Today, We Are Newsies is two entire years old.
Review Responses:
Jonna Hufflepuff: (Chapter 77) You wanted to pretend your double review never existed, but I want to do any evil laugh because the Race and Al convo broke you. So mwa ha ha! (And my apologies.) (Chapter 78) I just love all your reactions, so thank you for reviewing. :) And I forgot Denton existed too, don't worry. (Chapter 79) Yessssss, you felt for both sides in the Crutchie/Jack argument! That was exactly my intention. :) (Thank you so much for pointing out that repeated text! Hours of editing and I still end up with typos... Argh. But it's fixed now!) YES SCREAM IT FROM THE ROOFTOPS, JACK HAS WORTH IN THIS WORLD! Hope your test went well! Enjoy the epilogue!
Alright guys, cue up some 90s boy bands (or the Newsies cast recording).
It's party time.
Epilogue
Two Weeks Later
Wednesday, October 6, 1999, 6:00 p.m.
The brownstone was more alive than it had ever been, lit up like Broadway in the middle of an ordinary street. From all the cars arriving, the neighbors must have guessed royalty was visiting, because Joseph Pulitzer didn't throw parties.
As a matter of fact, Mr. Pulitzer wasn't throwing the party. Katherine currently acted as hostess, looking resplendent in a lacy pink dress that fell just past her knees. Bill and Darcy stood with her in their finest suits, helping to greet guests as they arrived.
Two weeks after winning the strike, the newsies of New York City are gathered together once again. It's a night of celebration, but for some that means less than pleasant reunions.
"You again." Mush glared at Bill as he came through the foyer with Blink on his arm.
"Me." Bill met the younger guy with equal malice.
"William Hearst Jr." Mush stuck his hand out for a shake.
Bill took it, but kept the same threatening tone. "Proud to be a part of your revolution."
"I bet you are."
Blink led Mush away, but the pair had barely entered the stairwell before Katherine heard him burst out laughing, and Mush saying, "It's not funny!" with great offense.
Some people never change.
"Remind me," said Darcy to Bill, "what's your beef with that guy?"
"As he sees it, I stole his face," Bill explained. "But if you ask me, he's two years younger, making me the first one around with a face to steal."
"Ah, classic case of doppelgänger drama."
"You should be a poet," Katherine remarked.
"If it's poetry the pretty Pulitzer prefers..." Darcy started, and she slapped him on the arm.
"Go make yourself useful in the kitchen. I'm sure Jacobi could use an extra hand."
He smirked good-naturedly. "Want me to get you a drink?"
Katherine scrunched her lips, concealing her own smile, and nodded.
"Be back in a jiff."
"Hey, bring me something too-" Bill started, but Darcy was already gone.
A question remaining on the minds of many is what's next for Katherine Plumber, particularly in the career department. Where work is concerned, things will go back to normal. Student teaching is a suitable gig for now. Continuing to mentor the students at Roosevelt High will prove more rewarding in the long run, Plumber said, better than any offer "The New York Sun" could give. The reporter's place is with "The World" for the foreseeable future.
Romeo came running into the entryway with a glass of punch held precariously in his hand. By some miracle, he didn't spill a drop, although a stain might not have been noticeable on his red and blue striped tie. "I win! You really are bizarro Mush!" He crowed, looking triumphantly at Bill.
Specs walked in next, shaking his head as Romeo ordered, "Pay up."
"You fellas had a bet on whether I look like your friend or not?" Bill asked.
"Unfortunately," Specs confirmed, digging five dollars out of his vest pocket and passing it off to Romeo. "Though I think it's a stretch. You've got darker eyes."
"Thank god for that."
Romeo took a loud slurp of his punch. "Specky really likes your eyes. And yer fancy hair, an' your brain-"
"Accompany me to the kitchen, Bill?" asked Specs, speaking far louder than necessary.
"I could use a drink."
Specs dragged Bill away, not turning back even as Romeo yelled "You're welcome!"
Observing all of this, Katherine laughed. "Guess it's you and me now, Shakespeare."
"Yeah..." Romeo downed the rest of his punch, then glanced back towards the stairwell. The sound of some spunky boy band carried from the interior rooms into the foyer; whoever was controlling the music had the volume on high. "Sorry Plumber, but there's a room full of beautiful people from five different boroughs, and I ain't missin' a good party."
Without another word, he slipped out.
Katherine was only left alone for a moment, however; the twins entered, surrounded by what must have been a dozen other newsies. After they had filtered through, Darcy reappeared, holding two cups of something caramel colored.
"Hey misery, want some company?"
"Aw, chivalry isn't dead." She took the glass he offered, downing half of it in one sip.
"Whoa, easy."
"We're celebrating, aren't we?"
"In your father's house."
"Hmm, right." Katherine chugged the rest of her drink. "Just don't give me any more."
"Please, after the trouble I went through for one extra glass?"
"Come again?"
"Your redhaired friend in the kitchen? He was very concerned with where the drinks were going. Gave me the third degree."
