Disclaimer: Newsies don't belong to us...sadly...none of the characters in here belong to me...cept for Enchanted and Midnight...and that's cuz they're us.... Enjoy!

Mirrors


Enchanted didn't try to hide her smile as she emerged from the crowded racetracks. She quickly concealed a pocket watch into her vest pocket, waiting for Race to come out in search of it. Brushing back her unusual black-streaked-honey-brown hair, she laughed gleefully to herself. He had to walk her home now, now that she had filched his precious watch.

But all thoughts of Racetrack and a warm evening together died away as she searched up and down the street and caught sight of three familiar figures. "Luna! Snicker! Hey, Mimic, over here!" she waved jubilantly, beckoning them over, her large brown eyes flickering at the prospect of having a nice little gossip with them.

"Hey. Uh, can't talk now," Luna greeted, speaking for all of them, "We gotta go see Jacky-boy."

"What's wrong?" Enchanted asked worriedly, knowing that Midnight would never send over any of her girls unless there was a good reason. And besides that, all three of them had such worried looks on their faces. They didn't like wearing their emotions out on their sleeves, and the quickly hid whatever emotions they were feeling behind a hard-to-break facade.

"Nothing," Luna cut in quickly, the pale skin she was famous for getting even paler.

"You spect me to believe that?" Enchanted snorted as she looked the three girls over again. Luna and Snicker were definitely very nervous, fidgeting with their fingers, and shifting restlessly from foot to foot. Only Mimic could successfully squirrel away her emotions, but that was because she was such a good actress. Enchanted could sense that something was wrong, something much deeper than an ordinary boy problem or spat with a close friend. "Seriously, goils, what's wrong?"

Luna rocked forward secretively, and Enchanted could tell that she was very close to telling her, when Mimic smacked her and pulled her backwards.

"Fo' heaven's sake, goils!" Enchanted shouted, irritated, "Whadevah's happenin', I'll understand! I'll keep it damn secret if you want me ta!"

"No," Snicker readily shot back, "Just lead us back ta Jack, so we can tell him, and--"

"Dere was a fight," Luna voiced hurriedly, before anyone could stop her. She had decided to spill it all for two reasons. Enchanted was a good friend of Midnight, perhaps her closest, and she would undoubtedly want to be the first to hear. The other reason was to spite Mimic for her unheeded actions.

"Oh, annuda one, huh?" Enchanted turned away distractedly, already knowing that it was Midnight getting into trouble with some other guy again, most likely, someone from Brooklyn.

"Spot Conlon, to be exact," Luna said through gritted teeth, trying to contain her temper, but couldn't hide it through her clenched fists, "Dat jerk...dat..." she ranted on, her curses getting worse and worse, until even Mimic shied away from her in a well-brought-on fear.

Enchanted crossed her arms and waited for Luna to finish, and when she ended with a flourish and a growl, she then continued to explain briefly, what had happened.

"Wait!" Enchanted yelled, her voice getting louder, "So Midnight got hurt?" her voice came out in a screech. "Oh, God," she started pacing back and forth, oblivious to the three girls' arguments of 'She wasn't hurt that bad. Conlon was hurt more than she was!'

Interrupting the dark, somber mood, Racetrack came scampering out of the hotel, an enraged glare on his face. He ran past Enchanted without realizing who she was, did a double take that looked adorable on his face and back pedaled swiftly.

"Enchanted!" he snarled, "Gimme back me watch, now!"

Without even considering, she dug the antique, yet shiny (Race took his time to polish it as well as he could) pocket watch out of her vest pocket and tossed it halfheartedly at him.

Astounded, he caught it and gawked at her. "Enchanted Ordona," he started saying in an amazed way. "You've nevah jist handed me my watch befoah without a fight!"

"Not right now, Racetrack," she ordered, emphasizing every word.

He took one look at the four girls' faces and inwardly blanched. These girls didn't like showing if they were upset or afraid. And right now, their feelings were displayed on their faces and in their actions, for the entire world to see. "What's wrong?" he asked, in a calmer, more controlled tone that let them know he wasn't joking around now.

