Disclaimer I don't own newsies. They are owned by Disney. I don't own Disney either. Every character that you don't recognize from the movie is mine.

"Wake up! C'mon! Wake up! Leg it! Leg it!" called Mrs. Rosen. She was the owner of the lodgin' house for girls. There weren't very many newsgirls, so there weren't very many lodgin' houses for girls. There was only one in Manhattan while there were about six different ones for boys. The girls can't sleep there and the guys can't sleep here. It's some sort of rule that some department made up, they think it's to take care of us. To take care of us we need, instead, more money and less hours. That's what we need. Anyways, Mrs. Rosen was trying to get us up for the day. There are about 7 or 8 girls that sleep here regularly. About 4 of us are regular newsies and some of the other girls sleep here because there isn't any room at home or because they work at a mill. Not very many choose to be newsgirls because it's taught that being a newsgirl isn't a 'proper' profession for a girl. What's the use of being proper when you're poor?

Well, I woke up the first time she yelled; I'm a light sleeper. I guess it comes from sleepin' on the streets so much. Or probably because sometimes, I would sneak into vaudevilles and sleep there. You aren't supposed to and if the managers catch you, they chase you out with a broomstick. I earned my fair share of beatings so if I heard the faintest creak, I would wake up and hide, or if I was near a window, climb out.

"Hey, Flip! Ya up yet? Hey! Wake up!" I sleepily cried to a girl that slept beside me. Her real name was Mary St. John, but we called her Flip on account of she would always try to flip the trolley cars. Sometimes, she would give us a real scare and fall off. If you fell off, there was a chance that the wheels would run over an arm or leg. We told her to be careful but her only reply was, ' "Well, if it does get cut off, it'll give me more sympathy, right?" So, we took it that she didn't care. As long as you had money for lodgin's, food, and newspapers, you were fine.

"Well, I'm up now! Crikey!" she cried, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. I smirked and climbed off the bed. We didn't get bunk beds like the boys; there just weren't enough girls and besides, bunk beds cost more.

I yawned. I couldn't remember what time I had gotten to bed last night. It was well after 12, I knew that. There was a party in a newsgirl lodging house a couple miles away, so me and Flip had gone. One of our good friends, Grafter, lives there. She can make the worst headline sound like an apocalypse. She can sell up to 200 morning edition papes a day and do it all before lunchtime. She's a hot air artist, and she does it so good, people really believe her! We call her Grafter because she'll do anything to earn a buck. No matter if it's illegal or not. Flip dared her to kiss the next guttersnipe she saw for two bits. She marched up to one who was bummin' next to a diner and smooched him—smack on the mouth! Flip and I were stunned and we each paid her one bit. She laughed, waved at the boy, and marched on. Me and Flip were so stunned, we started laughing hysterically and started after her. I yawned again and rubbed at my eyes.

Sari threw her pillow at me. "What was that for?" I turned to her, astonished. She giggled. Sari was the youngest girl here—only eight years old. Mrs. Rosen found her in the streets. Apparently, she was living with her sister because her parents abandoned them both. Then, her sister got sick and died. Or, that's what Sari tells us. We don't know how much of its true because she's such a little girl but we take her word for it.

I put on my 'monster face', as she calls it, and charged over to her bed. She shrieked and tried to run, but I caught her and soon, we were engaged in an all out tickle war. Mrs. Rosen was furious. "C'mon girls, there's no time to be playing around. Sari, come with me. You, go get ready to sell." I rolled my eyes and saluted her. "Yes, ma'am!" I yelled and marched to the bathroom. She sent a glare in my direction and I found Flip at a sink. She laughed with me and said, "You know, one day, she's gonna really give it to you for being sarcastic like that. She doesn't take kindly to being embarrassed in front of people like that. She's big on impressions." She continued brushing her teeth.

I rolled my eyes again. "Let her!" I cried with a funny sounding British accent, putting my nose in the air and rolling up my sleeves, "and I shall fight her until she cries 'Uncle!'" I took a fighting stance and put my fists up. "Want to try and fight me, Claire?" I challenged playfully. She laughed and took up on my offer.

