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


A/N: So sorry for the delay - I hit a little bit of discouragement/writer's block with regards to this story (HUGE thank you to everyone who's been reviewing - your words have meant so much to me! :)) - but at last, here's the next installment. I hope you enjoy it!


Chapter 67: Charity

"Extra! Extra! Bloodthirsty canine rampages through schoolyard, dozens of children maimed!"

A newsboy approached Sadie, flashing her a grin. "Afternoon, Miss!" he greeted her cheerfully. "Would a pretty lady like you be interested in readin' the latest news?"

Sadie returned the smile politely, but shook her head. "Thank you, but not presently," she answered.

"Aw, are you sure?" he persisted, holding out a copy of The World with a wink. "I'll give it to you at cost, since you already made my day better just by walkin' by."

"That's kind of you," Sadie replied, "but I certainly couldn't take your paper without properly paying for it."

"Well how 'bout a little kiss instead?" he responded without missing a beat. "I'd call that more than even, and if you don't like it, you can return it."

With some effort, Sadie maintained her composure. "That's an...interesting proposition," she said neutrally, "but I'm afraid I'll have to pass. Good day." And she walked off before he could say anything more.

Being on the receiving end of unsolicited attention from a headline-hawking newsboy was nothing new to Sadie, but their forwardness always surprised her a little. Judith was usually the kind to dismiss such advances with a frosty look or a pointed remark, while Margaret would occasionally tease and banter back. In years past, Sadie would have been more apt to respond like her best friend, but that was then.

She'd learned to be a lot more guarded now.

Glancing down the street, she saw Davey at the corner of Leonard and Church where he usually sold, his newsboy bag on the ground by his feet and a copy of the afternoon edition raised high in the air. Sadie made her way over to him. She did need to purchase a newspaper for her father, after all, and she might as well buy it from someone who wouldn't flirt with her to make a sale. It wasn't often that she bought The World (since her father preferred The Journal), but when she did, she generally tried to find the older Jacobs brother first before purchasing from another newsboy.

"Roosevelt to mediate dispute between railroad corporations at - " Davey caught sight of her as she drew near and smiled, lowering his paper.

"Are you even selling the same copy of The World?" Sadie asked, amused. "I'm pretty sure one of your fellow newsboys just tried to hawk me a headline about a murderous animal chewing up small children!"

Davey rolled his eyes, looking not at all surprised. "Would you like to see what that headline actually says?" he asked, pointing to a spot on the paper as he held it out to her.

"'Policeman kills mad dog with rifle,'" Sadie read.

"Jack calls it 'improving the truth,'" Davey explained as she handed the paper back to him. "Exaggerating - or sometimes even fabricating - headlines to make a sale. It's pretty common practice for the newsboys, actually."

"But not for you?" Sadie asked curiously.

"I understand why they do it," Davey replied, "but it doesn't sit right with me." He shrugged, smiling a little. "Reason number ninety-two why I'm not cut out for this job."

"Well, you've got my purchase." Sadie held out a penny. "I'll take a copy, please."

Davey hesitated. "Sadie…you don't need to buy a newspaper just because you feel sorry for me."

Sadie gave him an affronted look. "That's not why I'm doing it," she replied, tilting her chin up just a fraction of an inch. "I want a newspaper. And you needn't be so stubborn about it, Davey. I've let you help me before, haven't I? Why can't you let me do the same?"

"Yes, but…" Davey took the penny reluctantly, "...you've helped me out a lot more than I've helped you, Sadie." He handed her the paper. "I'm beginning to think that 'charity' is your middle name."

Sadie grimaced. "That is my middle name, Davey," she muttered, tucking the paper under her arm.

He gave her an incredulous look. "Wait...really?"

"Really," she answered shortly. "But if you ever mention it again, I'll throw you off of the Brooklyn Bridge."

Davey managed to look both surprised and entertained by the threat. "That's a little uncharacteristically harsh of you, Chare."

Sadie's eyes narrowed. "What did you just call me?"

"Chare," Davey repeated with an innocence that failed to negate the mischievous gleam in his eye. "Short for the word that must not be mentioned." Seeing her indignant frown, he dropped his teasing and said, a bit bemusedly, "I really don't understand why you hate it so much, Sadie. Charity is a nice name…it suits you."

"It's a fussy name," Sadie objected, "and it sounds ridiculous on someone like me."

"But 'Chare' isn't fussy sounding," Davey countered, "so you don't mind if I call you that every once in a while...do you?" His beseeching look was irritatingly effective, and Sadie pointedly turned away. She didn't often catch Davey in a playful mood, but when she did, she found him oddly difficult to oppose.

