Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies or any of its characters, but I do own all others.

Joseph Pulitzer reigned in my dreams that night – an odd fact, considering I had never seen the man. My tired and perverted mind drew a figure, tall and brooding, with knife-sharp pens for fingers and a face covered in ashy ink. His ever-extending arms reached after me even after I had fled the carriage, chasing me through the etherized Manhattan night.

I woke up sweating and cursing David Jacobs and Jack Kelly.

The next day at the millinery went exactly as you would have imagined. As the day wore on, it became increasingly likely that I would unintentionally destroy the entire shop with my epic ineptitude.

On a normal day, my pride would have been hanging as a souvenir above Caroline Woods's desk long before I left the shop. To my salvation, she didn't come that day. Was destiny telling me something, or what?

The day before she had said something along the lines of visiting a friend, but my delirious happiness at her potential absence prevented me from listening further. I was free that day, and thank goodness. I had thinking to do – a great detriment to a looming stack of hat boxes, let me tell you.

I still wasn't particularly thrilled at the thought of sneaking into a millionaire's carriage, and the thought of being thrown into a flea-ridden, rat-infested, diseased cell with a bunch of hardened criminals was worse. To keep my spirits up (as much as possible), I tried to convince myself that these newsies knew what they were doing. After all, Jack had proven he knew his way in and out of the city. That was enough to prove he must know something about last-minute escapes, right?

"Just get out of here, Izzie!"

I left the shop as fast as I could. Helen calling me by my nickname was about as common as stumbling across a field mouse in a top hat taking tea with the Queen, even when she was angry.

It was a quarter to four. I had fifteen minutes to spare, which was an unfortunate fact. Fifteen minutes to think of all the horrible possibilities to which the plan could lead. Fifteen minutes to think about the look of horror on my father's face when the police arrived at our door to tell him that his daughter was a wanted criminal. Fifteen minutes to think of murder plots for both Cowboy Kelly and Curly-Haired Davey if they failed to get me out of this safely. Who would have known there was so much to think about in fifteen minutes?

Concluding that distraction was better than plotting murders, I walked in the direction of Tibby's. A girl with red shoes passed by and I thought of Lola. I had told her that I wasn't going to meet her today, and I wondered if she suspected anything. Would she know I was traipsing around behind her back with a couple of newsies? I hoped not. She wouldn't be happy about that.

I arrived at Tibby's. The restaurant looked so benevolent during the day, much different from the dark atmosphere of plotting it had the night before.

"Ya ready?"

I jumped, lost in my thoughts. Jack and David were standing there when I turned around and I felt my stomach lurch. I realized I had unconsciously hoped they wouldn't show.

"As ready as I'll ever be, I guess."

I noticed David was carrying a basket in his arms. It was a particularly feminine basket, covered in what looked like a white pillowcase.

"I hope that's not yours," I said, eyeing the basket.

David looked down at the basket, then back at me.

"Actually, it's for you."

I guffawed. "What in the world for?"

"Come on," he said, motioning his head towards a nearby alley. "We'll explain everything."

The alley was surprisingly lighter than most, and a bit cleaner. Jack led us over to where a stack of wooden boxes were leaning against a wall, hiding us from passersby. It was a terribly criminal scene, from which I was desperate to get out.

David removed the white fabric that was covering the basket. I looked inside.

"Flowers?" I asked. "What, do you plan to attack Pulitzer with pollen?"

David sighed. "We're not attacking Pulitzer, you know that. We're just trying to… persuade him. The plan is for you to carry these flowers and make like you're selling them. It's your disguise. This way you'll look less…"

"Like a criminal?" I offered.

"Like a loiterer. Here," he said, pulling out some dark fabric from underneath the already wilting flowers. "This is for you too."

I looked at what was in his hands and scoffed. "A cape? You don't think that will raise any doubts? Ah, yes, of course, a witch selling flowers. Nothing suspicious here."

Jack sighed and hung his head against his palm. David paid no attention to my bad mood. "It's not for right now, it's for when you're in the carriage. Everything is pretty dark in there. Just put this on and cover yourself – it'll give you a few minutes before Pulitzer realizes you're there."

"You mean before he throws me out on my face?"

"Quit the attitude, Cuba," Jack said, taking his hand from his face. "We ain't forcin' ya to do this. We gave ya the chance to back out and ya didn't. Ya got nobody to blame but yerself."