Claire copied my stance and stood, unsure of what to do. She had to rearrange her skirt; it was too long, but it was the only extra one that we had for her. I started laughing, and soon, she did too. I swung and she moved back. "Hey, I wasn't gonna hit you." I stopped and brought my arms down. She smiled and caught me unaware, "I know." And with that, she ran forward and tackled me. I stepped on the hem of my skirt and we both hit the ground. She began to tickle me and I tried to do it back. I laughed so hard that I began to cry. Claire took advantage of that and flipped me over and sat on my back, pulling my arm behind my head. "Stop! Stop!" I was still laughing. "Say 'Uncle' first! Say it!" Claire cried, laughing as well.

Flip marched over and smacked Claire on the head. "Stop it! You both are young ladies! Act like it! Don't be such hayseeds! We gotta get ready for work and, you two?! You two are one of the oldest and you are rolling on the ground like a pair of babies. Stop it now before Mrs. Rosen comes up here again and punishes us all because of you two." Claire made a face and shrugged. We mumbled our apologies (ain't that a fancy word!) and began to wash our faces. No doubt the Flip was the one that kept us all grounded. Here, there was no leader like there are with the boys. Here, everyone takes care of each other. But, Flip, she was the motherliest of all of us. I think that Chelsea is the oldest, being 18. But, she's never really here. She works at two different mills because she has two little children of her own to take care of. Her husband is at home but he was injured working in a mine that collapsed so all he can do now is stay at home and take care of the kids. I've met him before, he is the nicest, most gentlest man I ever met. Chelsea is lucky to have him. And their kids? So sweet. The most well mannered kids that roamed the streets. The only thing that makes me sad is how much she works. She never has time for herself. The nights that she does come in, she eats her supper and goes to bed, tired. Mrs. Rosen lets her sleep for free because she runs errands for her on her breaks. Chelsea could have life so much better, but she chose to not marry the man her parents wanted her to. They disowned her. She wasn't rich before then, but if she had married that man, she wouldn't have to work two jobs, and sometimes three, everyday.

Well, we finished and trooped downstairs. Flip, me, and two other girls waved to Claire, Sophie, and little eleven-year-old Sylvia, who works in the mills as a bobbin collector. Halfway there, we met the nuns, who gave us some bread and water and blessed us. My favorite one was Sister Mulvane, who was the prettiest one, in my opinion. If I went past the church's garden when I was finished with my papers, I would wait for her to come outside and chat with her about the flowers, angels, and anything that was on my mind that day. She would ask me about the headlines and I would tell her anything interesting that stuck out in my head.

"Hey, Flip!" some kids yelled. They were in the middle of the street, playing a variation of 'kick-the-can' and 'blind mans' bluff'. The two other girls that were with us, Katy and Charlotte, ran to the group of kids. "Bye! We'll see you later," they cried. We waved and kept going. "Flip, are we late?" I asked her. She shrugged. "Don't matter if we get there early or not. Boys'll cut us anyways." I knew she hated it when they did that. They came and cooed at how 'lovely' girls like us shouldn't have such a 'dangerous' job. I just ignore them. I mean, I can't do anything. I know, I'm 15 years old but I'm not even five feet yet. I have the appearance of a ten year old. Even Mrs. Rosen said something the first night that I was there. She was startled when I told her my real age but she tried to behave as if she knew it already. The way that she stares every time that I log my name in the book, lets me know that she still doesn't believe it. But Claire says that I'm lucky. Oh well, many Italians are small, so I guess I'm stuck with it. Sometimes, its fun being little because you can play 'messenger' and everyone won't assume that's what you do because you look younger. I've sent some messages to other boroughs, but I didn't really like it much because you always have to be conscious of what you are doing. I sometimes just blurt out stuff that I shouldn't. It gets frustrating.

We were almost at Newspaper Alley. "Flip," I began, "do you think we should save our money to get a newspaper stand? It would be a lot easier than walkin' around. I bet we walk more then ten miles a day. I heard Doc's tryin' to get one." I looked up at her. Flip and me were around the same ages but she was about a foot taller than me. Flip thought about it for a minute or two and she replied with a sigh, "Yea, well, Doc sells more papes than we do. Prolly more than both of us combined. You know Doc wants to be a nurse. Although, I never heard of women nurses, she sure knows a lot. Remember the time that Poker broke her nose? Doc set it and it healed. Now, you can't even tell that it was broke once." I nodded. Bein' a nurse would bring in more money then most professions. Certainly more'n bein' a newsie would.

