The cellar of the World office was lit only by the candle on the rusted printing press and the gas lamp in the clutch of Ike as he gestured the rest of the crew downstairs. The stench of dust overwhelmed anything else that could be sensed in the dark room. It was the quietest the gang had ever been. The silence was only cut by sparse whispers, gentle hushing, and the soft groan of the overworked press. They were in the belly of the beast. One wrong move and it would be off to jail with the whole lot.
Davey stood right by Jack, both boys binding up stack after stack of freshly-printed papers on the floor and handing them off to each kid in line.
"You guys are going off to Woodside," He instructed as he tied the twine knot on the pile of thirty Newsie Banners. When he finished, he glanced up to the next person in line. "Julia?" He quietly asked.
The girl stood right in front of him with a hand on her hip and hair tied off in a ponytail and thrown to the side. "Yeah?"
Davey lifted the stack and shrugged. "Just, ah...welcome to the Union," He whispered.
Julia nodded with a small smile and took the papers from him. She continued on the trail of the other worker ants out to deliver to all corners of the city.
Davey's eyes followed. Of course she knew what she was doing, but he felt like he had to say something. As she approached the stairs...
"Speed it up a little, Dave, we're burnin' moonlight!" Some shrimp from Brooklyn snapped in a whisper.
"Go to Jack," David replied to the antsy boy in front of him. He ran over, once again hidden in the shadows of the cellar, to catch up with Julia. She was just barely outlined in the glow of Ike's flickering lantern as he took grip on her flannel-wrapped arm.
She let out a startled yelp, which was answered with a volley of shushes by the boys.
"Oh, shhhhhhhhhh yourself!" She mocked back before turning to David. "What the hell?"
David led her off of the stairs and a little further from the boys by her elbow. Darkness creeped back, but she could still make out his anxious profile in the lingering rays of the lamp.
"Just good luck," David told her. "And please be careful."
"I'll be fine," Julia passively assured him with a step that began to turn away.
"Hey." David grabbed the stubborn girl by the tip of her chin. She stopped. "I mean it. If anyone figures out who you are or what you're doing-"
"I get it," Julia replied. "You know I ain't helpless. You know I ain't no damsel."
Then David just looked at her for a moment, squinting the slightest bit to make out her features in the dim flame. And she stared back, not knowing how else to respond but really not wanting to bite back again.
Hesitantly (though he seemed scrape together his confidence halfway through the motion), he lifted a pair of fingers and traced her bangs, setting the golden strand behind her ear to reveal the freckled second half of her face. She felt a breeze graze over the pale ghost of a thick scar that trailed from above her eyebrow to the side of her straight nose. Slight shivers slipped through her chest.
"I know," David said softly, circumnavigating the perturbed waters of her silver-blue eyes. It was difficult to see in the dying flame, but he saw nothing of shame on her face. Wounds didn't linger, and she looked... Well, normal. Davey corrected his own thoughts. A fine normal. A good normal. A really nice normal. When she wasn't dousing a guy's lights, at least, but... What was wrong? Why had she hid behind that stupid piece of hair?
Jules finally came to her senses and lightly smacked his hand away from her head.
"Watch yourself, Jacobs," she muttered with less blaze than usual, leaving bangs where they lay. With that, she heaved the stack of newspapers higher against her chest and departed to the stairs once again, fading back into the shadows of the night.
...
The dawn had arrived at last, and the courageous Cowboy had emerged from the lair of the behemoth Pulitzer victorious.
Not to long after, a carriage of juvenile prisoners rolled off to Newsie Square to join in the commotion.
"Did I tell ya so," Crutchie teased to the other cramped convicts, "Or did I tell ya so?"
"You told us so," groaned the three boys to his right.
Sam knelt in the furniture-less cargo cabin, looking out of the barred window. He stuck his nose out and took a deep inhale. The open air, for New York at least, was beyond refreshing. Warm morning sunlight showered in gold through the small opening.
"Welcome back to the world a' the livin'," Red called from the other corner of the box.
"It's been long enough," Sam replied, staring out at the vast parks and quaint shops of the city.
