Heya. Okay, so I'm beginning to grow tired of this story (and I'm sure you must be, too, by now), and I actually sat down and plotted out the end. First time ever doing that. It was weird. But anyways, I'm looking to wrap this up in about 4 chapters. Pretty good, I think.
Disclaimer: Nope, I still don't own the Newsies.
Summer wore on slowly, and so did the headlines. Customers were more interested in shade than news, making our jobs just that much harder. Many of us ended up skipping out on lunches in order to afford dinner. The older boys and I paid for the younger boys' lunches, though. They needed the food more than we did. I lost weight a lot quicker than many of the boys did, maybe because I had more to lose. I didn't notice how thin I was getting until one day when we all gave up on selling papers and went for a swim at the docks. The boys we're happy at first about having to swim in their drawers, when they were used to going starkers, but they grudgingly did it for my sake.
I stripped off my shirt with the rest of the boys, who had all learned to just accept my quirks and enjoy the view. Not that there was a whole lot to see, since I was pretty scrawny, and I kept myself wrapped up, but still, to them, I was a half naked girl. Glancing down to undo my trousers, I noticed that my ribs stood out clearly under my skin, with all their bumps and irregularities from me getting the snot beat out of myself. My hip bones too, pushed through the front of my trousers. I noticed something else. I had a waist. I had that curvy hourglass shape that the boys used to signify "girl." Maybe not quite as exaggerated, but I still had it. I smiled to myself. The irony was cruel, when I wanted to be a girl, I looked just like a boy. Now that I needed to blend in with boys, I started to look like a girl. Jack noticed me examining my sides.
"You'se needs ta eat more. You'se is too skinny." He commented.
I shrugged and finished stripping down to my underclothes, before diving into the water with the rest of the boys. I rolled onto my back and floated peacefully, soaking up the blazing July sun. There was a loud splash and I found myself swamped by a wave as Jack cannonballed into the water. I arched my back, and slid headfirst deeper into the water, flipping over before coming back up to the surface.
We had gotten two new newsies, and older and a younger brother recently. The older one, David and Jack became almost instant friends after a small spat or three. Les, the younger, idolized Jack. I watched Les flounder past me. He wasn't the strongest swimmer out here today. I rolled over on my back again and backstroked near him. His head ducked under the water as he stopped paddling. I ducked under after him and hooked an arm around him, draggin him back up to the surface.
"You'se supposed ta keep ya head above da watah." I teased after he had caught his breath. "C'meah."
I took both his hands. He looked panicked and stiffened until he noticed that I was keeping us both afloat. He relaxed and slipped back under the water. I dragged him back up.
"Nah, see. You'se gotta kick wid ya legs. Keep ya arms stiff, 'nd I'se can hold you'se up. But if you'se kick, den you'se keeps yaself up. Try it."
He did, tentatively. I felt his toes brush my leg and he jerked them away, promptly dunking himself again. I sighed and pulled him back up.
"My foot touched somethin'!" He gasped, once I had him back on the surface.
"Dat's jist me. Heah, I'm gonna pull you'se, 'nd you'se woik on kickin'." I instructed. He nodded and gulped.
Holding both his hands, I used my legs to propel me backwards, towing him along with me. He fixed his eyes on my face and kicked for all he was worth. Water flew everywhere.
"Hey, Tigah!" I laughed, "Calm down. Kick slowah, 'nd try and keep ya legs undah da watah."
He did as I said, marveling at the fact that it worked. I stopped, treading water.
"Okay, I'se gonna let you'se go. Try kickin' and usin' ya arms like ya was." I coached, letting him go. He made two strokes before slipping under. But before I could catch him, he clambered onto my back, wrapping his legs around my waist and his arms around my throat, and pulling me under. He panicked as I went under and held on tighter. I calmly kicked back to the surface.
"Hey, hey." I soothed once we had surfaced. I didn't want to pry him off and scare him more, but I couldn't breathe. "Les, you'se can' panic when you'se go undah. You'se gotta stay calm 'nd use ya legs to getcha back up."
He just whimpered in my ear, hiding his face in my neck. I felt bad for him, but I couldn't freaking breathe.
"Les, honey, you'se gotta loosen up a li'l. I'se can' breade." He did, but clamped right back on when he noticed how far we were from the shore. "Les! I'll take us right back, but you'se gotta let go some!"
He loosened up again, but I could feel his little chest heaving. "Okay, hold ya bread, I'se goin' undah."
I waited for the deep gasp that meant he had listened, before ducking forward under water. I swam as quick as I could with his extra weight, making sure to surface often. David was panicking, looking for Les when I reached them.
"He's right heah, David." I sighed when surfaced close to them. He splashed towards me, snatching Les off my back. He could keep him. I was gonna have bruises from that kid.
Newsie life stayed simple. I taught Les how to swim better, until he could swim laps around the rest of us. We sold whatever papers we could in the boiling heat, and we scraped together a living. Jack forced me to eat more. Jack and I fought constantly, and he would always send poor Racetrack to fix things. Jack found that he fancied Sarah, David's older sister, and so he spent much of his free time chasing after her, much to the boys' amusement, and my carefully hidden disappointment.