"We don't have time to fight about this," David said, looking right at me mid-retort. "We've planned it all out and everything is going to be fine."

I took a deep breath. "Fine. What's next?"

"All right, first things first," David started, looking between Jack and me. "Pulitzer leaves the building at around five o'clock. Jack and I have been tracking him for a couple days. The carriage always arrives fifteen minutes before five o'clock and waits for Pulitzer outside the building."

"People?" I asked, hoping for a simple answer.

"As far as we know, a valet and a driver, but there may be some guards inside the building."

I heard myself whistle as I sucked in the air too fast.

"Here's the plan," David said, eyeing me to make sure I wouldn't interrupt. "Jack and I will spook the horses to distract the valet and the driver. You go to the other side of the carriage where they can't see you. Open the door as quietly as you can and get inside. They won't hear or feel you sneaking into the carriage with all the bumping of the horses."

"You'll make sure they're distracted?"

"Just worry about Pulitzer, all right?" Jack said. "We'll do the rest."

David reached his head up to look out over the boxes and then turned to me. "They'll be distracted, but you're still going to have to be quiet. Look around before you get in and make sure no one's watching."

"Then what?" I asked, dreading – yet already knowing – the answer.

"Then you wait for Pulitzer."

Easier said than done.

"But what if he doesn't come? What if something goes wrong?" I asked, ironically concerned that I wouldn't meet Pulitzer.

"Izzie," David said exasperatedly grabbing my shoulders and facing me head on, "calm down. If something goes wrong, we'll figure it out."

I took a deep breath and reached my arm out to steady myself against the brick wall next to me.

"And if the police come?"

Jack folded his arms and considered me seriously for the first time that day. "Ya get out of that carriage as fast as ya can and run 'cross the street. There's an alley between the bookstore and the bakery with a ladder on the right side, so ya climb it."

"What if they follow me?"

"When ya get to the top you'll be able to run along the roofs, so do it. Don't –" he said warningly, holding his hand up against my unvoiced objection, "ask any more questions. Just run. Ya know how to do that, right?"

I nodded while scratching my neck.

"So ya know what ya gotta do, Cuba?" he asked, looking straight into my eyes.

"I hope so."

"Then let's go."

Jack led the way, walking casually out of the alley. I stood up to follow, but David held me back. Once Jack was a safe distance away, David nudged me to take my turn.

I walked hesitantly out of the alley, my head held deceptively high. I was hopeful to be putting on a good act, but I knew that had a passerby looked more carefully, he would have noted the masked look of terror curling just around my eyes.

The World building was located right in the middle of Newspaper Row, looming tall with its like-minded neighbors above the surrounding street vendors and apartment buildings groveling humbly at its feet. Its golden tower stood high above even the tall surrounding buildings and I wondered what it felt like, sitting up at the very top, looking down on everyone as small as fruit flies.

I cringed - a person shouldn't get used to that.

It was now nearing a quarter to five and sure enough, the carriage was sitting right outside the building, waiting for its rider to grace it with his presence.

Jack, David and I were standing behind a wall of a nearby building, gauging the situation. I could see no obvious danger, but I knew from instinct that such a relief was often a false one. After all, how many times had war sprung out of relative peace?

We stood watching as the valet exited the building and placed himself regally next to the door Pulitzer was sure to enter. The driver was not as preoccupied with appearances, made clear by shamelessly picking his nose.

"All right," David said in a whisper. "Go ahead."

I lifted the basket and accommodated the handle into the crook of my elbow. I stood up slowly, feeling the nervous energy in my bones. My head said stay, but my feet sent me forward. I contorted my face into a half-smile as I walked toward the building – not so ridiculous as to cause suspicion, but not so suspicious as to be ridiculous.

"Buenas tardes, señor," I said, holding out my basket just enough so he could see the flowers but not the cloak. "¿Le puedo interesar en comprar una rosa?"

Why did I ask him to buy a flower in Spanish? Well, because it's unlikely that a girl who can't even speak the same language would be in cahoots with the newsies.

The man, who had been puttering with the horses' reins, looked up. He regarded me and I saw his eyebrows weave wickedly.

"What?" he said gruffly, still holding the reins. "Speak English."

"¿Disculpe, señor? No le entiendo."

That confused him more, which in turn agitated him more.

"Get outta here, kid, 'fore I call the bulls on ya."

