Disclaimer: I take no credit for any newsboys in this story, or the newsgirl by the name of Tag Carolucci - AdrenalineRush16 was kind enough to lend her to me.

+Girls and Boys+

"Claire Connolly, we know yer in there!" Inky Porter beat her fist repeatedly into the door of number three hundred five, pausing occasionally to listen for signs of life on the other side, but all stayed quiet within the apartment. She was, however, a determined newsgirl and would not give up so easily. "Open up the door!"

"You can't stay in there forever, Tug!" bellowed a second girl, Tag Carolucci, having to make herself heard over Inky's thunderous knocking. "We ain't leavin' til ya talk to us!"

Inky continued her assault on the door and both girls shouted at the top of their voices until they heard the shuffle of feet on the other side. As the lock was disengaged with a hearty click, the two newsgirls fell silent. Slowly the door scraped open and a wiry girl with short dark hair peered out at them, looking thoroughly annoyed by the disturbance -- she had the ruffled look of someone who recently had been crying in excess; she was pink in the face and her eyes were puffy

"Oh for goodness sake," she hissed indignantly. "Stop yer shoutin' and get in here!" She stepped aside so that the two girls could enter. When they were in, Tug snapped the door shut and rounded on them. "Yer lucky no one sent for the bulls with that rocket yer makin'."

"Well, we didn't have much of a choice, did we?" Inky said, arms folded over her chest. "You wouldn't answer when we knocked politely."

"Drastic measures had to be taken," Tag added. Neither of the two girls cracked a smile; their business was serious.

"I suppose," Tug replied plainly. "What're ya doin' here anyway?"

"We came to see how yer doin', of course," Inky replied, as if the reason for her nearly beating down the door had been obvious. "We heard 'bout you and Skittery."

"We'd've come sooner, but we only just heard 'bout it last night," Tag said, rolling her eyes. "I don't think they've told us if we hadn't asked where ya were. I swear them boys ain't got no sense sometimes."

Tug clutched at her stomach as it had done a somersault at the mention of Skittery. This reaction didn't go unnoticed, because Inky and Tag exchanged a meaningful look with one another. Tag hurried forward, taking Tug gingerly by the arm and guiding her to the sofa so that she could sit. Inky busied herself in the kitchen, having offered to make them some tea.

"Tell us what happened, Tug," Tag said in a soothing voice, draping a comforting arm over Tug's shoulder. Inky joined them on the sofa while she waited for the water to boil.

For the past three days, Tug had confined herself to the apartment, wallowing the misery of her broken heart. The emotion built up inside her was crushing, almost suffocating, because the memory of their argument, and the events that lead up to the argument, plagued her every thought -- she had no idea how to deal with any of it. It all happened so fast and so unexpectedly. Her mother worked hard to comfort her, but she couldn't be there for Tug during the day, as she had to work. Tug was grateful for the company of Inky and Tag, and heartened by their genuine concern. And so, with her hands wringing nervously in her lap, Tug drew in a deep breath, mustering every ounce of energy she had left and relived how her relationship with Skittery had come to an end.

"I tried to tell him it was all a mistake -- that it didn't mean nothing, but he wouldn't listen," Tug choked in conclusion, wiping away the tears that had slid silently down her cheeks. She glanced anxiously between the two girls to gage their reaction, hoping that they would understand how she felt. "I wasn't lookin' to hurt Skittery; I care about him too much. It's just all happened so fast."

Glaring over her tea cup, Inky muttered, "I knew ya couldn't've been seein' Mush behind Skittery's back..."

Tug blanched; her eyes widened in alarm. "Is that what everybody thinks?"

Startled by Tug's reaction, Inky lifted her eyes from the contents of her cup and knew at once she had said too much; Tag was shooting dark looks at her over Tug, who looked completely mortified. Setting her cup down on the end table, Inky added hastily, "Well, I don't think any of them boys actually know what happened -- they was just guessin', because, from what I heard, Skittery and Mush had a huge fight the other night -- and neither of 'em have talked to anybody since then."

"Yeah, Blink said it was pretty bad, worse than the last argument they had over you."

"What?" Inky spluttered, looking very confused. "They fought over you before?"

Tug felt her cheeks warm with embarrassment as both girls stared at her with an expectant curiosity and she knew she would have to enlighten them with the details; neither of them had been around last summer when Mush wanted to prove to Tug that Skittery liked her, so he let it slip that he, Mush, was seeing Tug, even though he wasn't, so Skittery punched Mush in the face because he thought Mush was seeing Tug, when really he wasn't. It was all very complicated and Tug did her best to fill them in on the story.

"I don't think they actually fought this time," Inky said, screwing up her face as she tried to remember the details of the more recent conflict. "Dutchy said Skittery looked like he wanted to murder Mush and he said it took seven of 'em to keep him from doin' just that. All they could do was shout at each other from across the room, because the others held 'em apart."

"Yeah," Tag agreed. "Blink told me that Mush kept yellin' that it was all his fault, but as Skittery was lookin' to rip Mush limb from limb, he reckons none of it sank in."

Tug buried her face into her hands and groaned, "What've I done! It must be miserable at the lodging house."

Both girls patted her gingerly.

"I think they've only gone at it one time, but I suppose they've just been keepin' their distance since," Inky explained, glancing at Tag for reassurance. "They said Skittery hasn't been gettin' back to the lodge 'til real late at night, so none of the boys have really talked to him."

"So, what're ya gonna do now?" Tag asked bluntly, changing the subject. "Are you gonna try to talk to Skittery again?"

