AN: Hey, thanks for all of the reviews, ya'll! I really appreciate them
(and I'm desperately trying to return the favor and review your stories).
Here's the next chappie. sorry it's a little late, but school and exams and
all are slowing me up.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Newsies.
"Haha, I won yet again!" Racetrack cried, reaching out to rake in the money. Dutchy threw a card at his eyes, temporarily blinding him.
"Race, how many times I gotta tell ya," he said, grabbing his cash before anyone else got a chance. "A pair three high doesn't beat a royal flush."
Racetrack stared gloomily at the pile of money (twenty-five cents of which used to be his) that was being piled into Dutchy's pocket. Of course, as a gambling addict, he knew his card games. He was just hoping that maybe nobody else did.
"I wonder when Mush is coming back?" Kid Blink commented. He felt it his duty to comment on his best friend's absence, even though it was a well- known fact that Mush had been on patrol tonight. Besides, if somebody didn't give a cue Mush wouldn't know when he should come in.
At that moment the door burst open. All of the newsies turned their heads in surprise. The weather (showing its usual appreciation of a story's atmosphere) had changed drastically in fifteen minutes. The outside world had become a place of driving rain and, if you managed to look up long enough without drowning, dark skies. A sudden flash of lightning tore through the darkness and illuminated the doorway, where a mysterious figure could be seen holding an obviously unconscious human in its arms.
When the figure had stood there long enough to achieve maximum dramatic affect, he stepped into the room. All of the newsies turned back to what they were doing. Then, with a collective psychic "oh, yeah," they stood up and rushed over to the two.
"Where'd you find her?" asked Boots, staring at the girl. He never got a chance to go on Newsies Patrol, being only about ten or twelve years old, and you could see the longing in his eyes.
"Oh, in some dark alley," Mush said, shrugging nonchalantly. "You know how these girls are."
"Is she alright?" Dutchy asked, looking down into her face. He poked her gently, hoping that she would wake up and look deep into his eyes, thus falling in love with him. Dutchy, like Boots, never went on Newsies Patrol, and he shuddered when he thought of the reason why.
"Back off, blondie," said Mush, yanking his prize out of the other newsboy's reach. He then looked at her fondly and sighed. "You know the rules. You find her, you keep her." All around him, newsies were shoving and elbowing each other, trying to get a good view of the new girl. Making his way toward the stairs by kicking the shins of anybody who was in his way, Mush prepared to carry the girl to one of the bunks. A mess of the more popular newsies, including Kid Blink, Jack, Spot, and, at the back, Racetrack, followed their friend upstairs.
As Mush laid the girl down on the blankets Racetrack, who was still in the back, poked Spot and hissed, "So what are you doing in the Manhattan lodging house?"
Spot looked at Race in bewilderment. "Why wouldn't I be here?"
"Um, isn't there some kind of gang war that Brooklyn's involved in right now?"
The girl was just starting to stretch, clenching her fists and yawning wide. The newsies in the front stared at her expectantly. Spot whispered distractedly out of the corner of his mouth, "Yeah? So?"
"Well," Racetrack said, talking slowly and carefully so that Spot might understand, "They need a leader to guide them and make sure nothing bad happens to his newsies." Obviously, the girl had just awoken, although Racetrack couldn't see because a wall of newsies obstructed his view. However, he did here a gasp, and Mush said, in a quiet voice:
"Don't worry, your safe. We won't hurt you."
At that moment, Spot arrived at his senses. "You're right! Gosh, I heard about a Mary Sue coming to Manhattan and I totally forgot about the gang war. My bad." He carefully removed himself from the line of taller newsies obstructing Racetrack's view and snuck out the door. Race, sniggering a little to himself, stepped into view.
"What's your name?" Mush asked. Maria was just about to answer when Racetrack, mouth wide, responded:
"Aahreea."
"What?" came the chorused question as the other newsies turned to stare.
