Disclaimer: I don't own the characters from Newsies or the Mayor who was
the real Mayor during the strike although I did create his character but
all the other characters are completely from my imagination..
Later as I stepped out of the carriage with the help of the footman at the front of Irving Hall, the newsboy and his headlines were the farthest thing from my mind. I had been looking forward to this outing most of all the entire day, but now that we were there, I only wanted to go home and sleep.
Because some of the guests had been slightly bitter with us they had detained us with extensive farewells, and we were extremely late. We were seated in the balcony near the side where we didn't have a very good view of the stage but there were barely any people seated near us and we attracted less attention that way. The only people near us were a group of very rowdy boys that were whistling and clapping.
I gasped as I recognized one of them as the boy who sold papers on my corner. Trixie turned and looked at me quizzically and I turned it into a yawn. She gave me a sly look and I sighed; she knew me too well. She then smiled at the boys and I could immediately tell what her look meant as well. Before the night would be over a lot was going to happen if it was left up to her. Gabriella just ignored them disdainfully and I could also tell that it was fake. It was the act she always had when she was in a public place. I knew that later she'd probably be telling us that she fancied one of them or that she thought they were hilarious when no one but Trixie and I were near. Her father was always worried about the kind of image she would project and we were always not doing things for her sake because of this. The fact that Trixie's father was the chief of police had the opposite effect on her turning her into a rebel, the neglected orphan of me landing somewhere between them.
As we sat down on the red cushioned seats I scanned over the boys again. Some of them were quite good looking, especially the one from my corner. He had very dark curly brown hair which was covered by his grey hat and he was very tan, most likely because of the long hours he spent outside everyday.
I remember when I was little I would wave and smile at him everyday as I'd walk by on my way to school or wherever it was I was going to, and once I'd even asked him if he could play with me and I had been really upset when he'd said that he had to work. I'd gone inside and complained to my father about it as he was the first one who I'd seen. He hadn't been sympathetic though but angry.
"Why were you talking to that dirty boy on the street in the first place?" he'd yelled. "You're better than he is." Because of the false truth of that he'd spoken and that my friend's fathers had spoken, we almost believed that we were better than the poor children on the street were. In reality I had figured out later, they were much better people than we were.
So after my father's lecture I'd only say hello or wave to him and went on my way, not yet rebellious. That even stopped the day after my parents died. There is nothing like the feeling of hearing a stranger on the street yell out "Esteemed Business Man and Wife Killed in Accident; Daughter Sole Survivor and Heiress."
I was walking past him as usual on my way to school; my grandmother had thought it would be good for me, when I heard him say the headline. I hurried on with my head down. As I neared him he started to say it again and stopped in the middle of it. I looked up and he stared back at me with realization, glancing also at my picture with my parents on the front page.
"I-" he started to say but I was gone. I had dropped my books and ran crying for my parents who had turned into another headline soon to be forgotten by the boy who my father had thought we were better than.
Later that afternoon when we'd left for the funeral all of my schoolbooks were piled neatly on the step. Despite that nice gesture I'd never once walked past him on the corner again but carefully avoided him, although I could almost always see or hear him through my open window.
That had been the last day I'd cried ever and the last day I'd really cared about much of anything. I pretended on the outside that I cared about society and such but I didn't care what was unseemly or not ladylike and my grandmother almost never paid attention to me. That one newsboy thought was still connected to my past in my mind. Just hearing him as I woke up every morning almost always sent me back into my old state of mind, it tore open some vulnerable place in me, that at any other time I didn't even know I had, just for a few moments, seconds even, and then I would get past it.
He looked so different now than he did on the street; he was slightly dressed up and the happy expression on his face was rarely seen on the corner. He looked up at me, feeling my gaze, and I looked away quickly. After a few minutes I looked back, and he was one again absorbed in the show.
The show was decent with singing and dancing and several musicians, but by the time the intermission came we were restless. Gabriella and I went to the powder room leaving Trixie to hold our seats. When we came back one of the boys was sitting next to her talking avidly as she nodded. He was wearing an eye patch and was also quite good looking. He stood up clumsily when we came over to the seats, surprising me with his politeness. I knew I should have suspected some such thing would happen, Trix had been in a strange mood ever since the squirrel 'incident' and seemed to be just itching for trouble.