I sighed and trotted on. Suddenly, I heard the bell toll. Flip cursed and began to run. "Hey! Wait up!" I started to jog after her. There were only two more blocks to run and we usually got there early. I guess we lost some time with Claire and me playing around.

We finally got there. Flip got there first, only because she started before I did and she has longer legs than I do. Let me assure you, I can outrun her any day of the week. I just gotta get a little head start first. You know, t'get me warmed up. Anyways, by the time I took the last corner, I had a cramp in my side. I eased off the runnin' and tried to rub it. I looked for Flip and she was around the middle of the line, beckonin' me to go to her spot. I started but when the boys realized what I was up to, they started complaining and giving me a hard time. "Little girls shouldn't be selling newspapers, they should be at home, cleaning!" and "Aww! Why don't'cha come and wait here in Papa's lap," some smart mouth said, much to the enjoyment of the other boys. I rolled my eyes and continued up the crowded pathway. I knew that they wouldn't do anything; they were too 'gentlemanly' and they wouldn't 'soak' girls. But they could open their big, fat traps and harass them.

Well, we finally got our papers. I got fifty and so did Flip. We sat down on the benches at Central Park and looked for a headline. "How 'bout this one, 'Boy Falls Off Trolley, Loses Arm and Leg, Parents To Sue.' Sounds a little like you, Flip." She laughed, "Nah, I wouldn't be that dumb." She started searching through the paper again, "Well, umm… oh! Listen to this one: 'Politician Embezzles Thousands of Dollars; Escapes to Mexico.'" She laughed, "Well, this one's as good as any. C'mon." We stood and began shouting our newfound headline: "Mayor of New York steals millions from wife! Kills her and escapes to Europe!"

About an hour and a half later, we were done. Actually, I was done first and Flip still had about ten so I helped her sell her remaining ones. "You hungry?" she asked me. I shook my head, "Not too much. Let's go see Grafter. I wanna see how she's doin'. You know how much she drank last night. I doubt if she was well enough this morning to go out and sell." Flip chuckled and rolled her eyes, "You know you can't keep Grafter away from alcohol. It's like water to her." We began walking. We passed Athena's which is a great Italian food place. They hold contests to see who can speak the best Italian quotes or which child knows the most Italian traditions. I went there a couple times and I won once because I was the most Italian looking kid there. I won free meals for a week. They make the best torte di miele, which are basically honey cakes. And the chicken scarpariello was excellent. Athena's had the best food, but I couldn't go there often because it was a little too much more money than I could spend. Unless I won a poker game, but usually I could order pissoto for about three or four cents.

We walked down to where the trolley cars were. Flip and me lounged around until we heard it's bell tolling, signaling the trolley car was leaving. Flip gave me a wink and flew after the car. "Hey!" I yelled, startled. She kept sprinting not even looking back. "C'mon," she yelled over her shoulder, "Hurry up!" I gave chase. She was a lot closer than I was, and I got scared that I wouldn't be able to catch up to it. I'm not a distance runner. I got speed for a little while, I can run fast, but that caught me off guard. After running about forty or fifty yards, I began to get a cramp. Flip had jumped on the balcony but placed her foot wrong. The result was that she slipped back and almost fell off, giving a fright to the people inside, but she grabbed the window pole and got her balance. I finally reached up to the trolley but I was too scared to jump on it. I had to let go of my skirt but I got scared that I would trip on the hem. It was too long and its hem was beginning to fray. Bits and pieces of today's headline came back to me, about the kid that lost an arm and a leg. "Flip!" I gasped, "I can't do it! I can't!" She looked over at me and yelled, "Yes, you can, so come on!" She held her hand out. I grabbed for it and missed. She reached for the pole and swung out of the trolley car as fast as she could. A copper on his beat noticed her hanging out and began to yell, "Hey! You street rat! Stop! I command you!" He began to blow his whistle.

