Ready or Not, Here Comes Brooklyn

Chapter 1: The Bread Thief and a Ripped Dude

This is my first attempt at a Fanfic. I am pretty excited! Little disclaimer: I DON'T OWN THE NEWSIES. I OWN NONE OF THE CHARACTERS EXCEPT PENELOPE AND ANY OTHER SMALL SIDE CHARACTERS I DECIDE TO INSERT.

Sorry about that, let's get on with the story.

As I left the orphanage for girls, I sighed a breath of relief. I never had to deal with those people again. I felt so free. As if i had been carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders, and then it was suddenly lifted off. It was an amazing feeling. I grinned to myself as I neared a street corner. I rubbed my hands together as I thought about where I should go. I turned to my right onto a crowded street market. I looked around as people yelled trying to sell their goods. I walked a bit farther and saw a Bakery.

I was practically drooling when I neared the store window and peeked inside. It was almost 5am so the Baker was making some delicious bread. I watched as he took bread out of the oven and put more in its place. The steam rose off the bread creating the most amazing aroma ever. He had made at least 50 loaves of bread. He wouldn't miss one little loaf of bread. Would he?

When he left the store front to go to the back room, I crept into the store careful to not make any noise. If you are wondering, yes i have a conscience, but its sensible cries were drowned out by the roar of my belly. If I hadn't been so hungry, I probably wouldn't have stolen the bread, but if i hadn't stolen the bread I probably would have never become a Newsie or met Spot. After I grabbed a loaf of the warm bread, I turned to walk out of the store. I probably should have taken my time walking out of the store, but i was in such a rush to eat the still warm bread that I rushed and tripped over a bag of flour.

"Crap." I said as I pulled myself to my feet.

I turned and saw that the baker had returned to the store front. We stopped and stared at each other like both of us couldn't believe this was actually happening. I was the first to move as I bounded for the door.

"Thief!" he yelled in his booming voice.

I wrenched open the door and ran out into the street. The Baker ran out after me, still yelling. Pretty soon, I heard the bulls' whistles and yells join the Baker's. ('Bulls' are police officers for those of you who may not know.) I ran down the street and turned into an ally way. As I was running down the ally, someone grabbed my arm and pulled me behind a pile of trash bins. When I opened my mouth to scream, a hand covered my mouth.

Then the person whispered into my ear, "If you lick my hand, I will push you into the open and let 'em have you."

I trembled in terror. I didn't know what to be more afraid of: the person with their hand over my mouth or the Bulls and Baker who would throw me into the Refuge. I listened carefully, and soon I heard the pounding of feet running down the ally. The person gripped my arm tighter and whispered for me to lean down farther behind the bins. I did as the voice asked.

After I could no longer hear the Bulls and Baker, the person removed their hand from my mouth and let go of my arm. I turned and slapped them with my hand. I  went to run away, but I heard something rip. I looked down and saw that my dress had torn up to my knees. It had torn because the person who had grabbed me was standing on the hem of my dress. I looked up at the person and saw that it was a boy. He looked to be about 17. He was tall and had longish hair. He wore a red bandana around his neck and a cowboy hat hung on his back. He looked at me and said, "What are you starin' at?"

"You are standin' on my dress." I said matter-of-a-factly.

"No kiddin'. Why were they after you?"