Chapter Eight: In Which Katherine is Determined and the Newsies Dance a Lot

Word Count: 2,053

Manhattan, 1899

Katherine typed furiously at her typewriter. It had taken her multiple attempts to polish her draft up, but now she was typing it out. It was late at night and she should be sleeping, or at least at home, but it was imperative that this article be perfect. Otherwise, how else would it get to the front page? How else would the newsies get the recognition they so desperately needed? Hopefully, her angry editors wouldn't get angrier.

As she wrote, she thought about Jack. Jack "brave-but-not-entirely-fearless" Kelly, leading the newsboys into a (hopefully) victorious strike, one that would make all sorts of headlines and inspire all sorts of strikes to follow.

Changes needed to be made, and they were the ones changing things.

Katherine had seen the look on Jack's face when the bulls attacked. Fear, antipathy, and fury all rolled into one distressed expression. She'd watched the gaiety leave the newsies' eyes, only to be replaced with consternation. Even now, she felt bad. She should have done something. She should have reacted. She should have helped, or at least made an effort to.

She'd watched to the end. Watched as Jack clamped a hand over his mouth witnessing the sight below, watched as the girl newsie had, rather awkwardly, attempted to fight off the Delanceys, watched as Oscar and Morris, whom she'd frequently interacted with when they were all younger, beat a newsie – the sweet one with the nickel – with his own crutch.

She'd watched him wail and writhe in his affliction, and she hadn't been able to move.

She had no idea that the newsies could even be treated like that, and the impenitence on Weisel and Oscar and Morris and the bulls' faces disgusted her.

She hadn't done anything then, but that was behind her. So here she was, doing something. Someone was bound to read this. And then they'd share it, and it'd gain enough traction until it got to her father. He'd know her views on this strike. She had confidence in her writing skills, and if her writing wasn't as great as she knew it was, the story alone was enough to demand attention.

As she pressed the final key of her article, took it out of the typewriter and read it over, she couldn't suppress the proud smile forming on her face. Jack, Romeo, Davey, Race (those were the only four she knew by name, but she decided she'd make a point of learning the rest of them tomorrow), and every single other newsie would live and breathe right on the page – the front page, with any luck.

She put the article on her editor's desk and slipped quietly out the door.

She'd never associated any sort of stigma with walking home alone. In fact, she quite enjoyed it. The night air was always cool and refreshing, and she found it was easier to collect her thoughts. Today, she thought again about the newsies which she'd just finished writing about.

Even in the face of adversity, they were so positive and resolute. In the short time that she'd known them, she'd seen how determined they were, how optimistic about the future. They seemed to have an unwavering belief that they'd win, and that Pulitzer would lower the prices – though, knowing him, it would take even more fighting than they'd already been doing.

But Katherine Plumber was determined, too. She was determined to win the fight right along with them.

Mush was starting to get worried.

Cassie hadn't returned since walking out, and she wasn't in the library. He was sure she probably just needed some space, but he couldn't imagine where she'd gone. He'd gone to sleep that night feeling sore and relatively conflicted. There was no point in trying to look for her, especially since the only place she'd ever gone aside from the lodge and Jacobi's was the library, but he also just wanted to be sure that she was okay.

The brawl at the square had really done a number on the newsies. They realized that even though this strike had only been going on for a short while, they were going to have many struggles along the way. And if they were all going to end up like this one had, they might have to start selling papers again, even sooner than they'd anticipated

Even Race's usual cheery, energetic wake-up call seemed a little lackluster that morning.

Mush rolled over and rubbed his eyes. It was very bright outside, which was, unfortunately, the exact opposite of his current mood. He just wanted to have everything go back to normal. He knew, however, that he had to stay strong for everyone else. He knew that Pulitzer would continue to bully them if they gave in now. On the bright side, his injuries already felt a little better. He had a bruise on his right cheek and a relatively deep wound near his left shoulder; fortunately, Davey and Race had been able to patch everyone up with an improvised first aid kit and a little bit of medical knowledge, and even now he could recognize that his wounds were healing.

After a few minutes, he got out of bed and got dressed, before trudging down with the rest of the newsies to Jacobi's where they sat, somewhat disheartened, to continue another strike day.

Jacobi gave them water at least; Mush was grateful for that. He was, though, tired, and didn't feel like hearing his bad (but normally amusing) joke-like things.

"Drink up, boys," the older man said, looking around at their fatigued faces. "And don't never say I don't give you nothin'." he paused. "And before you say water is nothin', just ask a fish...in the desert."

He walked away and Finch sat up with a quiet groan. "Why do old people talk?"

"To prove they's still alive," said Race dryly.

Mush shrugged; that was indeed a fair point. He was sort of glad to see that Race wasn't too disheartened for his trademark dry wit.

He lifted his head from the table lackadaisically at the sound of the bell on Jacobi's door jingling, signaling that it was open. In walked Katherine Plumber, as Jack said she was named, and shortly behind her followed Cassie.

Cassie looked weary, but determined, though Katherine was bright and chipper. She held a copy of the morning's magazine in her hand.

