Disclaimer: This is a non-commercial work of fanfiction. Anything recognizable from Newsies belongs to Disney and not to me.


Chapter 5: Today and Tomorrow

"Sadie, it's getting late. You ought to be heading home."

Looking up from the skirt that she was hemming, Sadie gave her elderly employer a little smile.

"Thank you, Mr. Gorham," she said gratefully. "I completely lost track of the time." Folding the skirt carefully, she placed it in the basket of garments that she had been working on, then tucked her thimble away in her handbag.

"At least the sun stays out longer on these summer days," Walter Gorham observed. "You'll be able to make it home with daylight to spare."

Sadie nodded, gathering her things. "I love these long evenings - there's so much more you can do with just a few extra hours of sunshine."

She looked around to make sure that everything was as it should be, then bid her employer farewell. "I'll see you tomorrow afternoon, Mr. Gorham. Please let Mrs. Gorham know that I wish her a quick recovery."

"I will, Sadie," he replied. "You be careful on your way home."

As Sadie left the tailor's shop, she paused for a brief moment to take in the effect of the lengthening shadows and to let the early-evening breeze stir through her hair. The days when she went directly from school to her job at Gorham's felt long, but she made it a point to enjoy her solitary walks to and from the tailor's establishment. She didn't often feel the desire or the need to be alone, but it was nice to be able to clear her head every once in a while, especially since Margaret was kind enough to walk Abby back to the tenement on the days when Sadie went to work.

With a small smile of contentment, Sadie turned her steps towards home, setting a brisk pace to make up for her late departure. Her family's tenement was a good several blocks away, but the familiar walk passed by quickly enough, and, as Mr. Gorham had predicted, she made it home well before the sun had dropped low in the sky.

Her father was in his office, and Sadie peeked in to give him a quick wave, then continued down the hallway to the apartment where her family resided. It was one of the largest units in the tenement, featuring a small entryway and a sitting area along with the standard kitchen space and pair of bedrooms that the more spacious accommodations boasted.

After hanging her hat on a hook by the door, Sadie made her way over to the sitting area where her sister Lilly was resting on the sofa.

"Hi, Lil," she said, dropping down to sit beside the older girl. "I'm sorry I'm late; I got caught up in some things at work."

Lilly's gaze was flat and unblinking, but a flicker of recognition crossed her face at Sadie's words, and her lips curved into a slight smile.

"School was tedious, as usual…" Sadie continued, resting her head on her sister's shoulder. "There's nothing really worth mentioning today on that front, though Margaret brought some chocolates from the confectionery, and we all shared them during our recess. Oh! And I did manage to convince our neighbor to come eat lunch at the park. I don't think you've met him yet, Lil. His name is David, and his family lives on the second floor - "

"Sadie," her mother called from the kitchen. "Will you please help Lilly to the table and give her her dinner?"

"Yes, Mama," Sadie replied. "Come on, Lil."

Standing up, she helped her sister to her feet, and they made their way slowly towards the kitchen, Sadie adjusting her pace to accommodate her sister's shuffling gait. Once she'd gotten Lilly settled in her chair, she went over to the stove where her mother had set the dinner out.

"Mama," she said, as she spooned some potatoes onto Lilly's plate, "Mrs. Gorham's sick again. Do you think I might cook her some soup this week?"

Miriam Becker nodded. "That should be fine. I'll need you to pick up the supplies yourself, though."

"Abby and I will go on our way home from school," Sadie promised, adding some chicken and carrots to her sister's plate.

She returned to the table to cut up the food, then placed it in front of Lilly. "Careful, Lil," she murmured. "It's a bit warm still."

Once her sister had begun eating, Sadie went to get her own meal. A minute or two later, Abby joined them.

"Mmm, dinner looks delicious, Mama!" she exclaimed, peering at Sadie's plate and snatching a carrot off of it before her older sister could react.

"You could just get your own food, you know," Sadie groused good-naturedly. She was used to her youngest sister stealing her food, but still made a point to call her on it.

Abby shrugged carelessly, but did take the full plate that her mother held out before sitting down with her sisters at the table. "How was work?" she asked Sadie, digging into her meal.

