#also there was a bit during the first chase with snyder where i thought davey was going to leap across a distance that i was pretty sure

[svtskneecaps]

i'm extremely amused by my own reaction to certain aspects of stage shows bc i saw a production of newsies and pulitzer was DAMN good like he very much ate that scene where they corner jack kelly in the office before the rally, absolutely legendary acting however it also meant that i wanted to knock his teeth in.

like "fuck you you're doing a great job i'm gonna rearrange your organs well done"

[whatstheproblembaby]

Happy #StrikeStrikeStrikeDay!

Time for some girl power up in this business.

So, here’s how it goes:

Smalls likes to make up stories about the other people she sees on the street as she’s selling her papes.

A man in a nice suit? An architect, but he wishes he were in the circus. Those two ladies who head toward the church almost every day? Considering becoming nuns so the highwayman they robbed as they traveled to New York can’t find them.

Melodramatic? Yes. But does it keep the day from dragging on? Also yes.

If the other newsies ask, she’ll tell them one of the stories she made up, but never the one about the pretty girl she sees walking home from school with her brothers.

That girl’s story is hers and hers alone, though it isn’t actually very long.

One day, she stops as she passes me, Smalls thinks. She waves for her brothers to go ahead before walking over, smiling that bright smile. “I’ve been meaning to introduce myself,” she says. “I’m-”

And that’s as far as it ever gets, because Smalls can’t figure out what name would be beautiful enough to fit her.

Smalls has resigned herself to her fantasies by the time the girl’s brothers appear at the circulation gate, almost making her trip over Albert’s stick.

It turns out Les and Davey need jobs to help support their family after their father got in an accident, and Sarah (Sarah!) is also starting work at a factory to do her part.

Smalls can only hope that maybe one day Sarah will end up walking past Newsies Square with her brothers before she continues on to work.

Just as Smalls is processing this change, a second beautiful girl enters her orbit.

What in God’s name did Smalls do to deserve this?

Katherine is a lightning strike, and Smalls is ready to burn.

Once Katherine puts Jack in his place (eternally endearing her to Smalls, much as she loves that fearless cowboy), she makes a point of walking through Jacobi’s and introducing herself to each and every newsie there.

“Oh! Finally, another girl,” Katherine says as she approaches Smalls. “Thank God. You boys all seem wonderful so far - yes, even you, Jack - but you’re also a little exhausting.”

“You’re telling me,” Smalls replies, amazed she can make words when Katherine is looking her right in the eye. “You don’t have to go back to the lodging house with them. Just once, I’d like to pull my hair up in the morning without dodging the elbows of six boys all trying to shave their invisible beards at the same sink.”

There’s a good-natured uproar at her comment, but Smalls only notices Katherine’s delighted laughter.

“You poor thing,” she croons in between giggles. “Come here.”

Katherine hugs her, and Smalls forgets how to breathe.

“Good luck tomorrow,” Katherine says as she lets go and moves on the next newsie, taking Smalls’ breath away for an entirely different reason.

The next morning, Smalls squares her shoulders as she enters the circulation gate.

She’s determined to do her part as a hardworking newsie and make Pulitzer treat them the way they deserve.

She’s also determined to not make a fool out of herself in front of Katherine - maybe even impress her a little bit.

Besides, all Wiesel has to back him up is the Delanceys. They can take down the Delanceys if they all work together!

Smalls manages to kick Oscar right in the knee as he’s chasing Crutchie during the scuffle, and she feels invincible.

Hearing Katherine cheer for her from her position safely away from the fray doesn’t hurt, either.

And then the strikebreakers appear.

Smalls is terrified, but she isn’t going to back down from this fight. She can’t afford to pay an extra dime for the same amount of papers, and it isn’t right that Pulitzer and the other newspaper owners can make that change without consulting their employees!

She’s also not stupid, though. She knows she can’t take down a grown man by force alone.

