A Way Home

Chapter Eight: Turning- Les Miserables

Joy craned her neck to try and look through the thin walls of the paddy wagon she had been tossed into. The other kids that had joined her sat resolutely, looking almost broken.

By some miracle, when the door opened again, the next kid to be shoved inside was a semi conscious Spot Conlon.

The other kids scrambled out of the way as he lurched forward, all but falling onto the bench.

Joy quickly moved to sit next to him, grabbing his hand, "Spot...?"

"There you are Leitte..." he mumbled, slumping down onto her shoulder.

Another loud cry came from the theater, and Joy flinched, looking back over her shoulder to watch as yet another newsie was dragged out of the building.

Spot didn't seem to notice though, he only shifted to lean more against the wall of the wagon than Joy.

By the time that the police were sure that the theater was empty, and were sending the paddy wagons off to the station, Spot seemed to be more alert and aware.

Next to him, Joy nearly jumped in surprise when the wagon finally lurched to a stop.

The doors to the wagons were unlocked and the newsies were forced out and down into what appeared to be a cellar, all the while the officers yelling at them.

Joy stuck close to Spot, holding his hand tight in hers as he glared at the police men, even starting to yell back a few times before remembering the state of his girl, and about half of the other newsies who seemed scared senseless.

Despite the fact that it was the middle of summer, the night air made the cellar cold, and the newsies stood huddled in groups, talking quietly about what was to be done.

Spot and Joy quickly found where Race, Albert, Skittery and Bumlets had gathered, and joined their group.

"Either of you two see Jack?" Race asked.

Joy shook her head as Spot sighed, "No."

Race frowned, before craning his neck to quietly call to some of the other groups, "Hey! Any of youse see Jack and Davie?"

When the general census concluded that they weren't there Albert rubbed at the back of his neck, "Good, maybe theys got out a dere."

"Hopefully." Bumlets muttered.

In the cellar, they waited. For what? No one was quite sure, but eventually, after many had fallen asleep, leaning against wall or eachother, a light illuminated stairs that had gone unseen.

Spot was still half asleep on Joys shoulder when it was lit, but she quickly nudged him awake.

Aside from the light at the stairs, a few other beams of light had begun to appear through the windows at the tops of the walls, but she didn't have much time to think about it, as whoever lit the lamp was coming down the stairs.

"Right! Everyone up! Up up up! I won't be forcing the next good trial to be late- up with youse!"

Spot was quick to stand, turning to help Joy up.

The man, a bailiff, Joy realized, was tall and muscled, seeming to dare one of the kids to talk back as they moved toward where he stood by the stairs.

They were all ushered up the stairs by the man, and through a passage into a courtroom.

Outside, Joy could make out the other newsies, trying to get a view of what was happening through the tiny slits of windows.  In the light, she could also see the bruises and cuts that littered the others faces and arms.