Author's Note: Ok, ok, ok, this is my VERY FIRST Newsie fanfic online
EVER!!! So PLEASE go easy on me with reviews! It's a kinda serious chapter,
but I'm gonna try to throw in some weird stuff later on, which should be
easier when I introduce all the other newsies.
Disclaimer: Unfortunately all the newsies and "related items" belong to Disney. I own Catherine/Red though!!! I don't own the potted plant thing either. That belongs to Saturday. Read "Tales of Love and Life as told by an Irish Banana" by Saturday if you didn't get it.
Alright, Catherine, it's real simple; all you gotta do is find a newsie. Shouldn't be too hard; they're everywhere, right? But, of course, the one time I needed one of those fucking boys, they seemed to elude me, whereas they seemed to track me whenever I actually wanted to get somewhere. They'd use every trick in the book, trying to get me to buy one damn paper. And now, in my starting-to-get-desperate time of need, every newsboy in New York seemed to have abandoned my side.
Typical.
And then I heard him, "Extra! Extra! Child trapped in fiery building! Hundreds fight the blaze! 38 dead and counting!" He was kinda short, but you would never have thought it from the way he was waving his arms and attracting all sorts of attention. There was a small crowd of men and women gathered around him, thrusting out coins and grabbing their papers before walking away with their faces hidden behind the front page.
Eventually, the small crowd dissolved. I stood up from where I was sitting on a bench. I began to take the small, more polite steps I was used to, but then I remembered who I was. Or at least, who I was supposed to be. My hair was cut exceptionally short, and I was dressed like a teenage boy. And nobody doubted that I was one. I paused before starting to take larger, more confident strides. I reached the boy within seconds.
I'm not sure whether or not he saw me, but before he could take another breath to start hollering again, I grabbed the kid, dragged him behind the nearby brick bank, and firmly pinned his shoulders against the wall. I heard a thud as the papers he'd been holding fell to the ground. He face was a mix of confusion and shock. I leaned in close.
I opened my mouth to speak, but he pulled away first, backing away uncertainly, his hands in the air. He spoke, "Look, kid . . . I-I'm flattered an' all, really, I am . . . but, well, sorry, but, I'm as straight as Robin Hood's arrows."
My God, I thought. He thinks I'm some gay kid trying to make out with him! I felt my face burn a bright crimson. "Jeez, man, I'm straight, too."
"You are? Then why the hell were you in my face like that?"
"Well, I was gonna ask you a question, but then you went into your Proud To Be Straight speech."
"Sorry, but my friend just told me the morning about how this gay kid just randomly grabbed his head once, so I guess I'm a little paranoid."
"Yeah, no kidding." He knelt down to gather up his papers. "So, you wanted to ask me something?" I'd almost forgot. "Oh, yeah. I wanna be a newsie. I was wondering where to go." "Jesus, is that all? Well, tonight I'll introduce you to Kloppah and we'll get you a bunk, but for now you can help me sell these." He handed me a small pile of newspapers. "We'll see how you do with those." I sat down and started paging through a copy. He sat down next to me and lit a cigar. "I'se Race, by the way. What's your name?" "Joe Piker, but I hate it. I've been trying to come up with a good nickname for myself, but it's not much good." "Aaah." Race puffed his cigar thoughtfully for a minute before he spoke again. He laughed softly to himself. "You shoulda seen your face when I thought you were gay. You were so red!" He paused in thought. "Cherry red." I looked up from page six with a grin, "My brother used to say that about me. He called me Cherry Red." "There we go." Race stood up and brushed the dust off his pants. "You are now Cherry Red Pika. Red for short. Come on, now," he began to lead the way back to the street. "Gotta sell those papes!" I watched him in front of me with a small smile on my face. I think I'm gonna like this. I followed him out into the square. I kept on saying, "Red Piker," softly to myself, loving how it rolled off my tongue. With a satisfied grin, I glanced over at Race, who was already back to his work. I took a few paces away from him and took a deep breath. "Potted plants growing out of control! Gardeners baffled!" A girl passing by paled slightly, looking at me in horror, before urgently hurrying away.
