A/N: Yeah, it's been a while since I last updated and I'm terribly sorry
for that. You guys now the drill, I don't own the Newsies nor Silent
Striker. I own all of the others that don't appear in the movie but have
made their debuts in this story. In this chapter Medda appears and I'm not
going to even attempt at her fake accent.
Shout Outs
Tiggerbaby2430~ I'm glad that you thought that last two chapters were great. It took me a little longer to update this chapter, but what can I say? Your story is really great too! I can't wait for more!
AngelFish7~ Yep, she has two weeks. I hope your happy with the whole Striker situation. I won't stop writing, don't worry. (At least I don't think so)
NadaZimri~ Yeah , if we got rid of those two then there really wouldn't be a plot.
MDSirs friend ~ I'm glad that you love my story and say that it's great work. That sure makes my day.
Chapter 8
Mush stalked down the streets of Brooklyn. Now these roads are much rougher and tougher than Manhattan's. People get jumped and pick-pocketed more often. The newsies here definitely fit their surroundings. I mean look at Spot , he's the most respected and fearsome leader of any of the boroughs in New York.
'I can't do it, I shouldn't have listened to Blink. Why am I doing this?' the curly haired boy pondered to himself. He stuck his hands in his pockets and hung his head low.
"HEY WATCH IT!" screamed a nicely dressed businessman, after he had walked straight into Mush.
"Sorry," he mumbled not even trying to start a fight for he was too concerned about how he was going to ask Striker if she would go out with him.
Mush had walked about three more blocks when he saw her. He had to stop and stare at her in awe. She was sitting in a booth in a restaurant across the street. She sat there, chatting with the newsie sitting across from her, while sipping on a soda. Her emerald eyes sparkled with laughter as pieces of her long yet straight midnight black fell in her face. She had tanned skin and a had an athletic, but still very feminine build, to her.
After a minute of drooling over the girl, he sauntered over to the restaurant. As he had gotten nearer, he had become a little nervous. This never happened to him before. Normally he was confident and it was a breeze to ask out a girl, but this was different. He didn't know how it was different, it just was.
When he had gotten to the door, he opened it and slowly crept inside. The door didn't have a bell that rang when someone came through the door like Tibby's did, but the arrangement of the diner was quite similar.
"Heya, Mush! Watchu doin' here?" Slice yelled from where he was sitting, which just so happened to be across from SilentStriker.
"I'se here cause I'se need tah talk wit' Strikah," he replied, walking towards their table.
"What do ya need?" she replied.
"I'se need tah talk tah ya, alone," getting the idea of not being wanted, Slice got up from the table and went over to another one of the Brooklynites.
"So, how ya been lately? I'se haven't seen ya since dah day after dat big pokah night a few weeks back." Striker questioned.
"Good, good. An' yourself?"
"Okay, I'se guess. I'se mean wit' Spot in Manhattan an' evertin', I'se have tah watch ovah all o' dese bums. By dah way, why is he in Hattan anyways?"
"Beats me." She just grunted and took a sip of her soda. "Hey are ya goin' tah Medda's tahnight?"
"Probably, she responded. "Why?" "Well I'se was wonderin' ...uh..." he paused becoming a little more nervous than he already was.
"Wonderin' what?"
"I'se was wonderin' if ya'd like tah go wit' me," Mush said in such a hushed and quiet voice that she almost didn't hear him.
"Like as a date?"
"Ya," he said cautiously and becoming a little pink.
"Sure. I'd like dat."
"Really?" he asked enthusiastically.
"Ya, really."
~~~~ Medda's ~~~~
Everyone applauded and Medda took a bow. She had just finished her opening act, which was a lively, upbeat song.
The crowd was monstrous that night. They were loud and the Vaudeville show was jam packed. It would have seemed that all of New York's newsies were there, but in reality it was only Manhattan, Midtown, The Bronx, and Brooklyn.
Each borough sat in their own little sections. The Bronx and Midtown were scattered around the back and sides. And of course, Brooklyn and Manhattan were in the center and closer to the stage.
At the front table, the best seat in the house, sat Jack, Bailey, Spot, Candle, Kid Blink, and myself. It wasn't that big of a table, so Candle sat on Blink's lap. The same as Jack's girl on Jack. As I applauded I had wondered where Mush was. I hadn't seen him since earlier that morning.
When everyone had settled down, I realized that Mush was there. He was sitting, not too far away, with a familiar looking girl. They looked so happy together. I wondered when this had started because Mush had failed to mention this the first night I had even seen a Brooklyn newsie. What was her name again? Striker?
"Hey Strikah! Get ovah here!" Spot yelled from his seat at the table. Yep, Striker. How could I forget. Duh.
