𝚁𝚄𝙽𝙰𝚆𝙰𝚈 ° racetrack higgins

The Newbie Newsies

"Hey, look!" Finch shouted, grabbing all of the newsies' attention. He was looking up at the black board above the gates, where some people wrote today's headlines. "They're putting up the headline."

"I hope it's really bloody with a nice, clear picture." Spec said as he stood by Finch.

A lot of the boys nodded as we turned to face the chalkboard. We waited patiently as the men slowly wrote out today's headline: "Trolley Strike Enters Third Week".

Groans were heard erupting form the group of newsboys. The trolley strike was dragging on for so long that we weren't getting as much business as usual; you can only make up so many things before people get uninterested.

"The trolley strike?" Elmer complained. "Again?!"

"Three weeks of the same story." Race added, removing the cigar that was placed between his lips.

"They're killin' us with that snooza." Finch chipped in as we were approaching the gates, waiting just outside them to get our papes.

"Make way!" I, unfortunately, heard the voice of Oscar Delancey say from the other side of the iron gates. "Step aside."

"Oh, dear me. What is that unpleasant aroma?" Race asked jokingly, waving a hand in front of his nose. "I fear the sewers may have backed up during the night."

"Nah." I said, nudging the boy's arm with my elbow, a sly smile on my face. "Too foul ta be da sewers."

Crutchie heard the interaction and decided to join in. "It must be..."

"The Delancey Bruddas!" All the newsies said, slight disgust in their tones.

The brothers ignored our comments, unlocking and opening the gates. The newsboys piles in, eager to get to work.

"Hey, Oscar." Finch said, looking directly at the boy with curious eyes. "Word on the street says that you and your brother took money to beat up striking trolley workers."

Oscar shrugged slightly, the scowl staying on his face. "Yeah, so? It's honest work."

"Crackin' the heads of the defenseless workers!" Albert argued, going to stand by Finch.

"Hey, I take care of the guy who takes care of me."

Race walked over to stand by the two other newsboys. "Ain't your fatha one of the strikers?"

"Well, I guess he didn't take care of me." Oscar said sternly before pushing Race slightly.

I stepped forwards and shoved Oscar back. "Back off, you ass."

A couple weeks ago, I would never have the guts to stand up to anyone, much less a Delancey. But Spot has been teaching me to stand up to myself more, which was another benefiting hanging out with him.

Morris spoke up next, causing me to then to him. "You want some too, ya lousy crip?" The rue boy snatched the crutch from Crutchie before pushing him to the ground. Everyone stepped forwards, ready to pound Morris.

"That's not nice, Morris." Jack said, giving the boy a glare.

"Five ta one, Jack shunks him." I heard Race whisper to Albert, who laughed softly in response.

"One unfortunate day you might find you got a bum fam of your own. How'd you like us pickin' on you, huh?" Jack asked before turning to face the newsies gathered around him. "Hey. Maybe we should find out." With that said, Jack took the crutch back from Morris before hitting both of the Delancey's hard in the legs with it, causing both boys to fall.

"Just wait till I get my hands on you!" Oscar shouted from the ground as he and his brother struggled to get up.

"You gotta catch me first." My brother turned and started running away. Oscar and Morris got up as quick as they could before running after him, their slight limps slowing them down a bit.

After running for a little while, Jack retuned to the group. He handed the crutch back to his friend before leading us to the distribution window.

"Papes! Papes for the newsies!" I heard Weasel shout from behind the bars of the window. "Line up!"

"Mornin', Weasel." Jack said as he gave the older man a joking smile. "You miss me?"

"How many time do I gotta tell ya? It's Wie-sel."

"Ain't that what I said?" Jack pulled fifty cents out of his pocket before setting it on the counter. "I'll take the usual."

Jack got his papes and I got to the window as he walked away.

"What about me?" I asked the man, a fake pout on my face. "You had to have missed me, Weasel. At least a little. I am your favorite newsie, after all."

"You are more...tolerable...than the rest of them." Weasel admitted with a sarcastic look on his face. "Usual?"

I nodded as I placed the fifty cents on the counter and pushed it towards the man. "Hundred for Pockets!" He shouted before Morris handed me a stack of papes, which I took and left the window.

Business wasn't as good in Central Park than I would have liked, so I started selling with Jack again. I was selling so many papers, that I was able to buy more a day. Now, me and Jack were at about the same level of 'papering'.

I sat down by my brother near the wagon, opening a paper to review today's material. I heard chatting by the window and, not a minute later, Race walked over with his stack of papers, cigar sticking out of his mouth.

I heard the newsies laugh over something and I turned my head to see a new kid. More specifically, the kid I ran into earlier. He was counting his papes, standing a few feet from the window.

"Sorry. Excuse me." He spoke up. "I paid for twenty, but you gave me nineteen."

Word Count: 949