David refused to say a word to anyone. If he talked, he knew he would either murder someone, unintentionally (he was always a very passive boy) or cry. Neither options were a good idea to get into now.
Now, he really had been betrayed by the people who needed to help him with this strike. No one would listen to him if it was just him. That's how his life had always been. He was a middle child, used to sharing, and he didn't mind it. The strike was the first time he'd ever tried to take charge of something, of course it helped that Jack shared the responsibility of leadership. But now, everyone depended on only him and it was overwhelming. He didn't even have Spot there to help him out.
There wasn't much energy in the strike that day. Some boys from the other boroughs had even left to become scabs, not even worried whether they would be soaked or not. Jack Kelly's newsies (minus Jack Kelly) were almost the only ones left.
David went home early, dragging a reluctant Les behind him. He sat on his bed, staring blankly at the wall. He really wished Les and Sarah would just leave so he could have some time to think on his own.
"Les," said Sarah as she rummaged through the top drawer of the dresser in the room. "What is this?"
Sarah produced a hot dog wrapped in a scrap of newsprint.
Les took the food from her, leaving the paper. "I'm savin' it."
She rolled her eyes glancing at the paper. "David, it's Denton's article." she said. "'The Dark Truth; Why Our City Really Fears The Newsies Strike' by Bryan Denton. 'Last night I saw naked force exercised against mere boys, the newsies, who were…'"
Before Sarah could finish her sentence David hopped out the window to the fire escape and slammed the it shut. The article was a bitter reminder that David had no one left to trust. He had to come up with a plan and with no one left to confide in, David would have to do it on his own.
Mush needed a break from all the stress. After the newsies disbanded for the night, he decided to go back to Medda's to spend time with Roselia. He needed it.
When he got there, Story and Roselia were sitting on the couch talking.
"Hey'ya girls." he said.
"Hey, Nick." Rosie said, sitting up. Neither of them could call each other by their newsie names. It was too strange. "What have you been up to?"
"Same thing I did yesterday and the day before and the day before." He smiled a little, but Roselia could tell by looking at his eyes that it wasn't sincere.
Mush sat down next to her and leaned his head on her shoulder. "Do you think it's a lost cause?"
She gave him a playful nudge. "Of course not! I don't know about you, but there's still some fighting left in me."
This was definitely a departure from her hopeless tears the day before, Story noticed.
"Oh, no. You're not goin' anywhere near the strike."
Rosie pouted, glancing at the brace on her leg and then she kicked the crutch over, which was leaned against the couch. "It's not like I have a choice. I don't think I could make it out the door."
Mush hugged his sister. "You're gonna be able to walk normal again, you just have to get used to-"
"Maybe I don't wanna get used to it!" Roselia snapped.
Mush stared at her for a minute, a slow smile spreading across his face.
"What are you staring at?" she asked.
"You're a different girl than the Roselia I knew 8 years ago." Mush laughed.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Mush sighed. "Nothin', I guess." He put his arm around her. "Look at the mess we've gotten ourselves into."
"I don't see how any of it is our fault." Rosie relaxed, closing her eyes.
"You're right. It's not."
8 years before, on a summer night just like this one, Rosie and Nick's parents were killed in a fire.
The two children were woken up in the middle of the night by maids. The rest of the house staff was bustling around.
"What's happening?" Nicholas asked, but no one stopped to answer.
Nick and Roselia were dressed and pushed into a carriage.
"Are we going to the seashore?" Rosie asked a maid before the door was slammed shut. Sometimes Roselia and Nicholas would wake up at their house by the sea, magically dressed and ready for a day at the beach, their parents loved to surprise them.
Nick, although he was only 8 years old, could tell something wasn't right. This wasn't their carriage, and where were their parents? He looked up, a man he didn't recognize was sitting across from him and Rosie. Nick put a protective arm around his sister.
"Who are you?"
The man turned his eyes toward Nicholas and Roselia. "I'm Mr. Seitz."
"Wh-where are we going?" Roselia stammered, they definitely weren't going to the seashore.
"You're going to go see Mr. Pulitzer, something's happened."
Roselia squeezed Nicholas's hand. Nick and Rosie had only met Mr. Pulitzer once, at a party their parents had put on. All they could remember was that he was a loud and intimidating man that their father worked for.
"What's happened?" Nick narrowed his eyes, this man was keeping something from them.
Mr. Seitz wouldn't say anything.
A few minutes later, they arrived at a grand mansion. Mr. Seitz took each of the childrens' hands and led them up to a door. Once inside, they heard a man yelling from upstairs.
Rosie tried to pull away from Mr. Seitz's grip, to stand near her brother, but he wouldn't let her.
Mr. Seitz led the children upstairs, where the yelling was the loudest, and knocked on a door.
The yelling stopped.
"Come in." Nicholas recognized the voice as Mr. Pulitzer, unmistakable from the only time he had met him.
The office room was huge. Seated behind a large mahogany desk was Mr. Pulitzer himself. To the left, behind the desk was a young woman sitting behind small table with a typewriter. She looked quite flustered.
Nicholas put on his bravest face and pulled his hand away from Mr. Seitz's grip and hugged Roselia to calm her down. She looked like she was about to cry.
"Sit." Mr. Pulitzer said, not looking at either of them.
There was only one chair in front of the desk. Nick let Rosie sit down and he stood beside her, holding her hand for comfort. Mr. Pulitzer stared at the two of them for a while. His eyes boreing into theirs
"Do you know why you are here?"
"No- sir." Nick remembered his manners. This was his father's boss, after all.
"Well then, this should be interesting." Mr. Pulitzer said, too loudly to himself. "Your parents are dead."
"What?!" and Roselia started to cry, clinging to Nicholas. Nick felt the floor drop from under him. This couldn't be happening. His parents weren't gone.
"Died in a fire tonight. It's a shame, one of my best journalists gone. But great headline for tomorrow." There was no emotion in Pulitzer's voice. "Will you get her to shut up?"