I cursed at myself inwardly. I wasn't brave like Flip; she could steal something right under a copper's nose and she wouldn't get caught. Now, if I tried, I would be arrested on the spot. I started to slow down. "Hey, hey!" yelled Flip, "Don't slow down now, you're almost there."

Suddenly, a boy stood up from his seat and took a position next to her. He was much taller than she was. "Hey," he yelled, "that bull's gainin' on ya. What I want'cha to do is grab my hand and then grab her hand. We'll pull you up together. What do ya say?" He leaned out; his height made him stick out a great deal farther than Flip, which I was thankful for.

"Bully," I said weakly, and reached out my hand. I could hear the bull behind me breathing hard; he was getting closer. The boy's hand reached mine. He gave a grunt and pulled me closer. Then, Flip reached for my other hand. "When I count to three, jump!" I gave took a great breath; the stitch in my side was getting worse. I was deathly scared right then. There's a fifty-fifty chance I'll fall and lose something, I thought to myself. I know, great inspiration, right?

Anyways, the boy counted down. "One. Two. Three!" I jumped. They pulled.

I made it. Actually, I landed on the floor. Flip groaned, rubbing her arm, "Damn, Half Pint. I'm gonna feel this tomorrow." The boy laughed, "Yea, good show kid. You made people on the trolley feel scared for you. You know, if you still had papers to sell, you would be finished by now because people felt sorry for you. There were some ladies here who began to cry." Flip looked at him. "Ya serious?" Then she turned to me, "Vinnie, we could do this everyday. You know how many papers we could sell like this?" I looked at her, "I am not doing that again, much less every day, Katarina Hewitt." I looked around for an empty chair and, finding none, sat on the floor. Flip made a face at me, "Fine. Have it your way." Then almost as a second thought, she grumbled, "Don't call me that. It's not my name. It's Mary, not Katarina. Ugh, I despise that name!"

The boy laughed. "Wait a sec," He got closer to me and leaned down, "Ya mean to tell me, that wasn't a show back there?" I shook my head, and Flip chucked meanly, "You mutton head, you thought that was real?! The first time I got on, I almost fell back off!" He looked at her and laughed. "Yea, I saw that."

She glared at him. "I almost fell off." Flip turned around and began to laugh. "Hey! Hey!" She yelled out the window at the cop. He was bent over, trying to catch his breath. Every little while he would get upright and chase the trolley for a few blocks, then he would be out of breath again. Flip waved her arms trying to get his attention. When he looked she cried very loudly, "What wrong, huh? I thought you had to be in good shape to a bull!" The policeman shook his fist at her and some people in the trolley began to chuckle. An overweight man, probably a retired officer, glared at her.

I laughed. Flip's got a quick mind. You shouldn't pick a fight with her because she'll yell out insults so fast your head'll spin! She's good at arguing and I suspect she likes to do it. I remember one time, an older newsie, he was around seventeen or eighteen I think, tried to pick a fight with her because he bet her that she couldn't outsell him and when she did, he said that she was a harlot, whatever that means, and that she cheated. She threw her papers down and almost jumped him! She gets mad fast. I think that it's the Irish in her. I get mad too, but people say all Italians get mad fast.

Well, the boy held out his hand for the second time that day to me and said, "I'm James, by the way." He smiled. James had a nice smile. He had droopy blue eyes and curly brown hair. His hands were ink stained and his face had smudges of dirt and sweat. If you looked closely enough, you could see underneath all the smudges of dirt, that he had freckles all over his nose and cheekbones. "I'm Vinnie and this is Flip, or, if you wanna make fun of her, call her Katarina Hewitt." She shot me a glare. "I'm just playin', Flip."

"You better be," she muttered, looking out window. The bell ringed with every stop. "Hey, James? We're getting off at the next stop to see our friend, Grafter. Do you know her by any chance?" He looked at her. "No, I don't recall a girl named Grafter. I live in Brooklyn and this is, what? Harlem, Bronx? Too tough for my blood." He shook his head, "We only fight with slingshots and our fists. These people use clubs, sticks, shoes, broomsticks, anything they can get their hand on." He shook his head again and held up his hands.

