AN: I know, I know why Snipeshooter?! No hate mail please...be nice...I'm just a lonely writer...
But yeah. I shot this chapter out (instead of writing my AP Lit paper, mwahahah) cause I couldn't get it out of my head. There's some action and yes Dakki you're right, love is in the air. Klover, dude, you rock. Loyal reviewer numero uno. The next chapter is off to Chicago and you're gonna be my star...hehe...enjoy.

Disclaimer: Do I have to do this? (yes) Do I hate doing this (yes) Is it just a constant reminder that I will never, ever be able to have Jack (yes). Do people actually read my attempts to make them humorous (no). Okay, on with the story...

Chapter 4

Shhsh, back to sleep now. Tess whispered, gently slipping her arm out from under Thumper's head. She moved just as slowly from underneath the covers before tiptoeing into the washroom, careful not to step on any of the bodies that occupied the bunkroom floor.

Ever since Snipeshooter's disappearance the lodging house was full of boys at night, the safety of the building luring more lodgers than bunks could hold. Some boys shared while others camped in any available space. Jack himself had given up his bed and returned to the floor beside Tess. He'd asked Kloppman to not turn away any newsie, their safety of the utmost concern. Two other boys had gone missing in the past couple days and that was two too many as far as Jack was concerned.

By the time Tess was fully dressed the sun had risen over the buildings, peaking its rays through the windows of the bunkroom. She hurried down the stairs, boots in her hand and the weight of her skirt swinging strangely around her legs. She hadn't left the comfort of her tweed pants since leaving New York with Leif, the freedom more conducive to running, jumping and traveling. But she'd kept her mother's white blouse and green skirt deep within her duffle bag. The reflection in the mirror that morning had eerily reflected the image of her mother.

Running silently across the cobblestone, the only other people on the street were shopkeepers beginning the selling day and farmers heading towards the market. She caught a ride on the back of a wagon among cabbage and lettuce and nibbled on the breakfast she'd stored from the day before. By the time she reached the neighborhood the sun was in full view, brightening the morning streets and beginning the day. She had planned the day, where she'd go first, second and last, but when she actually viewed the familiar place her senses were caught off guard.

No longer was the old beggar sitting in his dumpster, telling war stories to the younger boys. Mr. Tellyson's pharmacy was now a bicycle repair shop and the general store had new owners. Even the families had changed, different faces greeting Tess with strange looks when she stopped abruptly on the sidewalk and stared at her surroundings. By the time she reached the old apartment, the day she'd planned had jumped another course.

She watched the stoop from across the street, little kids skipping in and out of the front door, mothers hanging unfamiliar clothing on the laundry line and harsh voices echoing from inside. She should have expected the change but for some reason, she'd been picturing everything to have paused in her absence.

She sat until noon, until the sun above reminded her how stuffy blouses were and how hungry she was. She walked lazily towards the corner, somewhat scared to see if it was gone. Peeking around the edge she breathed a sight of relief at the sight of the old cart set out in front of the store. His laugh floated over the smell of a hot lunch and she waited in line for her turn.

She'd been saving all week for one of Mr. Dassandro's loaves. Cradling the money in her hand she smiled brightly as she took one step closer after the other. When it was finally her turn she dropped her change on the counter and asked for a loaf. The man taking the money was unfamiliar and he growled at her change. What's dis. You need ten more cents no get outta hea!

Tess stared in shock, rooted to the ground. She hadn't thought of the price going up and the stress of the previous week built tears in her eyes. Jesus, what do ya tink dis is. You want free food, down to da church wit ya. The man barked, grabbing the attention of Mr. D himself.

What's wrong Mario? He smiled at Tess briefly before glancing at the change on the counter.

Mario motioned angrily with his hand. She's short ten cents.

A frown fell upon Mr. D's face and he turned to apologize to Tess but before he could speak he recognized her face. Oh, I think I'd seen a ghost?! Is that the littlest McCoy?Tess beamed in delight as he flicked one of her curls. I thought your folks high tailed it out of these parts.

They have, Sir. But I'm back.

With that brother of yours right around the corner, no doubt.

Tess gripped the sides of her skirt, pulling them out to keep from crying. Yes, sir. She fibbed.
He nodded in happy innocence and handed her two loaves, free charge, for her and her brother. Biting back the guilt, Tess thanked him and glared at Mario before sliding out of line and starting in the opposite direction. Eating her lunch and tucking the other loaf for Thumper she wandered around the connecting streets, trying to picture what the neighborhood had once looked like.

She reached the park by mid afternoon, feeling slightly out of place as three children raced by, the littlest and last in line a redheaded girl calling for the other two to slow down. Grabbing a seat under a tree, Tess watched the trio race around, her own childhood replaying in her mind. Most of the other people enjoying the cool summer day were children of the same age with their parents. One couple passed through, hands clasped tightly and Tess fidgeted in jealously.

Hours later she fled up the steps of the lodging house, having fallen asleep among the flowers of the park. She had planned on returning during dinner time, with most of the boys at Tibby's allowing for her to slip in unnoticed and change into her regular clothes. But her delay had caused her to miss dinner completely and enter during the last rush of newsies seeking refuge for the night.

