"I needs to speak ta Mr. Pulitzah. NOW."

Jerry Jacobson looked up at the angry, 17-year-old boy standing in front of him and couldn't help but admire the boy. He was Jack Kelley, the famous Newsie strike leader. The one that dared to challenge Pulitzer and Hearst in their moment of glory. The one who turned their moment of glory to their moment of weakness.

"It's nice to see you too, kid," Jerry grunted, putting on a scowl. He had to. He worked for Pulitzer.

"Look, don' start wit me. I need to speak wit Pulitzah," Jack checked the clock nervously. It was 5: 55...that meant he had... wait? How many hours? He tried to remember what Davey had said, and although he had only heard it minutes ago, it was a blur. Something more, something important now occupied his mind.

"Look, kid, I really can't let you see him," Jerry said earnestly, trying to convince Jack to leave. "I could loose my job."

"What's da real reason, Jer?" Jack replied, giving him an exasperated look.

"I'm afraid if I let you in, Pulitzer will get angry and take the blame on me," he said monotonously. "I've got a wife, and three kids. I can't afford to loose my job."

"Well it's nice to see that some people in this world is still honest," Jack sighed. "But look, I promise he won't get mad...or fire you. You'se jus' gotta trust me, please?"

Jerry looked up at the boy, and had to relent at his pleads. A year ago he would have laughed at the boy and thrown him out. But now..there was something, something nagging at him inside that just said to let him in. It was like he had no will of his own. "Alright...but don't go startin' up trouble, you hear? I don't want no trouble..."

"I promise," Jack said, saluting and heading up the grand stairs. It was a long trip, up those stairs, but as he let him self in Pulitzer's main office, it seemed to be all worth it.

"How did you get in here?" Pulitzer asked, shocked, standing up.

"Had ta practically bribe Jerry," Jack replied automatically. "But that's not important. I want a word," Jack strolled lazily over to a statue of an angel on a table and picked it up, tossing it from hand to hand.

"Don't touch that!" Pulitzer shouted, angrily striding over to Jack.

"Why?" Jack challenged, as he gave it another fling. "You'se afraid my dirty hands might stain it?"

"It was my love's....my darling Marrianne's..." Pulitzer replied, in the same monotonous voice Jerry had used earlier. He glared at Jack, as If daring him to try anything else.

"Who was Marrianne?" Jack asked him, tauntingly throwing it in the air and letting it fall quite far before catching it.

"Your mother."

Jack really did drop the statue, his eyes wide. Pulitzer gasped, clasping a hand over his own mouth.

"MY MOTHER?!" Jack shouted.

"I didn't just say that!" Pulitzer assured him.

"WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU DOING WITH MY MOTHER?!" Jack shouted at him, going into a rage and charging at the old man.

"Jack! Jack! Stop it!" Pulitzer hissed, shoving Jack away from him and standing up angrily. "I'll have you thrown in jail before you can blink! You're not so young anymore, I'm not talking the refuge here!" It was a heavy threat, one he would certainly follow-through with. Jack stopped, out of breath, his face red.

"I want answers!" he shouted finally. "Real answers! You can't lie to me,"

"I won't," Pulitzer said, not knowing the actuality of that statement. "Look, just sit down and let me explain" he sighed. "Lord, forgive me," he muttered softly.

"Forgive ya for what?" Jack snapped. "What did you do wit me mother? Is that why she died?" he asked boldly.

"No, boy. Forgive me for shunning you for all these years. My own flesh and blood.." his voice trailed off, almost frighteningly, and Jack drew in a breath.

"You're not my father," he stated. "You can't be." His mind raced, he felt dizzy, like his world had collapsed. He had just wanted to come and mess with Pulitzer's head a little, he didn't want to find out all this!

"No, not your father," Pulitzer spoke quietly. "Marrianne was my sister. My only sister,"

One blow after another. "How can dat be?" Jack asked incredulously. "We lived in a goddamn shack my whole life! Mom had to sell flowers on the streets just so we could survive! If you're her brother, why didn't you help us?!"

Pulitzer sat slowly, as if in a trace. His eyes were full to the rim with tears, and when he spoke his voice shook. "When your mother.Marrianne, told me she was leaving us to marry that man." this time, his voice was shaking with anger. "Your father," he finally spat out. "I went..ballistic. Mad, even. We had the most disagreeable argument.I refused to ever see her again. I knew what your father would turn her into," there was a hatred in his voice, one that hardly showed, even in the most upsetting of situations. But this time, everything was out in the open. He could not lie, under exaggerate, he had to tell the truth.

"She came to me, a few weeks after you were born. Begged me to help. Oh she had all the excuses for your father's problems. But I wouldn't relent. Finally.I gave her enough money to buy some clothes, and food, and told her to leave your father. She said she would, but she didn't. She couldn't. She saw something in the worthless bum that nobody else did."

Jack bit his lip, listening. His head was still reeling, but he needed to hear this. He had never really known why his mother had died.only knew what his father had said. Perhaps now Pulitzer could tell him.

"I worried about her.but never did anything. I was too stubborn, too young. I couldn't just let it go, what she had done to me. No, I had to drag it on." a single tear rolled out of his eye and down his face. "When you were about seven, your mother came to me again. You two were starving and ragged and she couldn't find work. I agreed to give her the money.but only if she agreed to leave your father. But really leave him this time, or else I wouldn't give the money to her. I agreed to let you two live with me, and everything seemed like it was going to work out,"

He stood up suddenly, wiping his eyes and staring into the fire. Jack dared not to breathe, scared that maybe Pulitzer would stop speaking.

"When she told your father she was leaving him, he went crazy." Pulitzer's voice was cold now, and worn in. "In a mad rage, he killed her, you see, and took you before anybody had a chance to do anything. I looked.lord how I looked, for years and years, but nothing showed up. Then finally, two years ago, I got wind of a boy named Jack Kelley working as a Newsboy. The man he had been with was name Sullivan. He had been arrested and tried for theft. The boy had no mother. I remembered how Marrianne always wanted to name her baby Kelley..and I thought," he paused. "I had to see. I pretended to go and 'check-up' on the Distribution center you went to, and when I saw you."

Jack stood up, he knew the rest of the story. He felt so empty, so alone. All this time, without a family, a single person to call a relative and all along there was someone. Not just anybody either, but one of the richest men in all of New York!

"You look so much like your father, you know," Pulitzer said loudly to Jack. "You acted like he used to act, when we were young.I couldn't take it. I watched you for days and days until you did something wrong.and when I saw it, I turned you in. I don't know why."

"It's your fault I stole that food in the first place!" Jack yelled accusingly. "It's your fault I was starving! Your fault!"

"No, no, don't say that," Pulitzer sobbed, heavy sobs full of pain. "Please, don't say that,"

Jack headed towards the door. "Where are you going?" Pulitzer asked.

"I've heard enough," Jack said softly, pushing open the big oak door and running down the stairs. He ran and ran, out of building, down the street. Past the Lodging house and the Distribution Center, past everything he knew was familiar. He ran until his legs felt like jelly, his insides were twisted, and his head was about to explode.

He was somewhere near the Brooklyn Bridge. He walked to it, slowly and panting. He walked until he was dead center in it, and he leaned over the side, his eyes filling with tears.

"You lied to me!" He shouted finally. "You lied! You told me it was an accident! You told me it wasn't your fault! How could you DO THIS TO ME!?" he screamed at the water, his voice echoing back at him.

He collapsed and sat with his back to the bridge, sobs that shook his whole body. "You said it wasn't my fault.." he murmured, as he shook with agony, huddled alone on the bridge. Alone, once again.