The trolley stopped and the bell rang again. Flip jumped off and I followed. "We'll see you later, James," she cried, waving, as the trolley car began to move. We waved.

"Ah, he was pretty good lookin', don't'cha think, Vinnie?" asked Flip, slyly. She looked at me out of the corner of her eyes. "At least, you looked at him like he was God or something." She smirked. "I did not!" I protested hotly, "you're the one that tried to get a conversation with him." She stopped and looked at me with her mouth round as an 'o', "What? What about you, darlin'?"

I started laughing, "You can't blame this one me. I was on the floor, trying to get my breath. And I was scared for me life because you tried to put the moves on him. It was so obvious, Flip. Don't deny it." She started walking, "Well, maybe I do think he's cute. But, liking someone and thinking someone is cute are two different things. Waaay different." She looked at me again, "Waaay different." I chuckled. "You're sweet on him! Awe! Flip is sweet on someone!" I began to sing and skip along.

"No, I'm not!" She began to give chase. "Take it back! Take it back!" She grabbed my arm and twisted to behind my back. "You ever say something like that again, I'll soak ya within an inch of your life? Got it?" She let me go, fiercely. Flip glared at me. If glares could kill, I'd be six feet under. I rubbed my arm and glared back at her. "Aww, Jesus, Flip. You're such a dumbass." She gave me a shove and we walked in silence.

After a couple of blocks, I looked at her and grinned. "Wanna catch the trolley tomorrow and see if he's there?"

"Oh, yeah."

When we arrived our destination, me and Flip were almost overjoyed. Her neighborhood is so violent you practically have to fight to live another day. Even the rats have hardened hearts. Every scrap of bread that you might drop, they are prepared to come out and fight like crazy men until death for a piece that might alleviate their hunger.

We went inside and waved to Mrs. Browning. Poor woman, she was. Her husband left her for a younger and prettier woman and her son soon died of the illness. After that, her and her daughter came here and furnished this building to rent out and make a living. One day, when her daughter got out of the mill, where she worked, a little late, a thief, who didn't believe her when she said that she had no money to give him, killed her. Poor dear, she has had her share of misery. Now she takes to the drink, and every family shuns her because it is considered "improper" for a woman to drink, no matter what class of society she is. Improper? Screw it; what does that matter when you are poor?

Well, she was half drunk and when we passed, she gave a drunken giggle. "Mood Gornin'," she slurred drunkenly, and we bid her good morning even though it was after two o'clock. "Your friends are upstairs. Take the second set and go to the window. Theater's are playin' "Garden o' Eden" with Susie Nichols, who murdered her husband, and she's down the corner, drinkin' whiskey with the stars." She kept mumbling. Me and Flip glanced at one another, first a grimace and then a face of amusement. We waved and went on up.

We could hear shouts and screams from the top of the stairs. They appeared to be coming from the girls lodging house. "They didn't go out today and sell? I know Grafter might not have to, but some of the other girls sure do." Flip turned to me and asked. I shrugged, "They can take care of themselves. Great pickpockets, they are." She chuckled.

As we were nearing the door, someone emitted a great shriek. Flip and me jumped and ran to the door, knocking it open. The room was total chaos. Some were laughing, some were screaming. I gathered by glancing around that someone had pulled a prank, and that was the yell we heard. "What happened here?" Flip shouted. The three closest were startled and we chuckled when they jumped.

"Grafter pulled a trick on Gina." May gave a crooked smile, "she just found it." Noticing the questioning looks on our faces, she explained. "Well, Gina and Grafter don't like each other very much— this I knew. Grafter had talked to me many times about someone named Gina—and Grafter put a dead rat in her bed with a note that said, 'it's exactly like you only dead.'" I looked at her with my mouth open, "Oh, damn. She didn't."

May nodded grimly and pointed. I looked to the center of the room. Grafter and Gina were in the middle of a ring of people. They were shouting at each other. Gina was much shorter than Grafter was and she couldn't argue as good as her either, so that gave Graft an advantage. Flip was trying to get in the center to pull them apart but it was hard because that girls kept jumping around and cheering the opposites on. Grafter packs a mean right hook, but I didn't know about Gina. This was the first time that I had seen her, much less see her fight.