So she darts in and out of confrontations, tripping the strikebreakers or whacking their knees and elbows with a board that got ripped off the delivery wagon.

It works pretty well, until it doesn’t.

Out of the corner of her eye, Smalls notices a cop running right at Katherine, who’s trying to pull an injured Jojo out of the way.

Smalls reacts without thinking, throwing herself in front of the cop just as he’s preparing to hit Katherine in the arm to get her to let go.

He can’t stop himself, nor does he want to. Smalls can see it in his eyes in the split second before she gets hit.

And then the world goes black.

Smalls wakes up in a small yet cozy apartment. Some of the other hurt newsies are curled up around her on a variety of makeshift beds, so she knows she must be somewhere safe, but that doesn’t stop the panic from rising as she sits up to inspect more.

“Shhh,” a kind, soft voice says from her right. “It’s okay.”

Smalls turns toward the voice and nearly falls over.

“I’m Sarah, David and Les’s sister,” she says, as if Smalls doesn’t know. “You’re in our apartment. David convinced Katherine and the other newsies who escaped to come here for help.”

“Escaped?” Smalls croaks, trying not to move her aching right cheek too much.

Sarah’s eyes are concerned as she says, “Warden Snyder arrived on the scene after you were hit. He got Crutchie before anyone could help him get away.”

Smalls’ stomach drops. The Refuge is no place for anyone to go, but especially not for someone as goodhearted as Crutchie.

“What about Jack?” she asks.

“We can’t find Jack,” Sarah replies. “He’s not at the Refuge - Race already confirmed that - but he’s also not at the lodging house or the rooftop.”

Before Smalls can even begin to figure out what to say at that, another voice interjects.

“You’re awake!” Katherine whisper-cries, flinging herself into the chair next to Sarah and taking her hand. “I was so worried about you. That policeman hit you hard enough that I saw stars.”

“But it gave you time to get Jojo out.”

“Yes, he’s here too, thankfully,” Katherine says.

“No thanks to you,” Sarah teases. “Once you saw that Smalls was unconscious, he says you practically threw him to the wolves.”

Katherine makes an indignant noise as Smalls stifles a laugh.

“I did not!” Katherine says. “Finch was right there to help him up and get him farther away. Smalls had no one, and Snyder was about to come back for seconds!”

“So you hurl Jojo at Finch before scooping up Smalls like a hero from a novel?” Sarah says through a giggle.

Smalls’ heart starts pounding at the thought.

Katherine was holding me?

“She sure was,” Sarah says, and Smalls flushes as she realizes she said that thought aloud. “David said she refused to put you down until everyone reached the outside of our apartment and Katherine realized she couldn’t get you up the stairs in her skirts.”

Katherine looks mortified, but she manages to joke, “Remind me to become a dress reformer before our next strike.”

Smalls cannot even begin to picture Katherine in bloomers if she wants to be able to speak coherently.

“Thank you,” she whispers instead. “No one does well at the Refuge, but there are stories about how the girls are treated there - it’s not like how they mistreat the boys.”

Katherine and Sarah don’t need her to elaborate.

“We are not going to abandon you,” Katherine declares, shifting to sit on the edge of Smalls’ bed and take her hand. “Not you, and not anyone involved in the strike. We have to stick together.”

“That’s right,” Sarah says. She puts her right hand on Smalls’ shoulder, and since her left is still in Katherine’s other hand, the girls form a loose triangle. “But those boys are all over each other in a way they don’t think to be with us. Let’s make sure we’ve especially got each other’s backs.”

“Deal,” Smalls says, and the other girls are gracious enough to not mention the tear streaking down her face.

After that, the world shifts ever so slightly for Smalls.

Well, there are big changes, too: there are plans for a city-wide newsie rally, and then when they’re all gathered at the theater, Jack stuns them all by turning scab.

But more importantly, Smalls develops deeper relationships with Katherine and Sarah.

At first, it’s little things.