When the wagon thumped to a stop and the door flew open, Crutchie was the very first to make his way out, knowing that all his friends would be waiting for him.
Then the cabin grew still.
Very still.
For a very long time.
Red looked around to all the kids and gestured to the door. "Oh, no, after you," he said sarcastically.
"We don't got no one out there," Ricky told him. "We don't get no hero's welcome. Nobody cares 'bout us no more."
Then the youngest of the boys promptly stood up and spit on Ricky's shirt. He reeled back in disgust.
"Why do you gotta be such a bully?" Tim demanded before leaping out the door.
Sam directly followed. "Right behind ya, little guy."
His eyes squinted up in the harsh sunlight as his bare feet pressed the warm concrete cobbles of the street. Finally, he was free.
But... Now what?
Smoothing over his unruly hair to sway himself a smidge more on the presentable side, he spotted a large crowd of newsboys not too far away. It was the family Specs had always talked about. Seven or so boys swarmed Crutchie at the present moment. Shouts of victory circled about, as did the laughter and the warm embraces.
"I knew this Kid would make it!"
"Does Crutch ever letcha down?"
"Ya won't believe what they's saying 'bout Jack an' Miss Plumber..."
"Didja put up a good fight? Hell, I knows ya did!"
"Welcome home, Bud!"
"We missed ya back home, Crutchie!"
Home.
Sam felt Tim suddenly snatch up his hand and glanced down to the little boy.
"Can we say 'Hi' ta Specs?" He inquired.
...
Goodbyes, regrets, thanks, and kudos were just a few of the many things being shared by the immense concentration of news carriers in the square. Specs was thrown about in the tossing of the tides until he, Albert, and Crutchie had found themselves toward the outskirts of the action while Jack was getting himself more familiar with Teddy Roosevelt.
"Jeez, I musta missed a ton!" He marveled as Albert told them the hidden chapters of the tale of the strike.
"You two got the best part a' the story!" Albert laughed. "Tell me, is it bad as they make it out ta be 'round here?"
"A few exaggerations here an' there," Crutchie jokingly replied as if it was nothing. "But they don't change out the sheets, even if ya go down to the front desk. Wouldn't recommend as a summer hotspot."
Specs chuckled and turned his head just enough to catch a glimpse of a familiar figure out of the corner of his eye. "Sam?"
The entire circle of three opened up in curiosity of what Specs had seen. Sure enough, Sam stood not five paces behind, still clutching the hand of timid Tim. He rocked back a centimeter or two and executed a noncommittal wave. "Hey, Specs."
Crutchie smiled. "That's right. Albert, these are a couple friends from the ol' chain gang, Sam an' Tim."
"Hey," Albert greeted with a slap on Sam's arm. "Where ya gonna go, now that you got loose?"
Sam sheepishly looked down at Tim, who seemed to have the same lost expression looking back up at him.
"Sam?" Specs asked in concern. He took a step forward and Albert backed off. "Really, where are ya gonna go?"
"I told ya already," he said evenly, "I don't gotta family no more. Might rough it out. Or, who knows? I might try an' get an apprenticeship. Yeah, that'd be neat," he tried to convince himself. "Get some money in my pocket wid' a job. Move away someplace far. I got choices now. I can make my own new path."
"But where are ya gonna even start?" Specs questioned.
Sam shook his head and almost took the question with a suggestion of humor. "I, uh... I'm not too sure yet. Any thoughts?"
Specs looked to Crutchie, who nodded enthusiastically.
"What?" Sam prodded.
"What would you say to the option of bein' a newsie again?" Specs asked.
"Be a newsie?" Tim asked in wonderment.
"Sure!" Crutchie replied to the younger one. "You too, little fella. You could hang around with us all the time!"
"Tim can do what he wants, but it's a 'thanks but no thanks' for me, Kid," Sam responded. "I don't belong here."
"Of course ya do," Crutchie told him. "If you need a place ta stay, a job, an' pals that'll stick up for ya 'til your dyin' day, this is it."