"Good morning, gentlemen!" she exclaimed. "And lady," she added, nodding at Cassie, who'd made her way next to Mush. "Gee, would you get a load of these glum mugs? If I didn't know any better, I'd wager that these couldn't be the very newsies that made front page of the New York Sun! Could they?"

That woke people up.

There were excited shouts of "Front page?" and "Let me see!"

"Wouldja lookit, that's me!" yelled Race, snatching the paper.

"Front page and you ain't even dead!"

"Where's me? Where's me?"

"Wait 'til my old man gets a load of this!" Buttons gasped. "I won't be last in line for the tub tonight!"

Mush grinned, seeing that it was indeed their mugs on the front page of the paper. It felt almost surreal.

"You got us in the papes?" Davey asked.

Katherine shrugged. "You got yourselves in the papes."

"'Newsies Stop the World,'" Mush read aloud. "Now there's a headline even Elmer could sell!"

"Hey, so, what else ya got?"

"Well, mine's the only story that ran. Pulitzer declared a blackout on strike news, so even I'm shut down now. Hey...I heard they took Crutchie to the refuge. Did they get Jack, too?"

"They Delanceys are spreadin' a story that he took it on the lam first sight of the cops," Albert said.

"Jack don't run from no fight!" Les shouted, running over and pushing Albert (though the older newsie didn't move much).

"Take it down, Shortstop. I'm just reportin' the news." Shortstop. Now there was a nickname that would stick.

"For jumpin' Jack's sake, can we stow the seriosity long enough to just drink in the moment? I'm famous!"

"We're famous," corrected Romeo.

"Ain't that what I said?"

"Yeah, so what?" asked Henry.

"Are you even hearin' me? We's famous!"

"What of it?"

"Well, are ya stupid or what? When you is famous, the world is your erster!"

"Your...what?" asked Cassie as the other newsies murmured in confused agreement with her.

"Your erster," repeated Race.

Everyone looked around; there seemed to be no one who understood what Race was talking about.

"Your ers-ter," he said again, enunciating every syllable. After looking around at their still-confused faces, he finally said, "Ya know, your fancy clam with the pearl inside!"

"Oyster!" they all corrected, half of them laughing and the other half exasperated.

"Alright, alright!" shouted Henry. "How much does bein' famous pay?"

"Oh, ya don't need no money when you'se famous! They gives ya whatever ya want – gratis!"

"Such as?"

"I for one, want a pair of new shoes with matchin' laces," said Race, clutching the paper.

"New shoes? Are ya kiddin' me?" asked Romeo, snatching it. "You get whatever ya want for free and you choose new shoes?"

"With matchin' laces. But fine. What do you want?"

"My own permanent box at the Sheepshead."

"That is a good wish. I want that too," said Race.

"Nuh-uh! You can't steal my wish!"

Mush laughed as they chased each other around and Henry picked up the newspaper. "Honestly, I'd take a sandwich right about now. Pastrami and a sour pickle on rye..."

"A sandwich? Shoes? A spot at the Sheepshead? You'se all thinkin' too small! How 'bout your face permanent on a wooden nickel for a wish?"

"Look at us!" cried Racetrack, taking the paper back. "I'm the king of New York! All of the sudden, I'm respectable, starin' right at ya, lousy with stature."

They danced about, taking turns holding the newspaper and sharing what they'd get if they really did get whatever they wanted - "gratis."

Mush wanted a barbershop haircut that cost a quarter, Les wanted his own bed (and an indoor toilet), Cassie, unsurprisingly, wanted her own personal library, and Davey wanted "a regular beat for the star reporter!" Then Katherine joined in the merriment, and they all laughed and jumped until they were too tired to do so any longer (which took a while, because, being newsies, they typically had lots of energy, and even in their tiredness of the strike, this was too good not to celebrate).

When they were done, Katherine asked if she could see the lodge, and Les wanted to come, too. The newsies happily obliged, but they agreed to rest a few more moments in Jacobi's before heading out. Mush turned to Cassie. "So, were you at the library last night?"

"No," she said laconically, stretching.

"Where were ya then? I was kinda startin' to get worried."

Cassie's cheeks colored and she looked sown. "Sorry," she mumbled. "I was actually staying with an old friend for the night. I was just kind of wandering and I ended up at her place."

"Oh."

They sat in silence for a moment. "So, um," began Cassie, "about that newsie I mentioned? The one that I have a crush on?"

"Ya gonna finally tell me who he is?"

She blushed again and averted her gaze. "Actually, y - " she cut herself off, looking pensive. She seemed to be debating whether or not to tell him. "You got any more guesses for me?" she finished, trying for a smile.

"No, I'se guessed everyone. And Romeo claims he knows, but he refuses to tell me!"

Now Cassie's smile grew. "Well, that's good."

"So he does know?"

"Maybe," she said with a small smile, and the way she said it made him somehow aware that it was all he'd get out of her.

A/N: Ok, so kind of a weird ending, but I needed a stopping point. I think next chapter's going to be a really fun one. That's pretty much all I have to say, so hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I'll see you in the next one!

-mouse :)