I walk to my school building every morning. My favorite route to take is past the newspaper distribution center. I think it's for the New York Times, or the World Paper. Anyways, it's usually empty by the time I pass. The other day was different. There was a swarm of newsboys crowded around the entrance. I watched them jockey for position when a girl I knew walked by. Poor Amanda, she was so embarrassed when they all took their hats off. I believe I even heard a couple of them call her an angel. I immediately wanted to turn around and take another route after that. It's not that I disliked the newsies, I didn't even know them, but I am extremely uncomfortable around people with whom I am unacquainted. They tend to poke fun at me. Mostly my weight, actually. I am extremely skinny, and people think I'm malnourished. "Oh well," I thought out loud, " I just have to suck it up and go." But, as I was approaching the newsboys I heard one of them, literally, scream in the loudest voice possible. "Baby born wit' t'ree (three) heads!" That seemed to be all the newsboys' cues to stampede out onto the streets yelling their own headlines. "Crap!" I exclaimed as I was run over by the horde of newsboys. They managed to knock me over and step on my books. Now, not only was I late for school, but also I would have to endure a torturous day in a soiled skirt.

After my classes I decided to take a different route home. I guess I was still a little apprehensive about passing the newspaper distribution center again after my morning experience. As I was walking. Nicely as you please, down the street I heard a shrill whistle behind me. Just as I was turning to investigate, a tall gray blur slammed into my backside propelling me forward, and into the mud. Further soiling my outfit. I heard the gray blur, who was joined by two smaller blurs, all newsies, yell to me, "'scuse me ma'am." Just as I was standing up and collecting myself a loud, angry voice screamed at me from behind, "Move!" Of course, I had no time to even think of moving before a hand shoved me roughly to the side of the street. There I promptly tripped over the corner, and fell once again. "Kathy," I thought, "today is just not your day." If I had only known what the week would bring.