Felicity laughed quietly to herself as an uproar of newsies sounded their enthusiastic response to the Swedish Medda-lark's usual question.
"So newsies, what new?" echoed backstage to a small room filled with fabric, fitting dummies, and a single girl with cascading red hair and gem blue eyes. Shaking her head as the rowdy shouts made their usual path to her small space, Felicity carefully stitched the vibrant violet fabric of one of her employer's many dresses. As the music started and Medda began singing a lively tune known all too well by the theatre's occupants, the lone seamstress recalled a day only a year ago when there was a clash of forces in Irving Hall, and the gallant newsboys and few newsgirls of New York fought for their rights. In all honesty, she respected the newsies for their courage and persistence, and almost wished she could join them. But more than that, she saw that they were good people, the kind that life long friends were formed from. And she envied that. How she envied it. But she knew she could never have it.
Or so she thought she knew.
"So newsies, what new?" echoed backstage to a small room filled with fabric, fitting dummies, and a single girl with cascading red hair and gem blue eyes. Shaking her head as the rowdy shouts made their usual path to her small space, Felicity carefully stitched the vibrant violet fabric of one of her employer's many dresses. As the music started and Medda began singing a lively tune known all too well by the theatre's occupants, the lone seamstress recalled a day only a year ago when there was a clash of forces in Irving Hall, and the gallant newsboys and few newsgirls of New York fought for their rights. In all honesty, she respected the newsies for their courage and persistence, and almost wished she could join them. But more than that, she saw that they were good people, the kind that life long friends were formed from. And she envied that. How she envied it. But she knew she could never have it.
Or so she thought she knew.