The Boy Who Loved Cigars

4

I walked with Race to the newsstand as we took turns puffing his cigar. "Them fire sirens kept me awake all night." I heard, and I looked up to see a boy called Mush talking to Splasher, Buttons, Tommy Boy, Newby, Romeo, Gum Gum, and Chicklet.

"Think'a it this way, Mush." I told him. "These sirens, they's like lullabies to me. Louder the sirens, better the headline. Better the headline, better we eat." The boys nodded in agreement as more newsies approached, including Les and Davey.

"Morning everyone, sorry we're late. We had to help our mom with something." Davey explained. Why'd he have to go and say that?

"They gotta mudder? I was gonna get me one." Race told us, and some boys laughed.

"Why? What happened to tha one you had before?" Romeo asked with a smirk, and Buttons began laughing.

"He traded her for a box'a cigars!" He exclaimed, and the other newsies all laughed, except Davey and Les.

"Hey hey hey, they was Coronas!" Race joked, and I playfully shoved him.

"We have a father, too!" Les exclaimed happily. Kid didn't understand life without a family.

"Ain't we the hoi polloi?" I joked, grinning at the brothers playfully. That's when Chicklet and Albert spotted the headline for the day.

NEW NEWSIES PRICE: 60 CENTS PER HUNDRED

"They jacked up the price..." I muttered. "They jacked up the price!" As I went on a raging tangent, Jack approached. "Why those lousy, scum sucking, sons of b-"

"Hey hey hey, what's the matta, sis?" Jack asked, concerned at everyone's atmosphere.

"Get a load'a this, Jack." Crutchie told him angrily, pointing his crutch towards the board. Jack read it in silence, then turned to all of us.

"Looks like the rich gotta damn get richer while we starve!" I exclaimed, my face burning. Race put his hands on my shoulders in an attempt to calm me.

"Guys, it's probably just a gag." Jack laughed, and approached Wiesel as the stand opened. Race spoke to me softly as my brother found out what was happening was real.

"C'mon, Quick. It's gonna be okay. We's gonna figure it out, alright? Like Jack said, prolly just a gag." He sat by me, arm around my shoulders as he passed me the cigar. Jack walked over angrily, taking the cigar out of my mouth and pushing it back to Race.

"Keep them damn things outta your mouth, Y/N." Jack huffed, sitting on the other side of me.

"What are we gonna do, Jack?" I asked. "It's hard enough livin' as is, and with the jack-up..." That's when everyone started crowding us, suffocating us with questions.

"What are we gonna do?"

"Can we even do anything? It's their paper..."

"It's their world!"

"Let's just get our papes and hit the streets while we still can."

"Hold up. Ain't nobody payin' new nothin'." I ordered. Everyone froze. Thanks to Jack being the newsies unofficial leader, it gave me authority too. There were times when the boys even listened to me more than they did Jack. The boys all stared, waiting for an idea. I took a breath. "Here's the thing. If newsies don't sell papes, nobody don't sell papes." They started getting it, and Jack stood up beside me.

"You heard Quick: Nobody gets to that window till they put the price back where it belongs." Jack demanded.

"You mean like a strike?" Davey asked.

"Yeah! Like Davey said. We're officially on strike!" I yelled triumphantly. "We shut down this place like the workers shut down the trolleys!"

"Quick, Jack, half'a dem strikers is laid up with broken bones... the cops is gonna bust our heads in!" Finch reasoned. Jack was quick with a rebuttal.

"The cops ain't gonna care about no kids, right Davey?"

Davey frowned at us. "Leave me out of this. I'm just trying to feed my family." He warned.

" And the rest of us is on playtime? Just because we only make pennies don't give nobody the right to rub our noses in it." I scolded, and the dark haired boy instantly looked sorrowful.

"Well... either way, you can't strike. You're not a union, and you can't be one without the necessary qualifications. For starters, you need to have membership."

"Well, whaddaya call us?" Race asked in his thick New York accent. He stood up beside me and grabbed my hand. Davey nodded in understanding.

"Okay, well what about officers?" He reminded us.

"I nominate Jack Kelly president!" I called, and Jack threw his hand up.

"I nominate Quick Kelly co-president!" I grinned and took my brother's hand. 

"So, our union is hereby formed to watch each other's backs. 'Union'd we stand.' Hey, that's not bad. Somebody write that down." I ordered, and Les piped up.

"I have a pencil!" Who could say no to that cute face?

"Alright, meet our Secretary of State. Get up here, kid." Jack grinned, and Les took his other hand.

"Well, if you wanna strike, the membership has to vote." Davey informed us.

"Alright then," Jack agreed, "whaddaya say fellas? The choice is yours. Do we roll over and let Pulitzer pick our pockets, or do we strike?" The choice was clear, and one answer rung clear through the air.

"STRIKE!!! "