Heya. Let's try and get back on track with my road map of the ending here.
Spot was growing curious about his future, especially after my insistence that he fix things up with Dove. I tried my best to dodge these questions, because I felt it wasn't right to let him know that sort of things, but one day, he cornered me.
"Is I gonna marry Dove?" He demanded. I nodded. He looked relieved.
"When do I die?" He asked, more gentle this time. I hesitated. I didn't really want to tell him, but his eyes were begging to know.
"In 1982. You'se is ninety-eight yeahs old. It's peaceful."
"What happens in me life?"
"You'se 'nd Dove get married, 'nd have kids. You'se live in Brooklyn ya entiah life. It's a quiet life."
"Do I'se gets ta meetcha again? When you'se boahn?"
"No. But me muddah 'nd you'se are veahy close. Me faddah's da neighbah boy when she's growin' up."
Spot smiled. "Oh boy. I'se'll have fun wid dis. Wait… you'se said we'se has kids. How many do we'se have?"
"Seven." I answered, and scooted out of there while he was still in shock.
I was on my way home when news of Jack's insanity reached me. Mush caught up to me, slinging an arm around my shoulders.
"Didja heah dat's we'se goin' on strike?" He asked excitedly. I choked.
"Der—wha?"
"We'se strikin'! It was Davey's idea." Mush repeated. David. I knew I didn't like that kid.
"So why you'se out heah?"
"I'se goin' to da bowery. We'se tellin' all da uddah newsies. Come wid me, I'se'll explain it to you'se."
"Shoah." I wrapped my arm around his shoulders. We set off towards the bowery.
"Okay, so let me get dis straight. Jack's tryin' ta get all da newsies, in all of New York ta strike tahgedah?" I asked, trying to figure this out. Mush nodded.
"'nd den what's he gonna do, if dat woiks?"
"Well, den we'se soak da ones dat don' join us."
I could see where this was going. Freaking brilliant, Jack. I just shook my head.
I had to hand it to Jack, his stupid strike was gaining attention. Of course, it could have been their main tactic used to prevent the papers from circulating—soak the scabs. The scabs were boys who continued to sell papers. And how they dealt with them was by beating the snot out of them. I was all for a good fight, but this was nuts. Mush even developed a way to harass the scabs as best as possible.
He would start trouble with a scab, and take off as soon as the bulls came, and the bulls would chase him, and another newsie would take over the scab. Mush would lose the bulls, and find a new scab. It worked brilliantly, especially coming from Mush. We love him, but he ain't the brightest.
It became a daily routine to hang around outside the circulation center, and wait for the scabs, and soak them when they came. Every day, the small group of scabs would arrive, and the pack of strikers would chase them down the street with a cry of "Soak 'em!", leaving me behind to shake my head.
One day, I did accompany them on their soakings. Today however, the scabs ran into the gates of the circulation center. That should have been a clue that something was wrong, but the boys didn't get it. Neither did I, at the time. None of us figured out what was going on until the carriage doors opened on the other side of the center.
"Jack, Jack, Jack! It's a trap!" Racetrack hollered.
We surged back towards the gates, but they had been closed. Looks like we were gonna fight.
It was chaos. Men armed with clubs and chains and fists were everywhere. We were going to lose. We were going to die. Now might be a good time to be a coward, and announce that I was a girl to everyone. But I would never forgive myself if I did that. Guess I was gonna get in another good fight.
The newsies all seemed to know not to strike the first blow, we waited for the men to strike. The gangsters, however, didn't make us wait long. One swung at Jack, and all hell broke loose. Nobody threatens our beloved leader. Nobody. The newsies were like angry bees, swarming the gangsters. I had one by the back of the head and was pounding his face into a wall. One had Boots by the neck. I dropped my thug, and struggled through the crowd towards him, when a hail of stones rained down on us. I risked a glance upward to see Spot leading the entire gang of Brooklyn newsies into the fight. Cheers erupted from the throats of the Manhattan newsies, and we fought even harder. The gates were pulled open, and the fight was quickly ended.
"Boys! Smile!" I heard someone yell. I glanced to find a camera pointed in our direction. I dropped to the ground behind the group right before the picture was taken. I decided it was time to get out of there before the reporter started interviewing. I slipped out the gates and scampered away.
Ordinarily, I had nothing against reporters. Really. And Denton seemed pretty nice. But I wasn't sure if it was the best idea to have physical records of my time spent here, especially since I'm pretty sure that I was screwing up the flow of time by being here. I know that I didn't belong here. I also knew that I had been here too long. I wondered what was going on at home. Did time flow at the same rate? Was I missing for months, or just seconds? Did time stop there? I needed to get home. I couldn't stay here. I dragged my feet as I headed back to the lodging house.
I climbed the stairs to hear the boys all talking at once. It sounded like they were planning something. I stopped in the door to watch them. mush noticed me, and waved me over.
"Charley! Dere you'se are." Jack greeted. "Now, lis'sen, we'se plannin' a big rally. Somedin' da papes can' ignoah. Any ideas?"
"Wheah are you'se holdin' it?" My question was greeted by silence. I sighed. "Would Medda's woik?"
"Dat's brilliant! Snitch, go tell Medda!" Jack ordered.
"Wait! Snitch han' on. Let's get some ideas figuahed out foist." I pulled up a chair, and took a scrap of paper and the stub of a pencil that was used to keep scores from the table in the corner of the room.
The boys started pouring out ideas, as I frantically tried to keep up.
