Disclaimer: The characters in this story are the property of Disney and are only used for fan related purposes.

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The Sparrow

When Sarah disappears, it's up to David to go looking for her.
With only a simple clue to where she could have gone, and the understanding that he's in over his head,
it won't take him too long to discover that his sister wasn't the only one with a secret.

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"And then Jimmy told the teacher that some great big bully knocked him down and dropped his book into a mud puddle and that's why it was so dirty, 'cause Jimmy's a baby who don't stand up for nothin'. I asked him if it was the Delancey brothers who done it but he told me I didn't know what I was talkin' about. But I do know what I'm talkin' about 'cause I stood up to them lousy brothers before. Didn't I, Davey? Remember that?"

I listened as Les told me about his school day, making sure that he kept walking straight. Sometimes, when Les really got into a story, his attention was very easily distracted. I've seen him trip over a bum in the street, fall on his knees and still finish some pointless story about how his schoolmates threw a shoe at the schoolmaster.

"Uh-huh," I said, grabbing Les by the arm and guiding him past a stack of crates on the corner. "And…?"

"And then I said that, if it was me and that was my book, well, then I woulda stood up to that dumb bully. I woulda licked him, too. But Jimmy—"

As soon as I let go of his arm again he immediately veered off track. I sighed. That was Les for you.

"Watch it, Les," I warned before reaching forward again. I grabbed the edge of his shirt just in time to stop him from walking straight into the apple peddler's cart. The old man standing in front the cart barely missed getting hit in the stomach as I pulled my brother to the side; Les liked to wave his hands energetically when he talked.

He didn't even notice how close he came to hitting the man. So wrapped up in his story about Jimmy and his muddy book he barely heard my voice at all. He just wiggled out of my hold and continued right on talking.

"—he said that I would need the help of all the newsies in the Lower East Side… no," he said, interrupting himself, "no, all the newsies in all of New York, that's right, to beat this bully of his. What do you think, Davey? Do you think Cowboy and the others could really soak that bully?"

I couldn't help but smile. Sooner or later all of Les's tales mentioned newsies.

"Sure, Les. I don't think any bully could stand up to the might of the working kids of New York," I told him, placing my hand back on his shoulder and trying to steer him forward again. Mama wanted us home right after school and I didn't want to tell her that Les's stories made us late again.

"That's what I thought." He nodded eagerly before turning to look at me over his shoulder. He gave me one of his impish, know-it-all looks and started to walk quicker than he had been. Les must have known that story time was done for the day because he tucked his book under his arm and, before I knew it, started to run down the busy street.

It was an awkward run, I noticed, part skip, part hop and all Les.

I watched as he almost ran into one of the shoe shine boys before turning around and waving at Mrs. Godwin, that nice old lady who sold flowers on the street. She smiled at him, murmured something about him being "a good boy", and nodded her greetings at me.

I raised my cap and smiled back at her—just as I watched Les slow down long enough to rub his hand along the flank of a police officer's horse.

"Careful, Les," I called, breaking into a quick jog in order to catch up to him. There wasn't a cop sitting in the horse's saddle and that worried me; there was no one to control the horse if it decided to take a snap at Les's outstretched hand. "Don't let its teeth get too close to you. If you go home missing a finger Mama won't let you go out to sell the evening papers!"

It was the worst threat I could come up with but I knew it would work. And it did.

Les turned around and stuck his tongue out at me. But he did move away from the horse.

"I'm gonna sell fifty papes by myself today," Les boasted as he started to run again, swerving wildly past a courting couple that was sitting on the front stoop of the building next to ours.

I started to yell at him to slow down but decided against it. My brother wouldn't listen to me anyway. He never did.

Les was still running up ahead but, by the time we reached our tenement, I knew it was pointless to try to stop him. We were inside the building now and anyone who was trying to go down the stairs would hear Les thundering up them a mile away. I didn't have to worry about any other collisions or accidents.

Unless, of course, some sleeper had taken up habitat in the stairwell but after the last time Les had tripped and fallen right on top of old Salty, most of them steered clear of our tenement.

I took my time going upstairs. Just before we stepped inside the building I had looked at my pocket watch. Even though the journey downtown seemed so long, thanks to Les's babbling, we were actually getting home around the same time that we normally do. Mama would be waiting for us inside with Sarah—if we were lucky, there might even be a small meal waiting for us because I was pretty hungry.

My stomach had most of my attention as I reached our floor. Maybe that was why I didn't stop walking when I made it to the door and—

"Ouch, Dave. That was my foot!"

—walked right into Les.

"Sorry, Les. It was an accident," I said, rubbing my elbow. Les sure had a very hard head. "What were you going here anyway? You just stopped… why?"

He pointed. "What's the door doin' open?"

I followed the point of his finger. He was right, the door was halfway opened.

That was strange. Mama liked to keep the front door closed at all times unless, of course, she was cooking cabbage and the wind couldn't carry the stink out of the kitchen. But I couldn't smell cabbage and the door was definitely open.

"Hey, Les? Do me a favor, alright? You just wait right here," I said, placing my hands on his shoulders and gently pushing him to the side. If there was something going on inside the apartment, I didn't want Les to get in the way. Besides, I would need someone to run for help if I got in trouble. "I'll, uh, I'll just nip inside and check things out. I'll be right back."

"Do you want me to go in with you?" He put his fists up and pretended to box with an invisible opponent. "I could take 'em."

I patted his shoulder. "That's okay. You stay here."

