The King Of Brooklyn (Sprace)

Chapter 6- Jack

A/N I REALIZED I SKIPPED THE ENTIRE PART ABOUT JACKS PAINTING LAST CHAPTER just pretend it's there...

I fall asleep after memorizing every inch of Davey's beautiful face, wanting to draw it later. I would paint it, but I doubt Miss Medda wants a giant backdrop filled with Davey's face. When I finally wake up, Les is already awake and bouncing off the walls as he tries so hard to not wake us up. I wake up close to Davey, so close that I hope he doesn't notice how close I got to him on accident during the night. A quick glance at the small clock on wall shows me that it's 5:51 in the morning. I instantly jump up, the blanket getting thrown off me and Davey, startling him awake.

"What is it Jackie?" He says groggily.

"Wes gunna be late! Wes gotta be at da gate by 6!" I shout, quickly trying to do the math. It takes over half an hour to walk to the gate, and we have less than ten minutes, so... I groan. I can't do math that quickly for the life of me. There's no time anyways. "Let's go," I say, heaving Les onto my back so we can go faster without him trying to catch up.

"I can carry him, Jack," Davey says, reaching for him, but I scooch away.

"No time to argue Davey, wes gonna be late!" I sprint out of the room, Davey on my heels and Les clutching my back tightly, squeezing my chest until I can hardly breathe and making small bruises on my sides due to his heels. I'll deal with those later. I think, running faster.

It takes us a good fifteen minutes for us to reach the gate, where we find the newsies gawking at the headline written on the board. I do a quick mental checklist of everyone.

Romeo? Here. Crutchie? Here. Mush and Blink? Here. Splasher? Here. Finch, Albert and Smalls? The list went on. I count everyone but Racer. I hope he went to the Sheepshead, and I make a mental note to ask Albert. He is Race's closest friend after all.

"What's goin' on?" I ask, practically breathless as I drop Les to the ground. Davey comes up behind me, panting and bright red.

"Jack, get a load of this. They jacked up the price of papes! Ten cents moah a hundred!" Crutchie says, limping over to me. He looks scared. "I'll be sleepin' on the streets!" He almost whispers.

"You already sleep on the streets," Finch says, waving around his slingshot.

"In a worse neighborhood."

"Relax, that's... Gotta be a gag... Fellas," I say, pausing every so often to catch my breath. I walk up to Weasel at the counter. "I'll take a hundred. Be on my way." As I speak, I try to keep from showing my fear that the headline is real, placing two quarters on the counter. Weasel snickers, gesturing at the headline with his cigar.

"A hundred'll cost ya sixty."

"I ain't payin no sixty."

"Well then make way for someone who will."

"You bet," I say, sliding the quarters from the counter into my vest pocket. "Me and da fellas'll take a hike over ta da journal." I start to walk toward the gate, but Specs and a bunch of other newsies that sell the Journal rush in, Specs leading them.

"I'll save you the walk. They upped their price too," Specs says, placing a gentle hand on my chest. At his touch I explode backwards with rage.

"Then we'll take our business to the sun!" I shout, going to walk back out the gate, before I hear a rude voice chime in behind me.

"Same all around town. New day, new price," Weasel says. I turn back and walk to him, face flushed red with anger. They can't do that! Right...?

"Hey! Why the jack up!" I shout at him, glaring at him.

"Aw for them kinda answers, you gotta ask further up da food chain," Weasel sneers at me, putting his cigar in his mouth. "So," He says, "Are you buyin or movin on?" At that I slam my hands on the circulation counter, walking over to the wagon, gathering my boys closer.

"C'mere fellas. Get ovah here!" I call to them.

"They can't just do that can they?" Kid Blink shouted, as Mush places his hand on Blink's shoulder to comfort him.

"And why not? It's- it's their paper," Finch says.

"It's their world," Crutchie replies, in a voice so hurt it makes me want to comfort him until he feels happy again.

"Ain't we got no rights?" Henry asks.

"We got da right ya starve, let's just get our papes and hit da streets while we still can," Crutchie replies, looking resigned.

"Hey, no ones payin no new nuth'in," I say, trying to formulate a plan.

"What you gotta plan?" Tommy Boy asks. No. I think. But I can't let them know that. I can't let them lose hope in me. If they do, it'll be over.

"Would ya keep ya shirt on? Lemme think this though!" I shout, and the newsies protest loudly, while Tommy says something about how he is wearing a shirt, but I tune out the voices in my head to think. The silence breaks when I hear Les shouting as he shoves newsies away from me

"STOP CROWDING HIM! LET THE MAN WORK IT OUT!" Silence ensues for a few moments. "Hey Jack, ya still thinking?" I bite my finger nail, giving no reply.

"Well, sure 'e is. Can't ya smell smoke?" Jojo asks jokingly. I can't joke around like I normally would. We need a plan, and we need one fast.