Disclaimer: Unfortunately all the newsies and "related items" belong to Disney. I own Catherine/Red though!!! I don't own the potted plant thing either. That belongs to Saturday. Read "Tales of Love and Life as told by an Irish Banana" by Saturday if you didn't get it.
Alright, Catherine, it's real simple; all you gotta do is find a newsie. Shouldn't be too hard; they're everywhere, right? But, of course, the one time I needed one of those fucking boys, they seemed to elude me, whereas they seemed to track me whenever I actually wanted to get somewhere. They'd use every trick in the book, trying to get me to buy one damn paper. And now, in my starting-to-get-desperate time of need, every newsboy in New York seemed to have abandoned my side.
Typical.
And then I heard him, "Extra! Extra! Child trapped in fiery building! Hundreds fight the blaze! 38 dead and counting!" He was kinda short, but you would never have thought it from the way he was waving his arms and attracting all sorts of attention. There was a small crowd of men and women gathered around him, thrusting out coins and grabbing their papers before walking away with their faces hidden behind the front page.
Eventually, the small crowd dissolved. I stood up from where I was sitting on a bench. I began to take the small, more polite steps I was used to, but then I remembered who I was. Or at least, who I was supposed to be. My hair was cut exceptionally short, and I was dressed like a teenage boy. And nobody doubted that I was one. I paused before starting to take larger, more confident strides. I reached the boy within seconds.
I'm not sure whether or not he saw me, but before he could take another breath to start hollering again, I grabbed the kid, dragged him behind the nearby brick bank, and firmly pinned his shoulders against the wall. I heard a thud as the papers he'd been holding fell to the ground. He face was a mix of confusion and shock. I leaned in close.
I opened my mouth to speak, but he pulled away first, backing away uncertainly, his hands in the air. He spoke, "Look, kid . . . I-I'm flattered an' all, really, I am . . . but, well, sorry, but, I'm as straight as Robin Hood's arrows."
My God, I thought. He thinks I'm some gay kid trying to make out with him! I felt my face burn a bright crimson. "Jeez, man, I'm straight, too."
"You are? Then why the hell were you in my face like that?"
"Well, I was gonna ask you a question, but then you went into your Proud To Be Straight speech."
"Sorry, but my friend just told me the morning about how this gay kid just randomly grabbed his head once, so I guess I'm a little paranoid."
"Yeah, no kidding." He knelt down to gather up his papers. "So, you wanted to ask me something?" I'd almost forgot. "Oh, yeah. I wanna be a newsie. I was wondering where to go." "Jesus, is that all? Well, tonight I'll introduce you to Kloppah and we'll get you a bunk, but for now you can help me sell these." He handed me a small pile of newspapers. "We'll see how you do with those." I sat down and started paging through a copy. He sat down next to me and lit a cigar. "I'se Race, by the way. What's your name?" "Joe Piker, but I hate it. I've been trying to come up with a good nickname for myself, but it's not much good." "Aaah." Race puffed his cigar thoughtfully for a minute before he spoke again. He laughed softly to himself. "You shoulda seen your face when I thought you were gay. You were so red!" He paused in thought. "Cherry red." I looked up from page six with a grin, "My brother used to say that about me. He called me Cherry Red." "There we go." Race stood up and brushed the dust off his pants. "You are now Cherry Red Pika. Red for short. Come on, now," he began to lead the way back to the street. "Gotta sell those papes!" I watched him in front of me with a small smile on my face. I think I'm gonna like this. I followed him out into the square. I kept on saying, "Red Piker," softly to myself, loving how it rolled off my tongue. With a satisfied grin, I glanced over at Race, who was already back to his work. I took a few paces away from him and took a deep breath. "Potted plants growing out of control! Gardeners baffled!" A girl passing by paled slightly, looking at me in horror, before urgently hurrying away.