"Greetings Miss'" the boy said to Gabriella and I. "We was just wondering if youse would want to come sit over by us since youse seem to be kinda lonely over here." Yhea, I'm sure the three of us looked real lonely. I looked at Trixie who was nodding invigoratingly at us. She rolled her sparkling grey eyes dreamily a little at the boy who was still looking at us instead of her, then she winked mischievously. I couldn't help but laugh. Gabriella and I both nodded consenting.
"Great!" The newsboy said smiling. Trixie stood up and the four of us made our way over to where the other newsboys were sitting. Eye patch boy sat down next to Gabbie and Trix immediately sat on either side of him and to next to tow other boys. I glumly looked around for another spot.
"You can sit here." The newsboy from my corner said.
"Hiya." He said smiling brightly after I sat down. I nodded tentatively at his enthusiasm. He kind of tipped his hat at me. "My name's Mush."
I was immediately put at ease and I smiled back graciously. "I'm Colleen." I replied. I paused briefly afraid of offending him with my question. But I was just to curious so I had to continue. "Mush is just a. just a nickname right?" I asked. "I mean your parents wouldn't actually name you that right?"
"Of course." He said laughing at my confused face. "But I don't actually remember what my real name is." He answered.
"Oh." I said joining in on his laughter, although I must admit, I was rather confused.
"We all have nicknames." He continued. "They come so easily. For example: Your name is Colleen, so I bet your friends call you Collie right?"
I nodded and he continued, "So Collie is a kind of dog, so therefore your nickname could be Dog."
"It could be." I sniffed coldly as I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. Did he really just say that?!? Maybe my father was right after all.
"Oh." He exclaimed in realization of what he'd said. "I didn't mean it that way. I'm always messing up my words like that," he stated calmly. "Do you come here often?" He tried again.
I stared at him before answering, not believing that he would just brush that off so quickly, he should be at least somewhat ashamed of calling me a dog shouldn't he?
"Not really." I said, before I could stop myself, completely mortified myself with my rude cryptic answer. "I enjoy it more every time I come." I finally added after a long uncomfortable pause.
"I enjoy it too. I think they put on quite a good show."
"I agree." I said once again returning his bright smile. We sat in silence watching both in silent agreement of the quality of the show.
Later as I stepped out of the carriage with the help of the footman at the front of Irving Hall, the newsboy and his headlines were the farthest thing from my mind. I had been looking forward to this outing most of all the entire day, but now that we were there, I only wanted to go home and sleep.
Because some of the guests had been slightly bitter with us they had detained us with extensive farewells, and we were extremely late. We were seated in the balcony near the side where we didn't have a very good view of the stage but there were barely any people seated near us and we attracted less attention that way. The only people near us were a group of very rowdy boys that were whistling and clapping.
I gasped as I recognized one of them as the boy who sold papers on my corner. Trixie turned and looked at me quizzically and I turned it into a yawn. She gave me a sly look and I sighed; she knew me too well. She then smiled at the boys and I could immediately tell what her look meant as well. Before the night would be over a lot was going to happen if it was left up to her. Gabriella just ignored them disdainfully and I could also tell that it was fake. It was the act she always had when she was in a public place. I knew that later she'd probably be telling us that she fancied one of them or that she thought they were hilarious when no one but Trixie and I were near. Her father was always worried about the kind of image she would project and we were always not doing things for her sake because of this. The fact that Trixie's father was the chief of police had the opposite effect on her turning her into a rebel, the neglected orphan of me landing somewhere between them.
As we sat down on the red cushioned seats I scanned over the boys again. Some of them were quite good looking, especially the one from my corner. He had very dark curly brown hair which was covered by his grey hat and he was very tan, most likely because of the long hours he spent outside everyday.
I remember when I was little I would wave and smile at him everyday as I'd walk by on my way to school or wherever it was I was going to, and once I'd even asked him if he could play with me and I had been really upset when he'd said that he had to work. I'd gone inside and complained to my father about it as he was the first one who I'd seen. He hadn't been sympathetic though but angry.
"Why were you talking to that dirty boy on the street in the first place?" he'd yelled. "You're better than he is." Because of the false truth of that he'd spoken and that my friend's fathers had spoken, we almost believed that we were better than the poor children on the street were. In reality I had figured out later, they were much better people than we were.
