Newsies Imagines

Imagine Hearing Jack Sing about Santa Fe

You feel numb. Nothing in your life has ever prepared you for what you just saw. You had been walking home from work, past The World, same as always, but what you saw there shocked your very core. Young boys, your age and even younger, were being beaten by police officers. You even saw one poor crippled boy being dragged away in handcuffs. One of the men taking him away had snickered, "So much for the newsboys' strike." It hit you like a punch in the gut. The newsies had tried to strike, and they were paying dearly for it. Now you stop and press your back against a building, trying to find something solid to anchor yourself against all these dizzying thoughts.

"Folks, we finally got a headline: 'Newsies Crushed as Bulls Attack!'" a voice cries from above you. You jump, startled. "Crutchie's callin' me. Dumb crip's just too damn slow! Guys are fightin', bleedin', fallin' thanks to good old Captain Jack. Captain Jack just wants to close his eyes... and GO!"

Jack. You've heard that name before. That crippled boy had been yelling it as he was dragged away. So he must be Crutchie, and the boy above you must be Jack. Your heart aches for him. He must have been through a lot today.

"Let me go," Jack almost whispers. "Far away, somewhere they won't never find me, and tomorrow won't remind me of today."

He sounds so desperate. You wish you could help him. You look around and spot the fire escape. Without even thinking, you brush a lock of (h/c) hair behind your ear, hold up your (fav/c) skirt, and begin climbing.

"When the city's finally sleepin', and the moon looks old and grey, I get on a train that's bound for Santa Fe. And I'm gone! And I'm done! No more runnin', no more lyin'. No more fat old men denyin' me my pay! Just a moon so big an' yellow, it turns night right into day. Dreams come true! Yeah, they do. In Santa Fe!"

It's slow going for you. Your skirt has gotten in the way of your progress several times, and once it almost caused you to crash to the ground. As Jack paints this picture of Santa Fe, you begin to feel as he does. Life here has hardly been tolerable for you. Maybe Santa Feis better.

"Where does it say you gotta live and die here? Where does it say a guy can't catch a break? HUH?" he cries, yelling at the world, sounding trapped, desperate, hopeless. "Why should you only take what you're given? Why should you spend your whole life livin' trapped where there ain't no future, even at seventeen? Breakin' your back for someone else's sake!"

One more ladder separates you two. A tear rolls down your check. You hadn't even realized you are crying.

"If a life don't seem to suit ya, how 'bout a change of scene? Far from the lousy headlines and the deadlines in between! Santa Fe! My old friend! I can't spend my whole life dreamin', though I know that's all I seem inclined to do. I ain't gettin' any younger," his voice breaks. You're sure he's crying too. "And I wanna start brand new! I need space! And fresh air! Let 'em laugh in my face, I don't care! Save my place! I'll be there."

You're at the top now, on the same level he is. He's facing away from you, clutching the railing with all his might. Now that you're up here, you suddenly wish you weren't. Now is obviously not the time to bother him.

"Just... be real is all I'm askin', not some paintin' in my head," he whispers. "'Cause I'm dead if I can't count on you today." He yells now. "I got nothin' if I ain't got SANTA FE!!!"

He hangs his head, cap clenched in his fist. He's breathing hard. You decide not to disturb him and start to climb down the ladder again. Unfortunately, your skirt catches on your foot, and you slip. You scream and barely catch yourself with one hand. Jack is there in an instant.

"Give me your hand," he says, reaching toward you. You give it to him, and he easily hauls you up.

"Thanks. I'm (y/n)," you shakily say. "I'm sorry for being up here. I was walking by, and... I wanted to make sure you were alright."

"Oh, I'm just swell," Jack sarcastically replies. He flops down in a corner and puts his head in his hands.

"If you ever need help with your strike," you say slowly, knowing that was a touchy subject, wiping the tears from your eyes again and heading to the ladder. "I'll be there." You begin to descend the ladder, more slowly this time. "And Jack, if you do go to Santa Fe, take me with you, please?"

"Sure, (y/n)," he replies, his voice cracking again."You and me, goin' to Santa Fe."