I turned to find May and ask her if Gina was a good fighter. I heard a great roar and turned to see that Gina had thrown a punch and Grafter blocked it. Then, Grafter threw the right hook that I had seen before and hit the girl square in her mouth. Gina brought both hands up to her mouth and just lost it. I thought she was gonna have a heart attack right there and then. She hit Grafter in the eye with a weak left punch and scratched her on her cheek. I saw in Grafter's eyes that Gina had gone too far. Grafter was one of the leading girls and everyone was supposed to respect her because her brother used to be an important leader of a borough, but she didn't want to be known for that. She wanted to be known for being herself, not for her brother. Grafter grabbed Gina and her fist connected with Gina's right eye. Her eyes went wide as she moved her hands from her mouth to her eye. Grafter drew her arm to throw another punch again but Gina moved out of the way, causing Grafter's fist to glance off her cheek.

"Hey, Grafter! Stop! Stop it!" I yelled. I couldn't get to her. There were too many girls in the way and they wouldn't move. I didn't know if Mrs. Browning would allow fighting; most boarding houses did not. Normally, Mrs. Browning was lenient, but this time she was dead drunk and there was no telling what drunks do. They are completely unpredictable.

Grafter lunged for Gina again, but four girls, including Flip, grabbed and held her back so she could do no further damage. "Lemme go!" She yelled furiously, "Damn it! Let me go! Get off! Lemme up!" She struggled to get loose. "What's this about? What's going on here?" Flip screamed, tugging hard on Grafter's arm and pointing at Gina.

Gina gave Grafter and Flip a hard look. Holding her hand to her mouth, she said, "You just wait. You'll get what your due. Everyone does. You just wait." Gina looked around. I was scared what she meant, but I was quickly reassured that she wouldn't dare do anything to Grafter since she had lost this battle.

She pushed her way through the crowd and made it into the bathroom. "Oh, Gina," cried one of her friends. She gave Grafter a mean look. "Why do you have to be so bloody mean? She wants to be your friend! You strike at her every chance you get! She has done nothing to you! Nothing!" And with that, she ran to the bathroom after Gina.

Grafter snarled. "What?! She's done nothin' my ass! I know who she talks about every time I come into a room and she's there. I know who she's thinkin' about when she glares. Don't think I don't see!" She swung her arms, which were still being held by Flip and someone else. "Lemme go, damn it!" She bellowed. They let her go and Flip helped her up. "I oughta kill you. Don't you ever touch me like that again." She stared hard at that girl that had held her down.

Then, she looked up at me. "Hey, Vinnie. Nice welcome, isn't it?" And with that, she stalked out the door. Flip and me followed. "I'm goin' out!" She yelled to Mrs. Browning. She hiccupped in reply and gave her a questioning look. "Was that yelling from you girls that I heard up there?" Graft turned around. "Someone found a snake. Gina picked it up and was teasing one of the younger girls with it. I was in the bathroom. I don't know anything about it, I just wanted to go out and get a bite to eat. So, I'll be back soon." She waved and threw us a smirk.

As we began walking, Flip hooted. "Ha! You're so bad, Grafter. Poor Gina. Wonder what she's gonna to do her." She smacked Graft on the shoulder.

"Personally, I wouldn't care what the hell they do to her. I just don't like the bitch. Plus, with a name like Grafter, would I really be a good, law abiding person?" She smiled. "Well, what do ya like of Mrs. Browning? She's gotten worse. Poor woman; she drinks more than ever now." She shrugged and changed the subject, "Hungry? There's a store a couple blocks up that makes good sandwiches for about three cents each."

We passed a little girl who was selling ribbons. She stopped us and asked us if we wanted to buy a ribbon. The little girl had the biggest smile on her face and I noticed she was missing her front tooth. She smiled as if she enjoyed what she did. "How much?" Grafter asked, softly. I knew that she had a soft spot for kids. She had grown up with five younger siblings and used to have a child herself. The baby died. Her name was Nicole, after Graft's mother. The baby was only a couple months old. I had only seen little Nicole a couple times, and she died about 2 years ago. Grafter was devastated. She had loved that little baby so much, but in the end, we realized that it dying was better than living the cursed life that we did.

