Newsies Oneshots 2.0

The Brooklyn Boys

Just a oneshot about the brookies in high school

I kind of see them having a bad reputation, a legendary status, but for more minute (my-noot) things than you'd think. And they're of varying grades (ninth, tenth, eleventh). Regardless, they have a reputation that they aren't aware of

Im not sure how Spot got crabs within my stories—an idea pirated from a fanfic I read on AO3–but just know it wasn't sex. I said in the Chatfic that it was because he wore another guys underwear, but I'm not sure if that'll stick. Yep!, that's the joke. And aromantic who got crabs. Shit happens, you know?

Also, some of the dilemmas that these kids face I have faced myself. It's very real and very stressful, at least in my experience

Warning: the usual swearing. They are the Brooklyn newsies, after all

Anyway, enjoy!

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Spot glanced around the halls as he stood by his chemistry teacher's door, waiting for the bell to ring. He wasn't known for making it to class every time he was demanded to, and naturally he filled in on his promises. Today just happened to be the day Mr. Smells had a doctors appointment, and workshop was there by canceled.

After roaming around the school, and romancing the various other students skipping class—he somewhat meant it when he noticed his school crush, Khalid Strativeni, standing around the bathroom—he made a pit-stop by Hotshot's classroom, and silently waited outside for his teacher to dismiss him. Standing there made him wonder why he went to school at all.

It was undoubtedly more fun to go on adventures, no matter how small, and no matter how much trouble he'd get in. Of course, dropping out would cost him his grades, and at his age his parents, but he'd like to travel places like Anthony Bourdain; the guy his mom watched all the time.

Yet, he also wanted to open his own repair shop, and he needed to get into mechanics class next year. Without a diploma, he'd have a harder time getting into trade school, and eventually making money.

"Damn", he mumbled, bitting the nail of his thumb. "Having a job takes a lot, huh?"

The bell screamed him out of his thoughts, and  he watched doors open and students flood out eagerly, no doubt excited to stall their learning of subjects that wouldn't help them in real life. The way he saw it, high school was one big career fair, except the government and school board want to shove information down his throat and force him to choose something conventional. That's why learning about cars wasn't a required subject, god forbid someone gets stuck in the middle of the road. It was all one big scam.

So, fuck school. But he needed a diploma.

Spot groaned, throwing his head against the wall and closing his eyes. He could feel the stares of his fellow student body on him, judging him, but he couldn't care less. All he wanted to know was why he'd never thought about taking up cigarette smoking.

Spot chuckled, knowing his mother would kill him if she smelled nicotine on his clothes. No matter.

Where was Hotshot?

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"I want you to fill out this worksheet." Hotshot stared at the stapled papers in front of him, blinking cluelessly. His teacher only smiled.

"I think you're a great student, Harley", Ms. Bocceli complimented, and Hotshot mumbled a small thank you. His father would kill him if he forgot his manners. "But this class feels too easy for you. I don't want to hold you back. So I think you should fill this out, and we can see if you'd be better suited in Honors Chemistry."