Racetrack closed his mouth and swallowed, cursing himself inwardly for having messed up a perfectly good cliffhanger ending. Then, in a much weaker though still astonished voice, he said, "Maria."
Disclaimer: I don't own the Newsies.
"Haha, I won yet again!" Racetrack cried, reaching out to rake in the money. Dutchy threw a card at his eyes, temporarily blinding him.
"Race, how many times I gotta tell ya," he said, grabbing his cash before anyone else got a chance. "A pair three high doesn't beat a royal flush."
Racetrack stared gloomily at the pile of money (twenty-five cents of which used to be his) that was being piled into Dutchy's pocket. Of course, as a gambling addict, he knew his card games. He was just hoping that maybe nobody else did.
"I wonder when Mush is coming back?" Kid Blink commented. He felt it his duty to comment on his best friend's absence, even though it was a well- known fact that Mush had been on patrol tonight. Besides, if somebody didn't give a cue Mush wouldn't know when he should come in.
At that moment the door burst open. All of the newsies turned their heads in surprise. The weather (showing its usual appreciation of a story's atmosphere) had changed drastically in fifteen minutes. The outside world had become a place of driving rain and, if you managed to look up long enough without drowning, dark skies. A sudden flash of lightning tore through the darkness and illuminated the doorway, where a mysterious figure could be seen holding an obviously unconscious human in its arms.
When the figure had stood there long enough to achieve maximum dramatic affect, he stepped into the room. All of the newsies turned back to what they were doing. Then, with a collective psychic "oh, yeah," they stood up and rushed over to the two.
"Where'd you find her?" asked Boots, staring at the girl. He never got a chance to go on Newsies Patrol, being only about ten or twelve years old, and you could see the longing in his eyes.
"Oh, in some dark alley," Mush said, shrugging nonchalantly. "You know how these girls are."
"Is she alright?" Dutchy asked, looking down into her face. He poked her gently, hoping that she would wake up and look deep into his eyes, thus falling in love with him. Dutchy, like Boots, never went on Newsies Patrol, and he shuddered when he thought of the reason why.
"Back off, blondie," said Mush, yanking his prize out of the other newsboy's reach. He then looked at her fondly and sighed. "You know the rules. You find her, you keep her." All around him, newsies were shoving and elbowing each other, trying to get a good view of the new girl. Making his way toward the stairs by kicking the shins of anybody who was in his way, Mush prepared to carry the girl to one of the bunks. A mess of the more popular newsies, including Kid Blink, Jack, Spot, and, at the back, Racetrack, followed their friend upstairs.
As Mush laid the girl down on the blankets Racetrack, who was still in the back, poked Spot and hissed, "So what are you doing in the Manhattan lodging house?"
Spot looked at Race in bewilderment. "Why wouldn't I be here?"
"Um, isn't there some kind of gang war that Brooklyn's involved in right now?"
The girl was just starting to stretch, clenching her fists and yawning wide. The newsies in the front stared at her expectantly. Spot whispered distractedly out of the corner of his mouth, "Yeah? So?"
"Well," Racetrack said, talking slowly and carefully so that Spot might understand, "They need a leader to guide them and make sure nothing bad happens to his newsies." Obviously, the girl had just awoken, although Racetrack couldn't see because a wall of newsies obstructed his view. However, he did here a gasp, and Mush said, in a quiet voice:
"Don't worry, your safe. We won't hurt you."
At that moment, Spot arrived at his senses. "You're right! Gosh, I heard about a Mary Sue coming to Manhattan and I totally forgot about the gang war. My bad." He carefully removed himself from the line of taller newsies obstructing Racetrack's view and snuck out the door. Race, sniggering a little to himself, stepped into view.
"What's your name?" Mush asked. Maria was just about to answer when Racetrack, mouth wide, responded:
"Aahreea."
"What?" came the chorused question as the other newsies turned to stare.
Racetrack closed his mouth and swallowed, cursing himself inwardly for having messed up a perfectly good cliffhanger ending. Then, in a much weaker though still astonished voice, he said, "Maria."