"That sounds like Albert."
"He asked what my intentions were."
"Valid question."
"To hydrate my friend?"
"Oh, that's all, is it?"
"Forgive my earlier flirting. I've spent too much time with newsies lately."
"So have I."
"Yeah, I can tell." Darcy took a sip. "You know I'd never try making a move if you weren't completely over Jack Kelly."
"Hey!"
"Don't blame me, it's painfully obvious."
Where Plumber will go regarding romance is a hot topic as well. Readers are dying to know: Did she ever resolve the epic crash and burn of her last love? Does she have other prospects lying in wait? Should she even focus on what her heart wants right now, or is friendship more important? The reporter only makes note of these questions because she, like her audience, can't find them a clear answer. Only time will tell.
Katherine was hindered from saying anything more to Darcy, because the small entryway exploded with the sound of a dozen Brooklyn accents, all striving to be heard over one another. At the back, one voice ruled above them all.
"Who's the King a' New York now, suckas!" Race shoved apart the Brooklyn newsies and sprinted through to the rest of the party, nearly knocking Darcy over in the process.
"Don't break anything!" Katherine's warning fell on deaf ears.
Spot joined the welcoming committee in stepping aside for the rest of his entourage. "Sorry 'bout Race. Governor's outside, an' they got introduced."
"And how'd that go?"
"Straight to 'is head." Spot laughed. "His reaction was nothin' compared to Cowboy's though. Gov' shakes his hand, fella turns to Davey lookin' like he's gotta get a tooth pulled, but it's the Second Coming an' Jesus himself is the dentist. Honestly, I thought he was 'bout ta combust..." He ground to a halt, seeing Katherine's bewildered expression. "Kathy-girl, you good?"
"No-" She was honest on instinct, and had to scramble to revise her statement. "Yes, sorry, it's just- I figured Jack wasn't coming."
"He's still outside if you wanna talk to 'im."
"He doesn't wanna talk to me."
"You might as well try."
"I suppose..." Katherine glanced at Darcy. "Let me know if my father comes looking for me?"
Darcy tipped his fedora. "Of course."
With that, Katherine gave Spot a nod of thanks and slipped out the front door. Finding a large crowd mingling on the lawn, she held back, hesitant to approach.
Davey was in the middle of introductions between his parents, Jack, Medda, and a man she was calling "My own personal pal, Governor Harold Roosevelt." From Katherine's angle, it was impossible to tell if Mr. and Mrs. Jacobs looked more wary of the adults or the teenage boys. What was clear, on the other hand, was how Davey had so casually put his arm around Jack's shoulders. He shone in the captain's presence, appearing happier than he'd ever looked.
Hand on the doorknob, she made to go back inside when someone called to her from the sidewalk.
"Katherine!" Sarah waved with the hand not clasped in Tommy Boy's. The pair ascended the front steps as fast as the girl's silver heels would allow.
"You two clean up nice," observed Katherine.
"Thanks," Sarah brushed her free hand past her black skirt, swishing the tulle behind her. "Should've worn my boots though. Heels are killing me."
"And I'm gonna suffocate in this tie," Tommy Boy muttered, releasing Sarah's fingers to tug at the solid black ribbon around his neck.
"It took you and Les twenty minutes to get that looking right, don't think you're takin' it off."
Eyebrows raised in amusement, Katherine asked, "You needed a nine-year-old's help to tie your tie?"
"Ten in three days!" objected Les as he joined the trio. He was dressed like a smaller version of Tommy Boy, except with a black fedora instead of a cap.
"I remember turning ten," said the girl whose arm was linked through the little boy's. "Good age. Not nearly as cool as eleven."
"You ain't that old yet."
"Who cares? I'm still older."
"I'm gonna be taller!" To prove his point, Les gestured towards Davey.
"Ooh, then six years from now, you can gloat about it." Sally tossed her many braids behind the puffed sleeves of her purple dress.
Tommy Boy cut in just then, bringing the banter to an end. "Les, where's Chuck?"
"Uh..." Les glanced around. "The car?"
"Oh no." The older boy grimaced in the direction of Mr. Jacobs.
"I'll get the keys," assured Sarah, patting his shoulder.
"And this is why I love you."
"I know." Face glowing, Sarah headed into the circle of adults.
When she'd gone, Katherine questioned, "Her dad doesn't like you?"
Tommy Boy gave her a wondering look, as if worried she were new here. "He hates me."
"Good luck."
"For?"
"Nothing. Just good luck."
In all honesty, how is anyone expected to manage dating against their family's approval?
"Evening, Miss Plumber." Davey and Jack had made it to the door. Katherine greeted both of them in turn, but Jack didn't dignify her with a response. She ushered everyone inside, catching the two strike leaders before they crossed the threshold to the main venue.
"I didn't expect to see you tonight," she offered Jack a smile, and still received nothing in return. He wouldn't meet her eyes.
In an attempt to cut the tension, Davey said, "I keep tellin' Jack, it's so good to have 'im back at school."