"You know, I'd really rather not discuss it, and I have to get to the tailor's," she said stiffly. "But I'll see you tonight for tutoring perhaps?"

Davey nodded. "Of course. I wouldn't miss it." He turned back to his newsboy bag, then straightened up, holding another copy of The World in his hands. "See you tonight, Chare," he added, giving her a tiny smile.

"Davey Jacobs!"

But he only tipped his cap to her, then went back to shouting headlines.


A few minutes after Sadie had taken her leave, Davey had just finished counting out change for a customer when he was eagerly approached by Romeo.

"How'd you do that?" the younger newsie demanded as Davey pulled another copy of The World from his newsboy bag.

"Do what?" Davey asked, confused. "Break a nickel?"

"Not that!" Romeo exclaimed with an exasperated wave of his hand. "I'm talkin' about your other customer. How'd you get Dollface to buy a pape from you?"

"'Dollface'?" Davey echoed in bewilderment, trying to comprehend the other newsie's meaning. "You - you mean - " he gestured awkwardly over his shoulder. "You mean Sadie?"

"She one of your regulars?" Romeo asked, deflating a little at hearing Davey's use of the girl's familiar name.

"She's my neighbor," Davey clarified, finding himself disconcerted for reasons that he couldn't place.

Romeo sighed. "Figures," he said, dejectedly. "I threw her one of my best pick up lines, and she didn't even bat an eye. Could've saved myself the trouble, if I'd known she was yours."

"She's not - " Davey began, but before he could finish his sentence, Romeo had already turned and walked away, clearly disinterested in any further conversation once it had become clear that Davey didn't actually have any useful techniques to share on the subject of wooing attractive customers.

"...she's not mine," he finished quietly, unsure of why he felt the need to complete the thought when no one else was listening.

He watched as Romeo made his way down the street, shouting an exaggerated headline, then unfolded the newspaper in his hands with a sigh. It wasn't uncommon for the newsies to banter and brag to each other concerning the pretty girls they ran across on the job (Romeo especially was notorious for his shameless flirtation), and while Davey hadn't joined in on those conversations, he hadn't really thought much about them, either. But now he found himself feeling differently about the matter when it concerned a girl he actually knew, and wondering if maybe he'd been too thoughtless about the issue, not just as it pertained to her, but in general.

He knew that the newsies weren't intentionally discourteous, and that their cat-calls and appreciative remarks were typically delivered in the interest of flattering to make a sale, but he wondered now what it would feel like to be on the receiving end of that kind of approach. Most of the women he observed took the flirtation and teasing in stride, and some even bandied back. But was this an autonomous choice or a learned defense?

Davey shook his head, telling himself to get back to selling but finding himself still troubled by his rumination and by the thought of someone accosting Sadie merely because she was pretty, even if it was innocently motivated and only to sell a paper. But then again, maybe it wasn't really his business anyway, he thought. She was clearly more than adept at sidestepping unwanted advances, so his concern on her behalf was probably unwarranted. He might not agree with the other newsies' tactics, just as he didn't agree with "improving the truth," but he'd have to let that go.

Pulling another newspaper out of his bag, Davey pushed aside his uneasiness and was about to resume shouting the headlines when he caught sight of a well-dressed elderly lady walking in his direction. Her perfectly-coiffed hair was almost pure white, but she carried herself with an approachable ease that made her seem much younger than she probably was.

Where had he seen her before…?

That's right - she was the lady who had bought a paper from him the day his shoes had been giving him trouble, the lady who had paid for her paper with a dime and had told him to keep the change.

"How does the headline read today?" she asked pleasantly as she came within earshot. "I've heard all sorts of outlandish stories - entire buildings collapsing and children being maimed by rabid dogs - but you're the one who always gives the unembellished version, so I'd be interested in hearing your interpretation."

Davey smiled. "Honestly, it's not very riveting today," he admitted. "The Governor is going to be mediating a dispute between two opposing railroad corporations." He held out the paper to her. "You can have a look, if you'd like." It was completely counterintuitive from a peddler's standpoint - a good newsie wouldn't have let a potential customer peruse the goods for free - but his selling technique had never been conventional anyway, and if this woman valued sincerity, she'd probably appreciate the gesture.

His instincts proved to be right; she scanned the paper for only a few seconds before tucking it under her arm and reaching into her bag to pull out a dime.

"Keep the change," she said kindly, before Davey could reach into his bag for the pennies.

"Thank you, Ma'am!" he answered, inwardly elated. "I appreciate it."

