"You ready for this?" Crutchie smiles. The morning bell just rang, and all of the newsies are getting ready for a day of selling papes. The boys had scrounged together a newsie outfit and cap for you to wear so you would fit in. You couldn't believe that the boys had been so accepting of you when you came here.
"I think so," you reply. "How do I look?"
"Very nice," he grins, looking you over. "Just like one of us."
"Crutchie! (Y/n)! You ready yet? Everybody else is leavin'!" Jack calls from downstairs.
"Comin'!" Crutchie answers, thumping his way over to the stairs.
________________________________________________________________________________
"Papes for the newsies!" Weasel cries. "Line up!"
As you hurriedly line up behind Crutchie, you ask, "How many should I get?"
"Fifty. This headline stinks. They're two for a penny, so that'll be a quarter."
"Crutchie!" Weasel butts in. "Let me see your money."
"Sorry, Mr. Wiesel," Crutchie apologizes, clearly embarrassed that he wasn't ready.
You're next in the line. You gently place your quarter on the box and duck your head, hoping not to be noticed. Unfortunately, your plan doesn't work.
"Hey! New kid!" Weasel exclaims. "What's your name, kid?"
"Rags," you mumble, setting your quarter on the box.
"Fifty papes for the new kid!" Weasel calls to one of his beefy nephews. Oscar Delancy counts out your papers and looks you over curiously. Your heart races. Would he guess that you're a girl?
Luckily, Oscar hands you your papers and shoos you along. You sit next to Crutchie on a bundle of papes to read through the paper, trying to find a better story than the headline.
"C'mon boys!" Jack yells as soon as he's finished looking through his paper. "These papers won't sell themselves!"
"Here, Rags," Crutchie says, using your newsie name. "We'll go to my favorite sellin' spot. Excited?"
"Excited isn't really the word," you reply, adjusting the strap of your bag. All of those papes are heavy, especially when you have to walk with them. "More nervous than anything."
"You'll do great," Crutchie encourages, giving you a little nudge. "Just do what I do."
A potential customer approaches. Crutchie throws up his arm, a pape clenched in his fist. "Mornin' pape! Hot off the press!"
The man stops and gives Crutchie a coin without even looking at the headline. You're not so sure he would have bought one if he had seen "POTHOLES RUIN DELANCY STREET." The potholes on Delancy Street aren't even news. They've been notorious for years now.
"Your turn," Crutchie grins as a woman in a pink dress comes along.
You decide to forgo the headline and use one of Jack's tactics. "Thousands flee from raging hurricane! Ya heard it right here!"
"I'll take one," the woman says and hands you a coin.
"Thank you ma'am." It had been the truth. She HAD heard it right here.
"Jack teach you that?" Crutchie asks, hobbling up next to you.
"Yeah, he said it works good if the headline stinks."
"We usually try to save that for evening, if we haven't sold all of our papes by then," Crutchie explains. "It gives people less time to wonder why no other newsie is hawking that headline."
You laugh. "True. That could cause problems."
"Here comes another one," he says. "You take this spot. I'll go down the block a little bit."
"Thank you, Crutchie," you smile. "Morning news! Hot off the presses!"
YOU ARE READING
Newsies Imagines
FanfictionA collection of various "Newsies" imagines written around 2016-2017. Thought it would be fun to keep them all in one place as a kind of time capsule back into my thoughts and feelings during high school. Posted in no particular order.
