I've never done this before, but from what I've seen I suppose I need
to put a disclaimer up at the beginning of my story. Disney owns the
newsies and the rights to their story. I suppose I own anything new.
She sat comfortably on the velvet cushion, resting her tired feet and cursing those tiny shoes. Carefully she removed the satin over dress and began the tedious process of unlacing her corset. With her shoulders and arms bare, she twisted her arms awkwardly to reach the laces down her back. Impatient, she shoved her long braided hair from one side of her back to the other, trying to position it so it was out of her way. She sighed in frustration; her whole body seemed to ache from her first evening onstage at Irving Hall. To her intense relief, she heard the door open behind her.
Without turning around, she sighed, "Medda, could you help me with this thing? I'm so tired I feel like I'm tearing my fingers out rather than the laces." Silently Medda approached her from behind and began fumbling with the laces. Cocking her eyebrow in surprise Katie said, "I suppose you've had a long day too; they're just as hard for you as they are for me." She giggled softly. Medda rested her hands gently on Katie's bare shoulders, and Katie jumped, startled to feel that they weren't Medda's hands at all, but larger, roughly calloused hands. She turned abruptly to see the boy they called Jack Kelly, the self-proclaimed leader of the Manhattan newsboys and a favorite of Medda's standing behind her looking sheepish. She opened her mouth to rebuke him, but found she had nothing to say.
"I think I can finish this for myself thanks," her level voice betrayed none of her surprise at finding this unknown boy in the Green Room of Irving Hall.
He cleared his throat and nodded, backing toward the door. She turned away and began fumbling once again with the strings of the corset. She made quite a picture there, her hair strewn around her bare shoulders, her torso slightly twisted to try to see what her delicate hands were doing, her face visible only in profile, glowing from the light of the oil lamp on the table before her.
"You performed real good tonight," he said.
"Oh, I'm sorry; I didn't realize you were still here. Um, thank you." She turned to face him, not knowing what else to say but aware of the unladylike position he had found her in, half dressed with her shift tucked above her knees like a hussy. Though she knew that that was the opinion that many held of the vaudeville performers like herself, she tried to carry her profession with as much dignity as she could. Collecting the shreds of this dignity around her now that Jack's sudden appearance had startled away she said, "I certainly appreciate your compliment, but as you can see, now is hardly the time for me to be receiving guests."
"No, of course not," the boy said, brow wrinkled as if these were not at all the words he had expected to come out of his mouth, and he left the room, closing the door gently behind him.
Once on the other side of the closed door, Jack Kelly cursed silently to himself. That was not how he had intended things to go off. He had pictured himself bursting into the room, wooing her with a few well chosen remarks and tumbling wildly with her onto the fainting couch amidst her only half-hearted protests. Instead, he had stood there mute as any simpleton, somehow unable to recall why it was he had come. To his horror, this latest reaction only confirmed recent fears of his waning machismo. As he feared, he had evidently played the cuckolded house pet of Sarah Jacobs for too long. Shaking his head in self reproof, he started away from the door just as Medda came bursting backstage from her turn in front of the curtain.
"Well you don't waste much time do you Kelly? It's only her first night!" Medda chided in a mocking tone. Beneath her joking exterior, the sight of Jack taking leave of her youngest protégé cut Medda to the quick. She knew she was a fading beauty, and it saddened her to think that Jack was now immune to her feminine wiles and thought of her only as a surrogate mother to replace the one he had lost so long ago. This thought brought a tinge of bitterness to the indulgent smile on her lips. Her, a mother? What a poor one she would make spending all her time swanning about on a stage so other men could gawk. And gawk they did, despite her age; this gave her a certain grim satisfaction.
She was startled out of her brief reverie by the young man's jocular response. "Oh, you know Medda. I just can't resist congratulatin' a new- comah on a job well done and showing my- ah- appreciation." He grinned wickedly and she mocked astonishment.
"Well you devil you." She sighed. "I suppose its no business of mine what you do so long as she's on her feet again for tomorrow night's show."
"I'll do my best, but I can't guarantee how fast she'll recovah from yours truly." He struck a mock-debonair pose as he brushed past her and snuck out the stage door. Medda shook her head, not sure if she felt disapproving or rejected.
Irving Hall was an old vaudeville house, but despite its sturdy determination to last through the years, the walls were none too thick. The girl had easily heard the conversation that passed between her employer and Jack Kelly outside the green room door. She scowled at herself, still struggling with the corset laces. She had known she should have screamed at the first sight of an uninvited man entering her dressing room when she was so immodestly clad. Now heaven knew what rumors would be circulating in the Hall about her and that admittedly dashing newsboy. She narrowed her eyes remembering the casual way in which he had implied to Medda that she was already his willing partner; its not as if he had done anything to prevent those rumors! She resolved to speak of it to no one and to feign ignorance should anyone mention the boy to her. Although she had no idea if even the most skilled liar could still the tongue of that busybody Toby the clown!