Nodding politely at Kloppman as he wrote down the names of the newer boys, she slipped up the stairs hugging the wall and trying to blend in.

It was on the stairs he caught her and with the stream of boys behind her she couldn't turn around. Hey, where ya been all day?

Jack leaned to the side of the stairs, stopping her from continuing and redirecting the flow so that those climbing the stairs surged to the left and behind the pair. She rested her back to the wall and fumbled with her fingers, embarrassed that he'd seen her in her skirt. Looking up at him silently she decided to ignore his question.

His head was titled to the side as he observed her appearance, the ribbon in her hair allowing only wisps of curls to frame her face, The way she was looking at him, eyes hidden under heavy lashes, made her look younger and a vulnerable. He'd never seen her in a skirt now that her figure had filled in her hips. He was shocked to notice the curves of her body and the cheekbones of her face.

Before he could process any of his observations or ask another question, she jumped in with the constant stream of boys climbing the stairs and was whisked away. Watching as she climbed higher he caught her look back and hold his eyes, the light of the hallway revealing a blush he told himself he'd imagined.

When she entered the bunkroom, she changed quickly and settled into her bunk, hair covering the pillow so that when Thumper settled next to her he had to brush it out of the way. She recalled the day's events and the way Jack had looked at her on the stairs. Her decision to slip away had been a selfish one; they'd been getting along in the past couple of days. But she figured that she could be selfish for one day, just as she had indulged in the loaves of bread.

After all, it was her birthday.



The music pounded into her temples and even in the back Tess couldn't escape him. She picked her seat based solely on the fact that she had a perfect view of the dance floor. The twirling couples hypnotized her to the point where she could hide in her own thoughts and in the corner Irving Hall.

This dance, she was told, celebrated the strike and was a must event for every newsie in New York. Even the restrictions because of the kidnappings had been lifted for this one night. The last Tess had seen Thumper he'd been racing down the grand staircase, Goose and a ruffian from Brooklyn hot on his heels. She wished she could have joined in on the chase but Miracle had insisted on this night being one they could all enjoy together.

She and Spot had been dancing for most of the night, the liquor within everyone, especially Jack, dissolving any questions that might lead to the discovery of their relationship.

She hated heels.

She hated dancing.

She hated dresses.

But more than anything else she hated other girls, wearing both heels and dresses, dancingwith Jack. She'd danced with him once, right at the beginning of the party, before the alcohol and before the arrival of a large group of newsies from the East side. Apparently the East side was where all the gorgeous girls were bred, a fact Race had told her before throwing up underneath the table. After that beautiful display she'd easily retreated to the balcony where she currently sat, eyes following Jack as he sauntered around the dance floor. She couldn't help but watch and had committed herself to jealously for the rest of the night.

Whatcha doin all up here by yourself? She turned to see who was addressing her, the slur in the voice noticeable only because she was the only one in the room who had opted for water. She couldn't remember the name of the guy who was leaning heavily on the banister. For a moment she pictured how he'd fall if she shoved him over.

She placed her glass on the floor next to her, grabbed the discarded pair of shoes, and stood. She stated coolly, pushing past him with the smallest amount of effort.

He grabbed her wrist a moment later, tisking as his fingers dug into the tendon connecting hand and wrist and causing her to wince in pain. Tess, honey, we haven't even danced yet. Obviously he knew her name.

She laughed, rolling her wrist fiercely so that she could slip it free. I don't dance. She was able to reach the aisle before he grabbed her again, this time around the waist. He pulled her close to him so that specific parts of their bodies were touching and she tried to shove him away but his grip was tight. Not even wit me

Especially not you

He chuckled, the stench of sweat and liquor making her want to gag. But you danced wit Cowboy. I was watching. Is dat da kind of guy you want, Before he could finish groping her ass, she stomped hard on his toes and kneed him in the groin. He doubled in pain, allowing her the escape she'd been pleading for.

Taking the stairs two at a time she raced towards the exit, sliding down the banister with no Thumper in sight. Outside it was raining and she struggled to pull on her shoes. The delay caused him to reach her when she was no more than five steps out the door.

But this time she was ready and as he reached for her waist her fist collided with his nose. Somehow they still became tangled, their limbs twisted so that both fell to the hard pavement. She rolled and tried to run when he grabbed at her ankle, causing another painful fall to the pavement. The scuffle on the ground continued and despite being half his weight she was able to roll on top of him and get in another good punch.

He spat, blood now streaming from his nose as he used his arms to block, releasing her from his hold. She jumped and began to run before the heel of her shoe broke and she fell again.
His evil laugh alluded to his persistent following and she turned with no choice to fight him again. But before she stood she reached for a bottle that had been hidden in the shadow of the building.

That's right. Get up and face it. We're gonna have fun tonight. He cracked his knuckles and lunged for her, grabbing one of her arms but unaware of the other that held the bottle. One good crack on the top of his head sent him tumbling to the ground, out cold and laying in a puddle of dirty drain water. She wasted no time hobbling away, her last fall to the ground having twisted her ankle in a less than pleasant position.

She sighed, now blocks away from Irving Hall, as the rain picked up. With a discarded newspaper held over her head she cursed everything from Miracle to the weather. I hate parties.