K, guys, because this chappie's so unbelievably short, you get Chappie 4 as well! Yay! Enjoy and review!
Chapter 3
In the morning I was one of the first ones to roll out of bed. All of the boys kept snoozing, even Spot, until Kloppman came up and shouted at them to get a move on or there would be no more papes left at the distribution center. Moaning and grumbling, the boys slowly rolled out of bed, just as I was heading out the door.
"Morning, boys!" I sang out as I thundered down the stairs. I was in a terrific mood. I stepped outside, breathing in the slightly smoggy air of NYC. I loved mornings like this, the sunny optimistic ones. I grinned as I set off down the street in the direction of the distribution center, remembering the Spot incident of the day before, but cursing the slime that had dried in my hair. Even though I had washed it, my scalp still felt crusty.
I was the toughest newsie in Manhattan. I was the one who had gotten rid of Oscar and Morris Delancy – for good. When I was ten, I had stolen some bull's horse when he turned his back for one second to tape a "Wanted" sign to a post. That's when they started calling me Lightning. I was small and fast, and when I wanted to, I could inflict major pain. Spot was just too big-headed to see that instead of him breaking my heart like he did to every other girl he laid eyes on, I was breaking his reputation.
When I reached the distribution center, it was deserted. Surprise, surprise. It was only 6:15, according to my silver pocket watch that I had nicked off a scabber after I had knocked him out cold for picking on Tidbit, one of the younger newsies. I had fifteen minutes before anyone else would even think of heading to the distribution center, so I plopped down on the curb, dug out a cigarette and match, and settled in for a good smoke. I had been sitting there for about twenty minutes, casually blowing smoke everywhere and lazily watching the odd person scurry by, when a bunch of newsies appeared, coming from the lodging house.
"Heya, Light, how in da woild do ya get down heah so damn eoily?" Racetrack slumped down next to me with a huge yawn. Mush, Specs, Skittery and Dutchy followed suit.
I smiled sweetly. "'Cuz, genius, I don't stay up til odd hours of da night wilin' away all me dough."
"Uh, Light, speakin' o' dough – "
"No, I'm not lendin' ya no more, ya heah? Jeez, Race, youse really gots ta start communicating wit dat hoise." I got to my feet, ground out my cigarette in a nearby knothole and stepped up to the now-open distribution window to buy my papes. Race glared at me, then glanced at Mush, who reluctantly popped him two bits. I collected my usual 100 papes, and headed off in the direction of Central Park. There is another reason for my name. Lightning always comes first. The thunder is always a few steps behind.