Standing Straight (Newsies FanFic)

The Bronx

'Scrub!' A tall slender Bronx Newsie called while kicking his 'fearless leader's' bed.

(Unbeknownst to the Bronx Newsies living in the lodging house their leader had been up for hours. Mattie Swanson was a 17 year old girl, she couldn't wake up and pretend to be a boy straight away. When she was 13 Mattie brought some cheap medical wrapping to wrap over her chest, she was flat-chested compared to some girls she had seen but not so much that the boys wouldn't notice if she didn't. The wrappings hurt, they were tight to the point of pain but Mattie couldn't let her secret slip. Mattie had already rubbed her infamous dirt over her face which caused her nickname 'Scrub' to arise.)

Scrub groaned and faked a tired yawn as he poked his head out of their ratty blankets to glare at the newsie.

'What do you want Alarm?' Scrub muttered.

The tall Newsie, Alarm was his name. His nickname coming about from his annoying habit of waking up the Bronx Newsboys lodging house at ungodly hours. This trait clearly shining now.

'Beat's hurt.' Alarm explained with a deadpan voice and bored expression. No-one stirred at his words, no-one was surprised at the news to be honest.

'It's 3am.' Scrub stated with an annoyed expression. 'How the fuck did he manage to find someone to piss off this early?'

'It's Beat.' Alarm sighed. 'His only talent is pissing people off.'

Beat was a short 13 year old red-head Newsie, his Irish decent shone through with his accent and mischievous grin. Beat had a knack for getting into trouble, he thought he was tough shit and really, he wasn't. Beat also couldn't sell 7 papes on a good day, his only skill was actually pissing people off. As you'd guess his nickname came about from getting beat so much but Beat never worried, he'd throw a grin and act as if his loss was all apart of his plan. But still, he had a good heart, he never thought of money despite the other Newsies wanting him to. They reckoned if he was interested in something else he wouldn't get into so many fights.

'Who was it?' Scrub asked, his voice blurred by the pillow he'd dropped his face onto.

'Some rich boy Beat thought he's was stronger den.' Alarm said. 'Should we soak 'em for de kid?' He asked. The 18 year old had begun rubbing his knuckles for a fight before he kicked his leader's bed.

'Nah,' Scrub said while flipping over on his back, his eyes still held disdain for getting woken up but his head was clearer. 'Beat'll get pissed if we'se get into his fightin' and I can't handle the kids voice for too many minutes atta time.'

Alarm paused for a second, thought about his leader's words before shrugging and nodding. Scrub raised his eyebrow slightly, a subtle warning to Alarm not to challenge his words. Alarm caught the look and nodded again, this time with more conviction and once he threw Scrub a grin the Bronx leader flopped back down on his bed and kicked at the covers.

'Help Beat wash up his face if ya gonna stay up.' It didn't matter whether or not Alarm wanted to go back to sleep or not, he respected his leader and cared about Beat so he shuffled off to find the young boy with a determined kind of expression.

'ALARM JUST HAS TER LIVE UP TER HIS FUCKING NICKNAME GODDAMN IT I NEEDED SLEEP BUT I GUESS THAT AIN'T GONNA HAPPEN FUCK.'

'Spit, if you don't shut the fuck up I will end ya.' Scrub cheerfully advised the younger Newsie who had the habit of spitting while speaking.

The other Bronx Newsies laughed until they fell out of their beds while Spit gulped, his eyes darted up and down, side to side as Scrub walked towards him.

Scrub was silent until he let out a laugh, a loud one with perfectly, well practised happiness and slapped Spit on the back a few times.

Spit's face split into a grin, only half nervous.