So after my father's lecture I'd only say hello or wave to him and went on my way, not yet rebellious. That even stopped the day after my parents died. There is nothing like the feeling of hearing a stranger on the street yell out "Esteemed Business Man and Wife Killed in Accident; Daughter Sole Survivor and Heiress."
I was walking past him as usual on my way to school; my grandmother had thought it would be good for me, when I heard him say the headline. I hurried on with my head down. As I neared him he started to say it again and stopped in the middle of it. I looked up and he stared back at me with realization, glancing also at my picture with my parents on the front page.
"I-" he started to say but I was gone. I had dropped my books and ran crying for my parents who had turned into another headline soon to be forgotten by the boy who my father had thought we were better than.
Later that afternoon when we'd left for the funeral all of my schoolbooks were piled neatly on the step. Despite that nice gesture I'd never once walked past him on the corner again but carefully avoided him, although I could almost always see or hear him through my open window.
That had been the last day I'd cried ever and the last day I'd really cared about much of anything. I pretended on the outside that I cared about society and such but I didn't care what was unseemly or not ladylike and my grandmother almost never paid attention to me. That one newsboy thought was still connected to my past in my mind. Just hearing him as I woke up every morning almost always sent me back into my old state of mind, it tore open some vulnerable place in me, that at any other time I didn't even know I had, just for a few moments, seconds even, and then I would get past it.
He looked so different now than he did on the street; he was slightly dressed up and the happy expression on his face was rarely seen on the corner. He looked up at me, feeling my gaze, and I looked away quickly. After a few minutes I looked back, and he was one again absorbed in the show.
The show was decent with singing and dancing and several musicians, but by the time the intermission came we were restless. Gabriella and I went to the powder room leaving Trixie to hold our seats. When we came back one of the boys was sitting next to her talking avidly as she nodded. He was wearing an eye patch and was also quite good looking. He stood up clumsily when we came over to the seats, surprising me with his politeness. I knew I should have suspected some such thing would happen, Trix had been in a strange mood ever since the squirrel 'incident' and seemed to be just itching for trouble.
"Greetings Miss'" the boy said to Gabriella and I. "We was just wondering if youse would want to come sit over by us since youse seem to be kinda lonely over here." Yhea, I'm sure the three of us looked real lonely. I looked at Trixie who was nodding invigoratingly at us. She rolled her sparkling grey eyes dreamily a little at the boy who was still looking at us instead of her, then she winked mischievously. I couldn't help but laugh. Gabriella and I both nodded consenting.
"Great!" The newsboy said smiling. Trixie stood up and the four of us made our way over to where the other newsboys were sitting. Eye patch boy sat down next to Gabbie and Trix immediately sat on either side of him and to next to tow other boys. I glumly looked around for another spot.
"You can sit here." The newsboy from my corner said.
"Hiya." He said smiling brightly after I sat down. I nodded tentatively at his enthusiasm. He kind of tipped his hat at me. "My name's Mush."
I was immediately put at ease and I smiled back graciously. "I'm Colleen." I replied. I paused briefly afraid of offending him with my question. But I was just to curious so I had to continue. "Mush is just a. just a nickname right?" I asked. "I mean your parents wouldn't actually name you that right?"
"Of course." He said laughing at my confused face. "But I don't actually remember what my real name is." He answered.
"Oh." I said joining in on his laughter, although I must admit, I was rather confused.
"We all have nicknames." He continued. "They come so easily. For example: Your name is Colleen, so I bet your friends call you Collie right?"
I nodded and he continued, "So Collie is a kind of dog, so therefore your nickname could be Dog."
"It could be." I sniffed coldly as I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. Did he really just say that?!? Maybe my father was right after all.
"Oh." He exclaimed in realization of what he'd said. "I didn't mean it that way. I'm always messing up my words like that," he stated calmly. "Do you come here often?" He tried again.
I stared at him before answering, not believing that he would just brush that off so quickly, he should be at least somewhat ashamed of calling me a dog shouldn't he?
"Not really." I said, before I could stop myself, completely mortified myself with my rude cryptic answer. "I enjoy it more every time I come." I finally added after a long uncomfortable pause.
"I enjoy it too. I think they put on quite a good show."
"I agree." I said once again returning his bright smile. We sat in silence watching both in silent agreement of the quality of the show.