Hundreds and hundreds of newsies gathered at Medda's the night of the rally. There were boys everywhere. All I could do is look around in wonder. A few girls were there too. Jack had brought Sarah, Spot had brought Dove, Blink brought his flavor of the week, and Skittery was kind enough to be my escort, since "No goil should hafta go to a pahty alone." Such a gentleman.
I didn't spend much time paying attention to the speeches, since Sarah was trying to talk my ear off the entire time. Dove and Blink's girl, oh what's her face, were talking to each other, only so that Sarah would leave them alone. And I couldn't get away, since I had to sit at the girls table, because they wanted to make us easy to defend against unwanted advances. The only reason I had to be there was because I was supposed to do the defending. None of the newsies were too interesting in a now "twelve year old boy."
Sarah was babbling on as I idly looked around and nodded every once in a while. Medda came out and did a number. More speeches, another number. And a commotion across the theatre. I spotted the helmets of the bulls. David dragged Jack past, trying to get him out.
"Get the girls out!" David ordered. I nodded and started looking for an exit. All of them were blocked by bulls. I looked up. We were right under the edge of an abandoned balcony.
"Dove!" I yelled lacing my fingers into a step. She moved around the table, stepping gracefully on my hands. I lifted her until she could reach the banister and pull herself up. She leaned over to help Sarah, who I'd lifted up next. Blink's girl was frozen with fear.
"What's ya name?" I hollered at her. She snapped out of it and said,
"Lisa."
"C'mon, Lisa. Let's get you'se outta heah." I ordered.
"But Blink!"
"I'se'll go back for him! Let's go!" I rashly promised. She allowed me to toss her up to Dove and Sarah. I scrabbled up after her.
Dove lead the way towards the roof, with me following after the group to keep the girls moving. Once we were on the roof, Dove walked purposefully over to the edge, picking up a wide plank. She laid it between our roof and the next, stepping onto it and hurrying across. I helped the other girls across, before heading back down into the fight. Dove would get them to safety. Now I needed to go get my boys.
I made my way back out to the balcony quickly, just in time to see Racetrack dragged away from a screaming Medda. I could see Jack running through the crowd, dodging bulls. I called his name, and he started off towards me. I reached over to pull him up, and stayed behind to knock down anyone who followed. I heard Blink catch Jack in the hallway leading to the balcony. He led Jack out to the street. When no one else tried to climb up, I followed them. I almost made it out to the street. That was before a billy club came crashing down on my head, leaving me to drown in blackness.
The bulls rounded up all the unconscious newsies, loading them into their wagons. I came to in a wagon full of very unfriendly Harlem and Bowery newsies. They recognized me as a Manhattan and definitely were not planning on letting me go, now that they had me trapped. The bulls broke up the fight, though, by jabbing their clubs through the bars at us. One landed a painful blow at my kidneys, and I curled up in a tiny ball.
The bulls unloaded us at the city jail, where we would stay the night before our trial, the next day. They randomly shoved us into cells. I ended up with my lovely wagon mates. The cell door slammed shut after two more newsies were tossed in. I was happy to find that it was a very dazed Skittery and a bleeding Mush that were thrown in.
"I'se dought you'se was supposed ta get da goils out." Mush groaned, wiping the blood from his nose.
"I'se did." I said quietly, watching the other boys in the cell.
"All da goils. Including da one I'se brought." Skittery scolded. I shrugged apologetically.
"She was sohta stupid, Skitts."
I had fallen asleep leaning on Skittery, when I was awoken by hushed voices coming down the hall. My eyes narrowed. Bulls. I strained to hear what they were talking about. Skittery mumbled something in his sleep.
"They say there's a girl newsie. Dressed like one of the boys."
"Really? Did we arrest her?"
"I'm not sure. That's why we're looking. She's supposed to be real small. Black hair, grey eyes. Goes by Hambone. Dunno her real name."
They were looking for me. They knew who I was. There was a soft chuckle from across the cell. One of the Harlem's was laughing.
"When I'se got in a fight wid you'se,'nd Cowboy hadta pull you'se off, I'se nevah would have guessed." He smirked.
"Please…" I whispered. The bulls' voices came closer. They were talking about taking me out for "questioning." The way they said it made me sure it wasn't so innocent. Harlem laughed softly again. I nudged Mush and Skittery awake, shushing them. They listened to the bulls, too.
"Please." I begged the Harlem newsie. Mush realized what was going on. He shoved me into a corner of the cell, settling in front of me. Skittery moved there, too. But it wouldn't do any good, if Harlem gave us away. I shot him one last desperate look. He nodded, and faked sleeping as the bulls reached us. They swept the light from their lantern across us. Not seeing me, the bull nudged Harlem through the bars with his foot.
"Where's the girl newsie?" He hissed.
"What goil newsie?" Harlem mumbled sleepily. "Dere's no goil newsies."
The bulls growled and continued their search. Harlem looked over at me.
"You'se owes me one, Hambone."
"Thank you." I whispered.
The next morning, we were herded through court in groups of three cells. I clung to Mush, terrified that bulls would find me. The other cells that we were heard with held the rest of the Manhattan newsies, and a few Brooklyn. Except Jack. Jack wasn't there. I stayed towards the center of the group. Racetrack and Spot were cracking jokes at the front. Denton paid our finds. My head was beginning to spin I couldn't wait to get out of there.
Jack was the next trial up on the dock. We stayed to watch, as he was sentenced to the refuge for the next 4 years. We watched the strike falling around our heads. With no leader, how could we go on?
Well, I probably should apologize for making Spot into such a pansy the last chapter, but he's so fun to pick on! Anyways, this story is continuing to move slowly, so those who were sad that it was ending, rejoice. If this story continues the way it's been going, it might never end. I really hope it does end, eventually, though.