Katherine and Smalls meeting eyes from opposite sides of Jacobi’s as Romeo practices yet another awful pick-up line.

Sarah deliberately walking by Smalls’ selling spot on her way to work every morning to share a smile and a quick hello.

Then bigger events.

Sarah inviting Smalls over for Shabbat when she learns that Smalls is also Jewish but unable to practice as faithfully at the lodging house.

Katherine joining Smalls every day at lunch time in the park between The Sun’s offices and the corner where Smalls sells her papes, rain or shine.

Finally, everything comes to a head as Jack leaves the stage after scabbing.

Davey’s chasing him, so Sarah and Katherine and Smalls are all following when Pulitzer appears from the fire door with a wad of bills.

Throwing the bills to Jack, he says, “Oh, and my daughter will be coming home with me now.”

Jack, Davey, Sarah, and Smalls all freeze, confused, but Katherine jerks back before turning beet red.

“Yes, Katherine is my daughter,” Pulitzer continues, clearly enjoying the havoc he’s causing. “I refused to let her sully herself by working for a living at one of my newspapers, but she defied me and got a nom de plume instead. An unfortunate lapse in judgment. Come along, sweetheart.”

Katherine looks around imploringly at the others before hurrying off after her father. Smalls moves to follow, but Sarah stops her.

“No, don’t give him another reason to come after us.”

Instead, Sarah, Smalls, and the boys go back to the Jacobs’ apartment. Jack and Davey head up to the roof, where Smalls has no doubt they will have a “discussion” (read: argument), so she and Sarah take the fire escape.

They have a half-hearted talk about the rally, but Smalls can tell they’re both just trying to avoid thinking about-

“Katherine!”

“Hello. Am I - am I still welcome here?” she asks, voice cracking.

“I can’t speak for Sarah, but you’re always welcome where I am,” Smalls says, scurrying down the steps to give Katherine a hug. “I thought about it as we walked back here, and I just don’t believe you had anything to do with your father’s position in the strike. You’ve been with us from the start, Katherine. You carried me away from the fight when I got knocked out. Who cares what name you were using? Your actions prove who you really are.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Sarah says, joining them on the pavement and wrapping her arms around each of their shoulders. “Hell, after meeting your father, I can understand why you would use another name. He’s the worst!”

Katherine laughed, though there were tears spilling down her cheeks.

“The absolute worst!” she agrees.

Smalls wants to lean in and kiss those tears away, then kiss Sarah for helping to break the tension, but then-

“You’re back!” Davey cries, spilling out of the front door with Jack on his heels. “And Jack’s not actually a scab!”

“Wow, banner day,” Smalls mutters, making Sarah giggle.

“Good, because I have an idea,” Katherine says. “Jack, that speech you gave before the strike? That wasn’t just about the newsies. Every child in this city suffers under terrible bosses and bad working conditions. If we got every kid in the city to join us on strike-”

“They would have to listen to us!” Jack finishes. “Plumber - can I still call you Plumber? - you’re a genius.”

“How do we get the word out, though?” Sarah asks. “It’s a wonderful idea, Katherine, but it will only work if people know about it.”

“My father’s declared a blackout on strike news, as we well know,” Katherine says. “But there’s got to be a press somewhere he doesn’t control.”

There’s silence for a moment until Jack snorts.

“Oh, no.”

“What?” Smalls asks.

“I know of a press Joe would never dream we’d use. Follow me, everyone.”

Hours later, Smalls is exhausted. After Jack and Katherine got them into the cellar at Pulitzer’s office, she ran from one side of the city to the other, alerting newsies about the new plan and sending them off to collect their papes.

Every muscle in her legs aches, but she’s never felt more exhilarated.

“We’re doing it!” Sarah cries. She, Smalls, and Katherine are all tucked in a corner of the cellar, hand in hand, taking a quick break before Katherine heads off to personally deliver their paper to the governor.