Striker had gotten up from her seat, but with much struggle because Mush was giving her puppy eyes. "It'll just be a minute." Mush gave up then went over to a table that sat Race and Slice.
Striker walked towards Spot's table all the while avoiding tables and some intoxicated older newsies. Spot had gotten up as well and they met in the middle of the crowd. "Why don't we'se take dis outside," he yelled over the crowd.
" 'K."
They snuck out a side door, which led to an alley. There were a few crates stacked up against a wall and it had a foul smell. It was most likely because of the full dumpsters that leaned against the opposite wall as the crates. Spot went straight to the stack of crates and sat upon the top one. Striker leaned against a wall and pulled out a cigarette.
"So how is me borough holdin' up?" The leader asked his second in command. While he asked this she was busy lighting her cigarette.
"Okay, I'se guess. Tings are getting' a little crazy an' me patience is runnin' thin," the girl sighed, taking a drag of her cigarette.
"It seems dat ting's are getting' tah dah point where ya can't handle it," Spot hinted.
"Hey, I'se nevah said dat I'se couldn't handle it," she replied back defensively.
"Well dat's what ya were informin'."
"Oh really? Dat's what I'se was informin', huh? Well, why don't ya inform me on why ya stayin' in Manhattan?" Striker crossed her arms over her chest waiting for his reply.
"No reason," the leader replied slyly, the all-to-familiar glint in his eye.
"Yeah, yeah. Well if ya don't mind I'se like tah get back tah dah show," the girl turned to leave.
"Yeah, you'se an' Mush were puttin' on a show in dere," Spot chuckled, pointing to the door.
"Aw, shut it. Ya don't even know what you'se talkin' bout," she turned back around to face Spot when she had said this.
"So when did all dis happen?"
"We're not a couple, if dat's what you'se tinkin'. It's just a date."
"Date or no date, you'se guys look cute tagedah," the leader stated matter of factly.
"Since when does Spot Conlon use dah word 'cute'?" Striker had an amused expression plastered on her face and she threw her cigarette on the ground.
"What? Now I'se can't have a freedom o' speech?" Spot smirked. "Nope!" Silent Striker then went back through the side door that they had come out of earlier. Spot just stood there, thinking about things. Certain things. More like a certain someone. Someone named Misfit.
He couldn't stop thinking about her. Throughout the whole night Spot had kept glancing at her from across the table. She just looked so happy sitting there and watching Medda. 'I don't know what's gotten into me. At first she was a little pain in my ass. Now we act more... civilized. It's all to strange--I think that I've fallen for her.'
Spot then jumped off of the crates that he had been sitting on and went inside the side door. Though instead of going back to the table, he crept backstage. He waited until Medda was finished with her song. Everyone cheered at their beloved singer. Medda took her bow and headed backstage to freshen up.
"Why hello, Spot. What are you doing back here?" the woman asked.
"I'se need ya tah do me a favah."
~~~~ Minutes later ~~~~
About five minutes later, Medda was up on stage, again. But this time, instead of singing, she started to quiet everyone down. It was almost pure silence, except for the whispers of why the woman was commanding them silence. Medda cleared her throat and began, "Ladies and gentlemen. Tonight is a special night."
The whispers just grew as people started wondering out loud what was so special about tonight. "Why, you ask?"
"Yeah why is tahnight so special? Is it Christmas or somethin'?" a few snickers were heard as a random kid in the audience commented.
"Tonight is special because one of your fellow newsies has something that he would like to say," the Swedish woman said. She then turned and motioned for the person to come out. It was Spot and when everyone saw who it was they clapped. I just cheered with them just for the fun of it.
What in the name of God does he have to say that is so special . Did he really have to go up there and have Medda shut everyone up? I pondered to myself all the while cheering.
"Alright. Alright!" he yelled. That shut everyone up. "How is everyone doin' tahnight?"
"Spot, what kind o' question is dat? We're at Medda's, we're doin' great!" Race shouted to the Brooklyn leader. Every shouted in agreement with the Italian.
"Hey! It was just a question! An' if any a you'se kids has a problem wit' dat, den I'd be happy to give ya a nice big shinah!" Spot glared towards the audience.
His face softened up a little and was now holding his infamous smirk. "Okay, now I'se don't normally do dis, but I'se makin' an exception. Misfit, c'mon up here."
Some heads turned in my direction and the whispering started again. What does he want from me? I thought we stopped the fighting thing. He better not be pulling something because if he is, I swear...
I was still sitting there, until Candle leaned over and elbowed me. She elbowed me so hard that I practically leaped out of my seat and on the stage. Then I hopped on the stage and faced the Brooklyn leader.
