Thank you, mysterygirl, for your feedback! Pulitzer is actually one of the more interesting characters in the movie, and I'm glad someone else appreciates his history as much as I do.

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

The basement was awful. Cobwebs in your hair, dust up your nose, dirt in places you can't imagine awful. Jack had said he'd been sleeping in a hole, but I didn't know that he meant it literally.

Sarah apparently didn't either, because she asked, "You've been living here?"

I was glad I wasn't the only one thinking it.

The eight of us walked as carefully as we could down the stairs, hoping no one would wake up and foil our well thought-out plan. Jack led us over to the press; old, dusty and perfectly functional.

Denton got right to work and with enthusiasm. The rest of us started planning what exactly we would include in the flyer. Like Lola had suggested, we wanted to include a bit about Pulitzer and his past, but we knew we'd need real propaganda to get people's attention.

Lola tried to recall everything she'd heard about Pulitzer as best she could. We got a pretty good start: a poor Hungarian immigrant that went from riches to rags in a matter of years. He came to the United States hoping to join the army (that surprised me) and spent most of his early years dirt poor. It wasn't until he joined the high and mighty that he got some real money, and it all went down from there.

We kept the information about Pulitzer to a minimum – just enough to get the message across. He formed only a little block on the page – as much space as he had relegated to the newsies in New York. The main article was a call to arms of all the poor working kids of New York. Everyone in the city knew how horrible the working conditions were for ordinary adults, and it was just the same for children, if not worse.

It was an inspiring little article; brief and right to the point. A call to action here, some revealed hypocrisy there – you really couldn't ask for anything better. Denton led the arrangement of letters on the press so that it would come out perfectly. I had to admit; although I never had an interest in any kind of newspaper career, paper printing was enthralling. Inks, letters, papers: it all came together to create one moving piece of work.

Hands were flying, feet were flying, ideas were flying every which way and not once did we stop during that entire night for even the slightest break. I think we all knew the importance of speed – there was only a short period of time between when people are interested in an issue and when they lose that interest, and we weren't about to lose them now.

When the flyers were printed, we all helped stack and tie them together. Can I add a personal note here? (I will anyway). I have never in my life seen Carlos and Lola get along as well as they did in that moment. They were laughing and talking and planning and doing all the things I think kids wish they could always do with their brothers and sisters. Now, we all know that I have no personal experience with something like a brotherly/sisterly relationship, but I think they were really happy. They were working together like a team – like a family team.

Okay, I'm done being sappy for now. Moving on. I was continually impressed with the speed and connections of those newsies. As soon as we had finished tying the first packet of flyers, newsies showed up at the basement window to pick them up and distribute.

Jack just laughed when he saw how surprised I was. Ah, the egos of young men.

"All right," Jack said as he worked. "I told the guys to get this banner out to every kid they see. Once we're done printin' these we'll go out and distribute 'em ourselves. If ya don't see anybody, go lookin' for 'em, all right?"

Everyone nodded enthusiastically, but I pulled Jack aside.

"Look, Jack, I gotta go. I've been playing like I was sick and haven't been into work lately. Ms. Woods will kill me if I don't show up today."

Lola and Carlos sniggered amongst themselves in a corner.

"All right Cuba, but take these. Hand 'em out on yer way there," Jack said.

"I'll take you there, Izzie," David said, appearing at Jack's side and picking up a stack of banners. Before I had a chance to protest, he insisted, "Come on, let's go."

We left everyone behind and walked through the early morning streets of Manhattan. We passed the Distribution Center, where David explained the newsies purchased their papers every morning.

"I've never been to this side of town before," I said.

"I hadn't either until I became a newsie," David said. "It looks a little rough at first, but it really isn't all that bad when you get used to it."

I shrugged. "Why did you become a newsie anyway, Davey?" I asked. "I mean, you probably went to school, right?"

David bit his lip before he answered. "Yeah, I was in school before, but my father was injured and lost his job."

"Ah. That's too bad." Can you tell I'm not good with sentimental moments?

