Chapter Four: In Which We Watch What Happens and Cassie Remembers Things

Manhattan, 1899

"So, what's your story? Are you selling papers to work your way through art school?" Katherine asked. It seemed logical, right? She thought back to the flattering drawing of her he'd drawn at the Bowery. She usually hated when people flirted with her – not that it wasn't particularly charming, it was just that she didn't have time for that sort of thing – and brushed off their attempts, but Jack Kelly's stuck in her mind. He was a fantastic artist, so she was expecting something like, "Yes," or (in true Sarcastic Jack Kelly fashion), "What do you think?"

She certainly was not, however, expecting him to say, "Art school? You're kiddin' me, right?"

"But you're an artist! You've got real talent. You should be inside the paper illustrating, not outside hawking it."

"Well, maybe that ain't what I want."

"So, tell me what you want."

"Can't you see it?" Jack asked, getting closer. "In my eyes?"

"Yeah, okay," Katherine replied, vaguely amused but still uninterested. Anyway. "Have you always been their leader?"

"Hey, I'm a blowhard. Davey's the brains."

She scribbled it down in her notepad. "Modesty is not a quality I would've pinned on you."

"You got a name?"

"Katherine," she replied hesitantly, wondering whether she should reveal her real last name. Probably not, considering Jack and his friends hated Pulitzer, but there was something about him that she felt she could trust...oh well. Better safe than sorry. "Plumber."

"What's the matter, ain't ya sure?"

"It's my byline." she said. "The name I publish under." She waited a moment, but he never asked her real one. She sighed internally with relief. "Now tell me about tomorrow. What are you hoping for?"

"I'd rather tell you what I'm hopin' for tonight." Jack moved so he was once again a mere inches away from her face.

"Mr. Kelly?"

Jack sighed and turned around. "Today, we stopped the newsies from carryin' the papes, but the wagons still deliver to the rest of the city. Tomorrow, we stop the wagons."

"Are you scared?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Do I look scared?" He paused. "But, uh...ask me again in the mornin'."

"Good answer!" Katherine responded, quickly writing it down. "Good night, Mr. Kelly."

"Hey, where you runnin'?" Jack called after her. "It ain't even suppertime!"

She turned. "I'll see you in the morning. And off the record...good luck." She continued walking, when Jack called behind her again.

"Hey, hey, Plumber! Write it good. We both got a lot ridin' on ya."

She smiled and nodded, making a mental promise to herself that she would.

Katherine arrived in her office and immediately put paper into the typewriter. "You heard the man," she said to no one in particular. "'Write it good.' Write it good or it's back to wheezing your way through the flower show. No pressure. Let's go."

She started typing, her fingers flying across the letters. "'Newsies Stop the World.' Huh. A little hyperbole never hurt anyone. 'With all eyes fixed on the trolley strike, there's another battle brewing in the city...' and if I could just write about it!" Frustrated, she tore the paper out of the typewriter. "Come on Katherine, those boys are counting on you!" She paused. And what would she give them? "...Oh, you poor boys."

"Write what you know" is the most basic advice one could give a writer, and so she mostly tried to abide by it. There was only one problem in this particular case – she had no idea what to write or how she'd go about writing it. She sat, feeling suddenly despondent. Something about this strike was really intriguing to her. Not just as a writer, but as a person. Her heart absolutely broke for those newsboys (and the newsgirl with them) and it mattered to her that this story be flawless. Otherwise, who would want to read it? This was big. Much bigger than any vaudeville or flower show she'd ever reviewed.

The story was there – poor little kids versus rich, greedy, irascible old men. It was enough to make her laugh how easy this should be. In fact, it could practically write itself! But now she realized something else: she had no clue what she was doing.

She stood up and started pacing the floor of her small office. Obviously, she'd write it in support of the newsies. That much was a no-brainer. But what else? On top of her wailing editors, there was a story behind the story. So many children, thousands, at least, exploited and invisible and stronger than she'd ever have guessed. Now after years of this, they were revolting against their unfair treatment. It truly was admirable, and she was going to be the one to write about it, she decided. How would she bring that out?

