Chapter Two: In Which Mush Has an Interesting Morning and Hannah is Tired

Word Count: 3,803

Manhattan, 1899

"Hey Specs, Racer, Henry, Albert, Elmer - get a move on, them papes don't sell themselves!"

Mush had been delaying getting up as long as he could, but now that Jack had finally called out and the other newsies were awakening, whatever extra few minutes of precious slumber he'd been hoping to get in were gone - out the window.

He'd been having a particularly interesting dream about all the newsies as dogs, which didn't make much sense now that he thought about it, but he had been eager to see where it went nonetheless. He sat up slowly, resisting the urge to groan as Race walked through the lodge shouting. "Albert, Elmer, Specs! You heard Jack, get a move on!"

Mush and the others got up and pulled their clothes on (Spalsher had stolen his hat, so it actually took him longer than normal) , then headed out for the gates, per usual.

"I was havin' the most beautiful dream," Albert complained. "My lips are still tinglin'!"

"Ooh, a pretty girl?" Race asked, playfully nudging the redheaded newsie.

"A leg of lamb."

By this point, some of the other newsies were starting to convene here, waiting for the morning bell to ring.

Just then, Albert took Race's precious cigar.

"Hey, that's my cigar!"

"You'll steal another," Albert replied dismissively.

"Hey, look! Guess the zoo finally decided to wash its animals," Specs teased as Henry applied shaving cream to his face.

"I thought I'd surprise my mother."

"If you can find her," Albert muttered.

"Who asked you?"

Race snatched his cigar back as Albert lamented about how he needed to find a new place to sell. It was a typical morning at the Lodge.

Day to day, the newsies carried the banner, and as hot and exhausting as it sometimes was...

At least it beat washing dishes.

"Well, hello, hello, hello, beautiful," Romeo said as he reached the gates. An attractive woman latched onto the arm of a well-dressed man was passing by, and of course Romeo couldn't pass up the opportunity. The woman raised an uninterested eyebrow, which was when Jack stepped in.

"Woah, step down Romeo, nothin' more concerns you here - mornin', Miss? Can I interest you in the latest news?"

"The paper isn't out yet."

"I'd be delighted to deliver it to you personally."

The man she was with opened his mouth to speak, but she held up a hand. She would do this herself. "I've got a headline for you: 'Cheeky Boy Gets nothing for his troubles." She made absolute certain to emphasize the nothing. Mush had to smile.

"Back to the bench, slugger. You struck out!"

"I'm crushed!"

"Hey Crutchie! What's your leg say? Gonna rain?" Finch asked. Mush walked over. This was much more interesting than watching Jack and Romeo flirt with people (no offense to Jack and Romeo!).

"Eh, no rain… Partly cloudy, clear by evenin'."

"Ah, they oughta bottle this guy!"

"Yeah, and the limp sells fifty papes a week, all by itself - "

"I don't need the limp to sell papes. I got personality.

Mush teasingly made on Oh, right face. As Crutchie rattled off all the aspects of his charming personality and Elmer and some others teased him about it, Mush engaged in a mock sword fight with Romeo. Finch had just started complaining about how long this was taking when the nuns showed up.

The nuns came almost every day, bearing food and drink. Even in its meager amount, everyone was grateful - this might be all they got for a while.

"Blessed children, though you wander lost and depraved," they began their usual poem-prayer thing as they handed out food. "Jesus loves you, you shall be saved."

"Hey, thanks for the grub, sister!"

"Elmer," one of the nuns said sternly, "when are we going to see you inside the church?"

"I dunno, sister, but it's bound to rain sooner or later!"

Mush chortled along with everyone else and the nun sighed, exasperated.

It was nice, this time they had before the bell. Whatever they got up to was different with every day. Papers were all he had, but fortunately, those papers included newsboys (well, newsboys and a girl) on the other end of them, which was all he needed.

They continued making their way to the gates, discussing what made a good headline and what would boost sales. Poor Elmer suggested a crooked politician, but his opinion was quickly shut down by everyone else's unanimous agreements that "that ain't news no more."