"Two pennies each, ma'am. Red would be lovely in your hair, it's so dark and thick. Or green. Any dark colors." She was talking to me; I nodded and smiled. I handed her a nickel and grabbed two, a green and a red one. "What about me?" Grafter smiled. Her hair was a chestnut brown. She was quite pretty, with her dark blue eyes. She took good care of her hair, because it was her pride and joy. The only thing that she had loved more than her hair was little Nicole. But Nicole's gone now.

"Well, since you have blue eyes, maybe a blue one that matched the color. It would look very fetching to have a ribbon that matched your eye color." She smiled and held out her little cardboard box with about twenty or so ribbons. She was the youngest, sharpest talker that I had known. I bet she could convince even the most tight fisted person to buy a ribbon.

Grafter smiled. "I'll take four," she said, handing her a dime. The girl's eyes widened to a size I didn't know what possible. She smiled her gap toothed grin again. "God bless you!" She cried happily. She let Grafter take her pick and smiled at us. I wished that I could be that happy selling newspapers.

We walked on, Grafter tying the blue ribbon in her hair and handing the rest to Flip, for safe keeping, 'cause she was the only one that had pockets.

"You know," Grafter began, "I've been thinkin'--"

"Didn't know ya could!" Flip laughed. Grafter shot her a look and began to grin.

"Well, I was thinkin' maybe bein' a newsie's no good anymore. I mean, I heard there's a factory that's lookin' for girls. I looked into it already. It's a tea company—they need fifty-five girls to label and package the tea into tins to be shipped. It's a five hour day job and they fill up about eight thousand tins a day. That works out to about two minutes per tin. I think that I can do more than just one tin in two minutes." She looked at Flip and me. We were astonished—she had looked into this very thoroughly (another fancy word!)

Flip looked down, "Only fifty-five girls? Well, Graft, if that's really what you want, then you better hurry because there's more than fifty-five girls looking for jobs in this city."

She nodded, "Yea, that's what I thought, so I already told the owner that I'd be there tomorrow. Bright and early."

"What time?" I asked her, I wanted to know if it was before the rest of the newsies got up and began to sell.

"Five." She looked at me and chuckled at my astonishment. "Yea, I know. I'll be up earlier than ever. But, Gina'll still be sleepin'." She laughed. "There it is," she pointed to a restaurant. It was small, but clean and had a sign that said,

Casey's Diner

Open most days

7 'til 9

" 'Open most days'?" grumbled Flip, unsure. "Why don't they just say 'open everyday'? Or 'not open Sunday'?" I peered in through the window.

"C'mon, this place is great! Better'n Tibby's," Grafter gloated, looking pleased with herself. I peered in through the window. "Besides," she continued, "it's not like anyone that I'm trying to avoid is here—"

"Are you really sure about that?" I rolled my eyes.

"Why're you askin' that?"

"Gina's here."

"What?!" She pushed me out of the way and pressed her nose to the window. Gina was talking to some woman. She was dressed in a dark navy blue business suit and they were seated at a table neat the back.

"Damn street rat!" Graft cursed, "She's talkin' to the woman who offered me the job at the tea company." Flip looked up, her brown eyes wide.

"D'ya think she's tellin' her about you, Graft? I mean, is it possible that she knew about it?"

Graft shrugged and said fiercely, "Well, she was there when I saw it and started talking to Nelly about it. I told her that Miss Fielding, that's the woman's name, had told me to come in at her tea shop tomorrow. And she was there." She spat on the ground. I hoped that Gina wasn't making things worse. I knew Grafter and she wasn't going to forget it if Gina took her job.

Grafter looked around and slunk to the back of the building. "What are you doin'?"

She called over her shoulder, "Lookin' for an open window. Now hush!" She ran to the back and disappeared around the corner. Flip looked at me and I rolled my eyes. "C'mon," I sighed and ran after her.

Half Pint: You know... The story came out pretty good...

Grafter: Good?! What the hell are you talking about?! Damn that Gina...

Flip: rolls eyes Anyways... if you like it, review!

Half Pint: Even if you didn't... review!

Grafter: grumbles Damn Gina...