The newsies were the little guys in life. They were the ones that no one ever paid attention to, except maybe to buy a paper. Just like the trolley workers. People everywhere going about their lives, not knowing or caring about the lives of people like the newsies or trolley workers or anyone else that worked the way they did. Even Katherine had to admit that she never much acknowledged them.

Until now. I mean, everybody loves an underdog.

She was determined to write the best and most interesting story about the newsies the The World (and the actual world, for that matter) had ever seen.

She sat back down and began writing. "A modern-day David is poised to take on the rich and powerful Goliath, with the swagger of one twice his age armed with nothing more than a few nuggets of truth, Jack Kelly stands ready to face the behemoth Pulitzer. Now that is how you turn a boy into a legend." she said aloud, proud of her work. Now, how to frame Jack Kelly...handsome. Heroic. Heroically charismatic. Plain-spoken, know-nothing, skirt-chasing, cocky little son of a...

Lie down with dogs and you'll wake up with fleas...Katherine would wake up with a raise. And maybe a promotion.

Yes, Jack was an egotistical flirt, but he was the face of the strike. What a face, she thought. Though there was no denying that Jack Kelly was attractive, she tried to convince herself that she was only thinking of his face and his smile and the way his eyes sparkled for business purposes...That face could end up saving them all.

Suddenly, in her musings, a quote popped into her head. Power tends to corrupt and absolute power corrupts absolutely. She tried to think of who exactly came up with the quote, but it slipped her mind. The saying was perfect though, and she quickly added it to her article. It applied wonderfully to Pulitzer, and she figured there was hope for this yet. Just watch. Katherine would be twice as good as – right! John Acton, that's who it was – someday. Maybe. Six months from...never.

But Katherine hadn't lost all hope yet. It was the turn of the century, and times were changing. Things had already started shifting for the better. Soon, everyone might even be allowed to vote! This was the world they were inheriting, and they could create something even better. The World's mistake was that they got old, but that was not a mistake she'd be making. No, sir, we'll stay young forever!

The new century would bring lots of changes for everyone – changes for the better, she hoped. The newsies against her father, the behemoth Pulitzer, was a classic story of David against Goliath. She didn't know who would win, but she could definitely support Jack and his cause. Maybe her article could be the push that they needed. After all, nothing would happen if no one did anything. So, whatever happened...

They might as well just begin.

Cassie couldn't sleep. How could she? Front page news! She and everyone else could be on the front page of the very newspapers they sold (well, sold up until now)! It was a thrilling thing to think about, and she could get thrilled very easily.

If you'd told her a couple years ago that she'd eventually agree to go on strike and possibly get her face on the front page of a newspaper – maybe even above the fold! - she would have laughed and asked if you were joking. A lot of things had changed since then, not just her belief in what she would have once considered impossible or unrealistic. When had she become a newsie? A couple years ago? It felt like she'd known these boys forever.

It was a bright summer morning and unusually cool for early August. She and Nick (or Mush, as the newsies had decided to call him) were outside her house as she gathered her bearings. Mush was busy telling bad jokes and Cassie was trying, with much difficulty, to decide which two of her books to bring with her to the newsboys lodging house. She figured it would be best not to have as many things, so she could leave the books behind, but she really, really didn't want to.She'd decided to become a newsie. She didn't tell anyone, not even Mush or Romeo (the latter of whom she'd befriended almost as quickly as she had Mush) why specifically. Just that she'd made her choice.

In all honesty, she was tired of being constantly yelled at, and talked down, and belittled. She'd tolerated it for over a year and made excuse upon excuse for her aunt's consistently crude behavior. She'd finally, finally had enough, and when she made to mention this she'd been slapped across the face. Quinn had never raised a hand to Cassie, and even she looked surprised. Surprised, but not remorseful.

Cassie talked to Mush the next day, and they had a conversation which resulted in her only confirming her decision. Now here they were, about to leave this house forever. She was sure Quinn wouldn't even notice she was gone until she realized her dishes were still dirty. At least she'd had the decency to leave a note for her aunt.

"Okay, I'm ready," she announced.

"Which of your precious books did you choose?"

"The Complete Works of William Shakespeare and The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes."

"That is a mouthful," muttered Mush as they started walking. "You realize you might have to carry those around with you all day, right?"

"Really? Why?"