Snicker explained it to him then, with Luna and Mimic interrupting several times to set the facts straight and Enchanted barging in with questions that were left unanswered as they went on with their story. When all was said, the restless Enchanted jumped up from her perch, her train of thought occupied with one thing: to get up to the Bronx and see Midnight.

Race ran his hands through his unruly hair, wondering what he was going to do next, when he noted Enchanted making a hasty exit. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, Chant. Whea do ya t'ink you'se goin'?"

Her quick reply was, "Whaddya t'ink, smarty? I gotta see Midi."

"No!" he protested, jumping up, "Ya can't! Whad'll happen if Brooklyn's up dere waitin' fo' you?"

Mimic and Snicker readily agreed, saying that if Spot should find them creeping along the Brooklyn/Bronx limits, he would kick them around a little bit before giving them the boot. Luna nodded, accentuating everything the two girls said. "If we go and he catchs us, we're dead."

"Well, den, dere ain't nuttin' ta worry about," Enchanted replied curtly, "Cuz 'we' ain't goin' nowhere. I am though." As soon as she announced this, she hurriedly gave a huge kiss to Race and started off on her own, oblivious and deaf to their protests.

"Damn," Luna cursed, "Whad is wrong with dat goil?!"

"Nuttin' at all," Race beamed after Enchanted's retreating figure and stuck a cigar in his mouth.


Enchanted sidestepped a carriage that seemed intent on running her over. "Jesus," she muttered, shaking her head at the driver and his foolishness. Her thoughts turned back once again to Midnight, her closest friend, even more trusted than the girls at the Manhattan Lodging House were. Their friendship had started years ago, over a stolen cup of coffee, and had continued on to when Midnight and Enchanted moved to the Bronx to become newsgirls. The one thing that Enchanted hadn't counted on was her seemingly spontaneous attraction to Race. It was the only reason why she wasn't living in the Bronx Lodging House. Moving was something that Midnight almost forced her to do, really, telling her that if Enchanted didn't live closer to Racetrack, she would single-handedly break them up.

Enchanted shook her head, musing over Midnight's actions. Despite Midnight being so tough and hardened, she knew it concealed a rather soft heart. The only times when she exposed her sentimental side was when she got effectively drunk. Which she didn't do quite often.

Enchanted dodged another carriage and continued on her way to the Bronx.

~*~


Race led the three now-complacent girls through the ajar door of the Manhattan Lodging House. "Jacky-boy! Hey! Jack!"

"He ain't heah yet," a quiet voice made all four of them jump. Race looked up the stairs and smiled winningly at the arcane girl sitting alone on the second step. "How are ya, Rook?"

"I'm fine. T'anks for asking." The cold tone of voice in which she answered his obligated question would have made a complete stranger believe that she hated Racetrack. But Racetrack knew better. Rook had somber misgivings about the male gender and would have continued hating all of them had it not been for Jack. Of course, Race couldn't blame her for being so wary of men. If a girl had done to him what men had done to Rook, he would have probably sworn off of girls forever. And that wouldn't be good.

"Where is Jack?" he questioned in a low voice.

"I don't know," she answered nervously, picking at a tangle in her raven hair. Then, her deep chocolate eyes lit up suddenly. "Are we gonna have a pokah game tonight?"

If there was one thing about Rook that Race loved, it was her insane lucky streak. Racetrack considered it a challenge to play even poker against her, a game in which he had been blessed with the best skills and expertise of anyone in the Lodging House. Well, he amended the thought, since Rook came along anyways. "Yeah, we'll play tonight," Racetrack muttered, already knowing that whatever the outcome, she was sure to end up with more money than him.

Rook smiled at the three girls gathered behind Race. "Found any guys yet, goils?"

"Dere more pain den dey're worth," Luna rolled her eyes.

"Nah. Not really," Rook smiled enigmatically.

"Jist cuz you've got Jack," Snicker said bitterly, "Who happens ta be one of da best guys in da woild."

"Nah. Not really," Rook repeated, causing the three girls to laugh.

"Who else is upstairs?" Race asked after the laughter subsided.

"Pretty much everyone, cept Enchanted. She was with you, if I remembah."

Race nodded abstractedly and went past her on the stairs.