"Hey look, they're puttin' up the headline!" Finch exclaimed as they approached.

"I hope it's real bloody with a nice clear picture!"

"Yeah!"

Expectancy hung thick in the air…

Trolley Strike Enters Third Week

A collective groan escaped everyone's mouths.

"The trolley strike? Oh, not again."

"Man, three weeks of the same story. "

"They're killin' us with that snoozer!" Finch remarked rather petulantly, and Mush found he was inclined to agree. The Trolley Strike, like most headlines, was apparently only interesting when it was new. For the first week, everyone was buzzing with excitement and sales shot up dramatically. By the end of the second week, people had started to lose interest, and now they were pushing a third? At this rate, they would be dead soon.

Mush heard a soft, exasperated groan from Cassie next to him. He was tempted to so the same when he realized what she was groaning at.

"Hey, make way. Step aside!"

"Dear me, what is that unpleasant aroma?" Race drawled, taking extra care to stare Oscar and Morris in the eye. "I fear the sewers may have backed up durin' the night."

"Or could it be…" Crutchie nudged Race.

"The Delaney Brothers!" everyone chorused in perfect unison. Oscar unlocked the gate.

"Hey, Oscar, word on the street says you and your brother took money to beat up striking trolley workers."

"So?" replied Oscar, not sounding the slightest bit compunctious. "It's honest work."

"By crackin' the heads of defenseless workers!"

"Hey, I take care of the guy who takes care of me."

"Ain't your father one of the strikers?"

"Guess he didn't take care of me."

In that moment, Mush almost felt sad for the Delanceys - but it was only for a moment, while he had forgotten everything they'd done to him and everyone else. Then Oscar pushed Race.

Mush didn't know when Morris pushed Crutchie, but the next thing he knew, Romeo was holding him back from attacking. "Jack will handle it," he whispered.

"Hey, that is not nice, Morris." Jack said angrily.

"Five to one Jack skunks 'im!" Everyone muttered in agreement.

"One unfortunate day, you might find you've got a bum gam of your own. How'd you like us pickin' on you, huh?" The leader of the newsies turned around curiously. "Hey, how's about we find out?" And quickly, before anyone could react, he snatched Cructhie's crutch and whacked both of the Delanceys in the shins. He darted off, leaving Crutchie in Albert's arms and everyone to cheer, "Go, Jack!"

When they (finally!) arrived at the paper stand, they all lined up as Weasel called to them.

"Mornin' Weasel, didja miss me?"

"The name's Weisel."

"Ain't that what I said? I'll take the usual."

Cassie tapped Mush's shoulder from behind him. "Do you think anything interesting will happen soon? Like, today?"

Mush thought for a moment, and when he didn't immediately reply, Cassie backtracked slightly. "Sorry. That sounds kind of whiny. But the strike? Again? What is so interesting about a strike that they can't find anything else to write about?"

He shrugged. "Somethin', I guess. But I'se sure we'll get somethin' different…eventually…"

"Ever the optimist, aren't you, now?"

Mush grinned. "That's me. Mush Meyers, 'Hattan's resident idealist."

"The title suits you." Cassie grinned. Suddenly, she seemed very interested in something happening further up the line.

"Hey, look at this, a new kid!" Weasel was saying.

"I'm new, too!" cried a little kid indignantly, peeking out at Weasel from behind the taller boy.

"Oh, don't worry kid, it rubs right off." Race muttered.

"Yeah."

"I'll take twenty papers, please," the new kid cut in.

"Right, twenty papers for the new kid."

There was a silence. Nothing happened.

"And let's see the dime?" Weasel prompted.

"Oh, I'll pay when I sell them."

"Come on kid, cash up front."

"But…whatever I don't sell, you buy back, right?"

Mush was strongly tempted to roll his eyes as they went on. This kid was new, alright. The system was weird, yes, but that was just how things were. New Kid would definitely need to learn to ropes.

"Certainly! Oh, and every time you lose a tooth I put a penny under your pillow. Come on kid, cash up front."

New Kid finally conceded and put his money down. The line moved up.

