She went to the lodging house on Christmas Eve for what she assumed would be the last time. The sight of the full basket of clothes to be mended in the bunkroom and the knowledge that she probably wouldn't finish all of them that day made tears spring to her eyes. She wiped her eyes hurriedly when she heard a door slam somewhere in the washroom and mustered a smile when Rat wandered into the bunkroom, hair still tousled from sleep.

"You're getting a late start today, aren't you? Or has Jack said you have to stay home for stealing from old Pam again? That's bad business Rat. You know that the older you get, the less likely the other boys will be to cover your lodging when you don't make enough in a day to pay for it. You wouldn't want to be sleeping on the streets again, would you?" She shook her head.

"No, it's not like that." He scowled. "I'm goin' out. I just-I just had to do somethin' first."

"Oh really? And what's that?"

Quickly, as if he knew he'd lose his nerve, his grimy hands pushed something into hers and he bolted for the door. He was gone before she could look down and see the folded page he'd given her. It was a simple card, drawn with smudgy pencil. "Merry Crismas" was scrawled on the front and inside was a surprisingly adept drawing of a little boy holding a newspaper in the air, his mouth wide open hawking headlines. Behind him stooped a figure in a skirt, picking up a penny. She covered her mouth as her surprised smile quickly became a sob and sat heavily in the rocking chair. She knew it was her own fault for abusing the trust of the little boy, but the thought of leaving her cheerful domestic life at the lodging house, which had become more of a home for her than the dingy apartment she shared with Kevin, was more than she could bear. She bent double in the chair and rocked back and forth with sobs, her tears staining the front of her dress.

But she couldn't stay like that for long. As sad as the demise of her friendships made her feel, her life had taught her that crying would ultimately do no good and solve no problems. Sniffing back the last of her tears, she took the first sock from the basket and began to work, resolving to behave as if today were any other day and forget what the evening would bring.

Of course she couldn't really forget, but she forced herself to make it through most of the basket by the time the first few newsies trudged in from their day on the streets. She managed a smile as they approached her with their pennies, and even tried to laugh as they recounted the day's antics. When Blink neared her to retrieve his patched trousers, however, her resolve left her. She had to turn her gaze to the floor and could not meet his eye.

"Looks like you did good business today, hey niner." His jovial small talk made her have to bite her lip to keep from crying.

"Yes, it looks that way."

"Well, look, you've got my pants in that heap, but there's just one problem. I couldn't find nobody to go in with for the mending, so I owe you a half a cent, and normally I'd just give you the whole penny but I'm kinda short this week so –"

"Just take them."

"Now, I can't –"

"I can't have done a very good job with them anyway. They're so threadbare, there's practically nothing left. So just take them. I mean, Merry Christmas, right?" For the first time, she looked into his eyes, and what he saw there stopped any further protest he would have made.

"Well, geez. I don't have a present for you or anything."

"That's alright. I don't mind." She handed him the trousers.

He brightened as an idea occurred to him. "Hey, you wanna come to the show with us at Irving Hall tonight? It's free for all us newsies and I'm sure Medda wouldn't mind one extra. It's s'posed to be a pretty good show with some new girl none of us ain't never seen."

"I wish I could," she answered, barely audible, "but I've got a story to finish up tonight. Deadlines, you know?"

"Oh yeah, right." He hesitated. "Hey, niner, you alright?"

"Of course." She tried to sound bright although she felt at any minute her façade might crack and she would explode in a flurry of tears. "Right as rain."

He smiled. "Right. Well, see you tomorrow then."

She knew she wouldn't see him tomorrow, and hurried out of the lodging house, leaving even before she had collected payment for all of her work. She practically ran to Irving Hall and was out of breath when she pulled open the stage door, not even feeling the chill of the December air.

"You're late!" scolded Medda from down the hall, and she dashed into the dressing room. She dressed quickly, but knew she had several minutes before she had to go onstage; Medda was hamming it up more than usual that night for her adolescent audience. She fished her writing tablet from her bag and wrote some final phrases about the newsies, about what she'd learned of friendship and of life from her time with them. She closed the book sadly, laid it on the couch, took a deep breath, and went to wait in the wings for her first number to begin.

As she left the room, she heard Toby's gruff voice scolding an intruder. "Hey! There's not supposed to be anyone but performers and stagehands back here. If you want to see Medda, you've got to stay out front after the show."

"I'm not here to see Medda, you fool! I'm here to see Katie! I've got something I need to tell her tonight."

"Well you can't see her neither." Katie recognized that second voice, and she rushed in the direction of the confrontation, rounding the corner just in time to see Toby trying to push Brian Denton out the door.

"Brian!" she called.

Toby turned to look at her and grunted. "You're not supposed to have no visitors back here."

"Toby, that is one rule I have never heard uttered around this place. Now please let Mr. Denton go and I'll deal with the consequences of his presence myself."

Giving Brian one last shove, Toby stomped off in the direction of the small equipment room, where Katie knew he had a bottle of whisky stashed. Brian smiled at her and replaced his hat atop his newly disheveled hair.

"I'm so sorry about that Brian."

"Oh, don't worry about it. I have something important I think you'll be glad to see." He handed her a newspaper he had tucked underneath his arm. "It's an advance copy of tomorrow's early edition." There it was. On page eleven, nestled between a small piece about the City's problematic population of homeless cats and another detailing the robbery of a wealthy New Jersey home, was her story: How Newsboys Changed the World. And underneath, in neat newsprint, was her byline: Katie Smith, reporter.

She yelped and threw her arms around the man standing before her. "I can't believe it! Thank you so much!"

"Well, I didn't have to do much. It's a good piece, and my editor saw that. Well done Katie."

"Thank you," she said, bewildered, staring at the page in front of her. "Thank you."

"I thought you might like to know that I stopped by the newsie's lodging house earlier this evening and showed it to them. They were all very proud. Racetrack said something about you owing him a cigar?"

She blinked once, twice, trying to process this new piece of information. Her friends had seen her story, so at least they would know she hadn't been lying to them about being a reporter. A weight lifted. Maybe the boys would respect her less once they learned about her job as a singer at Medda's, but at least she couldn't be accused of lying.

Brian gave her a fatherly look, one of the sort she had never received from Kevin, and she felt that maybe somehow he understood her predicament with the newsies. "Have fun out there tonight. I know your friends are probably excited to see you perform."

"Well, they have been talking about the show for some time now. It sounds like they're having a fairly good time already." The hoots and hollers from the auditorium were clearly audible as the two stood in the chilly entrance. "I should probably go, my number's up soon."

Brian smiled and tipped his hat.