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

I was a bird. No, not in the sense that I was flying above my fears, above the clouds, above anything that could hurt me into a sky of self-confidence and fulfillment.

No – I was a bird, defecating merrily above everything happening below me. Yes, I was enjoying myself thoroughly, without, for the first time my life, worrying about the consequences. That is the joy of being a bird.

Where were we? Finishing lunch, yes, I remember. So we ate and were merry.

There is something I should tell you, however. In the banner, we had all decided to call for a march on Joseph Pulitzer's office to show him what was what. Jack thought it would be best to set the place for the Horace Greeley statue and the time: 3 o'clock.

It was around 2:57 in the afternoon and we were all standing around, wondering if what we had hoped so long for, what we had worked so hard for, would ever happen.

Can I make an observation here? I looked around and saw some of my comrades – Race, Mush, Blink – looking doubtful. Can you imagine my surprise? Ever since I had known those kids, they had had smiles on their faces, ready to spit in the face of authority. And who was it at the moment with the smile on her face?

You bet. Good old Isabel Romero. Professional pessimist.

So I felt pretty good. And when I feel pretty good, I'm just a ball of sunshine towards everyone else. Jack looked down, so I went over to him.

"It's gonna happen, Jack," I said to him. "Trust me. I've got a feeling about this."

"Yeah?" he said with a scoff.

I thought about it for a minute. "I'm not wrong this time."

He didn't look at me so I grabbed his shoulder. "I promise."

That made him smile a bit.

We both turned in that moment to look down the street. Well, everyone turned to look because the ground was rumbling underneath our feet and the buildings were echoing with shouts. Our whoops and hollers soon joined everyone else's and we were all happily screaming together. Crowds of people came from all directions – I even saw that Spot Conlon once – and everyone gathered in the square, ready to take on that bearded man in his tower.

I laughed when I saw Carlos's friends marching towards us. All the kids and families and friends and neighbors that had come from Cuba to escape what Joseph Pulitzer himself knew was a brutal war were marching for the rights of the newsies. In fact, most of the people I saw marching I didn't even recognize. If I had to guess, I'd say that the ones we told, went and told their brothers, and they went and told their friends, until almost every Cuban in the city was marching with us.

Would you believe it? I hadn't ever seen such a thing. In my dreams I imagined the revolution in Cuba to be similar, but let me tell you, it's a completely different thing to live through it. It's something that goes so far deep into your soul, you feel like it might come out the other side. Something you know that despite the years, despite the frailty of old age, you will never forget that moment. Never, ever, never. It was glorious if ever there was such a thing.

Each man, woman and child had a banner in their hands and were chanting along, demanding lower paper prices for the newsies. We were all there for a common justice – no one outside of the newsies, including myself, would really directly benefit from the strike. But you know what? I think we all knew what it really meant. We were fighting for decency, fighting for the right to fight, and fighting for the future of everyone there. If we could change things for the newsies, then maybe we could change anything that came our way.

Okay, enough of the philosophical mumbo-jumbo. For me, what came next was the most important thing to happen throughout this entire journey.

So there I was, standing with the newsies in shock and awe, watching the crowds of sympathizers join our ranks, when a turquoise feather caught my eye. An odd thing for me to notice, perhaps, except that I couldn't imagine why anyone in that crowd would be wearing a turquoise feather. I assumed I had simply made a mistake and was seeing things that weren't there (a particular habit of mine), but when I looked again there it was.

There it was, and alongside it was some purple velvet. Then some red beading, and some yellow tulle. I stopped looking at what I was seeing and started looking at what it was. It was (they were) women. Women with hats, courtesy of Caroline Woods. Now, I of course would be able to recognize a Caroline Woods hat among a world of impostors, but I also knew her influence beyond my tiny world. Caroline Woods and her colors were recognized throughout the entire city, in case you didn't know.

But why were they there? I tried to get a better look at them to see if they were perhaps lost and how I could get them back to the store, but I noticed that they too had banners in their hands. Banners gripped tightly in their gloved hands, and that they were chanting along with the crowd.

Oh, I was convinced there was some mistake. Sure, Caroline Woods had seemingly implicitly given her support, but this? This was too much. She couldn't possibly have sent those women to join the march, could she?

I left the newsies and went over to the strange group. Sure enough, Mrs. Parker was among them, along with nearly all of Caroline Woods's regular customers. They saw me and waved me over.

"Dear Isabel, isn't this marvelous?" one of them said.

I didn't get a chance to respond, because another commented, "Caroline was right, this is wonderful. It is not everyday a woman gets to see something like this. Oh, how Howard would kill me if he knew I was here!"

I couldn't take it any longer. I went up to Mrs. Parker and asked, "Mrs. Parker, what exactly are you all doing here?"

She looked at me oddly (she never did like me) and said, "Caroline mentioned there would be a strike today. She said some children were fighting for their rights and that we all ought to join, seeing as they are very unfortunate, after all." (Of course, she had to get her last dig in.)