"I'm gonna be honest with you," Cassie said, "I dunno how long he'll last."

"Wow, ye of little faith. And here I thought you was supposed to be the acceptin' one."

"Well, he seems observant,and it wasn't as if he was at the very front of the line. Surely he would have noticed what everyone was doing?"

"You can never assume, I guess. But give him a chance. He might just do somethin' to impress you. 'Sides, it's only his first day on the job. Don't act like you were much better on your first day."

Cassie shrugged. "Alright, Mush, you win. You've convinced me."

"That didn't take much convincin'," he muttered, somewhat pleased with himself.

"That's 'cause you're right…" she trailed off. Again, something up front intrigued her.

"See how nice I was to this new kid, and what do I get for my civility? Ungrounded accusations."

"I just want what I paid for - hey!"

Jack had taken New Kid's papers and started to look through the pile.

"He said beat it," Oscar protested

"Woah, woah, New Kid's right, Weasel, you gave him nineteen. Look, I'm sure it's an honest mistake on account of Oscar can't count to twenty with his shoes on."

Oscar, looking scandalized, lunged for Jack but was held back by Weasel.

"Here's your paper, take a hike."

Jack slammed a quarter on the box."Give the new kid fifty more papes."

"I don't want more papes," New Kid replied dismissively.

At this the newsies looked around at each other. "What kinda newsie don't want more papes?"

"I'm no charity case. I don't even know you."

"His name's Jack," The smaller child responded, sounding almost disappointed in New Kid (his brother, probably), which Mush found sort of funny considering Smaller New Kid had only just learned of Jack.

"Yeah, this here is the famous Jack Kelly," Crutchie said, getting up. "He once escaped jail on the back of Teddy Roosevelt's carriage. Made all the papes."

"So how old are ya, kid?" Jack asked to Smaller New Kid.

"I'm ten." Smaller New Kid paused. "Almost."

"Well if anybody asks, you're seven. Younger sells more papes, and if we're gonna be partners - "

"Who said we want a partner?"

"Selling with Jack is the chance of a lifetime! You learn from him, you learn from the best."

"if he's the best, what's he need with me?"

"'Cause you got a little brother and I don't. With that puss, we could easy sell a thousand papes a week. Hey, look sad kid."

Smaller New Kid did an exaggerated pout, and Mush found himself smiling along with New Kid and Crutchie. A quick glance backwards told him Cassie was doing the same.

"Oh, we're gonna make millions!"

"I'm Les, and this is my brother David. He's older."

"Oh, no kiddin'." Jack turned. "It's nice to meet you, Davey. My two bits come off the top, and we split everything else seventy-thirty."

"Fifty-fifty. You wouldn't try to pull a fast one on a little kid?"

By now both Mush and Cassie had gotten their papes and were watching the interesting exchange between the two.

"I like this Les kid," Cassie whispered, smirking.

"Sixty-forty, and that is my final offer."

Les looked at his brother, who shrugged. "Deal."

They did a spit shake, and Mush chuckled when Davey said, "That's disgusting."

"That's just business. Newsies, hit the streets! The sun is up, the headline stinks and this kid ain't gettin' any younger!"

And they were off, another day carrying the banner.

Hannah sat cross-legged in her chair, a notepad open in her lap and a pencil in her hand. Pulitzer was reading the newspaper, his eyebrows knit in what Hannah assumed was disappointment.

"Gentlemen, The World is in trouble. Our circulation is down for the third quarter in a row."

Gentlemen. Because obviously, she was the nice lady from the flower shop who stopped by to deliver some roses while Pulitzer just so happened to be having an important discussion with his actual, male employees.

Honestly, Hannah couldn't care less about The World. She read it sometimes, actually, but she wouldn't be as devastated as some people would if it crashed and burned.

The job paid well, and since her husband was resting up from his strike injuries, she had to put the food on the table for him and their children every night. And as grueling as it often was, she'd grown accustomed to her job at The World. When she didn't have to actually talk with people, it really was quite nice.

"But Mr. Pulitzer, every paper's circulation is down since the war ended," Seitz remarked.

