Queen of Brooklyn

Chapter 1

Things to look out for:
(Y/n, L/n, F/c, H/c.)
(Your name, last name, favorite color, hair color.)

Your POV

When my mom and dad died, I was sent to an orphanage in Manhattan with a lot of boys my age. The guys treated me the same way I guess. But....there was this one thing. The guys...were newsies. "Only newsies sell papes." they'd say. I'd huff and walk away, but now it's......different. They are the newsies of Manhattan. No one said anything about the Brooklyn newsies letting me sell papes.

So I left during the night and escaped to Brooklyn. I found a small shelter to sleep in. I woke up with the sun and looked for the news stand. Most of the newsies weren't awake yet, so I was pretty much alone. I had walked past a few of the boys and made sure to look down.

I dressed like a boy and kept my hair tucked into my cap most of the time. As soon as I reached the news stand it was still closed and I did not feel like waiting so I climbed the iron gate. There already was a boy sitting in the shadows of the stacks of old papers, but I didn't see him and I took off my cap letting my long hair flow to my shoulders.

"So who are you?" The boy asked making me jump. "I...um...since when is it any of your business?" "Since I'm the king of Brooklyn." He said flatly. "I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours." "Deal," the boy says. "I'm Spot." "Y/n." "I like it. But I ain't to sure the other guys will be to happy seein' a girl selling papes with us. Better put that hat of yours back on Y/n." I put it on smiling. He turns on his heel and scurries off.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't little Miss perfect." What these two want. "Good day to you too, Oscar." "Now if you'll excuse me," "No, no, no. You ain't going anywhere." His brother said. "That's where you're wrong Morris." I spat. I slammed him against one of the wagons and shoved Oscar into the gate and punched him. Now they were both out cold.

I turn around just to see Spot. "Stalking me eh?" I ask pointedly. "Oh, no," he says casually. "This is  my Brooklyn yah know." "Ah yes! Since you're the 'king'" I throw back rolling the i in king out a little longer than it should. He chuckled and said," you's  better be careful. Being a, uh, goil an all." I roll my eyes and turn away. "Yah know," I say thoughtfully, "these papes ain't gonna sell themselves, Spot. You can follow me all day. But yah still got on e job that's gotta be done. You're a newsie. Newsies gotta work." I leave him dumbfounded allowing my words to sink into his skin.  He'll have plenty of time to think. Like I said, newsies gotta sell papes, don't they?