"An' I keep tellin' you, shuddup," he replied with a sheepish half smile.
"It'd be even better if he came back to help run the pape."
"The World hasn't been the same without you," Katherine informed. "People have been asking-"
"This a dinner party or what?" Jack elbowed past her, and disappeared into the next room.
Davey let out a long breath. "One class we've got together and he won't show. Not that he's missin' much, but still."
Katherine smiled without her teeth. "Something about the editor-in-chief is keeping him away."
"Not just you. I think he's keeping himself distant. After everything... I mean, he sits away from the other fellas at lunch, I don't see him hanging with anyone in the halls. He says he's doing alright, but I dunno."
"You're worried about him."
"Yes." Davey examined the cuff of his sleeve, picking off a piece of lint before wondering, "And you?"
"A bit. It's odd not having him. You know, I almost miss his flirting."
"What exactly happened between you guys?"
"We both had our pitfalls. Mine were grander than his." Davey didn't urge further elaboration, but Katherine chose to add, "I've been wanting to talk it out with him, it's just difficult when he avoids me. Not that I don't understand."
"Maybe I could say something."
"Thanks, but he needs to hear it from me."
Furthermore, how does one move past a romantic history where both parties made terrible, selfish mistakes? Is there anything to be salvaged? Can a grand gesture cut it, like the movies say, or is a proper apology still in order?
"Katherine!" Darcy burst forth from the crowd as she and Davey crossed the threshold. "Your father."
"I've been summoned." Bobbing her head to the boys, she promptly whisked herself away, not wasting time exchanging pleasantries with any more guests as she passed through the main dining area. She found her father holed up in one corner between a long table and the bay window.
Rather than hello, Pulitzer opened with, "Our guest of honor is late, and the food is getting cold."
"People can eat when they want, it's a buffet." Katherine eyed the stacks of plates and rows of tureens, all sitting untouched atop the line of tables against the wall. "I suppose nobody told them that."
"I sent Nunzio to retrieve the young man. Nunzio is never late."
"Let me guess: Nunzio went in a car?"
"We didn't have enough space for the private jet to land."
Katherine groaned. "Did you listen to a thing I told you about Charlie? I said no cars."
"I thought it a friendly suggestion."
"Of course you did."
"How else is the boy to get here? I don't expect him to walk."
"I don't know, he's probably taking the bus."
"With his background, he'll have convinced the driver to strike again before he's halfway to the neighborhood."
"Look, he'll get here when he gets here. Let's just let people eat, get through some of the speeches..."
Pulitzer sighed discontentedly.
"He's looking forward to this about as much as you are, so when he does arrive, if you have an ounce of kindness in you, please show it to him. After all, you agreed." She lowered her voice to a masculine grunt. "'It's a compromise we can all live with.'"
"I'm aware of what I signed on for. And if it improves my public image, I'm willing to tolerate the hassle this child will surely bring."
"Glad we're on the same page," said Katherine flatly. She picked up an empty glass and a spoon from the nearest place setting, then clinked them together, drawing everyone's attention. "Dinner is served! Help yourselves!"
Immediately, a horde of starving teenagers clambered their way through tables and chairs, seeking the food like trained police dogs. Pulitzer turned up his nose, took his seat on the end of the head table and sat back, waiting for the frenzy to subside. Katherine, too, refrained from joining the line, and considered herself lucky for doing so, as she definitely wouldn't have got through without injury. What's more, she wouldn't have noticed one guest slipping discreetly into the kitchen.
By the time Katherine caught up, Jack had moved into the back garden. He sat alone on the marble bench, staring at the roses with his back turned away from the world.
"Hey."
"Plumber."
Though there was space enough for her on the bench, she hovered behind, worrying he'd flinch if she sat down. "How are things?"
He swiveled to face her, swinging his feet over the seat and planting them firmly on the grass. "Really? That's what you came out ta say?"
"It was an introduction," she snapped.
"Spare me the essay."
So Katherine got to the point. "I'm sorry for the kiss. And for withholding the truth. I misled you, and I shouldn't have."
"Alright."
"I hope you'll come back to class. We'll have the paper running smoothly by Monday."
"I been busy."
"Every day during fourth period?"
"Yeah. Medda's makin' me see a counselor."
"Every day."
Jack growled. "Okay, so I skip an' paint shit for an hour 'stead a' bein' cramped wit people who've told me ta keep my distance. I confess. Turn me in."
"I heard most guys accepted your apology."
"Some did. But some of 'em can't. Not that I blame 'em. Race and Smalls did a hell of a job cleanin' up after me, savin' Crutchie's life."
"Have you tried just talking to them?"
"No Kath, I didn't think of that!"
How do you apologize after you've cut someone in their deepest of wounds because you knew it would hurt?
Jack scratched at a hole in the knee of his jeans. Unlike the others, he hadn't done much in the area of dressing up. "Race actually heard me out. Took three tries, but 'e listened. It's Smalls who won't- she wants nothin' ta do wit me. Her and Crutchie."
"You all were so close."