"It gives you a place to begin," Specs brought up. "Do you really wanna leave jail after all this time jus' ta be alone on the street again?"
Sam looked at the two newsies in front of him who awaited an answer.
He thought everything over. It was a valid option.
But did he really want to go back to that life? How long would he still have before he outgrew it? Did he trust these boys enough?
Would it really be his home?
"Sam," Tim said, tugging on his friend's hand. Sam glanced down at him, and he shuffled his feet a little before admitting quietly, "I'm gonna miss you a lot."
Sam glanced back to Specs as he answered Tim. "How could ya miss me?"
He smiled. Why the hell not?
"I'll be there sellin' right by your side," he finished.
"All right, Buddy!" Crutchie cheered.
Specs pat Sam on the back, grinning wide. "Welcome home, Sam."
...
"'Twas a pleasure, mademoiselle," Romeo told Jules as he took her right hand and softly kissed its back.
The Bronx girls stood together at the opposite edge of the crowd, preparing to make their departure and giving final farewells. Katherine approached from behind.
"Pleasure's all mine, Squirt," Jules replied, picking up the same hand a patting his cheek.
"Why do you two have to leave so quick?" Katherine asked of the pair, fiddling with her hands. They turned around, and Romeo fell back into the crowd of rowdy boys.
"Behind on pape sales," Smalls replied almost guiltily. "Still gotta make rent at our lodgin' house."
"We'll catch up, an' then we'll be back before y'know it," Jules told her.
"Good thing, too," Katherine affirmed. "The boys really took a liking to both of you. And for the right reasons, of course," she was quick to assure them.
Jules cracked a smirk. "Don't worry, I gotcha." She brought out a hand. "It's been great gettin' to know ya, Katherine."
"An' careful with Jack," Smalls added.
Katherine shook Jules' hand, warmth beginning to creep into her cheeks. How did half of Manhattan know already? "I think I know what I'm getting myself into," she replied. "But thank you for the concern. Anyway, I guess you better get going."
"We got time, don't we?" Smalls questioned Jules. She at least wanted to say "Bye" to Specs after all that had happened that week.
Katherine's brow furrowed. "Davey didn't tell you?"
"I didn't tell them what?"
Jules almost leaped out of her skin. Davey had weaseled his way into the conversation and was standing right beside her. "Jesus, Dave..."
"You guys, I don't want to be rude, but we gotta go," he said, consulting the watch in his vest pocket. "Only one trolley company hasn't joined the strike yet, and their only windows are at eleven in the morning or eleven at night."
...
"See you, Smalls, Julia," He called not fifteen minutes later from the sidewalk as the two girls began up the steps of the trolley. He alone had figured out the transportation schedules and escorted them a mere five blocks away from the square to the nearest trolley stop.
Jules' vision flicked over to the head of the vehicle, where the conductor was certainly taking his sweet time preparing the trolley for its departure. She had time. She had to get it off her chest.
Julia gestured for Smalls to keep moving ahead as she turned back to him and hurried down the steps. "Davey, wait!" She nearly pushed past her fellow boarding passengers to return to where David stood.
"Yeah?" He asked.
Julia didn't meet his eyes as she tried to get it out as casually as possible.
"It's just that, over the past couple days with Smalls..." Nope, that didn't start quite right. "I mean, with me too, I feel like you..." That sounded even worse. "No, what I mean is..."
Okay, this wasn't as easy as she thought it was going to be.
She looked at Davey, who stood with his arms crossed and an expectant, maybe even amused, almost knowing grin.
"Look," she finally said, crossing her own arms in return. "You're an idiot. A complete and utter idiot. And that is never gonna change."
Davey simply nodded and dropped his arms to briefly pat Julia on the shoulder. His smile was real and sweet, and even the smallest touch was comforting.
Julia just stood there shaking her head. "For the love of God," she muttered. "Please never change."
She threw her arms under David's and locked him into a hug, pressing her face against his vest. He tilted back a tiny amount in shock but soon wrapped his arms back around her, resting his chin on her shoulder. "Hey... Julia..."
