NeuroQueersies ~ The Diverse Story of the Newsies' Strike

Chapter 2 ~ The Circulation Center

Alrighty then! Let's get the show on the road! :)

Or ... the story on the page? I don't know haha.

Enjoy! :)

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"You were brilliant, Cowboy!" Race exclaims. "Better 'n yesterday."

"You're too kind Race, you're too kind," Jack replies, not looking back. Race's jaw drops in a big smile, tongue sticking out. He's enjoying this.

Jack rings the bell at the circulation center smugly, loving the way the bell rings. This is one thing he won't tire of. Plus, it annoys Weasel. So he will keep doing it.

Right on cue, Jack hears Weasel's grumbling voice from behind the counter, behind the blinds. "Alright, alright, hold your horses. I'm comin'."

Race loves the phrase hold your horses. It took him years to learn that it means to wait patiently--why can't people just say wait patiently instead of that weird phrase?--but he still loves picturing someone holding horses in his mind. Little things like that get him to smile.

Weasel opens up the window.

"Didya miss me, Weasel?" Jack asks. "Did ya really miss me?"

Weasel sighs. "I told you a million times. It's Wiesel. Mr. Wiesel to you."

"Alright then, Mr Weeeeasel," Jack says, getting several newsies behind him to laugh. 

"What'll it be, Cowboy?"

Jack glances up reproachfully. Don't rush me. I'm perusin' the merchandise, Mr WEASEL."

That gets newsies behind him to chuckle and guffaw. He hears Race and Crutchy endlessly echoing "perusin'-perusin'!" gleefully behind him. They can't help it. It's a fun word and they want to try it out too.

He may be perusing the merchandise, but he's already made up his mind about how many he'll take. He slams a coin on the table. "The usual. A hundred papes."

It took him awhile to get to that usual. But now he proudly takes 100 papes each day. He likes this routine, and he's not planning on breaking it any time soon.

"Hundred papes for the wise guy," Weasel tells the Delancey brothers behind him.

Jack gets his papes, and Race comes into the scene.

Race smiles widely. "Mornin', your honor." He lights his cigar. "Say, how 'bout you spot me fifty papes? I got a hot tip on the fourth, won't waste your money," he declares, hands gesturing wildly as he talks.

"Oh yeah?"

"Aw, yeah." He pauses. "Nothin' like last time."

It's enough for Weasel. He spots Race fifty papes, and the next person steps up in line.

"Good morning, Mr. Wiesel," Crutchy says politely, with a genuine smile. "Can I have ... thoity papes please?"

And so the line moves on.

Some newsies jump down from the platform right away, some go off into a corner to read the headline. Some want a head start.

Jack and Race sit on the steps, reading the headlines, with worse posture than they should have, what with bandages and all. Crutchy walks by them, hits their backs with their crutch, startling both of them and making them cry out, but then they understand why Crutchy did that, the pair groans, and sits up straighter.