"Past tense. That's the key."
"Is there anything I could-"
"You're doin' enough already. Thanks, by the way. He was gonna pick New Jersey if you wouldn't a' persuaded 'im." He swallowed. "And, uh- thanks fer everythin' else. Your articles- Medda showed me what you put togetha' ta help us win, the interview, Sarah's photos, the rally… Dave said it really made a difference. So thanks.
"Sorry, 'bout not sayin' that earlier."
"I didn't expect you to."
Their eyes met; this time, Jack didn't break away.
Is it enough to simply trust that things will work themselves out, given sufficient time and space?
Katherine ended the silence after a minute. "I'm sure if you rejoined the other newsies, Smalls would-"
"No."
"You can't avoid her forever."
"I know, but everythin' that went down wit us, you have no idea- I mean, I don't see why she'd ever... Maybe it's not worth tryin' ta fix."
"You think she wants to lose you?"
"I-"
"She doesn't."
Startled at this new voice, Katherine twisted her head sharply to the side.
Smalls stood in the midst of the double doors leading to the kitchen, hands shoved in the pockets of her green blazer. "Just been too stubborn ta say so."
Disgruntled, Jack cleared his throat. "Eavesdrop, much?"
"Was lookin' for Kath, actually." She stepped onto the grass, coming closer to the pair. "Whoeva' did the seating chart decided it was a good idea ta put me at the fancy table right next to The World's head cartoonist. Who, I might add, has done a god awful job a' showin' up for work." Smalls turned to Katherine. "I'd prefer ta sit with my girlfriend."
"Well, if you can find the space-" She was cut short by a mumble from Jack.
"You wanna repeat that?" asked Smalls, regarding him with square shoulders.
"Just sayin' I didn't think our readers craved a funnies page. Tha's why I ain't been around."
"You don't spend much time wit children."
"Or I do, an' I forget they're kids."
They held eye contact, each one challenging the other. Then Jack patted the slab of marble next to him and Smalls took the invitation to sit. Katherine followed her cue and left the pair alone, drawing the doors closed behind her.
Hurting someone you're close to- really hurting them- can take ages to overcome. Baby steps, however, are often the best way to tackle tough resolutions. Ease into it, and give the person time to forgive you. I promise that eventually, they will.
When she stepped back into the dining room, the chaos had settled considerably. Not much food remained on the buffet, but she found enough to fill a meager plate and seated herself at the head table, between her father and Davey. To Davey's right were two empty seats: those belonging to Jack and Smalls. All others had been filled, aside from one at the very opposite end.
"Still no sign of our most important guest," Pulitzer hissed.
Katherine ignored him, digging into her food instead.
Some people have scars we can see, and others hide their cuts deep inside.
Someone cleared their throat softly, making Katherine look up from her potatoes. Sniper- looking taller somehow in her sea-green dress- set a placard in front of the older girl's plate.
"Sorry ta interrupt, I just had a question 'bout these labels."
Hurriedly, Katherine swallowed the bite she'd been working on. "Shoot."
"Investigative an' opinion reporter... I'm flattered, but the thing is-"
"The positions aren't finalized. You can change as much as you want. These were just my best guesses. Thought it'd be fun for tonight."
"No, it is. You hit the nail on the head, I'm already thinkin' of a story I wanna write. Only problem is, if I do write it an' I use my name... well, if I write at all an' my real name's there, certain people are going to-"
"You need a by-line," Katherine finished, catching on. "I know a thing or two about those. See me in class tomorrow, and we'll brainstorm."
Sniper thanked her, plucked the placard away, and retreated to her seat beside Finch.
Your very best friend could be hiding something serious, but you may never think to ask because they always have a brave face on. I, a lowly editor of a high school newspaper, must take a moment here and urge you to please, please be supportive when and if they let on about their secrets. Listen, and be present. Offer advice if you can. But don't push. And don't judge. You could save a life, or at least change one for the better.
Katherine focused back on her dinner for a while. As her plate emptied, the room filled with chatter. Hurriedly, she finished off her last bites, wiped her hands with a napkin, then clinked an unused spoon against her glass. "Can I get everyone's attention?"
All eyes fell on her, and conversations faded out. Katherine stood to make herself more visible, then began, "I'd like to thank everyone for coming tonight. I'm sure many of you have homework you're avoiding to be here, so many thanks for choosing this as your distraction of choice."
Mild chuckles rippled across the audience.
"This wouldn't have been possible without contributions from so many of you. For one, my father, who has so graciously allowed a gaggle of teenagers to overrun his first floor for several hours."
Beside her, Pulitzer made a small grunt of displeasure.
"Also- mind you, these are in no particular order- a big thank you to Mr. Jacobi, Henry Butler, and Jojo de la Guerra for catering, Buttons Davenport for a week's worth of tailoring- the reason we all look so spiffy- and Elmer and Hannah Kasprzak for helping the rest come together. I can't begin to give any of you enough credit."
