Newsies: On the frontier.

Chapter 1: King of New York.

This is based on true events. In July 1899, the Newsies (newsboys) revolted against Joseph Pulitzer, who co owned a newspaper. The newsies bought the papers off Pulitzer, and sold them as their own business. This story is about the events leading up to the Newsies strike of New York, 1899. And how it changed their lives for the better, and for the worse.

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Chapter 1: King of New York.

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It was a cold morning, on the 17th of June 1899, but it was a sunny day. In fact the sun shone over frosty New York like a plague. Infecting everyone with life. My curtains were already opened, and welcoming in the light. I propped myself up onto my elbows. My eyes narrowed onto my balcony beyond the frenchdoors. They were a sleek periwinkle purple. I asked dad to hire someone to paint it before he went to France.

I pulled myself off the bed. My white night gown fell just above my knees. I tiptoed across the floor, heading to the doors. As I got closer, I could see the frost on them. It must of been a freezing morning.

I wrapped my fingers around the handles, and drew my arms back. The frenchdoors click opened. I moved out into a cold breeze. It closed around me, and I could feel the goosebumps on my arms. The blonde hairs on the back of my neck stood straight. I felt my legs stiffen and refuse to walk. But I urged on, and moved to the edge of the balcony.

I lean't my forearms onto the railing. I pulled away quickly, the frost on the rails was so cold it burnt. I tugged the sleeves of my night gown over my hands and placed them down. Still cold, but not bad.

I glanced across the city. It was beautiful. The buildings, the parks, the roads. I could see Central Station and City Hall. I could also see my dad's work. The National Bank. He was a lucky man to get the job. But he often was away, branching out his banks and stuff. I didn't really understand it all. I was only 16.

My birthday was coming up in Autumn. My mother promised a fancy dinner. I was almost a lady. I didn't feel it. I felt as young as I always did. But my free was restricted to lessons. Reading, writing, singing, dancing, piano playing and horse riding. It was awful. All I wanted to do was explore the city. But the time I got to go to town was for my parents official business or shopping. And even then I was flanked with security guards.

I pressed my cold hands to my temples. I had a free afternoon. I was just needed for lunch.

I looked down the balcony, and a yelling boy caught my eye.

'EXTRA!! EXTRAAA!' He waved a wad of papers around in his hands, his cap sprinkled with icy shards.

'COME GET YA' PAPERS!' He continued. A newspaper boy.

They littered the streets of my city. Some wore no hats, no jackets, no shoes. It was awful to see. They would freeze if they weren't careful. I leant forward, shifting my weight onto my elbows. I watched him carefully.

A woman in a fur coat bought a paper out of pity, others just ignored him. He took a step back, glancing around the skyscrapers. He looked like a cage animal, trying to escape his prison.

He was evenly tall, with strands of brown hair peaking underneath his hat. His eyes were a deep brown. They searched the windows of my building, and he found me face.

A small smile spread across my lips. I removed my elbow from the railing, and brought it up to wave. A small smile creeped onto his face. I continued to wave until I noticed another boy behind him. He had blonde hair, but no hat.

He gripped the boys shoulders. I could just make out what he was saying.

'Ollie!' He yelled. 'Watcha' doin'?' His accent was a thick New Yorkers. 'Yous' sellin' papes' or gettin' freindly with girlies'?'

'Aye'!' Ollie yelled back. 'It was a wave, not some marriage proposal.' He too had a New Yorker accent. 'Alrigh' Will?' He asked. Will furrowed his blonde brows. He shot his muddy blue eyes up to my balcony, he scowled at me for a moment, before looking away.

'C'mon 'den. Let's go.' Will gripped Ollie's shoulder and pulled him away without Ollie getting a chance to wave goodbye.

I had a twisted feeling in my gut. What was so bad about waving? I shortly forgot about the boys when my hunger rolled in. I was starving.

I moved back from the balcony and walked back through the doors, closing New York behind me.

I strode over to my night stand. My favourite pink dressing robe was covering my lamp. I picked it up and draped it around body, I laced the ties, securing it around my waist.

I headed for my bedroom door and pulled it open.

My house was pretty big. It was the penthouse of an apartment building. It had a marble staircase leading from my parents study, my room and some guest bedrooms.

I skipped down the staircase. I swung my waist length hair onto my shoulder as I pranced to my breakfast.

I was welcomed by no one. My breakfast sat where I sat. My mothers spot was empty. I frowned. She said she'd be here.

I slumped into my seat. I suddenly wasn't hungry. I stared at my meal in disgust. Raisin toast with a generous spread of butter. Just how I liked it.

A woman dressed in a blue dress, with a lacy apron walked in. She bowed at me, I noticed her white lacy head dress in her greying black hair.

'Where's my mother?' I asked.

She looked up from her bow. She had wrinkles under her eyes. She smiled sadly.

'You're mother went in early.' She said.

I could feel the tears welling up inside me. I threw my self away from the table, my stomach tying in knots.

I could hear the glass of orange juice shatter behind me.

'Of course she did!' I yelled.

I sprinted up the stairs. I wanted to vomit. I was sick with anger. How could she do it again?

I kicked open my door, and tossed it closed with a slam. I threw myself onto my bed. I sobbed into my pillow. I hated her. I hated my mother. She never cared about me. Just her reputation.

'Be a lady, Ana.' She'd say. 'Chin up, Anastasia.'

UGH! She made me so mad! It made me angry to my very core. It pulsated in me like blood. Surging through my veins.

I sat up. Tears stung my cheeks. I had to do something. I felt like that boy. Locked in prison. Never to escape. I hated it here as much as he hated where he was. I wish I could be a newsboy. So much freedom.

And then it struck me. I'd become a newsboy.

It took me half an hour to braid my hair. I let it go down my back. I was dressed in a green pinafore. My black shoes were matched with lacy socks. I had a grey cardigan over my back.

I had rummaged through the house, taking things I'd need. I had packed, my watch and two sacks of money. My parents wouldn't miss it, and they wouldn't miss me.

I needed one more thing, my fathers brown golf hat. It looked a lot like the boys hat. As I picked his hat out of his dresser, and stuffed it into my bag.

As I made haste for the door, I came across my first problem. How was I gonna make my voice deep enough to be a boys? I attempted it.

'Extra! GET YOUR PAPES!' I shouted. Pathetic. I still sounded girly. I'd needed to work on that.

I practically flew down the fire escape that conjoined onto my balcony. My feet were going so fast they were in a blur.

I soon hit the pavement. I had dreamed of this moment. Free at last. I passed through an alley way, and so many new noises and smells were hitting me. Not all of them pleasant.

But I felt like I owned this city. I felt like King of New York.

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