"Yeah," he said.

We walked slowly, despite my rush to get to the millinery. Here and there we passed a kid or two and passed out the flyers to them as well as the sympathetic-looking adults we saw on the streets.

As we walked, I started thinking.

"You know, Davey… Thanks."

He looked at me and I could see he was half smiling, half raising his eyebrows. "What for?"

"I mean, thanks for letting all of us do this with you and Jack and the newsies. It's nice to do something important… to belong to something, you know?"

He smiled and said, "Yeah, I know what you mean."

We arrived at the millinery just before opening and I gave David the strongest hug I had ever given in my life.

"I'll see everyone this afternoon, all right?"

"See ya later, Izzie," David said, waving as he walked away.

I hurriedly opened the millinery door only to be greeted by none other than Ms. Caroline Woods.

"Who was that boy?" she asked, her makeup only slightly less boisterous than it had been the last time I had seen her.

I stuttered. "Uh… what boy?" Who was I kidding? She wasn't blind (unfortunately, I might have gotten away with a lot more if she had been).

"That boy who walked you here."

"Oh, him? He's just a friend."

"He's a newsie, isn't he?"

How in the world would she know that?"

"Well, I don't…"

"Come here, Isabel," she said to me, motioning to her office.

Oh, the dreaded office. I had been called there exactly three times before, and all for serious mistakes I had made. The smaller mistakes usually warranted a chastising in front of customers and coworkers, but she saved the really big punishments for the office.

And there I was, once again. I could have sworn I could feel the imprint my butt had made in the chair last time I had been forced in there.

"Sit down, Isabel."

So I sat. Did I have a choice?

"You've been quite distracted lately," she said.

"I'm very sorry, Ms. Woods –"

"I've heard some rumors from a few of my faithful customers that there is a certain group of Cuban youths that has been helping the newsies in their strike. Where was it you said you were from, Isabel?"

"Cuba." Guilty.

"Hmmm." She nodded her head like she knew all along.

"Just as I suspected. You wouldn't happen to be a part of that group, would you now, Isabel?"

I was convinced at that moment that I was about to lose my job. But, good old Izzie, no matter how much pressure and how much she needed that job, she couldn't keep her big mouth shut.

"Well –"

"Listen, Isabel. I don't need distracted employees muddling up my shop. Now, I want all of this done with, do you understand me?"

I was stuttering (as usual) and trying to convince her of my innocence.

"But Ms. Woods, I –"

"I want to know exactly what you and those newsies are planning." I tried to convince here that there was nothing going on but she wouldn't have it.

"You and that boy must have been doing something. What was it, Isabel?"

I gave up then. I was already going to lose my job, so I figured I might as well tell her. Besides, what was the worst she could do? Go to Pulitzer? (She might.)

"We're making a banner, Ms. Woods."

"A banner? What kind of banner?" she asked, tapping her forefinger on her arm.

"About the strike, Ms. Woods. About the strike and about Pulitzer."

Caroline Woods nodded her head as if she knew exactly what I was talking about. I couldn't believe it, but I didn't say anything.

"All right, Isabel. I want this issue done and over with. I want you to leave this millinery and don't come back until this strike is over."

Wait, what? Leave the millinery? But she said I could come back… Could it be? She was letting me keep my job?

"Take this," she said as she handed me a wad of bills. I had never seen so much money in my life.

"I don't care what you do with it, but I would suggest that you go rent that horse and cart you always pass by on the way to work."

I was so surprised that I almost didn't hear what she had said. I sat staring at the money in my hands, my mind blown blank.

"Isabel!" she barked to get my attention. "Go."

I nodded and stood up a little too quickly, because I knocked my chair over.

"Oh, forget it," Caroline Woods said at my sad attempt to pick it back up.

I nodded like a fool once again and made right for the door.

"Oh, and Isabel?" she called after me.

I looked back.

"Make sure you show them it's not so bad being an outsider after all."

I smiled. That was certainly not the punishment I was expecting.