He nodded as he lowered his hands. I may have been imagining it but he looked a little relieved that I wasn't letting him follow me right in. "Let me know when I can follow you in."

"Sure."

I cautiously pushed the door the rest of the way inward, stepped in and looked around. I didn't see Mama in the kitchen, and Sarah wasn't sitting in her usual chair working on her piecework. That wasn't very strange, though. Sometimes Mama went to the market when Les and me were in lessons. But she never left the door open…

"Mama? Sarah? Anyone?"

There was no answer and I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. If the door hadn't been open, I wouldn't have been so nervous. Where was everyone? Papa was at work in the factory, I knew that, but what happened to Mama and Sarah? Why weren't they here and, if they left, why was the door open?

I walked into the kitchen, slightly worried. There was a piece of paper on the table and I felt a little bit better. I picked it up and quickly scanned it—it was a letter, written in Sarah's hand. Just like I first thought, Sarah had left behind a small note telling me and Les that she and Mama were going to the market to buy some potatoes for supper.

Well that was that, I thought. They obviously left the apartment for the market and somehow the door had been left open. I couldn't really figure why but as long as there was a logical explanation for nobody being home, I was satisfied. It had been a little bit disconcerting to find the door open but everything looked fine from where I was standing.

Until I turned around, that was.

There was no one in that corner of the room now but that didn't mean that no one had been there. From the look of it someone had been there, and recently too. They had been in a hurry; there were contents of an entire drawer spilled out on the bed behind me and onto the floor in front of me. The bottom drawer of the dresser was still open and, as I looked back at Sarah's bed, I saw a white rectangle sitting right in the center.

There was another note. At least, I thought it was a note. At the very least, it was in an envelope. And the envelope had four letters written on it, written in Sarah's distinct and tiny penmanship: Jack. Whatever else she had written, whatever else my sister had put inside an envelope, she had addressed it to Jack Kelly.

I held the envelope out in my hand, perplexed. What was going on here?

"Dave? Can I come in yet? I'm dyin' for a cup of water out here."

I didn't answer him but I don't think Les was waiting for me to in order to enter the apartment. I heard him coming in and, before I could stop myself, I had slipped the envelope into the front pocket of my trousers. I don't know why I didn't want Les to see it but I know I didn't. He would have too many questions and I didn't have any answers.

Les was quick. He was standing next to me, looking at the mess on Sarah's cot. He pointed at it with a dirty, ink-stained finger. "What happened?"

I shook my head. "Nothing, Les," I lied.

"Nothin'? What's Sarah's stuff doin' out, Davey? Did she go somewhere?"

I had to hand it to him. That was the one question that was suddenly plaguing me and I wished, more than anything, that I could answer it. But that was Les, he had the annoying ability to strike right at the heart of things. I reached down and tried to straighten up the scattered blouses and pieces of sewing that were crumple in the center of the cot. "I don't think so, Les. Sarah probably was looking for something in a rush," I said, gesturing half-heartedly at the open dresser drawer.

Les glanced at the drawer and nodded innocently. "Maybe that's why the door was open, huh, Dave? Sarah rushed out with Mama and the door popped open after them. How's that sound?"

"Yeah, Les," I said absently, feeling the edge of the envelope sticking out of the top of my pants. Slyly, I lowered my hand and made sure to cover it. I didn't know what was going on but I did know that I didn't want to involve Les if it was possible. I still haven't forgiven myself for leaving Les with Racetrack the night I tried to break Jack out of the Refuge. He still tries to bet me double or nothing on bum odds.

"I mean," he continued, his mind focused on one idea and one idea only, "that old lock doesn't work like it used to. The other day I brought Boots over to see my marbles collection and we didn't even have to turn the doorknob to get in. He pushed me right into the door and it swung in."

"Uh huh," I said, agreeing with him for the sake of agreeing. "You do make a good point, Les."

He grinned cheekily over at me. I tried my best to return the smile. I was the older brother, after all. It was my job to make sure that he was protected, even if it meant lying to him again.

"And then—"

"Les," I said, interrupting him, "listen to me. I just remembered something. I… I left one of my books back at school. I want you to wait here for Mama until I get back."

There was a suspicious look on Les' face. It reminded me a bit of Jack, cocky and unsure at the same time. I didn't like it but I didn't like what he said next more. "And what about Sarah?"

What about Sarah? Oh, right. She was supposed to be there, too. She was supposed to be there, too—and she wasn't. I just hoped that the hidden envelope told me why.

"Sarah too," I agreed. "They should be home soon. Just tell Mama… Mama and Sarah… that I'll be right back, alright?"

Les nodded. He pushed aside the clutter on the cot before taking a seat. He set his own schoolbook down beside him as he looked at me. There was a knowing look on his face now, one that made me think that he was older than his ten years. And, for a second, I wondered if I should let him come with me. I mean, Jack liked him a lot and everyone knew that Les would follow Jack to Santa Fe and back if he could… but, no. I couldn't.

Instead I ruffled his hair—he grimaced and backed away from my hand—before heading toward the front door. It was still open but I barely noticed it now. Now that I had another mystery on my hand, the mystery of the disappearance of Sarah Jacobs, it didn't really matter why a silly old door was left open.

Author's Note: And here's the real start of the story. This is how it should flow from now on and it should get more interesting once we actually start confronting other characters about Sarah's supposed disappearance.

I do want to thank Biddy, Roman and Aki for their reviews. I'm glad that you guys had something nice to say -- it was so sweet!

-- stress, 04.06.08