A/N: I probably should've put this on the other chapters, but it's here now:

Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies!

"So are you guys coming over later?" Race asked as he gathered his books from his locker.

"I don't know, we have to stay after school for a Journalism meeting," Crutchie said. "You know Race, you should think about joining. And getting the other guys, too. We'd all get to hang out three times a week."

To Jack's surprise, Race seemed to actually consider it. "Huh, maybe. I mean, track doesn't start until spring, and I don't really have anything better to do," he said with a shrug.

"See Jack, even Race thinks it could be cool." Jack groaned. "Oh come on, Jack," Crutchie began, "It's not all bad. Besides, you didn't seem to mind being there so much when you were talking to that girl." He laughed as Jack glared at him.

"A girl?" Race's face split into a smirk. "Wh—"

"Move it, kid!" a tall jock with brown hair and a nasty grin commanded as he pushed a freshman to the side of the hallway. A boy with similar features started laughing from behind him.

"Dear me, what is that unpleasant aroma? I fear they're heating up the meatloaf in the cafeteria!" Race called out as he saw the boys approaching.

"Or could it be the Delancey brothers?" Crutchie joined in.

"I'd shut up with you, or you won't be able to use either of your legs," Oscar growled.

"Are you really gonna threaten a kid with a gimp leg?" Jack asked in anger, approaching the Delanceys.

"Well it doesn't just go for him!" Morris chimed in. "We can take you out, too!"

"Oh yeah? Go ahead!" Jack shouted. Morris threw a punch, but Jack ducked, and Morris's fist just went through air. Oscar tried to grab Jack, but Jack was too quick for him and managed to move just out of reach. Morris looked like he was going for another punch. Jack was bracing himself for a fight when he heard a voice boom down the hallway.

"I swear Kelly, if that's you in another fight!"

"Shoot!" Jack muttered, and started to sprint through the crowded hallway, trying to disappear amongst the kids headed towards their busses and cars. He could hear footsteps and shouting behind him. Jack was getting farther and farther from the English wing, but the school dean was hot on his trail.

"Jack, what are you doing?" Davey called out, noticing Jack running the opposite way from the meeting.

"No time to talk!" Jack shouted. Davey let his curiosity get the better of him and chased after Jack.

Jack soon found himself in front of the doors to the school auditorium and ducked inside, Davey close behind him. "Alright, I think we're good," Jack said, trying to catch his breath.

"What was that about?" Davey asked him.

"That was, uh, Dean Snyder. He saw me get into a bit of a fight. And if I can't escape another detention, I'm at least gonna try and postpone it."

"Fight?" Davey asked, incredulous. Then his eyes widened. "Another?"

Jack opened his mouth to respond, only to be interrupted by a booming voice from onstage. "Who is hiding back there? If you are not a member of the Fall Play, you are not allowed to be in this theater!"

Jack stood up, calling out, "Not even me, Ms. Larkin?"

"Jack Kelly," Ms. Medda sighed, shaking her head but unable to fight a smile. "Why are you interrupting my rehearsal?" She waited for a response as the cast members stared at him from onstage, whispering amongst themselves.

"Uh…" Jack looked around, trying to come up with an excuse as to why he would be in the theater. That's when he saw the familiar chestnut hair, poking above a seat in the fourth row. "I'm here to help Katherine with her article! On the play!" Jack announced, walking towards the confused-looking girl.

"Oh, are you now?" Medda asked, knowing he was lying. Jack nodded. "And your friend?" She gestured towards Davey, who was just then standing up, still in the back of the theater.

"Uh…same thing. He's in Journalism too," he replied awkwardly.

"Alright then," Medda decided. "Just try not to be any more of an interruption, okay?" she asked him, and he nodded. She turned towards the cast. "Alright, where were we?"

As Jack made his way over to Katherine, he felt someone tapping him on the shoulder. "Jack, I'm gonna head to the meeting. It's been…interesting," Davey said, clearly not comfortable with the rule-breaking/lying that had just taken place.

"'Kay," Jack nodded. He could probably have gone with Davey, but he decided he wanted to stick around and try and talk with Katherine.

"Well, hello again," he smirked as he sat down in the seat beside her.

"Please go away. I'm working," she said, never looking up from her notepad.

"Aw, come on," he nudged her. "You don't wanna talk to the famous Jack Kelly?"

"Um, no, I don't," she said flatly.

Jack wasn't used to taking no for an answer. And he really didn't like hearing it from her. There was something…different, about Katherine, he decided. He didn't believe in love at first sight—no, that's for suckers, he thought. He looked at her again, taking in each curl, each little freckle, the way her brow furrowed as she tried to think of the right way to write her article. But it wasn't just her beauty that distracted him. It was how smart she was. And how independent. She didn't need him—she didn't need anyone.

Love at first sight's for suckers, he reminded himself. At least, it used to be.

He was suddenly feeling inspired. He dug through his backpack, which he'd set in the seat beside him. Ah-ha. He pulled out his ever-present sketchpad and a pencil, opening up to a fresh page. He then pulled himself up on top the back of the seat in front of him, so that he'd have a better view of Katherine, and started sketching.

Katherine had been so consumed in her work that she didn't even notice him doing this. It was only when one of the actors onstage read a funny line and she threw her head back laughing that she looked up and found herself looking at Jack, who was hunched over the sketch pad, concentrating as hard as he ever had. She frowned. "What are you doing?"

"Quiet down! They're rehearsing!" he whisper-shouted.

She rolled her eyes. "You are the most impossible boy—"

"Shhh!"

"Ever," she hissed.

Jack continued to sketch for a few more minutes, until he had reached what he dubbed a satisfactory picture. He smiled, gently tearing it from the sketchpad, something he rarely did with his pictures. He then laid it down in the seat beside her and left the theater, whistling. Hearing said whistling, Katherine twisted around in her seat, watching him leave. She then noticed the paper laying face-down in the seat beside her. She flipped it over and gasped. It was amazing—it was exactly like her, down to the last freckle. She turned around again, but Jack was long gone.