"See ya later ta you too," Rook grumbled under her breath and let the other three pass.

They had just gone a few feet into the Bunk Room when they heard an indignant screech. "Mush, git away from me journal!" There was a thud, like a heavy body hitting the ground, and then a groan.

"You'd t'ink he would have learned da foist time he tried dat," Race shook his head mournfully.

"No, cuz he's too stupid ta know any bettah!" the furious girl shot back. Her hair was midnight black and cut into a bob that grazed the skin just below her chin. Her skin was ordinary, and there was a sprinkling of freckles across her nose, surprising because she was Asian. Her almond shaped eyes were usually full of laughter, but right now, they shot anger at Mush who had dared to intrude on her private life.

"Ah, bettah leave em at it," Race muttered cynically, "in the next few minutes, dey'll be kissin' each udda so hard dey won't be able ta breath."

Snicker, true to her name, snickered.


Skittery lay on his bed, shutting off whatever light he was receiving by pulling a pillow over his head. "Go away, Hyp. Come on, I got a headache da size a Statue a Liberty, could ya just leave me alone?"

"Aww, you're no fun," Hyp criticized in a loud voice, "C'mon, Skittery, let's go do something! Are ya jist gonna sit around and do nothing?!"

"Yes," Skittery answered bluntly.

Race shook his head. It had surprised him when Skittery and Hyp had started going steady, being that they were complete opposites. When questioned about their relationship, Hyp would merely shrug and shoot her unusual violet eyes towards Skittery. "You know what dey say," she would answer wittingly, "opposites attract." It was the truth. Often, you would see her laughing or smiling while Skittery, who was always by her side, would be afflicted with one of his famous headaches. Tall and almost tan, Hyp was known to sing her headlines to catch peoples' attention.

IF was watching this all with an amused smile on her face. She was absentmindedly playing with the slingshot she always kept in her back pocket, while resting with Snitch on his bed, snuggled up tightly with him. Once in a while, he would run a hand through her wavy black hair. Her trademark was the scar that stretched around her neck from an earlier accident that she hated to talk about. Her name stood for Irish Flare, which fit her appropriately. She got mad as only the Irish could, with flashing Cray-an eyes and a foul mouth.


Race's attention was caught by Winter, who was quietly discussing something with her boy, Swifty. Race loved her uniqueness...she had a tattoo of the Japanese symbols of 'Woman' and 'Warrior' on her shoulder and a large snowflake on her lower back. Her hair was braided into thousands of tiny little braids. All the braids had metal intertwined in them. It must have been hell for whoever braided her hair. Winter looked up at Race with her emerald eyes and waved gleefully. Being on the streets of New York had toughened her up a lot, but to everyone's eyes she was still a motherly girl unless you got her mad. Then, it was best to run. And very fast.

Across the room, Whiskey was blatantly flirting with Specs. Her light green eyes were full of light and amusement and she raised a marked hand to brush his blonde hair out of his eyes---or rather, out in front of his spectacles. Her name was given to her because of the way she drank. She was constantly in a drunken daze and the scars on her hands were from her switchblade (when she was drunk, the switchblade was tantalizingly shiny and could move very, very fast). More often than it should happen, she started fights and got in the middle of them, using profanities strong enough to make even Spot blush. Now that she was with Specs, her drinking had gone down considerably.

Blink's girl, Wink (named for her seductive wink that could stop traffic, as Spot used to say) was doing what she loved to do: sing. Blink sat across from her, joining in with his rich voice and harmonizing whenever it sounded good, but it was mostly her. Her mud-colored hair went down to the small of her back and her green eyes were closed as she belted out a well-known jazz song.

The single boys, Snipeshooter, Itey, Boots, Pie-Eater, Crutchy and Snoddy were all gathered in the middle of the room, playing a rowdy game of poker.

All in all, it was rather chaotic in the crowded Bunk Room. The atmosphere was wonderful, though, full of unspoken devotion between everyone. Blink, who now noticed Race, shouted out across the room, "Hey, Race, whea's Enchanted? She give ya permission ta walk home widout her?"