Tug looked up through her fingers and sighed. "I don't know what to do. I can't imagine he'd want to talk with me." A lump rose in her throat as the thought sank in. "I mean, you didn't see the look on his face. He was so upset..."

"He was also drunk," Inky added curtly, pulling a face that suggested disgust at the behavior, "which was poor judgement on his part and didn't exactly help anything."

"I'm just not ready to talk to him yet. I don't even know if I want to go back to sellin' -- not after all this. I just don't think I can handle seein' any of the fellas right now, let alone Skittery or Mush. I just don't have it in me to face any of 'em."

"Well..." Tag said carefully, looking sideways at Tug. "I was thinkin' maybe you should come sell with us -- ya know, for Hearst."

"Yeah," Inky agreed, smiling thoughtfully.

"I mean, you'd be able to avoid any one ya wanted, since ya know all their sellin' spots."

"I suppose," Tug replied, considering the possibility. This was something she hadn't thought of, selling for another newspaper. And as Tag pointed out, she didn't have to worry about running into any newsies she didn't want to because they all sold for Pulitzer and she knew all of their routes pretty well; she could just avoid those places. It seemed like a fair idea and worth a try. "It wouldn't hurt to give it a try."

Tag and Inky exchanged looks of triumph.

"Tomorrow then?" Inky said excitedly, finally cracking a smile.

"Yeah, alright," Tug replied with a nod. A thought fluttered into her head; she quirked an eyebrow. "You two ain't gonna tell Dutchy and Blink are ya? At least for the time bein'."

"No," Tag said hurriedly, shaking her head. "If you don't want us to, we won't."

"I'd rather you didn't. I know that word would get around, and I don't want Skittery or Mush to come lookin' for me -- like I said I ain't ready to talk to either of them, but I am ready to get out of this apartment," Tug said with a slight smile.

"How 'bout we meet up at 47th and Broadway?" Inky suggested.

Tug half groaned, half laughed. "I forgot how far it was."

"And if you ain't there by six-thirty, yer neighbors will get another chance to send for them bulls," Inky added matter-of-factly and everyone laughed.

-----

"Skittery!" called Blink, hurrying toward a tall, lanky boy, who was lying under one of the many giant oak trees in Central Park.

Specs followed at a distance; he was a little more cautious than Blink when it came to sneaking up on Skittery. He watched as Blink threw himself down on the grass next to Skittery, making another attempt for his attention.

"Hey! Skittery!"

"Go away, Blink," Skittery mumbled, his voice muffled by his hat, which was shielding his face from the sun overhead.

"Awe, come on, Skitts. We don't see much of ya these days," Blink replied, settling himself in against the trunk of the tree as Specs finally caught up.

"I said, beat it."

"I told ya it would be a lost cause, Blink. Skittery don't wanna hear what we got to say," Specs said, trying a more clever way of gaining Skittery's attention. He shot a warning look at Blink, who had opened his mouth, not doubt in order to reveal the reason for this ambush.

Blink shut his mouth, watching some sign of interest, but Skittery just continued to lay there with his head resting on a pile of newspapers and his hands folded over his chest. Unable to stand the wait any longer, because Specs' attempt hadn't made a difference, Blink tried something else.

"It's been over two weeks now, Skittery. I don't know why you still ain't talkin' to none of us."

"'Cause it ain't none of yer business," Skittery replied shortly. "Now, will ya leave me be?"

"Fine," Blink said sourly. "I just thought you'd like to know that Tag's been talkin' with Tug."

Skittery reached up, lifted his hat from his face, and squinted at Blink. "And why would ya think I even care?"

"I dunno," Blink said with shrug, glancing at Specs. "Aren't ya curious as to what she's been up to all this time?"

Pushing himself upright, Skittery glared dangerously at Blink. "I don't care what she's doin' or who she's doin' it with. Now, if ya don't mind, I still got some papes to sell."

He stood up, shoved his hat on his head, scooped up his newspapers, and walked away with Blink shouting after him,

"Just so ya know, she's been sellin' for Hearst, and she's been miserable."

Skittery paused mid-step, waiting for Blink to elaborate, but there was only silence. He shifted the newspapers in his hands as if they were the reason he had stopped walking and continued on his way, not looking back at his two friends. He didn't want to give either of them the satisfaction of knowing that they had got to him; just those few little words shot like tiny arrows through his heart, leaving splinters behind as a reminder that he had lost her.

Did they think he hadn't been miserable too?

"Go talk to her, Skitts," called Specs, his sharp eye not easily deceived.

He wouldn't go talk to her. He couldn't go talk to her. Not only was he still angry at what she had done, but he was also ashamed of himself for reacting so stupidly to what Tumbler had told him. In was out of anger and heartache that he sought comfort in alcohol, but all those feelings were still there when the effects wore off, leaving him in a deeper hole, because what he remembered about their argument was choppy and almost dreamlike, and none of it helped him feel better about their break up.

As he trudged along the path toward the busy street of Fifth Avenue, he half hoped that Blink would come after him and ramble on a bit more. For once, in their many years of friendship, Kid Blink actually decided to respect his desire to be left alone, but this was one time when Skittery didn't really want to be alone.

A/N: So, I just had to say that this chapter was a real pain to write. I had all the ideas, but I couldn't get them down on paper (er, screen). Anyway, what I think I'm trying to get at, is that I would be extremely grateful if you would leave a review for me so that I may know your thoughts.

Happy 110th Anniversary of the Newsboys Strike of 1899!!