Disclaimer: No, I do not own Newsies in any way shape and/or form. It belongs to Disney . . . for now. Into the Woods belongs to Stephen Sondheim. All original characters belong to their owners. Except Zodiac, Quills, Benny, and Robbie. They belong to me! Woo!

It was 7:30 in the morning.

At 7:30 in the morning, I was usually lying comfortably in bed, under the warmth of a blanket, clutching onto a few more moments of sleep while knowing full well that I needed to be at school in twenty minutes.

The last place I wanted to be was school. Especially not when it meant facing the asshole of a principal who had so much power over our lives. I just hoped it would be worth it.

"And so, we hope the Administrative Council will allow us the use of the building for our rehearsals and performances," I finished. My fingers were crossed behind my back.

There was an awkward pause during which I could feel the perspiration squeezing out of my pores. I was almost positive they weren't going to turn us down. That would be cruel and inhumane. Of course, this was our Administrative Council. Either way, I prayed to every god I had ever heard of to grant me this one wish.

The voice of the principal broke me from my trance. "Well, Mr. Hauser," he began, "I must say you seem very organized about this. I would love to be able to see this show performed in our new Fine Arts Building. However, there are a few things which must be taken care of first." He looked me squarely in the eye. "None of the cast or crew members will eat or drink while in the building, correct?"

"No sir. No one will have food or drink in the building."

"You will not break anything?"

Why on earth would we want to break anything? We have to perform in that place! We want it to stay nice. "No sir."

"Nothing destructive will occur in the building?"

"Nothing at all."

"You will keep the stage, lights, and backstage area in order?"

Incredible! We had to answer to The Spanish Inquisition to use the auditorium while the jocks, who are the ones who usually have run ins with the law, get their practice space, no questions asked. I even saw a few members of the Administrative Council rolling their eyes. Still, I had no choice but to comply. "Yes, we will keep the building in order. We will leave it the way we found it."

He turned to the rest of the Council members for any objections they may have, before facing me. "Alright Mr. Hauser. You may use the building for your purposes."

My heart leapt. Somewhere in the world a celebration was being held over this one fact: We got the building!

"However..."

Dammit! I hate that word!

"There is another matter to discuss. Now I understand there is a song which you have decided to cut from the show. 'Our Little World' I believe it's called?"

My throat went momentarily dry. "Uh-yes sir that's correct. The song is...uh...very hard and...well I-I just thought it would be easier..." It was a lost cause though. Sarah was much easier to fool than her father was.

"Well if you wish to use our auditorium for your performance, I would hope I could see my little girl sing her song. I suggest you rethink your original decision."

It was a less than subtle message: Put the song in or I'll crush any dreams you may have of putting on a great show. I glanced at Ershey who gave me a look which clearly read 'I told you so.' "Ok Mr. Jacobs. I'll put the song back in."

"Wonderful!" he replied with a smug grin. "I believe this meeting is over."

"Hey Ersh, what class do you have first period?" I inquired as I attempted to make my way through the mass of students which had assembled in the hallway.

"P.E.," she grunted pushing around a couple of people who obviously didn't quite grasp the concept of walking. You see, one foot has to go in front of the other. This, consequently, causes you to move. Amazing the things you can learn. "Why do you ask?"

"Let's go to the art room. No one should be in there right now. I need to let off some steam and I don't want to go alone."

"What about class?"

"I have Campus Ministry." I shrugged. "I can get in as late as I wish. Besides, we'll only be missing announcements. And Channel One," I added slyly.

No one likes watching Channel One. You know Channel One. The news program put on by a bunch of young adults who couldn't make it into the real news, and instead had to report on a bunch of stories no one really cares about in the first place. I mean, did they seriously think the students of America cared enough about Andrew Yanni's childhood depression to have a three-part special on it?

"Ok," she agreed. "But I need to be back for second period. I don't think I could afford to miss a chemistry claaaaaassss!" She trailed off in a half scream. Two muscular arms had managed to encircle themselves around her waist. "Mush!" she whined as she wriggled free. "That tickles!"

"Why do you think I do it? I love watching you squirm," he retorted mischievously, his hands already making its way back to where it had been.

She slapped them away. "No! Bad."

As we continued down the hall, Mush now included, I decided to ask his opinion on our current situation. "Mush, what do you think about blackmail within the school? For example, suppose we were forced by a higher power to do something in order to achieve a privilege which is rightfully ours to begin with." One look at his face and I could see he didn't have a clue as to what I was talking about.

"Jacobs wants us to give Sarah a song in the show in exchange for being allowed to use the auditorium for the show," Ershey clarified.