"And I appreciate knowing what I'm actually purchasing before I pay for it," she replied. "You must have a more difficult time selling your papers, but just know that there are a few of us out there who prefer the actual headline to the exaggerated ones - even if the headline's a snoozer like today's."

"Hopefully tomorrow's will be better," Davey ventured.

"I suppose we'll both find out." The lady gave him a friendly nod. "Good afternoon."

Thanking her again, Davey smiled to himself as he tucked the dime away with the rest of his pennies. Receiving the extra money was serendipitous; his mother had come home exhausted the evening before from a long day at the factory where she'd covered an absent coworker's shift in addition to her own and she'd gotten off too late to go to the market, so in the morning she'd given Les the last of the leftovers to take to school and had instructed Davey to purchase his own lunch that day. Reluctant to spend the money, he'd been debating over whether to actually purchase something substantial or to see if he could get by with just a snack, but now that he had a whole nine cents extra, he could buy himself a sandwich at Jacobi's without worrying about it.

Deciding that he might as well take a break now (he was actually rather hungry if he was being honest with himself, and it was already mid-afternoon), Davey headed towards the deli. He sold a few papers along the way and was in good spirits as he pushed open the door to the eatery.

To his surprise, he wasn't the only one taking a late lunch that day - Jojo and Elmer were having a spirited conversation at one of the tables in the corner where the newsies usually congregated, and on the other side of the room was Tucker, the ex-scab, quietly eating his sandwich.

Davey walked over to the counter and placed his order, then chatted with Jojo and Elmer while he waited. He didn't plan on joining them for lunch - he'd brought Abby's book with him and needed to begin reading it so that he could return it to her - but he wanted to connect with the two other boys at least while he could.

Once his order was called, he said goodbye to Jojo and Elmer, then went to get his sandwich. He was about to go find a quiet corner of the deli to eat when he again caught sight of Tucker.

Davey hesitated.

He hadn't managed to make friends with the newest newsies at all - Artie seemed jovial enough, and he'd clearly taken a liking to Race, but he wasn't quite as open with Davey or the other newsies, and Tucker was rather taciturn as a whole. The only exchange Davey had personally had with him hadn't been particularly pleasant, and Tucker's aloofness hadn't wavered since then, so perhaps it was futile to try to make friends at this point (and Davey really had been planning to read…).

...but the sight of the other boy eating alone was too affecting to ignore, and something was tugging at Davey to make at least one more gesture of goodwill. He didn't know why Tucker had chosen to remain so detached, and perhaps that separation was truly what he wanted...but Davey was all too familiar with the isolating feeling of being new and different and not knowing how to break into a pre-existing group that already had its own closeness and camaraderie that an outsider would be excluded from unless someone took the initiative to invite him in.

If Tucker brushed him off again, he'd let it be, but he had to at least try one more time. There was nothing to lose, after all.

Making his way over to the table where the other newsie was sitting, Davey smiled. "Mind if I join you?"

Tucker looked up in surprise. "Oh...uh, no," he answered. "Help yourself." He gestured to the empty table.

Davey took a seat diagonally across from him, close enough for conversation should Tucker want to talk, but not so close to force it if he didn't.

"How was selling today?" he asked as he unwrapped his sandwich.

Tucker shrugged. "Fine."

"Hopefully we'll get a better headline tomorrow," Davey remarked.

Tucker said nothing.

Deciding that it would probably be best to let the conversation go at that point, Davey began eating his sandwich. He didn't want to impose, and he'd at least managed to get Tucker to talk to him a little, so that was progress in the right direction. Maybe the other boy just wasn't one for chit-chat.

After several moments of silence, Davey decided to get out his book. "Do you mind if I read?" he asked Tucker politely. The other newsie shook his head, indicating that he didn't, so Davey pulled Abby's book from his newsboy bag, smiling a little as he thought of his younger friend who shared his love of reading.

It felt a little strange to be opening up a children's book with all of the serious and adult-like preoccupations that were currently on his mind, but stories had always been a type of reprieve for Davey, a way of setting aside his concerns and responsibilities just for a moment to lose himself in an adventure. And this one happened to be an adventure he hadn't read yet, despite the fact that it had been published five years ago.

Opening up The Jungle Book, Davey turned to the first chapter, careful to keep the pages clean and away from his sandwich.

It was seven o'clock on a very warm evening in the Seeonee hills when Father Wolf woke up from his day's rest, scratched himself, yawned, and spread out his paws one after the other to get rid of the sleepy feeling in their tips. Mother Wolf lay with her big gray nose dropped across her four tumbling, squealing cubs, and the moon shone into the mouth of the cave where they all lived…*

"You read a lot?"