I got into constant fights with the street rats and newsies from other boroughs. None of them were my fault. Well most of them weren't. The other boroughs heard about the little newsie that fought like a kid twice "his" size. Racetrack discovered that there was a fortune to be made betting on my fights, especially since I never lost a fight. More often than not Jack had to pull me off. He grumbled about me being so fight crazy, but deep down, he was proud of me for being so tough. Silly boy. Life was happy, even if we barely were getting by. Things were good, until suddenly, something changed.
We all had known that Pulitzer's and Hearst's little profit war was going badly for Pulitzer. It was hard not to, considering we worked for him, and it was obvious because the "Journal"s newsies always had an easier time selling. But we never expected him to raise our prices, until he did.
All it took was one morning for us to see our futures come crashing down. Many of us could no longer afford the papers, and without the papers, we lost our living. It was hardest on the young boys, who could barely afford their food and lodging. And the older boys could only do so much to keep us all fed and housed.
Jack was rabid. He considered each and every Manhattan newsie's fate to be his personal responsibility. And faced with something like this, he just couldn't take it. He withdrew into long periods of silent depression, while the rest of us struggled to afford papers to sell.
Spot was unhappy too, but instead of brooding, he expressed his desire to beat Pulitzer's head in with his cane. I ended up spending a lot of time with him trying to convince him not to, and he finally calmed down, after Dove left him. In fact, that's where I was currently. In Brooklyn trying to calm down Spot after Dove just left him. The mighty King of Brooklyn had been brought to his knees by a Manhattan chorus girl.
I was crouched next to him as he was curled up in a ball in a corner of a rooftop, where no one could see his distress. I don't blame him, because he's sobbing his little cocky heart out. I was rubbing his back and making sympathetic girl noises, while I was thinking how ridiculous this is.
"So what happened, again?" I asked, hoping to understand him this time. He sniffled.
"Dove left. She said dat she don't take 'mistreatment' offa nobody." His shoulders heaved and she started bawling again. Okay, I understand that you love her and all, but c'mon, man up. I'm not bawling over Jack. As much as I may want to. My patience began to wear thin. 3… 2… 1…
I smacked him upside the head. He hiccupped, and looked up at me, startled. I was seething.
"Jist man up! Go crawl back to her and tell her you'se loves her, and is sorry."
"But, I'se da King o—" He started to protest, before I cut him off.
"You'se da king a' nuddin'. You'se has no pride. Now go tell me great great grandma you'se sorry, before you'se screw things up even moah!" I pointed stiffly at the fire escape. He fled down it from my wrath. I sighed and leaned heavily on the half wall that enclosed the roof. If I didn't need Spot to live, I would kill him.
I was on my way back to Manhattan, when running footsteps rang out. I turned to find Spot hurtling down the street behind me. He stopped behind me, doubled over and gasping for air.
"She said no! She won' take me back!" He wailed when he regained the breath to do so.
He was sobbing now. In the middle of the street. People were looking. I had to get him out of here. I grabbed his ear and dragged him back to Manhattan with me. I was never going to live this down, and neither was he.
When I reached number 9 Duane Street, I was relieved to find the house still empty. I sat the sniffling Spot on Racetrack's bunk. Dear God, what did that girl do to him? This was so un-Spotlike. Before I could leave, Mush wandered in.
"Mush, watch him. I'se gotta go see Dove." I ordered. Mush looked bewilderedly at Spot.
I guessed that Dove would still be at Medda's. I hoped that she'd still be a Medda's. I was in no mood to go chasing that stupid girl all over New York. I needed her to make up with Spot so I could get him the heck out of Manhattan. The trail of chorus girls was just leaving as I arrived. I couldn't see Dove.
"Dove? Hey, wheah's Dove?" I asked the girl nearest to me. She was a mousy little thing, and wasn't much inclined to answer the question of a furious little boy. She simply shrugged. I continued to wade through the crowd of girls until I spotted the familiar girl.
"Dove! Dovedovedove, wait!" I hollered as I chased her down the street. She turned her brow furrowed. Her lips started to form the word "Who?" until she realized who I was.
"Oh, Charley. How lovely to see you again." She greeted politely. I had no time for niceties.
"Lis'sen. Whatevah you'se did ta Spot, you'se gotta fix it."
"Charley, I know that you know how it feels to be ill treated by a boy." she sighed.
"Dat's not da point. Right now, he's sittin' on Racetrack's bunk, bawlin'. I'se needs you'se to fix dat."
"He's… crying?"
"He loves you'se. You'se have no idea how much."
"He… loves me?"
Dear Lord this girl didn't get it. I grabbed her hand and stomped off towards Duane street, dragging her with me. She just followed meekly.
When Spot and Dove emerged from the bunk room, where Mush and I had left them to talk out their differences, Dove was fairly glowing with happiness, and Spot was looking much more cocky.
"You were right!" She giggled as she passed me.
Well, I plotted this out to end in 3 chapters, and then I wrote the swimming scene, and the whole Dove v. Spot scene, and pretty much, this whole chapter wasn't supposed to happen. Darn it. Oh, well.