Her listeners met this with loud applause. When it concluded, she went on, "Now, it stands to reason that there would be no party to plan without the strike that led us here. As to involvement in that, I firstly wish to recognize Medda Larkin for the help she provided throughout. It was not just her connections that helped us win, but the inspiration she gave. We're all well aware of what you've taken on, Miss Medda, as well as what you've sacrificed. Though you won't be around Roosevelt High any longer, we are grateful for the time you spent with us." From her seat, Medda beamed as another wave of applause- this time with accompanying hoots and hollers- washed over the room.
It is said that people come into our lives for a reason. Some for us to teach, and others to teach us. They bring us much to learn, help us grow, and lead us through part of our life's journey. We, in return, should help them however we can.
Whether you agree with me or not, you must admit that who you are today has been shaped by the people you have known. I do hope they have changed you for good.
"Specs Phillips and Spot Conlon deserve huge thanks as well, mainly for helping me corral all those crazy kids. Your leadership- not to mention your perseverance and kindness- does not go unrecognized."
"Yeah Specky!" cheered Albert and Romeo together.
The Brooklyn newsies took that as a challenge, seizing the moment to call out Spot's name as obnoxiously as possible. Romeo and Albert retaliated, were soon joined by other Manhattan kids, and the battle of cheers continued until Katherine tapped her glass for quiet again.
"On the topic of leadership, I must thank- or rather, convict- Davey Jacobs. On one count of letting me give this speech, because he didn't want to-" she paused to give the boy a smug smile, which he rolled his eyes at- "and on count two, for growing so much in mere days. Your brains, wit, and strategic aptitude are the final reasons bringing us here tonight." Raising her glass, she concluded, "Here's to you, and the other Manhattan newsies!"
"Carrying the banner!" they responded as Davey rose for his ovation. Seeing him choose to draw more attention caused the newsies to make an all-out uproar, enough to redden his face and push him right back into his chair. There he sat, taking aggressive sips of water to hide his bashful expression.
Katherine controlled the audience a final time, then pulled Davey up again. Despite a few protests, his teeth shone, and as the crowd stilled he accepted the chance to speak.
"You're all too kind, honestly. I'm not the only leader here. For one thing, Katherine, you yourself-" He couldn't seem to find the words, but his grin spoke volumes. "We owe you."
She nodded graciously.
"And of course there are the others that were mentioned-" he waved towards Spot and Specs- "but it's worth noting that while all of us were vital to the strike's success, there is one more person we should be thanking. He's had me under his wing from the beginning. And he may have faltered in the end, but it was his courage, his determination to fight and challenge the system, that led us into our protest. So, if you'll permit me, I'd like to raise a glass to Jack Kelly."
Katherine did as Davey instructed, as did Medda, but everyone else shifted in their seats. The dining room felt colder, becoming eerie in the collective, judgemental hush. Davey took another long sip of water, then continued his gesture. Somebody coughed.
Then again, some people may have inspired positive changes in you, but created negative changes in themselves. In these cases, circumstances are often beyond the person's control. And other times, well, they're just mean.
"To Jack Kelly." At one of the smaller, round tables, Spot had risen, his eyes locking with Davey's as he held his glass high. Hotshot and the other Brookies followed his lead, which was then copied by a table of Queens girls, which spread to Les and his girlfriend, then Sarah, then Tommy Boy, and finally, the other Manhattan newsies got to their feet, raising their cups.
The effect, so solemn and no longer uneasy, was quickly broken by a shout from the next room. "Whaddaya need me forgivin' you for, when it was so wonderfully easy for everyone else?"
Smalls' pitching tones were quickly answered with Jack's deep voice. "I didn't say nothin' about it bein' easy! I wouldn't a' let this slide if I was them!"
"Don't even! They all love you! Of course ya get off quick, even afta' everythin' you done!"
"You know what that is? Pity! I let 'em down, I screwed up! They's givin' me their sympathy-"
"'Cause Davey said you were havin' a hard time!" Katherine checked her right side; Davey's face hardly changed, but he lowered his glass, and the other guests took the invitation to do the same.
"Yer jealous a' that? You want everyone lookin' at you all concerned, wanna be treated like you's gonna fall apart in a heartbeat?"
"MAYBE I ALREADY HAVE!" The kitchen door slammed open, drawing everyone's attention to the rear portion of the dining room. Over forty pairs of eyes tracked Smalls as she backed through the entryway, then slowly swiveled around, her face flushed and dominated by a newly embarrassed frown. "Perfect. Just perfect."
Jack stepped in beside her, his face paler but similarly troubled. Everyone's focus shifted to him; he didn't waver or run, but he didn't say anything either. Perhaps he was unable to. Perhaps he feared saying the wrong thing. Or perhaps nothing he wanted to say was fit to be heard by so many people. He caught Smalls' gaze, communicating with his eyes. Katherine suspected he was trying to reason with her, and not for the first time.
However, the message Smalls interpreted was no consolation for the dispute they'd just been having. Without further acknowledgement of the older boy, she marched across the room and slipped noiselessly into her place behind the head table.