Davey looked up in surprise to see Tucker regarding him curiously. "Yeah," Davey answered. "At least, I used to. I don't have as much time for it now. But I try to fit it in whenever I have a chance."

Tucker nodded. "Kipling a favorite of yours?" he asked.

"I actually haven't read any of his books yet," Davey admitted. "This belongs to a friend; she's letting me borrow it." He was surprised that the other newsie was familiar with the English novelist.

"My ma loved his stories," Tucker said, answering Davey's unspoken question. "Used to read 'em to my younger brothers before bed. I'd sometimes listen in, too. Wish I still could."

The last statement was short and succinct, but the wistfulness in it was not lost on Davey.

"Do you miss home?" he asked, wondering how long Tucker had been out on his own as a newsie. The ex-scab had been living at the Manhattan lodging house ever since the strike, but he had to have come from somewhere before that, whether from his own home or from a lodging house in another part of the city.

"Don't miss home much," Tucker said with the same matter-of-fact brevity. "I do miss my ma, though. And I miss hearin' her read."

The disclosure tugged at Davey's heart. He couldn't tell from Tucker's statements if the boy's mother was simply not in contact with him anymore or if she had passed away, but in either case, her son was clearly missing her presence. Now that Davey thought about it, Tucker didn't really look that old - he was probably only eleven or twelve, though his bluntness and guarded nature had made him seem older at first - and it made sense that he would feel the loss of his mother acutely.

"Would you like me to read to you?" Davey heard himself offering. "I know it's not the same as your mom, but…" He trailed off hesitantly. It had been an impulsively-made proposition, and he didn't know how Tucker would respond to it, but something inside had compelled him to extend the offer, and he couldn't bring himself to regret it.

Tucker was silent for a moment. Then he cautiously answered, "Yeah...sure." Crumpling up his empty sandwich wrapper, he brushed the crumbs off of the table then leaned forward on his elbows, ready to listen.

"Oh...uh, okay, great!" Davey quickly located his spot in the book, still trying to get over the mild shock that his offer had been accepted. "I hadn't gotten through much of the first chapter anyway, so we'll just start off from the beginning." He began reading, feeling a little self-conscious at first but slowly settling into the cadences of the narrative as the chapter wore on.

They had almost made it through Shere Kahn's foiled attempt to procure the man-cub from the wolf pack when Davey heard a scuffling sound and looked up to see that Jojo and Elmer had made their way over from across the room and were now jockeying for the lone seat at the end of the table next to Tucker, each trying - and failing - to silently lay claim to the territory without disrupting the reading.

"Sorry, fellas," Elmer apologized, realizing that they'd been noticed. Jojo took advantage of his momentary distraction to shoulder in, claiming the seat next to Tucker. "We was just wantin' to join in on the fun. Is that all right?"

Davey moved over so that Elmer could sit down. "It's fine with me," he said, glancing over at Tucker.

The younger newsie shrugged. "The more the merrier, I guess." Jojo gave him a good-natured slap on the back, and though Tucker didn't respond to the gesture, a tiny almost-smile flickered across his face.

All three boys leaned in, waiting for the story to resume, and Davey found himself quickly caught up again in the adventure as he continued reading, each word transporting the little group from the deli in Lower Manhattan to the heart of the Indian jungle.

All too soon, they came to the end of the chapter, and Davey reluctantly told his audience that they had better get back to selling. The boys were noticeably disappointed, and he found himself quickly offering to read the next chapter to them the following day, provided that they didn't mind bringing their food with them since he knew he wouldn't be buying lunch again for a while. They all agreed to meet at half past noon in Newsie Square, and that being decided upon, they dispersed, Jojo bouncing up from the table and towards the door, Elmer not a step and a half behind him, and Tucker trailing at a slower pace until Jojo called over his shoulder at him to hurry up.

Davey watched the three of them leave the deli together, smiling to himself as he put The Jungle Book back into his newsboy bag and cleaned up his sandwich wrappings before heading towards the door himself. He still didn't know what his role among the newsies was supposed to be, and the answer was no clearer now than it was yesterday...but he'd found a bit of purpose that afternoon in the most unlikely way, and he was grateful for it.

There was something to be said, after all, for not discounting the small things.


A/N: *The excerpt in the second part of this chapter was taken from the opening lines of Rudyard Kipling's The Jungle Book on Project Gutenberg.

Questions? Comments? Opinions on whether Charity is a nice name or a stuffy one? (Davey and Sadie may have a little bet going concerning whom the readers are going to side with, and they've already determined that the loser has to buy the winner ice cream, so these are high stakes we're talking about! ;)). All joking aside, please let me know what you thought of this chapter - any feedback is greatly appreciated.