The morning sun was a welcome sight for the newsies. A new day meant a new adventure, and new opportunities. On this particular day, the bunkroom was alive with movement as the newsies awoke. In clusters, they piled away from their beds and in to the nearby washroom where a haphazard line snaked its way around the sinks. An unfamiliar face stumbled in the crowd, struggling to prepare himself for the day. The once serene morning air was shattered by the exodus of kids from the Newsboys Lodging House. Inside, whether it was from consideration, or from sheer neglect, no one stopped to wake the newcomers in the bottom bunk of the last row.

"Come on, come on!" A greasy plump man with speckled hair barked from behind a window. The newsies trickled through the line, some polite, some arrogant, some downright rude. Most of them had the routine down, but towards the end of the line, Racetrack Higgins was showing a new kid the ropes.

"So dis is da distribution centah, wheah we get our papes. Da doit ball behind da window is Weasel. Nobody likes 'im too well, but we gotta go t'rough 'im to make a livin', so ya know." Racetrack shrugged here, and moved up a space in line, Freddie following suit.

Just before melting in to his bed the night before, Freddie was given a hurried introduction to most of the newsboys and newsgirls he was sharing a bunkhouse with. Racetrack had explained to Freddie how they earned their keep, and after little deliberation, Freddie decided a little money wouldn't hurt anything. And it would definitely be useful in his search for the girls. But just for a few days, he told himself.

"Hey Race, Freddie." A boy called Snoddy greeted, nodding to each boy.

"Mornin'", Freddie replied.

Race slid his thumbs through his belt loops, "How many didja get?" he asked, gesturing towards the stack of papers in the boys arms.

"Ahh, 60. Interestin' story, page t'ree." Snoddy replied. "Meet fer lunch?"

"Shoa thing," was the answer, and the boy was off.

"He doesn't really got a lot to say, does he?" Freddie inquired.

Racetrack chuckled and shook his head, "Nah, dat's actually how he got 'is name. Everybody thought 'e was pretty stuck up when 'e foist got 'ere. Ya know, snoody. Evolved ta Snoddy soon aftah. But e's a good guy. Ah!" Racetrack moved up to the window, requesting "50 papes." The odiferous man behind the window handed them over. Race thanked him and turned to Freddie. "Alright. Yer turn. Jist git thoity 'er so, since it's yer foist day an all."

Freddie did as he was told, and the boys were soon on their way.

Dora fidgeted impatiently on the bunk next to her cousin. "Chloe, wake up, wake up. I gotta go Chloe!" she cried uncomfortably. Reaching out her little hands, she pushed her cousin, hard. "Chloe I mean it -wake up!"

The older blonde rolled over partially, smacking Dora's hands away. "Alright already, enough with the pushing." She mumbled, still half asleep.

"Chloe, I'm serious! Get up- you gotta take me to the potty, I mean it, I mean it, I gotta go bad!" With this last word, Dora leapt from the bed and began to turn in tight circles, jumping up and down and wearing a pained look on her face.

At the mention of 'potty', Chloe's eyes sprang to life. She quickly got out of bed, and began to run towards the bunkroom entrance. A squeal from behind her made her turn around. She sprinted back to where Dora was jumping and plucked her up, turning back towards the door. "Bathroom, bathroom, bathroom," Chloe mumbled, searching frantically.

"There!" Dora squeaked, pointing towards a door on the other side of the hall.

Kicking open the door to the washroom, Chloe slid to the nearest stall, depositing Dora on the potty. Sliding down the wall just outside the door and bringing her knees to her chest, Chloe sighed, "Did we make it, Dora?"

A cheerful, "Yup!" came from inside and Dora giggled, causing Chloe to moan and drop her head into her hands.