He shrugged. "So what's wrong with giving her a song?"

"Have you heard her sing?"

"Even if she were a good singer," I explained, "it's just the principle of the thing. Why should Sarah get this special treatment just because her father is the principal? And what right does Mr. Jacobs have to dictate how we can and cannot put on our show? He didn't give a rat's ass about drama until it involved his 'little girl'."

"Do you really think he wouldn't let you use the auditorium? I mean, where else could you perform?"

"Mush, that's the entire idea," Ershey grumbled. "If we can't use the auditorium, we can't do the show. No auditorium. No show. Get it?" She shook her head in frustration. "I swear! If you weren't cute, sweet, funny, kind, respectful, romantic, and gorgeous in everything you wear, you'd be completely useless to me!"

"And I love you too, Ersh." The lovers reluctantly parted. But not before a beautiful good-bye kiss in the middle of the nearly vacant hallway.

"Do you two ever take a breather?" I mused after the two lovebirds finally went their separate ways.

"Oh, like you and Dutchy are any better about it."

"Yeah, but at least we don't do it at school. At least not when anyone can see us." I admitted after catching the look she was giving me. "Of course, if we did it in the hallway, we'd get in trouble," I grumbled. "The faculty just looks the other way when the straight couples have their moments of PDA."

The art room wasn't vacant. Not completely anyway.

From outside the room, I could see a thin frame of medium height sitting at a table, somewhat long tan hair falling down along the person's face. Whomever it was, he was intently focused on whatever he was doing and didn't notice immediately when we entered.

"Are we interrupting a class?" I asked hesitantly.

The head raised to reveal the green eyes of Ace, one of our crew members for the show. "Oh, sorry," he said, a bit flustered. "I had permission from Ms. Michel to finish my project." He held up a pastel drawing which was halfway finished. From the looks of it, I could tell it was going to be a landscape, most likely a Monet replica, which, I had been told by Kyriel, was the current project for Art I students. Even unfinished, I could tell it was a masterpiece in the works.

"Wow! That's really good."

"Nah," he replied modestly. "It's just me messing around mainly. Uh, if you need me to leave, I can come back and finish this another time."

"No, we're fine, as long as you don't mind hearing my rant session."

"I assume something's wrong with the show?"

I looked at him shocked. "How did you know?"

"Well, you basically eat, sleep, and breathe drama. I haven't really seen you do much else, especially not since this show has started."

"See, Specs?" Ershey nagged. "Everyone can see you're running yourself ragged with this show."

"Hey, can I help it if I want this to be really good? And yes, it is a problem with the show. Her name is Sarah Jacobs. I think she is going to single-handedly ruin this show."

"Now don't say that!" Ershey said optimistically. "I don't think she is going to single-handedly ruin this show, Specs."

"You don't?"

"No. I think Benny is going to help her."

The worst thing about her statement was that she was only half kidding. My head sank slowly onto one of the tables. It was going to be a long day.

I sat down next to Dutchy on one of the benches outside while simultaneously balancing a book bag, lunch tray, and Diet Coke. Hey, I do have to keep my figure!

"Wha is at?" Dutchy asked, his mouth stuffed with food. That's my man. All looks and no manners.

"This," I answered, pointing to the piece of meat laying on the tray, "is supposed to be veal parmesan. This," I gestured to what resembled cat vomit, "is supposed to be rice. And this," I pointed to a piece of charcoal covered with powdered sugar, "is some sort of a cookie."

"You should just bring your lunch."

"I can't cook. You know that."

Snitch snorted from across the table. "C'mon. How hard can it be to make a simple sandwich?"

"Trust me, I'd find a way to screw it up."

"Specs!"

I turned to find that most of the cast and crew had surrounded me. I was pretty sure I knew what they wanted.

"So...," Soaker prompted. "Are we allowed to use the auditorium?"

"Well, there's good news and there's bad news."

"What's the good news?" Sapphy asked, snatching a couple of Oreos out of Race's lunch bag.

Before I could answer, Dutchy cut in. "I named my nickel Phillip," he exclaimed holding up the shining five cents.

"What's the bad news?" Zodiac played along, her eyes filled with mock horror.

Most of the occupants of the table shouted the reply. "It's a girl nickel!"

Ah, only at the Geek Table.

"Seriously, though," I continued, once we had all had a good laugh. "We will be allowed to use the building."

Mayfly pumped her fist into the air. "Kick ass!"

"But in return we must give Sarah her song back."

She lowered her fist. "Not kick ass!"

"So she went sobbing to Daddy about the meanies in Drama Club," Kathleen mused, more as a statement than an actual question.

