The next morning, the newsies of Lower Manhattan gather around Newsie Square. We're all nervous—feet shuffling, whistling, lip biting. I'm subconsciously twirling my red hair (which I'm sporting in a low ponytail today) around my fingers. This is our first full day of no pape sellin'. Jack sighs, starin' at his shoes.
"So, uh..." Finally, Race speaks up. "Where's Spot and the Brooklyn newsies?"
I sigh, then turn to Jack, as if to say, Do you want to tell them, or should I? Finally, Jack takes one for the team and says, "Spot was concerned we weren't serious enough. Imagine that?"
Race shrugs. "Well..."
"What?" Jack demands. "What?"
Race shrugs. "Maybe we should put this off a couple of days."
Skittery joins in with a, "Yeah, I think we should definitely hold off."
"Wait. Guys." I point towards the newspaper stand, where there's a line of kids—a much too long line of kids—waiting to buy their papes. "Lookit—it's a buncha scabs."
"Let's soak 'em!" Pie-Eater yells, stepping forward—only to be dragged back by Davey.
Davey doesn't say anything. Instead, he starts singing. "Open the gates the seize the day," he sings. "Don't be afraid and don't delay. Nothing can break us, no one can make us give our rights away. Arise and seize the day."
We all stare at him. Then I start singing, too. "Now is the time to seize the day..."
"Send out the call and join the fray," Kid Blink joins.
"Wrongs will be righted, if we're united," Race sings.
"Let us seize the day!" Now we're all singing.
Davey turns to Jack, who's leaning against the statue in center of Newsie Square. "Friends of the friendless, seize the day," Jack sings.
"Raise up the torch and light the way," Crutchie says, grinning.
"Proud and defiant," we all sing, "we'll slay the giant! Let us seize the day!" Now we're getting into it. Les and a few of the other little kid newsies are even dancing around. A few of us join them, and I throw in a cartwheel. I'm not too shabby at tumbling.
"NOW IS THE TIME TO SEIZE THE DAY!" We begin dancing around Newsie Square. "DON'T BE AFRAID AND DON'T DELAY! NOTHING CAN BREAK US, NO ONE CAN MAKE US, QUIT BEFORE WE'RE DONE! NEIGHBOR TO NEIGHBOR, BROTHER TO SON! ONE FOR ALL AND ALL FOR ONE!"
"Let's go!" Jack yells, and we run screaming towards the newspaper stand. We run through the open gate. We're not gonna buy papes—we're gonna stop the scabbers from buyin' papes. We stand right in their path, blocking the way out, firmly planting ourselves in front of the main gate.
The first scabber looks at us real hard for a few seconds, then smirks and drops his papes, walking towards our group. We greet him with back slaps and "good choice"s. The next four come out without a single pape in their hands, which are held up like a buncha caught criminals. Those four kids walk into our group, too.
But the last scabber, the fifth one, tries to break through our group to sell papers. Race shoves him right back to the front of our clump. He tries the other side, and this time Mush pushes him back. Jack steps forward, and calmly slaps the newspapers out of his hands. He bends down to pick them up again, but Jack swipes him with a good uppercut to the jaw.
Now we're all riled up. We start grabbing papes without even paying for them and ripping them apart, shouting with joy and rebellion. I walk up to the distribution stand's separation bars and toss the shreds of torn-up paper right into Weasel's face. He gives me a death glare, and I rush away before he can do anything. Jack pushes his face against the top windows, balancing on the top of an empty cart. He makes faces at Weasel and the Delanceys, who glare right back at him.
YOU ARE READING
The Queen of Brooklyn~A Spot Conlon Fanfic
FanfictionMeet Clara Johansson: brave, independent, and clever. She's been a Manhattan newsie ever since her parents died when she was young, going by the name Red (for her naturally red hair). So what if she's the only girl in the group? The newsies are grea...