"Whoever said 'war is hell' wasn't trying to sell newspapers."

"We could use an exciting headline."

It was true. The Trolley Strike had been front page news for almost a month. It was long past stale at this point.

"What have we got today?"

"They trolley strike."

"That's not exciting? It's epic - "

"It's boring," Hannah corrected, cutting him off. She normally wasn't this snappy, but she was tired, and it was a Monday, and she already, at eleven o'clock in the morning, just wanted to go home. Her shoes were killing her and her hair was up too tight. She felt she had the right to be a little bit grumpy. "Folks wanna know - is the trolley comin', or am I walkin'? No one cares why."

Pulitzer looked almost pensive, as if he were debating whether to agree with her or fire her on the spot because Joseph Pulitzer was just so incredible and revered and nobody talked to him that way, especially not a woman, of all people.

Luckily, Hannah's job was (potentially) saved by Seitz cutting in. "Plus, the strike's about to be settled. Governor Roosevelt just put his support behind the workers."

Pulitzer scoffed in disgust. "Ugh, that man is a socialist."

"Teddy Roosevelt is no socialist," Seitz said with a gleam in his eye. "He's an American hero."

Hannah resisted the strong urge to roll her eyes to the very back of her head. From the way Seitz talked about Roosevelt so often and so fondly, you'd think he was in love with the man. Maybe he was.

"The man wants to outlaw football for being too violent. Football? Violent? You're right - he's no socialist, he's a commie."

"Mr. Pulitzer, you must try to sit still," Nunzio, Pulitzer's hairdresser, pleaded in a thick Italian accent.

Yes, Mr. Pulitzer, please.

"Gentlemen, please. You're making Nunzio nervous. And when Nunzio gets nervous…I don't look pretty."

There it was again. Gentlemen. Hannah stood up. "You never liked Roosevelt," she said, trying to take extreme caution with her words lest she accidentally implied her true feelings about Pulitzer and how he saw things. She was sure she'd lose her job then. "You wrote an editorial day after day when he ran for Governor, and guess what? He got elected."

"How can I influence voters if they are not reading my opinion?" Pulitzer shouted.

Ooh, touchy subject.

"Big photos attract readers," Seitz cut in again.

"Do you have any idea what big photos cost?"

"But without flag photos and headlines, how are we supposed to sell more papers?"

"The answer is right before your eyes! You're not thinking this through. People…"

Oh, no, Hannah thought dryly. Her employer was making that face again. The one he always made when he was about to lecture them,usually about how they were missing something that was right under her noses. Gee, how stupid we are.

He launched into some sort of analogy about how the bottom line was like…getting a haircut. "It's the simplest solutions that bolster the bottom line."

"So, how does that help us sell more papers?"

We don't sell papers, silly. Newsies sell papers, Hannah thought.

"Exactly…silly. Newsies sell papers."

Had she said that out loud?

Oh, well.

Suddenly, Bunsen snapped his fingers. "I got it! Right now, we charge the newsies fifty cents for a hundred papers. But if we raised their price to sixty cents per hundred…"

"Now you're getting somewhere!"

"A mere tenth of a penny per paper?"

"Every single newsie would have to sell ten more papers just to earn the same amount as always!"

"My thoughts exactly. It's genius!"

"But it's going to be awfully rough on those children!" Having met many of the newsies personally, and having children of her own, Hannah knew this would be exactly the case.

"They're going to be getting a real life lesson in economics. I couldn't offer them a better education if they were my own!"

But I could. Hannah knew she was being unnecessarily bitter. She knew her grumpy thoughts were the result of sleepless nights tending to her youngest child and his nightmares. She knew that after all this she'd be able to go home…the thought calmed her a bit, and she took a deep breath. Back to agreeing with everything Pulitzer said.

"Every new outcome is income for you, thanks to that bottom line!"

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter! It was a lot of fun to write. I literally just rewatched Newsies and wrote down Nicholas Masson's reactions to everything. Turns out, he's pretty expressive as Mush, so that was fun... Anyway, I would love if you could review and let me know what you liked and didn't like. Thanks! :)