Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies, its plot, or its characters. I have created multiple OCs for this story, so if you don't recognize a name, chances are they are one of my own creations. The cover image was generated through Adobe Firefly and the text was added through Canva.
A/N: Here's the first chapter of my first newsies fic! I hope you all enjoy it! Let me know what you think! :)
Ollie, Sliver, Mac, Eyes, Firecracker, Cards, Skinner, Dice, Phillips, and Ice are all my OCs. No stealing! :)
~ July 18, 1899 ~
Ollie woke up with the sun on her face and leaning against the wall on the roof of the Brooklyn Newsboys Lodging Home, a half-smoked cigar lying beside her. She yawned and stretched, and looked out to the harbor. The view never failed to amaze her. The sunlight sparkled on the water, and the bridge stood in front of the sun, casting long shadows.
Ollie sighed and stood up, grinding the cigar into the ground with the heel of her boot. She grabbed her cap from the ground and placed it on her head before heading over to the fire escape that led to the room below.
The metal stairs clanged under boots, echoing out into the somewhat quiet streets of Brooklyn. She reached the open window and pushed it higher so she could crawl through. Inside, the quietness of the cool air outside was shattered by the sounds of rowdy boys getting ready for another day of selling papers.
Climbing through the window, she received many 'mornings', and 'how'd ya sleeps', from a bunch of the older newsies, and timid glances from the younger ones. Heading to sinks to change and wash up, she shook boys awake who were still in bed and dodged flying caps. She had almost made it to the sinks when she ran into someone.
She looked up at who it was. Sliver.
Sliver was a few inches taller than Ollie, and had messy brown hair. His red suspenders were slung over his shoulders, his brown undershirt slightly unbuttoned.
"Mornin' Ollie," He said gruffly, his eyes flickering to the scar on her chin, a gift he had given her when she was still a newer newsie. She could tell he was looking at her scar, but she didn't care. She had given him one to match, just moments after she had received hers. Both scars were from the same pocket knife, the one that was currently being held in Sliver's hand.
"Sliver," she nodded, by way of wishing him a good morning. "Is Spot up yet? I need to talk to 'im." Silver nodded towards the door at the back of the room, Spot's usual place.
Ollie muttered a quick thanks and headed towards the door. She knocked twice but didn't hear an answer. She waited a moment before opening the door and entering the room.
The room wasn't very big. There was a bunk bed and a small dresser on one wall and a window on the other. There were some clothes strewn across the floor, and the top bunk was unmade. Ollie glanced around the room. There were a few of her things in here too, like her hairbrush and a couple of her skirts. Though Ollie slept on the roof most of the time, she would sleep in here when it rained or the weather was cold. Spot's cane was lying on the top bunk, balancing precariously on the edge of the thin mattress, but the owner of it was nowhere to be seen.
"Spot?" She called, hoping she was talking to her brother and not the air.
"Out 'ere." Came the reply. Ollie walked over to the window and poked her head through the gap. Spot was sitting on the staircase, a few feet above her, slingshot in hand.
Ollie climbed through the window. "Whatcha doin' out 'ere?"
Spot looked towards the rising sun. "Just enjoyin' the view." His gaze flickered towards her. "What are you doin' out 'ere?"
Ollie climbed out of the window and leaned on the metal railing. "Lookin' for you. I was plannin' on sellin' for a bit today before the sun gets too hot, and I wanted to know where you were gonna be doing." Spot pulled back his slingshot and aimed but didn't shoot. A habit he had gotten into when he was thinking.
"I was goin' to be hangin' by the docks," Spot said, putting his slingshot down and standing. He joined her at the railing. "You sellin' alone?"
"Not if you want to join me," Ollie said, nudging her brother with her elbow. It was rare when Spot joined her in selling, but when he did, they sold all their papers every single time.
Spot shook his head. "I can't. I sent out some boids yesterday, and theys supposed to return today."
Normally Ollie would be one of the birdies Spot sent out to find out the going-ons in other boroughs, but a run-in with a bull the week before had put a hold on it.
Her gaze flickered to the bruises on her arm.
She had been spying on a group of Queens newsies when a bull had spotted her hiding in the bushes. Normally, Ollie paid much attention to her surroundings and was always aware of what was happening around her, but the things the Queens newsies were talking about had Ollie so interested, that she hadn't heard the bull behind her.
Ollie had managed to get away, but not without a few bruises on her arm and a cut on her leg. When she had returned to the docks, Spot, being the protective older brother that he was, not that he would admit it though, had kept her from spying for the next couple of days, and made sure she didn't cross the border.
The two stood at the railing in silence.