As long as you've learned something, there is no shame in realizing you are better off without someone.
To Katherine's immense relief, Specs finally broke the silence with a toast of his own. "To Smalls Hughes and Racetrack Higgins!"
At once, as if they had been temporarily suspended in time, the crowd jolted back to life, raising their glasses or applauding politely while they returned to their chairs. Rather than fill the last space at the front of the room, Jack crossed his arms and leaned against the back wall. Davey surveyed him for a second or two before backing into his seat, and all attention eventually fell on Katherine, the only person still standing.
She cleared her throat, hoping to brush away the earlier discomfort. "I suppose none of you decided to attend this party to listen to twenty minutes worth of gratitude, did you? No. If anything, you're here for the food." A few people laughed.
"Tonight, you're here in celebration of what you've all done, negotiating with Mr. Pulitzer. You stood up when you saw something was wrong. You spoke out, and continued to do so, even as the road to victory got rougher. That takes colossal bravery and strength. If no one else is proud of you, take comfort in knowing that I am. And, I hope, you're proud of yourselves. You've changed the course of history." She took a beat, letting that sink in. "So without further ado, please join me in giving up the floor to Governor Roosevelt!"
Farther down the table, the governor stood, his smile only half visible beneath his reddish-brown mustache. All clapping halted abruptly when he took command. Katherine, seated now, held her breath with the others in apprehension of what he would say.
"There comes a time when each generation must, at the height of its power, step aside and invite the young to share the day," Roosevelt told them. "There's an old saying I'm quite fond of; it has been passed down in my family for decades: 'Keep your eyes on the stars, and your feet on the ground.'
"I imparted these words of wisdom on Mr. Jacobs, before your victory came to be. Now, I share them with all of you because I have not, in all my years, once met a group of people who have better embodied this philosophy. I trust that as you walk through life you will continue to take it to heart. To be so young and inspire so many, as Miss Pulitzer was saying, is something to be proud of. You have laid claim to our world and I believe the future, in your hands, will be bright and prosperous!"
A bout of whistling and clapping followed. The governor waited patiently for it to subside. "I am sure you can look after each other, and know how to steer yourselves around if you find yourself aiming for potential ruin. However, it is partly the duty of adults, such as Miss Larkin and myself, to ensure you all stay on the right path. Am I not correct, Joseph?"
Rather stiffly, Katherine's father stood, giving the listeners someone new to regard. "I have been told that Roosevelt High is in need of a proper journalism teacher. I trust my daughter has volunteered a suitable person for the position."
"So she has." Roosevelt waved a hand to his left, towards Mr. Denton. A look of astonishment crossed the younger man's face as he was addressed. "Care to introduce yourself?"
His chair screeching loudly against the floor, Denton got up. "Er, yes, hello. The name's Mr. Brian Denton, and I hope to see you in class next Monday. Miss Plumber and I have some new ideas in store." He nodded to everyone.
They looked at him expectantly, eager for more.
Denton, unfortunately, didn't seem to have prepared anything. After a moment's frantic glancing about the room, he came up with: "Change is coming. Soon, The World will know that you are all- uh, kings of New York, and if you watch what happens... um, as long as you have something to believe in, you'll find things you never planned on. You will carry the banner, once and for all. That's the bottom line."
Not to Katherine's surprise, his words were received with silence and concerned stares, until the twins piped up with an intentionally obnoxious round of applause.
"Good show, Denty!" yelled Mike.
Ike declared, "Best speech I ever heard!"
With a tight-lipped smile, Denton flourished his hand at the pair, then sat back down, looking like he wished he had never spoken in the first place. As he did, the doorbell rang, cutting off the twins.
Sometimes, one is forced to end things, and never look back.
Katherine entered the spotlight once more, motioning across the room to Darcy and Bill. She'd informed them of their task hours earlier, and they discreetly slipped into the foyer as she began to speak again. "Before we get back to the celebrations, I have one more announcement." She strained her ears to hear the muffled sound of the front door opening, along with Bill and Darcy's greetings. "As many of you already know, a group home called the Refuge is currently undergoing investigation, by order of Governor Roosevelt. I received word today that William Snyder, the man who ran the Refuge, has finally been arrested and will await trial in the coming months."
"Thank goodness," Specs breathed, overly audible in the heavy silence.
"It is my pleasure to inform you that as part of his debt to the newsies, Mr. Pulitzer- my father- has agreed to take in one of the many children displaced by the shutdown."
Suddenly, Race shot out of his seat, banging his knees on the underside of the table. "Ow- look! It's Crutchie!"
Sure enough, the boy in question stepped into the room then, dressed in a tan suit vest and yellow bow tie. A pair of brand-new, sparkling silver crutches were tucked under his forearms. He smiled brightly. "Hey, fellas. Ya miss me?"