"Busy," Sadie answered. "But busy is always good for business."

Abby chewed thoughtfully on a mouthful of carrots. "I don't understand why you work so much," she remarked. "Aren't Papa's odd jobs enough?"

Sadie shrugged. "I like to keep busy. And, if I remember correctly, you liked the hair ribbons that I bought you last month, and the cookies from two weeks ago. Did you ever think about how I managed to get them?"

Abby frowned a little at the mild jab, but before she could answer, Lilly jerked forward, nearly upsetting the cup of water next to her plate.

Her sisters acted on instinct, Sadie putting her arm protectively around Lilly and Abby moving the plate and cup out of reach. Thankfully, the seizure was a mild one, and within seconds, Lilly's body relaxed.

"Are you all done, Lil?" Abby asked tentatively. Her sister made a sound of affirmation, and Abby pushed the plate and cup back into place.

"That was quick," Sadie murmured, patting Lilly on the back. She glanced over her shoulder. "How many has she had today, Mama?"

"Nine, counting that one," her mother replied wearily.

Sadie nodded. It was a few more than Lilly normally had. Giving her older sister another soothing pat, Sadie returned to her meal, shooting a warning glance at Abby, who had finished her carrots and was about to snatch another one from Sadie's plate.

Their lives were never completely settled, not when concerns for Lilly's wellbeing continued to hum in the background of everyone's minds, but things always had a way of returning to some semblance of equilibrium in time.


David lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as he listened to the sound of his brother's quiet, even breathing.

It had taken a while for Les to fall asleep; he'd been still upset at the news of their father's accident, and while David had felt an almost equal sense of distress himself, he'd put his feelings aside in order to console his brother. Thankfully, the younger boy had eventually nodded off, soothed by some comforting words and by David's familiar presence in the bed that they shared…

…but now that Les was sleeping peacefully, David himself was finding it impossible to fall asleep.

Sighing quietly, he sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and rising with care so that he wouldn't inadvertently wake Les. A light was on under the door of his parents' bedroom, and he padded past, not wanting to disturb them. He'd already had a brief conversation with his father once Les had gone to sleep, and surmised that his parents were probably discussing matters now before they went to bed.

David quietly put on his shoes and then, after only a moment's hesitation, let himself out of the apartment, making his way up to the rooftop of the tenement.

He'd seen the place often enough during the day while helping his mother with the laundry, but now, cloaked in darkness, it seemed different somehow, a welcoming, solitary place to reflect and to hide away, if only for a moment.

Settling himself next to one of the raised support structures on the roof, David leaned back against its solid form and took several deep breaths, gazing out into the night.

Relax, he told himself, forcing his hands to unclench and his shoulders to drop.

It was the first time that he'd been able to sit and think since hearing of his father's accident, and now that he'd stopped for a moment to breathe, he found his deferred and tightly-coiled emotions rapidly unspooling.

Your father was in an accident - he got hit by a delivery truck while he was on the job, his mother's tearful words echoed in his head. Fortunately, only his leg was hurt, but the doctor says that he won't be able to use it until the broken bones heal, which could take over a month. And the worst of it is…your father's bosses laid him off. Permanently. As soon as they found out about the accident.

This devastating news had immediately struck fear in David's heart, and following quickly on the heels of that fear had been anger. His father's accident had been misfortune enough, but the fact that he'd lost his job because of it - knowing that the men who employed him cared more about their profits than about the survival of a family who was dependent on Mayer Jacobs' income - was hardship and outrage of a different kind.

And the worst part of it was that nothing could be done to stop this kind of callous, dismissive treatment. There was no bargain to strike, no advocacy to be had, no recourse for the family that suddenly found itself floundering in the wake of a single event that had, in the matter of one afternoon, turned their world upside down. All that they could do was accept their fate and try to find some way to survive in the aftermath.