"Yeah?" he better not pull some sort of stupid, embarrassing stunt. He took my hands in his and with that action I gave him a curious look.
"Would ya do me dah honor of bein' me goil?"
Shout Outs
Tiggerbaby2430~ I'm glad that you thought that last two chapters were great. It took me a little longer to update this chapter, but what can I say? Your story is really great too! I can't wait for more!
AngelFish7~ Yep, she has two weeks. I hope your happy with the whole Striker situation. I won't stop writing, don't worry. (At least I don't think so)
NadaZimri~ Yeah , if we got rid of those two then there really wouldn't be a plot.
MDSirs friend ~ I'm glad that you love my story and say that it's great work. That sure makes my day.
Chapter 8
Mush stalked down the streets of Brooklyn. Now these roads are much rougher and tougher than Manhattan's. People get jumped and pick-pocketed more often. The newsies here definitely fit their surroundings. I mean look at Spot , he's the most respected and fearsome leader of any of the boroughs in New York.
'I can't do it, I shouldn't have listened to Blink. Why am I doing this?' the curly haired boy pondered to himself. He stuck his hands in his pockets and hung his head low.
"HEY WATCH IT!" screamed a nicely dressed businessman, after he had walked straight into Mush.
"Sorry," he mumbled not even trying to start a fight for he was too concerned about how he was going to ask Striker if she would go out with him.
Mush had walked about three more blocks when he saw her. He had to stop and stare at her in awe. She was sitting in a booth in a restaurant across the street. She sat there, chatting with the newsie sitting across from her, while sipping on a soda. Her emerald eyes sparkled with laughter as pieces of her long yet straight midnight black fell in her face. She had tanned skin and a had an athletic, but still very feminine build, to her.
After a minute of drooling over the girl, he sauntered over to the restaurant. As he had gotten nearer, he had become a little nervous. This never happened to him before. Normally he was confident and it was a breeze to ask out a girl, but this was different. He didn't know how it was different, it just was.
When he had gotten to the door, he opened it and slowly crept inside. The door didn't have a bell that rang when someone came through the door like Tibby's did, but the arrangement of the diner was quite similar.
"Heya, Mush! Watchu doin' here?" Slice yelled from where he was sitting, which just so happened to be across from SilentStriker.
"I'se here cause I'se need tah talk wit' Strikah," he replied, walking towards their table.
"What do ya need?" she replied.
"I'se need tah talk tah ya, alone," getting the idea of not being wanted, Slice got up from the table and went over to another one of the Brooklynites.
"So, how ya been lately? I'se haven't seen ya since dah day after dat big pokah night a few weeks back." Striker questioned.
"Good, good. An' yourself?"
"Okay, I'se guess. I'se mean wit' Spot in Manhattan an' evertin', I'se have tah watch ovah all o' dese bums. By dah way, why is he in Hattan anyways?"
"Beats me." She just grunted and took a sip of her soda. "Hey are ya goin' tah Medda's tahnight?"
"Probably, she responded. "Why?" "Well I'se was wonderin' ...uh..." he paused becoming a little more nervous than he already was.
"Wonderin' what?"
"I'se was wonderin' if ya'd like tah go wit' me," Mush said in such a hushed and quiet voice that she almost didn't hear him.
"Like as a date?"
"Ya," he said cautiously and becoming a little pink.
"Sure. I'd like dat."
"Really?" he asked enthusiastically.
"Ya, really."
~~~~ Medda's ~~~~
Everyone applauded and Medda took a bow. She had just finished her opening act, which was a lively, upbeat song.
The crowd was monstrous that night. They were loud and the Vaudeville show was jam packed. It would have seemed that all of New York's newsies were there, but in reality it was only Manhattan, Midtown, The Bronx, and Brooklyn.
Each borough sat in their own little sections. The Bronx and Midtown were scattered around the back and sides. And of course, Brooklyn and Manhattan were in the center and closer to the stage.
At the front table, the best seat in the house, sat Jack, Bailey, Spot, Candle, Kid Blink, and myself. It wasn't that big of a table, so Candle sat on Blink's lap. The same as Jack's girl on Jack. As I applauded I had wondered where Mush was. I hadn't seen him since earlier that morning.
When everyone had settled down, I realized that Mush was there. He was sitting, not too far away, with a familiar looking girl. They looked so happy together. I wondered when this had started because Mush had failed to mention this the first night I had even seen a Brooklyn newsie. What was her name again? Striker?
"Hey Strikah! Get ovah here!" Spot yelled from his seat at the table. Yep, Striker. How could I forget. Duh.
Striker had gotten up from her seat, but with much struggle because Mush was giving her puppy eyes. "It'll just be a minute." Mush gave up then went over to a table that sat Race and Slice.
