Buy My Last Pape'?

Chapter 1 - The Newsie With A Crutch

A/N: Hi!

1. I wrote this when in Quarentine from COVID-19 during 2020 for my bestfriend (who is probably reading this, Hi Mia). So there are 1 or 2 inside jokes in here that you as a reader may not understand. Please don't be put off by this. I've tried to avoid them as much as possible and tried to make is as enjoyable to read even if you're not her.

2. Specific trigger warnings because mental health can suck sometimes: during this story there is a brief mention of r*pe in the first chapter and there is mention of physical/ domestic ab*se towards the end. There are also multiple jokes about s*x. I will not be offened if you decide not to go further because of this, I know how shitty not getting T/Ws can be :)

3. I have a musical meme page on insta, so if you like my humour and newsies...you should follow me: @memesfrom.santafe. We do fake castings sometimes as well so HMU

I hope you enjoy the story :) xo Kiera

Clara's POV

I looked down at the grave.

'Mary Delancey 29th March 1865- 15th August 1898, devoted mother'.

It had officially been a year since my mother died.

I lay down the rose delicately and smiled through tear filled eyes. I think back to every moment we spent together. Each time we would cook together or when we would end up on the floor laughing after one of my brothers did something stupid. How she taught me to read and write. If only I hadn't-

"Hey Clara, Oscar and I need to get to work, we'll see ya later", Morris's voice cut my thought short.

"Stay out of trouble 'Lara, and stay away from dem newsies, we don't want ya gettin' hurt".

"Yeah yeah, I know", I smiled, wiping away the remaining tears off my face. "Go please the oh so holy Pulitzer".

The two laugh. They hated Pulitzer. We all did, but work was work. There were three mouths to feed and a rent to pay.

Morris messed up my hair and hugged me, "Whateva' 'lara, but seriously, stay away from dem newsies".

"YEAH WHATEVA'". I yelled and watched as my brothers walked away and smirked. They weren't overprotective persay, they just didn't want me around the newsies. They worked with the newsies and had seen their girls come and go. They had heard the stories of newsies raping or abusing ex-friends and throwing them aside when they were done. Oscar and Morris just didn't want me getting hurt.

----------------------------Time skip cuz I'm lazy-----------------------------

By the time I had finished running errands it was just getting dark, enough time for me to get home and make dinner before Oscar and Morris got home.

Despite the ending of summer, the Manhattan air was thick and hot. Trees around the area were turning ever so slightly brown, but no leaves had fallen yet, leaving streets somewhat tidy.

As I was making my way down 41st, I was stopped by a newsie hobling towards me on a crutch. 'At least I could get away fast if he tried anything', I thought to myself.

"Evening' miss", he smiled. What did this kid want? "D' ya need any help with dem bags?". He gestured to my bags of shopping from the day.

"I'm good thanks", I smiled at him and tried to walk past but he stopped me again.

"Youse got a name?". God, why would this kid not leave me alone?

"Why is that important?".

"Well Miss whyisthatimportant", he chuckled at his own dumb joke, "care to buy me last pape?"

I looked the boy up and down, he was a sandy blonde with a somewhat muscular build, presumably from walking the 'hattan streets all day. He was on the shorter side but still managed to fill out his dirty clothes rather well. His eyes were an unmistakable bright blue which complemented his pale skin perfectly. I guess he was attractive, for a newsie.

Though his one truly unmissable feature was the wooden crutch he used to walk with.

"Depends, 'ow real is that limp?", I laughed. The newsies were known for faking all kinds of disabilities and ages to sell their papers.

"All real, got polio when I was a baby. 'Ts how I ended up at the newsie lodge; me Ma didn't want me", he chuckled slightly and moved his gaze to the pavement beside him.

"Oh, I'm so sorry", I tossed him a penny, "I'll take your last pape".

He grabbed a paper out of his bag and handed it to me. "Hey no need to apologise, youse weren't the one who dropped me 'ere, the name's Crutchie Morris". He smiled brightly at me and stuck out his hand. Somehow this kid managed to put me at ease and push my brother's words to the back of my brain.

"I'm Clara", I shook his hand and laughed.

"Pleased to meet ya Clara, now sorry to be rude but I has a penthouse to get to, see-ya", he nodded at me and hobbled away.

I giggle in what can only be described as pure confusion, "yeah, see-ya soon", I smiled to myself as I watched the boy turn the corner.