She sat comfortably on the velvet cushion, resting her tired feet and cursing those tiny shoes. Carefully she removed the satin over dress and began the tedious process of unlacing her corset. With her shoulders and arms bare, she twisted her arms awkwardly to reach the laces down her back. Impatient, she shoved her long braided hair from one side of her back to the other, trying to position it so it was out of her way. She sighed in frustration; her whole body seemed to ache from her first evening onstage at Irving Hall. To her intense relief, she heard the door open behind her.
Without turning around, she sighed, "Medda, could you help me with this thing? I'm so tired I feel like I'm tearing my fingers out rather than the laces." Silently Medda approached her from behind and began fumbling with the laces. Cocking her eyebrow in surprise Katie said, "I suppose you've had a long day too; they're just as hard for you as they are for me." She giggled softly. Medda rested her hands gently on Katie's bare shoulders, and Katie jumped, startled to feel that they weren't Medda's hands at all, but larger, roughly calloused hands. She turned abruptly to see the boy they called Jack Kelly, the self-proclaimed leader of the Manhattan newsboys and a favorite of Medda's standing behind her looking sheepish. She opened her mouth to rebuke him, but found she had nothing to say.
"I think I can finish this for myself thanks," her level voice betrayed none of her surprise at finding this unknown boy in the Green Room of Irving Hall.
He cleared his throat and nodded, backing toward the door. She turned away and began fumbling once again with the strings of the corset. She made quite a picture there, her hair strewn around her bare shoulders, her torso slightly twisted to try to see what her delicate hands were doing, her face visible only in profile, glowing from the light of the oil lamp on the table before her.
"You performed real good tonight," he said.
"Oh, I'm sorry; I didn't realize you were still here. Um, thank you." She turned to face him, not knowing what else to say but aware of the unladylike position he had found her in, half dressed with her shift tucked above her knees like a hussy. Though she knew that that was the opinion that many held of the vaudeville performers like herself, she tried to carry her profession with as much dignity as she could. Collecting the shreds of this dignity around her now that Jack's sudden appearance had startled away she said, "I certainly appreciate your compliment, but as you can see, now is hardly the time for me to be receiving guests."
"No, of course not," the boy said, brow wrinkled as if these were not at all the words he had expected to come out of his mouth, and he left the room, closing the door gently behind him.
Once on the other side of the closed door, Jack Kelly cursed silently to himself. That was not how he had intended things to go off. He had pictured himself bursting into the room, wooing her with a few well chosen remarks and tumbling wildly with her onto the fainting couch amidst her only half-hearted protests. Instead, he had stood there mute as any simpleton, somehow unable to recall why it was he had come. To his horror, this latest reaction only confirmed recent fears of his waning machismo. As he feared, he had evidently played the cuckolded house pet of Sarah Jacobs for too long. Shaking his head in self reproof, he started away from the door just as Medda came bursting backstage from her turn in front of the curtain.
"Well you don't waste much time do you Kelly? It's only her first night!" Medda chided in a mocking tone. Beneath her joking exterior, the sight of Jack taking leave of her youngest protégé cut Medda to the quick. She knew she was a fading beauty, and it saddened her to think that Jack was now immune to her feminine wiles and thought of her only as a surrogate mother to replace the one he had lost so long ago. This thought brought a tinge of bitterness to the indulgent smile on her lips. Her, a mother? What a poor one she would make spending all her time swanning about on a stage so other men could gawk. And gawk they did, despite her age; this gave her a certain grim satisfaction.
She was startled out of her brief reverie by the young man's jocular response. "Oh, you know Medda. I just can't resist congratulatin' a new- comah on a job well done and showing my- ah- appreciation." He grinned wickedly and she mocked astonishment.
"Well you devil you." She sighed. "I suppose its no business of mine what you do so long as she's on her feet again for tomorrow night's show."
"I'll do my best, but I can't guarantee how fast she'll recovah from yours truly." He struck a mock-debonair pose as he brushed past her and snuck out the stage door. Medda shook her head, not sure if she felt disapproving or rejected.
Irving Hall was an old vaudeville house, but despite its sturdy determination to last through the years, the walls were none too thick. The girl had easily heard the conversation that passed between her employer and Jack Kelly outside the green room door. She scowled at herself, still struggling with the corset laces. She had known she should have screamed at the first sight of an uninvited man entering her dressing room when she was so immodestly clad. Now heaven knew what rumors would be circulating in the Hall about her and that admittedly dashing newsboy. She narrowed her eyes remembering the casual way in which he had implied to Medda that she was already his willing partner; its not as if he had done anything to prevent those rumors! She resolved to speak of it to no one and to feign ignorance should anyone mention the boy to her. Although she had no idea if even the most skilled liar could still the tongue of that busybody Toby the clown!