She shut him up by tightening the embrace, and there they stayed for a moment or two, rocking ever so slightly in the July breeze.
"All aboard!" Commanded the conductor with the buzz of a bell.
Julia pulled herself away and simply said, "Goodbye, David. And thank you."
She passively tucked her hair behind her ear. The left side of Julia Howell's face, though completely identical to the right, was still a startling sight.
"Don't worry. With those two lovebirds," Davey replied, indicating Smalls and Specs far off somewhere, "I think you'll be visiting Manhattan awful lot."
Julia smiled. There was an unfamiliar twinkle in her eyes. Both of them. "Then maybe we should go dancin' sometime, huh?"
The sharp warning buzz of the bell rung out a second time, and she briskly spun and strode her way onto the trolley. The cabin was jam-packed, but Smalls, who sat right at the window, facing front-ways, had saved her a seat. She set herself down on the bench and pulled a saved scrap of today's news out of her pocket.
"Smalls!"
Smalls poked her head out of the opening as she heard her name being yelled from afar.
Specs leapt out of a sprint as he finally arrived at the stop, panting more than he would have liked to in that moment. Though he'd been late to say goodbye, he hadn't completely missed them. Good. He dashed to the outside of Smalls' window, grinning as long as the Island Sound as he looked up at her. He gripped the bottom of the square frame. "Did I make it?"
Smalls laughed and grabbed the collar of his blue button-down, practically pulling him up to meet her face.
"Don't ya go thinkin' this is over, Specs," she told him. "We're still pals, right?"
"'Til the end," he replied. "But I think I still prefer bein' taller than you."
"What a coincidence. I'm takin' a likin' to this whole 'tall' business myself."
"Would you jus' be quiet for once?" Specs kidded. He took the underside of her chin in one hand while the other lightly knit itself into her bronze hair as he heaved himself onto his toes to kiss her. She laughed once more as her lips fumbled onto his and stayed.
With a clank and a wheeze, the trolley began to roll out, prying the two apart with a startling jolt. But as the vehicle picked up speed, Smalls stayed there sticking out the window to wave at Specs. He waved back, standing alone at the stop, shrinking more and more in her vision with each passing chug from the motor below.
And as the trolley began to turn on the next street, she could have sworn she heard a raspberry blow off in the distance.
Finally, she sat back on the bench and let a microscopic sigh escape her.
"Some strike, huh, Shortie?"
Smalls jumped in her seat. Hah. Right. Jules was still there next to her. Right there.
Her bangs were surprisingly cast out of her face all together, and Smalls wondered why she had been hiding behind them for so long. She looked prettier without them.
"Some strike," she agreed, loosely wringing the grey hat she had in her hands.
Jules brought her glance down to Smalls' lap. "An' where exactly did ya pick up that?"
Smalls looked at it and beamed. "I got my ways."
Lazily scuffing his father's rust-brown boots against the burning hot pavement, sixteen-year-old Russell Woodspeck straggled past all the bustling, chattering commuters departing their places of work and spilling out onto the streets.
Dismissed back into a state of silence, he thought about the past couple days.
The war had been won. His family was waiting for him back home in celebration. Crutchie was freed from the Refuge. Jack was back and brighter than ever. The boy who helped him in his darkest hour would be his brother. And the girl he foolishly fell for had fallen right back.
He felt he stood a little taller, head a little lighter, with a little less weight on top of his shoulders.
Specs swept is hand over his head and felt only his own curly hair.
It was then that he realized his hat had been stolen as he was lip-locked with his childhood sweetheart.
"God dammit, Lauren."
~FIN~
...
Author's note:
DONE.
Okay I kinda wanted to do a continuation but nah. Maybe a breif epilogue. I dunno. But it's done enough for now.
I've been sluggishly working on this plot bunny for like 10 months, if you count the day I posted the first chapter as the beginning.
So yeah.
Thanks y'all for putting up with this! I honestly have no idea what to write now. I should probably drabble in something that doesn't take much brainpower like CtBtA. Any critique/reviews are happily taken as always!
Thanks again for reading. Seriously.
~CW