Katherine thought her eardrums would burst at the noise that followed. In a cacophonous scraping of chairs, Manhattan newsies burst from every corner of the room and thronged around their friend, cheering as they each tried to be the first to welcome him back. The head table emptied considerably, with close to half its population leaving their seats to greet the guest of honor. Keeping back, Katherine observed the hullabaloo, and lost sight of Crutchie in the midst of what seemed like a million people trying to hug him at once. And then, as they parted- allowing him space to breathe- all sound was sucked from the room again.
Because Jack was there, at the end of a long line of newsies. Crutchie stood an entire two tables' length opposite, staring at him. Both were frozen in the moment, holding each other's gaze. Everyone else glanced back and forth between the two, like they were spectating a debate.
Crutchie moved forward.
So did Jack.
Then Crutchie again.
And suddenly Jack was running, closing the gap in four paces and scooping the younger boy into his arms, coming close to knocking him over. And it was Jack's legs, not Crutchie's, that gave way as he held onto his friend. Soon enough they were both kneeling on the ground, still embracing, becoming a sort of human puddle. They stayed this way for a long moment, until finally, both boys let go.
A shaking Crutchie was helped up by Finch, who was nearest, and Medda assisted Jack. He sort of fell into her, unable to recover use of his legs yet. Tears were running down his cheeks, but he was grinning enough to rival Crutchie.
Night had fallen outside, but the room felt as bright as the morning. All that was good, warm, and hopeful was there in its entirety. No one had given much thought to it missing, but its return made all the difference.
Even the best of people can slip up, causing you to think the worst of them. Wrongdoings can pile up over time, eventually creating a hurdle you are unable to surmount. You may be unaware when it first happens; no one longs for the sun until they tire of cloudy days.
If you truly care for someone and they are really worth it, I imagine you can find it inside yourself to give them a second chance.
On another note, if you have already tried giving a second- or even third- chance, failed, and realized that is no longer a practical option, I hope you get closure some other way.
No day but today.
After that, the guests dispersed into a proper party. Smaller tables were cleared, folded, and pushed against the wall to make room for dancing. Gradually, the music would wind down; people would succumb to exhaustion and head home to bed.
Some hours later, the house would be empty aside from three people, with lingering bits of glitter and a mountain of dishes the only indicators anyone else had been there at all.
It would not be smooth sailing in weeks to come, which Katherine had yet to find out. In her home especially, there would be trials. So too, in the halls of Roosevelt High. In a classroom, in a group home, even in a Long Island penthouse. Nothing would ever be perfect bliss.
No one could live without moments of shock and suffering; the sort of guts and glory stuff that made front page news. But there would be victories, just as there would be hardship. People would lose. Others would win. Things would break, and attempts would be made to fix them. Seasons would change, and the world would turn. On and on and on.
You ask, what is the point of all this? Where is the end to the story?
The truth is, there isn't one. The story of the strike, that is over. But as for the people involved... there is so much left to tell about them. Two weeks worth of their experiences is not nearly enough to capture the whole of anyone, particularly when much of the background to their tale remains untold.
The account you have just read only made it to print because it centered around an event. As it ceases to be news, the characters and key players begin to disappear, until they become barely a blip in the long history of one city, in one country, one year before the millennium. That is the way of the printing world. Something only happens as long as it is in the paper.
But there will be new news. New stories, and characters. None will be quite like this one, but they may be similar. And someday down the road, you may see these people again. Although, you may not recognize them.
They may not recognize themselves, in the end.
People change.
Change their clothes, change their hair, change their names... but it is changing their minds that matters. Even the oldest of dogs can be taught a new trick once in a while. And as difficult as it can be to shift another person's beliefs and viewpoint, ultimately the hardest battle is changing one's own mind.
We as humans are deeply ingrained with the need to be right. We mustn't have anyone tell us "no" as we make a choice, for our personal choices must be correct. After all, if we are wrongly directing ourselves, what does that make us?
If we are the broken ones, when we thought it was the rest of the world, how hard will that be to fix? When we are the only ones validating our choices, can those choices still be right? How can we believe in the good of others, but not see it in ourselves? Can our actions truly speak louder, and make up for our words?
When it all comes down to it, given a story about people, this is all we have to conclude. More questions.
Perhaps someday, we'll have all the answers.
And that, dear reader, will surely be newsworthy.
THE END
I can't believe it's over.
I can't believe we're leaving.
I don't wanna go.
If I tried to list every musical and piece of media that inspired this story, we would be here into the next day. So I'll just say that there's a lot, and props to anyone who catches any of the Easter eggs.
(The following Author's Note is terribly long, so if you want to skip it or skim it, I won't be offended.)
A/N:
This is a work of fanfiction, and was written for fun, so I don't technically own anything.
But guys. I poured my heart and soul into this for two whole years. To see it complete... That's something else.
This is the first full-length story I have ever- and I mean EVER- finished entirely. I'm so glad to have shared it with you all.
When I first started writing WAN, it was just because I loved Newsies, because I'd found this uplifting musical with such a relevant story and so much potential for character development. It began during Covid, when I had loads of time on my hands, and somehow, I kept going after it. I was passionate about these kids and wouldn't rest until I saw their story finished.