Striker walked towards Spot's table all the while avoiding tables and some intoxicated older newsies. Spot had gotten up as well and they met in the middle of the crowd. "Why don't we'se take dis outside," he yelled over the crowd.
" 'K."
They snuck out a side door, which led to an alley. There were a few crates stacked up against a wall and it had a foul smell. It was most likely because of the full dumpsters that leaned against the opposite wall as the crates. Spot went straight to the stack of crates and sat upon the top one. Striker leaned against a wall and pulled out a cigarette.
"So how is me borough holdin' up?" The leader asked his second in command. While he asked this she was busy lighting her cigarette.
"Okay, I'se guess. Tings are getting' a little crazy an' me patience is runnin' thin," the girl sighed, taking a drag of her cigarette.
"It seems dat ting's are getting' tah dah point where ya can't handle it," Spot hinted.
"Hey, I'se nevah said dat I'se couldn't handle it," she replied back defensively.
"Well dat's what ya were informin'."
"Oh really? Dat's what I'se was informin', huh? Well, why don't ya inform me on why ya stayin' in Manhattan?" Striker crossed her arms over her chest waiting for his reply.
"No reason," the leader replied slyly, the all-to-familiar glint in his eye.
"Yeah, yeah. Well if ya don't mind I'se like tah get back tah dah show," the girl turned to leave.
"Yeah, you'se an' Mush were puttin' on a show in dere," Spot chuckled, pointing to the door.
"Aw, shut it. Ya don't even know what you'se talkin' bout," she turned back around to face Spot when she had said this.
"So when did all dis happen?"
"We're not a couple, if dat's what you'se tinkin'. It's just a date."
"Date or no date, you'se guys look cute tagedah," the leader stated matter of factly.
"Since when does Spot Conlon use dah word 'cute'?" Striker had an amused expression plastered on her face and she threw her cigarette on the ground.
"What? Now I'se can't have a freedom o' speech?" Spot smirked. "Nope!" Silent Striker then went back through the side door that they had come out of earlier. Spot just stood there, thinking about things. Certain things. More like a certain someone. Someone named Misfit.
He couldn't stop thinking about her. Throughout the whole night Spot had kept glancing at her from across the table. She just looked so happy sitting there and watching Medda. 'I don't know what's gotten into me. At first she was a little pain in my ass. Now we act more... civilized. It's all to strange--I think that I've fallen for her.'
Spot then jumped off of the crates that he had been sitting on and went inside the side door. Though instead of going back to the table, he crept backstage. He waited until Medda was finished with her song. Everyone cheered at their beloved singer. Medda took her bow and headed backstage to freshen up.
"Why hello, Spot. What are you doing back here?" the woman asked.
"I'se need ya tah do me a favah."
~~~~ Minutes later ~~~~
About five minutes later, Medda was up on stage, again. But this time, instead of singing, she started to quiet everyone down. It was almost pure silence, except for the whispers of why the woman was commanding them silence. Medda cleared her throat and began, "Ladies and gentlemen. Tonight is a special night."
The whispers just grew as people started wondering out loud what was so special about tonight. "Why, you ask?"
"Yeah why is tahnight so special? Is it Christmas or somethin'?" a few snickers were heard as a random kid in the audience commented.
"Tonight is special because one of your fellow newsies has something that he would like to say," the Swedish woman said. She then turned and motioned for the person to come out. It was Spot and when everyone saw who it was they clapped. I just cheered with them just for the fun of it.
What in the name of God does he have to say that is so special . Did he really have to go up there and have Medda shut everyone up? I pondered to myself all the while cheering.
"Alright. Alright!" he yelled. That shut everyone up. "How is everyone doin' tahnight?"
"Spot, what kind o' question is dat? We're at Medda's, we're doin' great!" Race shouted to the Brooklyn leader. Every shouted in agreement with the Italian.
"Hey! It was just a question! An' if any a you'se kids has a problem wit' dat, den I'd be happy to give ya a nice big shinah!" Spot glared towards the audience.
His face softened up a little and was now holding his infamous smirk. "Okay, now I'se don't normally do dis, but I'se makin' an exception. Misfit, c'mon up here."
Some heads turned in my direction and the whispering started again. What does he want from me? I thought we stopped the fighting thing. He better not be pulling something because if he is, I swear...
I was still sitting there, until Candle leaned over and elbowed me. She elbowed me so hard that I practically leaped out of my seat and on the stage. Then I hopped on the stage and faced the Brooklyn leader.
"Yeah?" he better not pull some sort of stupid, embarrassing stunt. He took my hands in his and with that action I gave him a curious look.
"Would ya do me dah honor of bein' me goil?"