Newsies Imagines

Imagine Meeting Crutchie in the Refuge

You shiver as a draft of cold air seeps through the wall. The two boys who share your bunk are huddled together for warmth. You don't even think of joining them. For all they know, you are a boy, and you'd rather not have anyone discover that you're not.

You wrap your arms around yourself and think back to that awful day. How long ago was it? Only a week, but it seems like an eternity. And somehow you have to find a way to survive your year-long sentence in this prison.

A chill runs up your back as you remember the time you spent here two years ago. They don't take kindly to girls in the Refuge. After you had gotten out last time, you began to dress like a boy when you'd go out, tying up your long (h/c) hair and tucking it up under a cap. You even try to speak in a lower voice. It's safer to be a boy, especially here. Unfortunately, you aren't sure how long you can keep up your act in this place.

You still aren't sure why you have been taken here. Both times you were thrown in this jail, no one had ever disclosed your crime to you. You have a hunch that Snyder wanted more money than he was getting and sent his goons out to collect kids off the street.

The first time they brought you here, you were too stunned to put up much of a fight. This time, you had fought like your life depended on it. Sadly, the two goons after you were tough, and they had beaten you pretty badly. Somehow through all of that, you had managed to keep your cap on. Cuts and bruises are still there to remind you that this is no nightmare; this is real.

"Tell all the fellas from me to protect one another," whispers someone from across the room. You follow the sound with your eyes and see a boy on the top bunk, scribbling furiously on a scrap of paper by the light of a single candle. His coppery colored hair shines in the light.

"Shhh! Quiet down, would ya?" the boy in bed next to him hisses and elbows the writer.

You quickly climb out of your bunk and up to where they are. The boy trying to sleep glares at you. "You can take my bed," you say. "I'm up anyway." He scrambles down and into your bed without as much as a thank you, getting cozy with the other two boys already there.

The copper-haired boy turns his kind blue eyes upon you. He has a black eye and several bruises and cuts on his face, as well as practically everywhere else on his body.

"You're new," you state. He nods. "When'd you come?"

"Yesterday," he replies, a wry grin on his face. "You hear about the newsboy strike?"

You shake your head. "They don't exactly tell us much in here."

"I can tell. Well, it didn't go too good. I'm Crutchie, by the way." He offers you his hand, but not far away, there's a tapping on the window. You jump off the bunk and quietly raise the window a crack.

"Is Crutchie in there?" a boy's voice whispers. "Tell him it's Jack."

"Yes," you reply. "He's here. Just a minute; I'll get him." You climb back up to Crutchie, excited by this mysterious visitor. "Jack wants to see you by the window!" you inform him.

Crutchie's face crumples. You realize that he's crying. He hands you the scrap of paper he had been writing on and whispers, "Tell him I can't come. The Delancys soaked me pretty good. Tell him I'll be okay."

You nod, heart aching, and make your way back to the window. "He can't come," you whisper to Jack. "The Delancys soaked him good, he said. He said he'll be alright. And he wants you to have this." You slip the paper through the open crack.

"Thanks, kid. Tell Crutchie," his voice breaks. "That I'll be back. And I'm sorry."

You hear him climb down the fire escape. You slide the window shut and sigh. Once you're back up in the bunk, Crutchie blows out the stub of candle, but you can still hear him sniffle a little. Your eyes adjust to the darkness. You scoot over nearer to him and wrap your arms around him.

Sometime later, you jolt awake. A lock of (h/c) hair has fallen over your eyes while you slept. Panic rises in you, and you grab your cap, glad it's still mostly dark. But then you see that Crutchie is awake, watching you. You quickly tuck your hair up under your cap.

"I don't think we've been properly introduced," you whisper, not using your lower voice and holding out your hand. "I'm (y/n)."

He takes your hand, a puzzled look on his face. "I thought all the goils was third floor."

"They are. But they treat you better down here," you scoff. "Trust me."

"I'm sorry," he apologizes.

"Me too," you reply. "Will you keep my secret? Please, I can't go upstairs again."

He nods vigorously. "Of course. An' (y/n), I'll protect ya from those other guys, too, if need be. I promise."

You lay back down. His hand finds yours, and you twine your fingers together with his. Crutchie is definitely different from any other boy you've ever met.

A few mornings later, you wake to Crutchie's arm wrapped around you. He's already awake and smiling at you. After that horrible night, you two have become close. Even though the Refuge is still hardly bearable, having a friend with you makes it tolerable.

There's a sudden commotion on the street below. Tromping feet clomp though the halls and up the stairs. You make sure your cap is firmly in place, not knowing what to expect. Uniformed police officers burst through the door.

"Kids," says one of the officers, who is clearly in charge. "The Refuge has been shut down, and Mr. Snyder is in custody. You are all free to go and-"

He is interrupted by whoops and hollers. There is a rush to the door. Tears begin falling from your eyes. You defiantly rip off your cap and let your (h/c) locks fall out from under it. You jump off the top bunk and hand Crutchie his crutch as he scrambles down.

He laughs and hugs you so tightly, you can hardly breathe. You squeeze him back and impulsively kiss his cheek. Realizing what you just did, you blush and back away, but Crutchie pulls you back in and kisses your cheek, too.

"Crutchie Morris?" the officer has come up behind you two without either of you noticing.

"Yessir?" he asks, face pale.

"I have orders from the governor to bring you to The World. He says you have friends there who will be wanting to see you."

"Oh, yes! Can (y/n) come too?" Crutchie asks excitedly, taking your hand. The officer nods.

You feel as though you might explode from happiness. But on your way out, you pass Mr. Snyder the Spider, handcuffed and between two policemen. You pause a moment, staring deep into his eyes, which are full of hatred and spite. You spit on his shoe and smile sweetly at him as you walk out the door. Crutchie grins at you as you take the seat next to him in the carriage.

As you lay your head on his shoulder, you sigh with relief. "We never have to go back there."

"Never," Crutchie agrees.