a cookie with icing for the same reason-(@). Bronxa-thanks for the Crutchy review. And last but not least -Neffie- thanks for the vote. They pretty much decided it. You get an oatmeal Raisin cookie because I haven't given any of those yet. (%) . And I promise that really is oatmeal rasin.
Oh! Looky here....there's a cookie left over. (Takes a big bite) 3:) Yummy!

And look! 20 REVIEWS! I never got this many reviews before. And now....On with the show!
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Jack rushed towards the corner Fox had described in blind panic. He knew that this was bad, and he didn't know what to do about it. It was all his fault. He should have tried harder to make Spot let him go with him. Really, he told himself, Spot shouldn't get to decide it anyway. He's only sixteen! Jack rounded the corner to see three of his newsies standing by a busted wagon. They were all very somber, and were all pointedly not looking at the ground in front of them. When he got to them, they all tried not to look at him *or the ground in front of them. Jack spoke first. "Well? What da hell is goin' on heah?!? What da hell does you'se mean dat sumthin happened?"

Race pointed to a spot next to the wagon behind them. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the puddle on the ground was quickly-drying blood. And right in the middle of it was a terrifyingly familiar black cane. Jack let out a loud, angry scream, cursing who ever did this, and letting out a commentary of what he would do to them. The three boys, two of which had known him for over half their lives, were amazed at the fluency and imagry of his threats. After a moment or so, Jack wound himself down and now he simmered with blind rage. He paced back and forth, muttering incoherently, and occasionally throwing something. He launched a sray potato at the wagon, as if it was wholly responsibele, then cried out. "Thas it! Poifect!" Without further explanation, he grabbed Spot's cane and the letter, both still with blood on them, and raced back in the direction he had come from.

The other's looked at each other blankly, each silently praying for their leader's sanity. They followed, subdued.


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Savannah pulled back on the reins, slowing the horses. She walked them as close as she could get to the front porch before waking up the mystery boy, as she had decided to call him, until she could get more information. He had settled himself down in the back of the wagon after only a few yards, muttering about not being able to sit up for all that long. He had fallen back asleep right after, and she feared that he had suffered a head injury. Someone down the road from her had gotten hit in the head by a falling piece of plywood and he had had trouble staying awake. Soon after, he lapsed into a coma, and when he woke up, he was no longer the same. He talked funny, sometimes saying things that didn't make sense, and he wasn't as smart as he was. The teachers at school had sent him home, saying that his injury had made him retarded. Savannah had thought that was very rude, and she meant to tell them so, but the next school day, there was a new teacher.

Savannah went up to the house and un locked the door. She propped it open and turned on the lights that let her see up the staircase. She went up and pulled some sheets out of the linen closet so as to make up an extra be. She went to the guest room and threw the bedclothes on it quickly. She went back outside, and woke Mystery Boy. Once roused, he looked around, confused. "Where--?" He began.

"We're at my house. I'm gonna take you to the doctor tomorrow. Come on, now, though. You've gotta go inside." He shakily climbed down and up on the porch. She slid her arm around his waist, and a second later, he slid his around her shoulders. He wasn't walking well enough to go it by himself and they both knew it. After he had made it to his room, she let go of him ant pulled the comforter down. He slowly climbed into the bed and she threw it back over him. He looked a little more awake from the walk, and he looked at is surroundings. She bagan to leave the room, but heard him speak. "What?"

"I'm all doity. I'se gonna get all dese white sheets ruint." He repeated.

"Oh, that's all right. I can bleach them out. Go to sleep." He nodded and watched as she turned out the light and shut the door behind her as she left. He wondered what had happened as he drifted into oblivion.

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"Stupid Newsies allays messin up ouah sellins. Dey tink dey's bettah den us. Well, we showed dem, huh, Morris. Yeah, we shuah showed dem." Oscar laughed, drunkenly.

"Yeah, dat's foah damn shuah. An dat idea dat I'se had wid da lettah abou' is sistah, dat was real smaht. Ain't nevah gonna be anudah like it." The four boys had decided that they didn't want to walk back to the city, so they stopped at a little inn they had passed on the way. They'd asked about a wagon back, and it turned out that one of the customers were heading that way tomorrow. He told them they could tag along, if they didn't mind riding in the back with the chickens. They agreed, since he wasn't charging anything and the other ride options they had were pay a dollar each to the cab driver, or steal another wagon. They had also decided to spend the night at the inn's bar. All the other patrons had left, and the bartender had left for the night, leaving out three bottles of whiskey, and locking up all the rest.

"Hey, what's we gonna do bou' dat goil we runned off da road?"

"We ain't gonna do nuthin about 'er. She ain't woith nuthin like money, an she ain't pretty enough ta be woith nuthin else." Morris laughed, and damn near fell off his stool. Bruiser and Lefty, passed out in the corner, didn't oblect when Oscar wobbled over and stole the bottle they'd been sharing. He took a big swallow, and tripped over a large nothing that seemed to be lying in the middle of the empty-of-all-but-him dance floor. He crashed to the ground on top of the now busted bottle. Morris rolled his eyes, and got up to see if his brother was all right. He wasn't, obviously, as he was now passed out cold.

He apparently decided to join his crew and he passed out as well. They continued to lie there, until about ten the next morning, when the bartender decided to open, and then they continued to be passed out in a broom closet until nearly an hour afterwards, when they were woken by large amounts of cold water. Their ride had hecided that he was ready to leave, fully functional due to the very small amounts of liquor that he had consumed at dinner the night before. They all climbed into his wagon, and fell asleep again, not minding the chicken shit one bit.

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So, how was it? I have another thing for you to answer, though this one really has a whole lot of nothing to do with the story. So ya don't have ta answer it if ya don't wanna. Okay, here goes.

Would you rather have:
a) a lemming-shaped piece of cheese
b) a cheese-shaped piece of lemming
c) a big rock
d) a third of someone's soul
e) coulrophobia
f) an extra toe
g) a green martini umbrella


Now, there is no right or wrong answer (don't ya just hate it when teacher's say that? Ya know it means that it's a trick question!), but you get bonus points for choosing something! And like I said, there is no right or wrong answer. Unless, of course, the one on the left is right or the one on the right is right, because if the one on the right is wrong, then the one on the left is right, but if the one on the left is wrong then the one on the right is right. Right? Unless of course the shoe in the middle is right, which brings up all sorts of possibilities, like is the left right over the middle simply because.....