It was always a nice experience for Ollie to have a moment alone with her brother. They didn't have to worry about being the leaders of the Brooklyn newsies or upholding their reputation. They could just be the siblings that they were. The siblings whose childhood was taken too quickly…
The siblings stayed that way, leaning on the railing and looking out into the grimy city they called home, only moving when they could hear the circulation bell ringing in the distance.
Ollie sighed and pushed herself away from the railing and back towards the window.
"Olivia?" Ollie paused at the window and looked back at Spot.
"Yeah?"
"Be careful."
Ollie laughed, her hand on the window ledge. "You know me better than that Spot." Then she winked and crawled through the window.
Of course, Ollie knew that Spot was just looking out for her, but sometimes he could be a little bit overprotective. She sighed as she dug through the dresser to look for some decently clean clothes.
Ollie had managed to find her dusty white button-up and her faded red suspenders. She would just have to wear her same pair of breeches from the day before, but that didn't matter. She'd done it before.
Before leaving the room, she also pocketed her hairbrush, as the combs the boys used weren't strong enough for her tangled hair. Clothes in hand, she headed out into the main room.
All the boys were awake now so the room was full and loud. Ollie maneuvered around flailing arms and play-fighting boys to get to the sinks where there was a room where she could change.
Since the doors didn't lock too well, Ollie looked around for someone to 'stand guard' while she changed. "Hey, Mac!" A short boy with curly brown hair who was washing his face looked up from the sink. He quickly wiped a towel over his face and hurried over to her.
"Yeah?"
Mac was one of the few boys who actually listened when she told people to stand guard. Besides he wouldn't try anything, he was like an older brother to Ollie too, even though he was three years younger. "I need you to stand guard." She tipped her head to the door of the change room, and shifted her clothes around in her arms. "Anyone in there?"
"Jus' Eyes, but he'll be out soon," Mac said. He pulled his suspenders over his striped shirt and onto his shoulders. They waited together for a moment before the door opened and a boy with blue suspenders and mismatched shoes came out.
He nodded to them as he passed. "Mornin' Bird, Mac." He playfully punched Mac's arm.
"C'mon," Ollie said, walking to the room. Once inside, she turned to Mac. "Now don't-"
"Don't let anyone in. I know, it's not like youse do this ev'ry mornin'" Mac smirked.
Ollie rolled her eyes, but there was a smile on her face as she closed the door. She slid the flimsy lock into place. As much as she trusted Mac, he got easily distracted and had a tendency to wander off sometimes.
The room wasn't very big. There were no windows, and there was a small lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. Ollie quickly pulled off her old red button-up shirt and replaced it with her dusty white one. She pulled her suspenders up and over her shoulders. She looked at the cracked mirror on the wall. The face that looked back at her was one that Ollie had become accustomed to. The dust on her cheeks and the scar on her chin were the first things she looked at. She reached up and gently rubbed her thumb over the scar. Even though she hadn't gotten that scar over 8 years ago, she was still careful when she touched it.
It was her first scar.
She had gotten it in a scrap with Sliver a few months after joining the Brooklyn Newsies. He had cornered her on the docks and questioned her about her loyalty. They argued, then fought. He had pulled his pocket knife out of nowhere and cut her chin. She was lucky Spot had heard them because she didn't know if Sliver had been just giving her a warning or had been planning to do something else.
Ollie reached for her hairbrush and started on the tangles in her hair. It hurt real bad, but she needed to get the tangles out if she wanted to tie it up and fit it under her cap. She picked up her belongings and unlocked the door. Mac was still there. He looked back at her when she exited the room. "Heya Bird," he said, a smirk on his face. "When's you get 'ere?"
After she and Spot became the rulers of Brooklyn, he had decided that it was best to keep her gender hidden from the rest of the newsie boroughs, so she had adopted the name Bird, in honor of her other role as a spy.
Her usual 'Bird' outfit was the one she wore today. Ollie never really wore skirts anymore, unless she was just hanging around the docks with her friends. When she was patrolling the border or selling papers, she wore this outfit, which helped her blend in and help her sell better. She didn't know why, but people were more inclined to buy a paper from a newsboy rather than a newsgirl.
Rolling her eyes, she playfully punched Mac on his shoulder. "Don't you 'ave papes to sell?"
"Ise just talkin'," Mac said, turning and heading back to the sinks.
Ollie walked back to Spot's room, she needed her paper bag, cap, and slingshot, as she had neglected to grab them when she had first left the room. She didn't bother to knock, Spot had already been dressed and ready for the day when they had talked on the fire escape. When she opened the door, her brother was nowhere to be seen. He wasn't on the fire escape, and his cane was gone, so she assumed he had left already to meet the birdies at the docks.