I was about to walk away with the same giddy smile on my face when I made the mistake of looking one of the horses in the eye. Chocolate eyes framed with feathery eyelashes I never knew horses had. Those damn chocolate eyes that reminded me of Les... and Marisol. I quickly turned my head away and walked towards the valet.

"¿Y usted, señor?" I asked the valet, whom I had seen out of the corner of my eye watch the exchange with curiosity.

"I'm afraid I do not speak Spanish, my dear," he said. "Are you selling flowers?"

"No hablo inglés, señor, pero quizás le gustaría comprar algunas flores para su esposa?" I asked as fast as I could, pushing the flower basket closer to him. I prayed I was a better actress than I thought I was.

"No, no, thank you," he said, putting his hands up in a universal gesture of apology. "I'm sorry."

I gave him a genuine smile as I walked away. A stab of guilt hit me right in the gut – it was unfortunate that such a polite man would soon be the brunt of a cruel trick for which he would surely be punished.

I looked around quickly to see if anyone would notice, and slipped behind the other side of the carriage. The customers on the opposite street could clearly see me, but I hoped by some miracle I would become invisible. I had to get inside that carriage.

Already used to keeping my dazed smile, I walked slowly toward the door. I checked to make sure the cloak was still in the basket – it was, like poison at the bottom of a cup. The door handle looked simple enough, a simple tug would appear to do, but I had to wait until Jack and David set their part of the plan in motion.

I was thankful I didn't have to wait long before I heard a shout. I had to look out of the corner of the opposite window to see I saw a dash of red and the brim of Jack's hat galloping quickly towards the horses. From the following flash of blue, I could tell David was closely behind. What were they doing? I couldn't get a good enough look to see.

Just as I was about to bend dangerously around the corner of the carriage to see what was going on, the horses reared. Now, I don't know about you, but I've never been around a horse, period, much less an angry horse. I was instantly desperate to get inside the carriage to get away from their awful screams.

The entire carriage hurled forward for a moment, and I could hear the driver yelling profanities in all directions. Jack and David finally passed in front of the carriage enough so that I could see they were playing on a fight. Jack had tried to escape David's wrath (ha!) and almost ran right into the horses.

I looked the window to the other side: the valet was gone.

Now was my shot. I wasn't going to get another.

The next time the horses hurled the carriage upwards, I tugged the door open as quietly as I could. Hearing no alarm ring, a second later I stepped into the carriage and closed it just as quietly. I could still hear the ruckus outside, but the noises ebbed pleasantly.

I looked around and realized that Jack and David had really planned everything quite well. The inside of the carriage was dark, despite the early hour. Velvet black curtains hung on the windows, not unlike the funeral carriages I had seen cross the dusty streets back home.

I took the cloak out of the basket, careful not to drop any of the decoy flowers. I trembled at the thought. What would Pulitzer do if he saw a solitary rose sitting on his seat? Oh dear, better put my imagination to rest for a moment.

I pulled the cloak over me entirely, covering my face just enough to cause a shadow. I moved closer to the curtain in the hopes of disappearing further inside that dark prison.

I looked discreetly out the window and saw Jack and David running off, but not without a few men chasing after them. As much as I wanted to focus on my own well-being (or lack thereof), I felt the pangs of worry stir in my belly.

And so began the waiting game, yet again.

I allowed myself no movement, for fear the unhappy leather beneath me would give away my hiding place. I put the flower basket at my feet and covered it with the cloak, hoping it wouldn't trip me if I was forced to leap out of the moving vehicle.

I held my breath as the valet resumed his post outside the window. He turned his head to the left, and I was convinced I had been spotted. It was only a matter of moments, I told myself, before he turned around fully to see that I was inside. The same little flower girl he had seen only moments before. Surely he would be smart enough to put the fiasco outside and the strange foreign girl together and realize that a plot was afoot.

But he didn't. He turned his head back towards the building, and did not look back ever again.

I was relieved, but I sure didn't let my held breath go. I turned my head forward, thinking that perhaps my face would be less visible. I close my eyes for a moment, hoping and praying that maybe everything was a dream - maybe I was still sleeping, my father still making breakfast, Caroline Woods still scolding me, Lola still bossing me.

From my place in the corner, sheltered behind the curtain, I heard the door open.

"Just this way, Mr. Pulitzer. Please, watch your step, sir."

A/N: Interesting? Not interesting? I would love to know what you think!