"Well, the mornin' bell will probably have rung by the time we get there, and then we gotta buy our papers before they're gone."

"Oh." She glanced back at the pile of books she'd chosen from. "I'll carry them."

Mush chuckled and shook his head. "Only you, Cassie. Never change."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

The walk to the lodge ended up being fairly shorter than either of them anticipated, so Cassie was able to put her books on an empty bunk, but they would have to rush to get to the distribution center. However, when they got outside, Cassie lagged behind: there was a huge library right outside the lodge. Mush had to call her a few times before she even recognized that she was being called.

Cassie smiled fondly, remembering how she'd claimed that she would have become a newsie sooner had she known, and Mush promised they could visit when they were done selling.

She stood in line in front of Mush that day, only slightly nervous about selling. She was trying to figure out how she would do it.

She knew the newsies had a tendency to exaggerate to sell papers, but she never had much of a penchant for lying (or "improving the truth" as Mush so euphemistically phrased it). She'd have to find some other way to appeal to people.

Before she knew it, she was at the front of the line. A round man holding a cigar gave her a once-over and smiled. Not a warm and inviting smile, though, but more like a mocking one that Cassie didn't much appreciate. "Well, well, well, what have we here? A new kid – and a girl, no less!"

Curious-sounding chatter arose, and she wondered if they reacted this way to everyone new. "Uh, can I have twenty papers, please?"

"Alright, twenty papes for the new girl."

Cassie handed him a dime and collected her papers from a surly looking boy who couldn't have been much older than Racetrack.

Oscar Delancey. He was a lot meaner now (not to her in particular but to most of the other newsies) Back then, she'd guessed his sour expression was a result of being forced to stand in the sun handing papers to newsboys...maybe all that sun exposure made him permanently rude. Cassie leaned back and propped herself on her elbows. She should probably go to sleep soon, but she had stayed awake too long and now she wasn't tired. It was sort of annoying that things worked like that, she thought.

Everyone had arrived back to the lodge, and Cassie was granted a warm welcome from all of the newsies. She felt a little self-conscious, as one often did in new places, but quickly assimilated – these people were very inviting.

She and Mush left later to look at the library. They were about to head inside when Mush gasped and ran around the side.

"What? What is – oh."

He'd run around to pet a small, ginger cat

."Cassie, look! It's so cute!" he exclaimed, picking it up and holding it out to her.

She took a couple steps back. "N-no, I'm good..."

"But just look at it! It's adorable! Come pet it."

"No thank you."

Mush put the cat down and started stroking it in his lap. "Cassie, are you...scared of cats?"

She flushed and shook her head. "No..."

"Cassie! You are!"

"No," she repeated. "They just...aren't my favorite animals."

Mush sighed. "Come here an' pet the cat."

"Why?"

"That ain't somethin' you'd say if you wasn't scared of cats."

Cassie gave him a look but went and sat next to him.

"Now pet him."

"Uh..."

"Give me one reason why you do not want to pet him."

"He has...claws..."

"Alright, that's a reason, yes, but it ain't a good reason. Here." Mush replied, and before she realized what he was doing, he had taken her hand and put it on the cat.

She didn't know what she had been expecting, but whatever it was, this was a lot better. The cat had really soft fur.

"See? That ain't so bad."

"It ain't," Cassie agreed, laughing quietly.

They'd never ended up going to the library after all.

Cassie sighed softly, realizing that if she didn't get some sleep within the next thirty minutes, she was going to be positively lethargic the next day and probably wouldn't get any papers sold. She smiled drowsily and closed her eyes.

"Hey," Mush had said, smiling, on the first night she was a newsie. "Everything is gonna work out."

A/N : What's the best thing about Switzerland? I don't know, but the flag's a big plus!

There's a Bad Mush Joke for ya ;P

Dad jokes and writing are my life sources and I regret nothing. But I digress. This was a fun chapter to write. I ended up being really proud of Katherine's section, so, that was good. And per request of Percie Jean, there was a bit of Cassie's past - don't worry, there will be more detail in future chapters. This whole flashback thing was fun as well! The next chapter will be rather blunt, but I expect it will be entertaining to write and (I hope) to read.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter, and please let me know your thoughts in the reviews!

-mouse :)