Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow

Act 1 Scene 1

A/N: this is short but I'm doing my best :,)

In beautiful New York City does our story take place. A long-standing hatred stood between the newsboys of lower Manhattan and the Pulitzer and Hearst Newspaper Company. Pulitzer thought of these boys as gutter rats who had no respect for anything, including each other. He hadn't any care for them and was eager for his earnings to rise.

It was a cool day in July. Heat was rising as were tempers. It had just been announced that there would be a new newsie price; sixty cents per hundred. T'was an outrageous thing, to take the poverty-struck class and make everything all the more difficult for them. In the midst of this newfound outrage the newsboys felt, two boys, Oscar and Morris Delancey stood, an all-knowing smirks on their lips.

"Must be tough knowing you'll have to work harder now." Oscar teased, a plethora of insults ready on his tongue.

"Wow, I had no idea that garbage cans could talk." Racetrack Higgins, a newsboy with wild blonde hair and a deviant attitude, spoke plainly to the other boys around him; a cigar stayed in place on his lips.

"Hey!" Oscar held up a threatening fist, prepared for a fight, "I'm warning you, I hit hard when I'm angry."

Morris huffed, his stance matching his brothers'. "And he's not hard to make angry! Being around doth stupid complexion must be at fault. All the dirty newsboys have it."

"You're just jealous!" Mush spoke up, standing tall.

"Jealous! Excuse me while I laugh-" Oscar gave an overdramatic guffaw. "Jealous of what!"

"We're not afraid to dirty up our fist a little." Finch commented. "Daddy'll get mad if thee gets a speck of dirt upon thy attire." Finch matched Oscar's overdramatic air, laughing loudly as he spoke.

"Hey, we can get dirty!" Oscar smirked, taking a breath, "if we're talking about being dirty now...the scum from your newsboy lodge art weak enough, we could push thee against walls."

Racetrack gasped, shaking his head. "Act like that is reserved for over newsboys! Brooklyn, to be exact."

"Stop your mouth!" Morris rolled his eyes, a sudden look of discomfort flashing in his eyes. "Anyways, we aren't looking to fight as it is against law-"

"I'll bite my thumb at you instead!" Oscar shouted out, biting his thumb harshly, most obviously pointing himself to Racetrack.

"Are you biting your thumb at us?" Racetrack spoke, majorly offended and taking a step closer to the brothers.

"I am biting my thumb." Morris spoke, matter-of-fact.

"Come again, my ears must not be working, are you honestly biting your thumb at us right now?"

Morris nervously chuckled, eyeing his fist. "Is the law on my side if I say yes?" He whispered to Oscar.

Oscar shook his head. "No, I don't think so."

"Then, no!" Morris crossed his arms in triumph, speaking very alike to a child's tone.

"I literally just saw you bite your thumb, did I see that or am I blind now, along with my deafness?" Racetrack looked around the group for answers, only met by confused faces and angry glances. He turned back to the brothers and pointed, about to speak when Finch interrupted.

"If you were men you would know a lie is worse than lying about your actions." He spat, sticking out his tongue. "We won't be ordered around, a price change is a big deal!"

"If you were men you would fight like one," Racetrack huffed, holding his fist up high once more.

David rolled his eyes, walking into the middle of the group. "If you were men you would know when to not fight like one! You don't know what you're doing." David was a new boy who had just arrived to the lodge the day before; in other words, Racetrack definitely did not want to listen to him. "They don't have power to change the prices back, again, you don't know what you're doing."

"And they do!" Racetrack scoffed.

"I'm just trying to keep the peace!" David sighed, rubbing his fingers into his temples. "We don't know if this price raise will last, let's get to the streets while we still can.

Oscar gave a scowl, rolling his eyes. "Keep the peace! You stay in the midst of a fight yet to begin and talk about peace? I hate peace like I hate hell, newsboys, and thee."

"That is so overdramatic." A small whisper came from Racetrack.

"You'll see overdramatic!" Oscar started to jump at the boys, held back by Morris.

"We can't fight yet! The cops'll have our heads, as will our father!" Morris sighed in relief when Oscar stood back.

"Yeah, run back to ya father and mother! I was gonna get me one of those." Racetrack mused on his words, nudging Albert.

"Sold your last one for a box of Cigars?" Romeo asked with a raised hand, a confident answer to this trivia question.

"Coronas!" Racetrack pointed out, turning back to the Delancey brothers. "So be careful."

"Oh, get to the streets!" Oscar scowled, leading his brother away. They would later talk about this, speaking of how they had to leave the scene. They were brave men for leaving, right?

"Yeah, we'll get to the streets! Just wait til Jack hears about all this!" Racetrack screamed, glaring as they walked away. He took a breath, looking around. "Hey...where is Jack?"

The boys looked around their little group that stood in the square, looking for the familiar face that lead them through all their troubled. He seemed absent, nothing to say about the situation.

"Is he painting at Medda's today?" Finch asked with a tilt of his head. "He's been talking about painting more for her lately."

"Wait, no! Maybe he's out with that Katherine girl!" David's little brother, Les, spoke up, pulled away harshly by David's brotherly arm.

"No, friends! I am but lovesick-" Jack's voice was suddenly heard, walking up to the square. A solemn look was held on his face, looking quite positively heartbroken. His usual swagger and confident air had disappeared into thin air.

"Good morning, Jack!" Racetrack welcomed him eagerly.

"Is it early in the morning already?" Jack asked, his clothing dishelveled and his eyes tired.

"It is just past dawn." Racetrack explained.

"Oh, does time go by slowly when you're sad." Jack pouted, leaning an arm onto the much shorter Racetrack.

"Jack, it is much too early for thy shit."