Ollie grabbed her paper bag, it was hanging on the bedpost and swung it over her shoulders. She shoved her slingshot inside it, as well as a few coins, before placing her cap on her head. She decided to go down the fire escape to the ground as the main room was still noisy and busy.
Her footsteps echoed through the alleyway as her boots hit the metal stairs. At the bottom, the stairs clanged as they hit the hard ground and Ollie hopped off and started walking to the mouth of the alleyway.
Emerging from the alley, she took a moment to adjust the position of her cap on her head before heading off towards the docks. She knew Spot was there, probably joking around with some of the newsies or was just busy watching and being king.
Ollie never really spent the whole day at the docks, as being in one place for too long made her antsy, so Spot was usually the one keeping court there.
Occasionally she would spend the day at the docks, but that wasn't very often. She was usually only there when Spot was, but that was just to play cards with him and some of the older boys or to swim in the ocean. Yet there were still days when she kept court alone. Those were the days when Spot wanted to patrol or sell papers so Ollie watched over the newsies by herself.
As she reached the docks, Ollie could see Spot sitting around a crate with a few other newsies and a deck of cards. She could tell from the loud voices that it was Firecracker, Cards, and Skinner. There was also a younger boy bouncing and looking around the table, probably annoying the older boys, without realizing it. Ollie recognized him as Dice.
Deciding she had a few minutes to spare, Ollie walked over to the crate where they were sitting and studied everyones hands.
Spot glanced up from his hand of cards and narrowed his eyes teasingly. "I thought you were goin' to sell papes."
"Well, I wanted to see who was winning." Ollie retorted, crossing her arms.
"That would be me," said Firecracker, as he put his cards face down on the crate. A royal flush. Everyone at the table groaned as they slapped their own hands face down on the crate and pushed over a few coins to him. Dice laughed at their reactions as Firecracker swept the coins he had won into his newspaper bag. "Well, that oughta pay for today's papes." He said, winking at Ollie and tipping his cap to the boys. "It's been a pleasure."
"Bye, Ollie! Bye, Firecracker!" Dice called after him, earning a pat on the back from Cards.
Ollie and Firecracker headed on their way to the distribution center. They joked and pushed each other around, earning glares and strange glances from passersby. This only made them laugh harder.
When they neared the circulation gate, they could see some of the other Brooklyn newsies milling about. Mac had his arms crossed and Eyes was pacing back and forth, shaking his head.
No one had gotten their papers yet, even though the circulation bell had already rung.
"Ey!" Ollie said when she reached them. "Whats ammata? Why ain't ya got ya papes yet?"
Eyes stopped pacing and gestured to the headline on the board above them. "We tried, but this bum said that the price was jacked up!"
"60 cents per hundred now!" Chimed in Mac.
Ollie glared over at the distribution center like it would change the price.
"What do we do, Ollie?" Eyes asked, beginning to pace again.
Ollie ran her hand over her eyes. What were they supposed to do? She was interrupted from her thoughts by someone walking through the distribution gate. It was Phillips, the old man who distributed the papers to the Brooklyn newsies.
He was a cranky old man, who usually had a cigar in his mouth and a frown on his face.
"Line up and get ya papes! I ain't gonna ask again!" He called.
Ollie walked up to him and crossed her arms. "Why the jack-up Phil?"
He glared down at her. "Jack-up of what?"
She laughed bitterly. "The papes, you-"
"Oh that," Phillips said, cutting her off. "They went up this mornin', an' I don' know why, so don't come botherin' me about it, 'cause I ain't got an answer for ya." Then he turned and went to the window, where his assistant was waiting with the papers. "Get ya papes!" He yelled once he was there.
Ollie muttered a string of curses under her breath.
By now there were more newsies at the gate, either shouting at Phillips or trying to get to Ollie to see what to do.
"They can't do this, can they?" Firecracker yelled. "They can't!"
"It's their paper!" Argued Eyes. "They can do what they want with it."
"Well, what about us?" Firecracker was fuming, pacing back and forth at a quick speed. He wasn't called Firecracker for nothing. "What about us, eh? Ain't we got rights? Can't we do something about this?"
"Yeah, Ollie. What do we do, Ollie?" Asked a voice to her left, that she recognized as Ice.
She sighed, stuck her fingers in her mouth, and let out a loud whistle.
"Alright!" She shouted once she had everyone's attention. "Shut ya traps an' listen up! Buy the papes today and I'll go talk to Spot." She reached into her bag and pulled out a few coins which she handed over to Firecracker. "Use these, and share them with others who need them. C'mon Mac."
Then she turned on her heel, Mac following, and headed back to the docks.
A/N: Please let me know what you think, so I know if you're liking it or not! Until next time!
~ Cori