It was a well-known fact how dominant Enchanted was. Without a question, she had gotten it from Midnight. Two hardened girls living on the harsh streets of the Bronx, they couldn't help but pick up personality traits from one another.

"Nice one, wise-mouth," Race grumbled amidst the laughter, "but I'se don't need permission ta do anything. Does anyone know whea Jack is?"

"Someone say my name?" Jack entered through the door behind Race, followed closely by a cheerful Rook, a big change since they saw her last on the stairs. He immediately noticed and observed the troubled look on their faces. "Shit," he muttered, knowing full well that the Bronx girls were in some sort of trouble. His good day plunged into a bad one within the matter of a minute. His first thought was of Midnight, and of her being horribly hurt. "C'mon," he led the three girls past the crowd and into the the empty bathroom. Somehow, he knew that the conversation had to stay private. Rook followed closely, not to be left behind. "All right, whad's goin' on? Is Midi hurt?" Tense and edgy, he waited nervously for their response.

Being leaders of territories, Midnight and Jack had a lot in common. They were good friends, and Rook didn't mind that they spent time together, knowing that the relationship was strictly friendship.

"No," Luna shook her head, relieving Jack of his worst worries.

"No, but dere was a fight," Mimic cut in.

"Between Spot and her," Luna continued. "She wasn't hurt dat bad, and Spot was worse off den her."

Snicker snickered at the statement. "She's a hell of a fighter.

"You're shoah dat she's okay?" Jack interrogated them.

"I'm shoah," Luna assured him, "You should be worried bout Spot."

"How hurt is he?" Rook asked curiously.

The three girls looked at each other, confusion in their eyes.

"Well," Mimic said after a puzzled silence, "we don't really know, but he was pretty hoit. Aftah a fight wid Midi, dere's no doubt dat he's got a few more scars than necessary."


They had no idea he had almost fainted several times on the short trip back to the Lodging House.


Jack sighed, feeling the weight of two partnerships on his shoulders. He knew that somewhere along the line, he might be forced to choose between Brooklyn and Bronx, and that was what troubled him. "Is dat da only reason you'se came ta see me?" he inquired wearily, "cuz I doubt you've come all da way heah ta tell me dere's been annuda fight between Spot and Midnight."

"Dat's all," Luna confirmed.

"Dat's all?" Jack repeated, surprised.

"Yeah, Midnight jist wanted ta let ya know. We'll be goin' now."

Rook sat back on the bathroom counter next to the sink and exhaled loudly, wondering how the two territories would settle things. All she ever heard about lately was how Spot and Midnight were always in a fight, a never-ending rumble. The animosity between Brooklyn and the Bronx seemed to stem out of nowhere, as most animosities do. Rook nervously picked at a nonexistent tangle in her raven black hair and bit her lip, apprehensive for the trouble that was going to come in the next few weeks.

The three girls exited the bathroom, while Rook placed a comforting hand on Jack's shoulder and gave him a tiny kiss on the cheek. She had never seen him so troubled.

Snicker turned back before they left the Lodging House, remembering that Enchanted was. "Oh, and Chanty'll prolly spend da night at da Bronx, all right?"

"All right," Jack said absent-mindedly, watching the three girls open the heavy wooden door and shut it firmly behind them. Distractedly, he turned back to the rest of his newsies, who were watching his face with open curiousity.

"Jack," Skittery called, making him jump, "whad did dey say?"

"Yeah, dey're Bronx goils, aren't dey?" Boots asked.

Jack nodded, confirming the question. "Listen, guys," he raised his voice. Instantly, the whole room quieted down and shifted their attention to the Manhattan leader. "Dere's gonna be trouble between Brooklyn and da Bronx. More den dere ever was before."

There was silence as they all contemplated this.

After a few moments, Mush spoke up and stated what was on everyone's mind. "But us Manhattan newsies are friends wid both da Bronx and Brooklyn. So which one do we help?"

Jack considered his answer for a few moments and then said in a stronger, more surer voice, "We gotta help both a dem stop dis. Otherwise, we're all in trouble.

"Why?" questioned Psyche.

"Cause dere's gonna be war," Jack replied in a matter-of-fact voice.