And what a story.
I never expected it to turn into this.
During 2020 was when I first began to deal with anxiety, as many people did. I was doing Zoom school when working on WAN, and there was one day- I don't know if I overslept or what- where I was late to online class, and got really freaked out about it. Now, I normally don't like being late, but for whatever reason I could not get myself together on that day. I ended up laying on my bed and crying and trying to get my breathing back to normal...
And that's where I got the idea for the "Santa Fe" scene in Chapter 39. Jack's whole arc spiraled out from there.
(Side note: I see a therapist now, and I (thankfully) have loads of people to lean on. Anxiety still isn't easy, but it's manageable, most of the time.)
2021 came, things with the pandemic started to get better, and I became involved with the Newsies fandom on Instagram.
Months passed, and then... some shit went down.
I was basically finished with WAN at that time, but I began rewriting some of the final chapters. There were certain stories I wanted- needed- to tell. Stories about broken friendships, jealousy, insecurity, and tough relationships. I needed an outlet for what had happened to me. Because if newsies could fight and reconcile, maybe I would feel better.
Jack Kelly in particular became everything to me. He's my comfort character, my projection character, and a lot of his personality has either been mine or influenced mine (funny how that works).
So much of Newsies fiction out there has to do with him in romantic relationships- Jackcrutchie, Javid, Jatherine, etc.- and in writing WAN, I could never decide who I wanted him to end up with. (My multishipper self refused to pick one.)
Then, as I got into giving him an arc about mental health, I started to see things differently. What if romance wasn't the most important thing for him?
I would be happy to see Jack find love, but after all he's been through in WAN, I strongly believe that what he needs at this point in his life is not to have one person loving him, but an abundance of them.
And above all else, he needs to learn to love himself.
So that's exactly what I gave him.
I tried to give each character a happy ending and tie up all loose ends, but as you probably noticed... There's one relationship that didn't get resolved.
Yes, I left Jack and Smalls in a fight.
Although the loss of friendship I experienced recently got its second wind (wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles), at the time I was finishing this epilogue, I was still working through the grief from it.
Realistically, two weeks is not enough for all the newsies to suddenly be like "Jack Kelly is the best person ever! I'm soooo glad he's back!"
Crutchie and Race took that time to sift through their feelings and come to a place of forgiveness (at the very least). Specs, Tommy Boy, Spot, and others do not hate Jack's guts. Davey legitimately likes the guy.
But Smalls... I explored her backstory in a one-shot, and I'll add it to Here's The Headline sometime soon. Certain things in her past caused hurt from Jack to hit her harder than others.
Ultimately, I left Smalls' relationship with Jack in a rut to show that it is not easy to forgive someone when they've hurt you badly.
I can see her and Jack drifting from one another, and eventually coming back together. They were close once, and they can be again. But it's gonna take time.
That's the truth.
(If anyone wants me to go deeper on any other part of the story, mention it in a review! I'd be happy to discuss via PMs.)
Shout-Outs:
Dylan: You're my biggest critic, and by that I mean you have a keen eye for typos and won't hesitate to question my writing or push me to make it better. (And I know it's always well-intentioned, even if it offends my stubborn self at first. :)) If you ever pursue a career in editing, consider yourself hired. I'm so thankful that we grew so much closer over the last two years. Someday, we gotta meet in person.
Jonna: You are one of the best and kindest people I know. You've got a beautiful soul, and your art is truly gorgeous. (Much love for the WAN cover art!) Thank you so much for being a listening ear and an advice giver all those times. I'm excited to see your creative talents blossom further as your continue working with your OCs, and I hope to have the chance to see you sing one day! I'm delighted to call myself your friend.
Vil: Gods, where do I start? You. Just you. I'm thankful for your existence. You were the first person here when WAN started, and I know things got... chaotic, after that, but you're back for the end, and I couldn't be more thrilled to have you. Many thanks for everything, especially your friendship. (You truly are the Harry to my Ron.) I'm so excited to see where life takes us next. And as always: Keep writing!
Jean: You are my biggest inspiration. I love your literary and artistic skills, your kindness always makes my day, and I truly enjoy every conversation we have. Whether we're talking about Newsies lore or how stressful life can be, you always have some wise words to share. I don't know if you'll even see this, but THANK YOU a million times for offering to read a little bit of WAN. The idea that my fanfiction writer idol has graced this story with her presence simultaneously delights and terrifies me.
Lastly, I'd like to thank anyone who has ever read this story. Even if you never finished. Even if you're too shy to review. I appreciate all of you.
(And to my reader-reviewers, one of these: *virtual double high-five*)
292+ reviews, 10 favorites, 15 follows, 223,704 words, and 2 years even.
You all helped make this happen. Thank you for coming along on this journey with me.
If you wish to leave one last review and would like a response, I'll be happy to do so via PM. I adore any comments or feedback y'all have to share, so don't hesitate to write some down if you want to!
Thank you, one very last time, for reading.
This is Veronica Weasley, signing off.