The coldhearted injustice of it all infuriated David, but if there was one thing that he'd become proficient at, it was keeping his anger (and indeed, most of his feelings) in check, so he'd quickly tamped down his emotions while outwardly remaining calm, comforting his mother and then consoling Les as the situation demanded. He'd known that there was no place for his ire in the moment, and so he'd pushed it aside to deal with at another time, turning his mind instead to the logistical conundrums of his family's predicament.

The most pressing matter, of course, had been figuring out how to offset his father's lost income. Knowing that it would likely be over a month before Mayer could return to work meant that David and Les would have to find jobs in the meantime, but their options for employment were fairly limited. Factory jobs were easy enough to come by, but David had seen the devastating injuries sustained by workers even smaller than Les, and he'd immediately pushed that option to the back of his mind, unwilling to concede such a risk unless it was absolutely necessary.

It was only after he'd done so that he'd remembered the newsboys.

They were all over the city, a constant fixture against the backdrop of New York's many sights and sounds, and though David didn't relish the thought of joining their ranks (and certainly couldn't see himself having an aptitude for a job that required such canny boldness), it was a preferable option to working in the factories, because it would keep Les safe.

He'd broached the subject with his parents, who had listened to his proposition with no small amount of concern. Working as newsboys would necessitate withdrawing from school for a time, and Mayer insisted that he would not see his sons squandering their educational opportunities, but in the end, he'd reluctantly agreed that selling papers was probably the best option under the circumstances. The distribution center for The New York World wasn't far from the tenement, and the publication itself was a popular one, so hopefully it would move well, and David and Les would be able to scrape together the income that they needed to keep the family afloat.

That being settled, it had been decided that they would begin hawking headlines the very next morning. Les had perked up a little at this juncture, the prospect of a new adventure (and the realization that he'd get to miss school for it) an agreeable one, but David had felt an aching sadness settle upon him, though he'd tried to hide it as much as possible.

Dinner had been a subdued affair, Esther attending to Mayer in his room and David and Les eating quietly at the kitchen table. Upon concluding their meal, David had been called into his parents' room to receive some words of admonition from his father, and then both boys had been instructed to get to bed so that they could get enough rest for tomorrow.

Tomorrow...

David felt his shoulders tensing.

Tomorrow, he would exchange his slate and schoolbooks for a newsboy bag and a heavy stack of papers.

Tomorrow, his mind, accustomed to pondering scholastic questions, would be tasked with quickly figuring out how to sell as many editions of The World as possible.

Tomorrow, his voice, usually reserved and deliberate, would be used to shout the headlines on street corners.

Tomorrow, quiet, reflective schoolboy David Jacobs would have to find a way to become an assertive, attention-grabbing newsboy - or else he and his family would eventually starve. He didn't think he had it in him to pull off such a feat…but that didn't matter now.

You've got to be the breadwinner for this family, David.

Your school lessons will have to wait.

We're depending on you. Make good choices, keep your guard up, and look out for Les.

David's shoulders sagged, the weight of his father's words pressing down almost unbearably as the admonitions ran through his mind. He hadn't shown any emotion during their initial delivery, simply nodding respectfully and trying to marshal his expression into a look of determined resolve, but now that he was alone, the feelings that he'd suppressed came rushing in, strong and relentless like the wind off of the harbor, and to his surprise, it was not the anger that surfaced, but the fear.

David buried his head in his arms, grasping for something to hold on to as his emotions threatened to overwhelm him.

Please, God, he pleaded. Please don't let me fail.

He didn't know what tomorrow would truly bring, and the weight of the unknown was nearly crushing.

So he stayed there on the rooftop until the noises of the city below had all but died out and clamor in his head had dulled to a hum, brought on by his lack of sleep. He knew that he should be getting back to bed; he didn't want his parents to worry, he needed his rest, and he probably shouldn't have even come up to the rooftop in the first place...

But here, in secret, he could finally let his guard down without upsetting anyone, so he allowed himself this one small indulgence, giving himself permission on the secluded rooftop to let his mask of calm acceptance slip, to ask himself the questions that he was too afraid to answer, and to mourn the loss of the stability that he'd craved and had nearly attained before it was abruptly torn away from him.

He knew that when tomorrow came, there would be no time for mourning.