"Spot and Midnight would never let it come ta dat!" Mush cried indignantly.


"You don't know them, den," Jack said sorrowfully, "Dey're both headstrong, stubborn, and unfortunately, da both a dem don't know when ta give it up."



Enchanted burst into the Bronx Lodging House. "MIDNIGHT!" she bellowed.

"I'm right heah, Chanty, dere's no need ta shout," said a complacent voice.

"I'm so pissed of at you! Don't ya know when ta give it up?!"

"Oh please. Drop it, and pretend ta be happy ta see me, all right?" Midnight appeared out of the Bunk Room doorway.

"Under different circumstances I would be ecstatic ta see you, but your stupid rumble wid Spot kinda makes me a lil bit mad. Uh-uh," Enchanted blocked Midnight from leaving the Bunk Room, "you ain't goin' nowhere. Git back in bed, Midi."

"Why?" Midnight growled back fiercely.

In response, Enchanted briefly tapped Midnight on her stomach, knowing from watching her that that particular area was sore.

"Ow!" Midnight recoiled, "Chanty! What was dat for? Damn!" She lifted up her shirt to reveal the purple and green bruise that was starting to spread.

"Oh hell no. You're gettin' back in bed, ya hear me?" Enchanted ordered when she studied the gruesome thing.

"I'm fine!" Midnight nearly screamed.

"I've known you for years," Enchanted tartly retorted, "and dat tough act don't work on me. So get in bed."

Midnight grimaced and narrowed her mahogany eyes. "I'se don't believe dis!" she muttered as she stormed back into the Bunk Room and flounced down into her bed. "Happy now?!"

"You need anythin'?" Enchanted asked, for a moment showing her rarely seen tender side. Midnight shook her head rigidly. "I t'ink it's gettin' outta hand, Mid," she stated, "you guys have been fighting evah since you met! Don't ya evah git tired?"

Midnight only sighed.

Enchanted steeled herself for what she was going to say, knowing before she uttered the words that they would be a waste of time. "Back down, Midi, before you really get hoit."

Midnight's temper immediately flared and her eyes flashed fire, like brittle wood being tossed into a fire. "What?! Are you insane, Chanty? I'll nevah back down to dat pig in suspendahs! Dere's not a chance in hell!"

Enchanted rolled her eyes. She had heard this all before, a million times to be precise, and now she was going to hear it again.

"If I'se back down, it means I'm scared of him, and I ain't scared of Spot!" She said the name with loathing. "I fought 'im dis morning, and I didn't do dat ta waste my time! I am not backin' down!"

"All right," Enchanted raised her hands in defense, "calm down. It was jist a suggestion. Jesus, I wish you had a guy. Maybe den you wouldn't erupt in people's faces as often as you do." She shook her head disappointedly, much like an irritated parent would.

Midnight chuckled with a wide grin on her face. She playfully glared at her best friend, who was looking down at her with a friendly light in her eyes. "Well, as long as it ain't dat high and mighty son of a bitch Spot," Midnight rolled over on her side, turning away from Enchanted and facing a half-open window, "den fine."


Ethan nervously stepped off the boat, looking around for the first time at New York. About a week ago he had packed his trunk full of clothes and stuffed his coin wallet as full of money. Excited at seeing the sights, he nearly dropped his trunk in the water more than once and had been reprimanded by his father. This being his first time in the U.S., his goal was to just have fun. "All right, Ethan," he heard his overworked father say as he descended after him, "I've been called off to business in Boston.

"Father, what about your vacation?" Ethan asked concernedly. His father was working himself to the bone, and this was to be a family vacation.

"I'll take one another time, Ethan. I trust you'll be in good shape when I find you next. Remember the hotel that I told you about?"

Ethan nodded.

"I'll see you there. Goodbye, Ethan," he stuck out his right hand formally. Sometimes, Ethan believed that his father was incapable of anything demonstrative. "I'll see you soon."

"Goodbye, Father," Ethan shook his hand primly.

As Father walked back on the boat and Ethan waved goodbye there was only a single thought on his mind: how he was going to pass the weeks by without so much as a tour guide.

Nervously, he fingered the shimmering key hanging on a chain on his neck.