I was blown away. Caroline Woods convinced them to join?

"Is she here?" I asked.

"No, she said she had business to attend to. A shame, really. I would have much preferred her company," Mrs. Parker said bitterly.

I waved my goodbyes to the women and went to look for the newsies once more.

I looked for Lola out of the crowd and saw her at the front of the line with the newsies and Carlos, right in front of Pulitzer's office, just like Jack had said.

Jack, however, was nowhere to be found. Neither was David. When I finally reached Lola she told me what had happened.

"Pulitzer wanted to talk to them," she said, nodding towards the top of the building. "Who knows what's going on up there."

I looked up, hoping I might be able to see them through the window. I saw nothing, but a moment later both Jack and Pulitzer were on the balcony. Neither of them looked particularly happy, so I assumed things were not going well. The crowd's volume soared to deafening heights, however, when it saw its grand leader.

They went back inside, though, and the questions came again.

"Do you think he'll give in?" I heard Race ask next to me.

"Nah," Skittery said. "He's a rich old hoity-toity man; he can do whatever he wants."

"He'll do it," I said. They both looked at me.

"I know he will," I continued. "He's got no choice now. He may be a rich old man, but he's not crazy. He's gotta know its better to give in than to lose everything."

"Ya know, kid," Race said, patting me on the shoulder. "I hope you're right. You're a lot smarter than I gave ya credit for."

Skittery gave me an approving smile too, but I didn't really care. I just wanted to know what was going on in that sky-high office.

"Izzie," Lola said, pulling at me arm. "But what if he doesn't? What if he just throws them out?"

I smiled at my best friend. "So he throws them out, so what? We're all here, that's what matters. No one is blind to this anymore. It's only a matter of time before he has to give in. If not today, then tomorrow. I just know he'll do it, Lola, you watch."

We all sat waiting impatiently and ten minutes later the huge doors opened. David came out first, then Jack. Everyone crowded around him, hoping to get a glimpse of what happened, but he didn't say anything to anyone.

He bent down and whispered something into Les's ear, stood up with the kid on his shoulders and yelled, "We beat 'em!"

Can I describe the intense jubilation we all felt to you in that moment? Probably not, so I hope you have a good imagination. The chanting changed to yelling, the yelling changed to crying, the crying changed to… anything else you could possibly imagine.

I hugged Lola, I hugged Carlos. I ran over and hugged David. Then I finally got a hold of Jack.

"You did it," I said to him.

"We did it," he said. "All of us."

I gave him a skeptical look. "Nah, it was mostly you."

He tried to object, but I interrupted. "Just take the compliment, Jack. I don't give them out every day."

A moment later he was whisked away by his group of adoring followers. I watched him and saw him shake hands with the Governor of New York and get right into his carriage. Can you believe that? Who would have thought, right?

We all chatted amongst each other for a while, but when it got to be around 5 o'clock Lola and I decided to head home. We left Carlos with his friends, said goodbye to the newsies and waved to Caroline Woods's customers and started the walk home.

"That was pretty great, no?" Lola asked.

I laughed. "See? I told you those kids were smart. And you didn't want to believe me."

Lola shrugged. "I know I was rude, all right? I don't know it's just… sometimes I wish I wasn't so much like them, you know?"

She must have seen me give her the evil eye because she tried to recover. "No, that's now what I mean. It's just before I saw them and I knew I was just like them… Poor and out of luck. Every time I saw them it reminded me of myself. I didn't want to keep being like them, you know?"

I didn't say anything.

"That doesn't make any sense, does it?" she asked.

"It makes perfect sense," I said. "I think everyone feels that way sometimes. There is always going to be something we want to change. But look, we just did."

She shoved me a little and I almost ran into a businessman walking next to me. I shot her a death glare and pushed her right back, sending her off the curb and into the street.

We fought that way until we reach my house.

"How's your father doing, by the way?" Lola asked.

I smiled at my own little secret. "He's doing great. Just great," I said.

Lola looked at me funny. "You've never talked about him like that before," she said.

I shrugged. "Well, it's the start of new beginnings, right? I might as well re-do everything in my life."

"Whatever you say," she said, rolling her eyes. "See you tomorrow, Izzie."

"Hasta luego," I said to her as she left.

I walked up the stairs and saw my father at the dining room table.

"Por fin," he said as I walked in the room. "I was worried dinner was going to get cold."

I put all my stuff in my room and went out to join him.

"So," he said. "What did you do today?"

My initial knee-jerk reaction was hesitation to tell him the truth. I wanted to, but I was worried. What if after all these years he won't like the real me? What if he was wrong about getting to know me?

But if there was one thing I had learned from the newsies, it was that if you don't take chance, you never know what will happen.

So I spent the whole night telling him.

Do you know what he did when I finished?

He hugged me and said, "I'm so proud of you, cariño."

That made everything – the bruises, cuts, broken friendships, wounded feelings – all worthwhile.