Mac, who was playing cello for the show, shot up from her spot next to Snoddy. "I have an idea! Now suppose I smack Sarah over the head with a music stand--accidentally, of course--and she was hurt badly enough that she had to spend some time in the hospital. She couldn't do the show. Bada-bing, bada-boom, problem solved!"

"Oh, I'll help!" Sparrow offered energetically. "It'll be fun!"

"It wouldn't be too hard to replace her," Blink said hopefully. A little too hopefully.

Not that I wasn't thinking the same thing. Just about anyone would be an improvement.

"You can't resort to violence," David cried out incredulously. "It'll give us a bad name!"

"Aw, you're just saying that cause she's your sister," Hyena, our violinist, muttered in disappointment.

"Either way, I don't think that would work," I informed them dejectedly. "I say we just make do."

"In other words, you want me to sing as loudly as possible to drown her out," Alaska translated.

"Exactly."

"So what about Benny?" Swinger, our flutist, asked sliding in next to Snitch. "I understand he wanted to make some Peter Griffin type changes to the show."

"What type changes?" Buttons inquired, slightly lost.

"Peter Griffin type changes. You know Family Guy episode? Lois is putting on The King and I and Peter turns it into a completely different show?"She explained.

"Don't tell me you don't watch Family Guy!" Race spoke up. "It's only the greatest show to ever grace television."

"Can we please get back to the problems at hand?" I pleaded. "I'm not sure what to do about Benny just yet. So far he hasn't really caused any big problems, but he still has plenty of time."

"So is today's rehearsal moved to the auditorium?" inquired Shooter.

"No. Even though we have permission to use the building, first I have to read the rules and regulations to everyone and make sure they agree to those terms. Then you all have to sign a sheet saying you know the rules and will follow them."

Snoddy snorted. "Will we also have to have a conference with their lawyers?"

"Seriously," Fantasy cried, "this is just ridiculous."

"I know," I sighed. "But it was either that or not use the building at all."

"How are we in the money department?" asked Nova who was currently leaning against Pie Eater.

"Well," Minx began, wiping the grease off of her fingers and fishing through a series of folders before finally producing a sheet of paper, "I went through all of the money we made from the last show." It wasn't good news. I could tell by the look on her face. "We made $1573 in both ticket and concession sales."

"Well that's pretty good," I said reassuringly.

"However..." I do believe that is the single most depressing word in the English language. "We still owe the school for some borrowed funds as well as $750 from when Judy left."

Ah yes, Judy. Our wonderful drama moderator from my freshman year. Our wonderful drama moderator who decided to run off and get married. Our wonderful drama moderator who didn't return the scripts the school had ordered when we performed Crazy for You, thus forcing the school to make-up for the cost and leaving the already failing club far in the hole.

Yeah. Good ol' Judy.

"So, about how much are we looking at right now?"

"I haven't quite figured it out, but it doesn't look too good. We're going to have to make up for those losses."

I groaned. "Any ideas?"

Kyriel raised her hand unsurely. "Car wash?"

Ink shook her head. "We wouldn't have a chance. Student Council is having one next week. Hawkettes are two weeks after that. Then the cheerleaders are having one. Also, I know the seniors are having at least three before the end of the year."

"Well, what if we got sponsors? I'm sure lots of places would donate if we put their names in our programs," Skittery suggested.

"You know," I responded pensively, "that's not such a bad idea. We could talk to some of the companies around here."

"I work at McDonalds," Granny put in. "Maybe I could talk the manager into donating something."

Cricket, who had volunteered to play clarinet, snorted. "After you started referring to it as 'Slaughter House Five'? I don't think he's going to feel generous toward you anytime soon."

"Well, we're going to have to present a proposal before we can do anything." I groaned inwardly at that realization. I didn't want to put up with that shit again for a long time.

"Why? Do we need their permission to raise money?" Hornet flared angrily.

"Anything that will involve the school has to go through them," I sighed. "Yeah, it's stupid, but then again what isn't at this school?"

"Fuck! I don't think this school is going to be fully happy until they run our program into the ground!" Irish practically screamed.

I knew we were earning a few stares. "Look, I'll get Ersh started on a proposal. Until then, try to think of some other ideas."

"Ideas for making money, or ideas to keep certain people from ruining the show?" Dutchy asked, a small smile forming.

"Both."

His hand slid over mine and gave it a reassuring squeeze. It helped. Slightly.

This is a "blah" chapter. What can ya do:blows raspberry at chapter: So please tell me I was not the only one who was/is forced to sit through the torture of Channel One every morning of school. Gah, how I despised it! But now I'm free! Insult Channel One with me in a review!