A/N:
Questionaire person named Gaylord, who has itching problems - Is it true that you are hiding four newsboys in your very room? (itch-itch)
(looks at the guy with suspicion as to why he was itching... lower then most people would like to know.) HAH! I wish! But no, really, I'm not.
Crazy-wacko neighbor who has very bad landscaping- (says this from the table and being rude by interupting) Yes she is! I've seen them! And she was in the room with them!
Gaylord- (strarts to itch) Please, let the girl speak. Continue. (stops the itching, for now)
( Wow, for a guy who has crabs he certainly is very nice and patient.) As I was saying, I don't have any Newsies hidden in my room. Besides how would you know? (is saying this to neighbor lady) Your house is at the other end of the street.
Gaylord – (itch, just once. Giving a suspicious look towards the neighbor) Is that true?
Neighbor lady- Uh, I...uh, I....I, uh. I think I need to water my plants.
You see! She stuttered! She's just delusional! And don't ask her if she is delusional or not because no one is going to admit to that! I know I have this Aunt..
Gaylord- (he interrupted) This isn't the time for stories. This is an important matter! ( he turns to the lady and itches, twice) What exactly did you see?
Neighbor lady- Hey! You can't ask me questions unless I'm on the bench! Judge! He can't do this.
Judge Mcgee – Yes. That is true, but I am making an exception. I am starting to have questions myself. Or maybe I'm just getting old...
Gaylord – Thank you sir. And I don't believe it's the fact that you are getting old. ( the judge gives him a wary look) By the way, have you lost some weight?
Judge Mcgee – Back to the case.
Gaylord – Yes sir. ( Is at the beginning of an itching attack) When was the last time you saw them in her room?
Neighbor lady- About two and a half weeks ago.
Wait a minute. Two and a half weeks ago, I wasn't even home! I was in vacation in Ireland!
Gaylord – (Still itching and everyone starts to give him odd glances) Oh, (finally he stops) is that so?
Well, yeah! Why would I lie?
Gaylord – Jury?
(The jury leaves the room and discusses the case. Fifteen minutes later they are back with the answer)
One of the jurymen – We took a vote and we believe that this neighbor lady is indeed delusional. And Ashley is not guilty.
Gaylord – Now for the pledge.
I, Ashley (not going to state last name for stalker purposes), solemnly swear that I do not or will not ever own any characters from Newsies.
Judge Mcgee- I here by declare you Newsieless. Thank you Ms. Ashley, the one who will not state their last name. You may go now.
( Now at home) Hmm... now what? I don't own any newsies, I guess I could just write a story about them.
Oh Lordy! That by far is the longest disclaimer's not I have ever done or even seen for that matter. Yeah, it's odd. Don't ask.
Okay, just to warn you this chapter is boring and rather pointless. I just needed an introduction to the story and I didn't know how else to do it. Where is the creativity when I need it? Also, the whole story isn't going to be in letter/ diary/ journal/ notebook/ a stack of posted notes... form. It's just this chapter. Honest.
Chapter 1: A Letter
September 3, 1900
Dear Me,
Hi. I'm sending this letter to myself, basically out of boredom and because I can't seem to fall asleep. You see, I live with a bunch of boisterous boys, and occasionally girls, at the Newsboys Lodging House in Manhattan. And living with teenage boys can sometimes get a little crazy. But I wouldn't change it for the world!
She glanced up at the clock that was plastered on the wall. It read 11:36. Pocket was supposed to be asleep at least an hour ago, but something was keeping her up. 'Maybe it was the loud snores from the boys around the bunkroom.' She pondered to herself.
Tilting her head back down, she began to continue writing.
We do have to work though, which can get tiresome. I sell newspapers for a living with my fellow newsies. We only get, on average, 75 cents a day. It depends on how many papes you sell. Selling is a lot easier if you know the tricks, such as 'improvin' dah truth'. You could also use a tragic tale if needed. I'm just glad I don't work in a factory. Those places are so dangerous.
Because we don't have much money, we tend to have to steal things. Food mostly. It isn't our fault though, we're just trying to survive. If we ever get caught, our friends always find a way to get us out of trouble. I know I could always count on Mush to be there for me and if I'm in Brooklyn, I could do the same with Spot. Spot Conlon is the leader of the Brooklyn newsies, and is always kept busy watching his boys. Yet he's still on of my best friends. Mush is one as well.
A strand of her hair fell in her face. She quickly blew it away and started scribbling down on the piece of paper.
Just incase someone happens to pick this up one day, here is a little information about me, as of right now. I stand 5 feet 4 inches tall. I have brown hair with natural blonde highlights from the sun and it flows a few inches below my shoulders. Everyone says that I have bluish-green eyes, so I'll go with that and I'm 17. I don't have a boyfriend at the moment. The last boy I had was Mush and that was a about five months ago. We had decided that it would have been better if we were just friends. And that's how it's been ever since. The relationship hadn't changed our friendship for the worse, but for the better.
I've also lived at this Lodging House since forever. Well at least since I was six. The newsies, to me, are like one big family and whenever anyone needs to let out some of what's inside, they know that I'm their girl. They know that I wouldn't tell a soul, about anything they didn't want me to. The newsies should have just given me the nickname Secret. Instead, I was stuck with Pocket. Most likely because I'm an excellent pick-pocket. Even as a little kid.
Pocket peered back at the clock. Only seven minutes had passed. Then She yawned and glanced at the candle that was to the left of her. The wax was dripping and the wick was burning low.
I better get to bed. It's getting late and I'm starting to get a little tired. Plus I have to get up at around five thirty to sell those papers. Great.
-Tiffany Stiltz
A.K.A. Pocket
She folded up the piece of paper, three times, until it could fit inside of an envelope. The girl arose from where she was sitting, which was a small table that used to play poker, and began rummaging through a near by drawer. She quickly found an envelope and shoved the folded piece of paper into it. Sealing it with a few drops of wax from her candle, she tiptoed back over to her bunk. With the letter in hand, Pocket slipped the letter into a tiny space under her mattress.
The teen crept back over to the table, being quiet so she would awaken anyone, and blew out the very low burning candle. She then slipped into her bed and it just so happened that her bunk was directly under Mush's.
Right as her head had hit the pillow, she was out like a light.
A/N: I told you it was boring. And I really do have a neighbor with bad landscaping. And the Aunt thing, well I'm not going to get into that...