“This has to work,” Smalls says, looking from Sarah to Katherine. “I can feel it.”

“Keep your fingers crossed anyway?” Katherine asks, lifting her free hand to show the gesture.

It’s so unbearably cute that Smalls just can’t resist anymore.

“Anything for you.”

And with that, she leans in and kisses Katherine, keeping a good grip on Sarah’s hand as well.

“Knowing us, we’re going to need it,” Sarah says before taking Smalls’ place to smooch Katherine herself.

Katherine kind of looks like she’s going to fall over, but she’s got a grin that could replace the sun.

“Now get out of here, you’ve got an important man to see!” Smalls says, knowing her own smile is as wide as Katherine’s.

She waves her newly freed hand before turning to Sarah.

“As for you-”

“Get over here already!” Sarah interrupts, pulling Smalls in so they can finally kiss.

Smalls has never been happier to follow an order in her whole life.

Before she knows it, they’re gathered with the rest of the newsies outside Pulitzer’s office, waiting for Jack, Davey, Spot, and Katherine to come back out with the results.

When they do, the boys stay on the balcony with Pulitzer as Jack gives them the good news, but Katherine joins Sarah and Smalls in the throng.

Smalls is screaming, overjoyed at the results, and Sarah is bouncing up and down alongside her.

Katherine flings her arms around them both, and for a second the world is just the three of them in a warm embrace.

“So what happens now?” Smalls asks eventually.

“Well, right now, we’re going to go tell my parents the good news, and they will inevitably make you stay for dinner,” Sarah says, glowing.

“And then we do our best to stay forever,” Katherine finishes.

“Pick an easier fight, why don’t you, Katherine?” Sarah teases.

“After all this, don’t we deserve easy?” Smalls points out.

“We absolutely do.”

[heller-obama]

Operation Newsboy

I totally didn’t have time to publish this last night or this morning so I just decided to post both this chapter and the next one tonight. Also I start school tomorrow so these might be the last of the regular updates.

Oh, and when I was writing this story, the POV kinda sorta just changed from third person to first person and??? I think it works better??? So yeah sorry about that I was not about to rewrite the whole first part in first person.

Here’s the prologue, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, and chapter four if you hadn’t read them

Chapter Five

Words: 2,086

Warnings: the author is a lazy little shit, no others really (just wait till the next chapter)

Editing: the usual grammarly and read-through combo

***#***

The day went on. No (possibly) magical time assassins trying to murder a kid. Nothing that special happened.

Except for the fact that I was really hungry. By the time all of the papers were sold, I was nearly swaying on my feet like I was tipsy.

I was standing with Davey, Les, and Jack, and the latter was trying to make plans for the brothers.

Honestly, I was completely spaced out, trying to figure out how to cover all the boys tomorrow during the strike. I overheard Jack’s voice, sounding slightly uncomfortable, surprised, and off-put. “Oh, youse got folks, huh?” I could tell he thought they were orphans.

Les, innocent Les, spoke next. “Doesn’t everyone?”

I saw Jack shift nervously, and Davey said something quietly to his little brother.

Davey looked at me and Jack, with something between pity and uncertainty. Of course, he thought I was an orphan because no one told him I wasn’t. Heck, I hadn’t told anyone anything, so I could say I never lied. I just omitted stuff that was semi-important.

“Our dad tangled with the delivery truck on the job. Messed up his leg bad, so they laid him off. That’s how come we had to find work.” Davey explained, with his specialty mixture of pity and uncertainty clear.

Jack looked uncomfortable, like he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Oh, ye-yeah, that makes sense. To-too bad about your dad, though.”

Davey had that look in his eyes that I was sure Jack saw a lot: the oh-you’re-poor-lemme-help-you look. “Look, why don’t you come home with us for dinner? Both of you. Our folks’ll be happy to have you.”

“Mom’s a great cook!” Les blurted.

I wouldn’t have minded it at all, especially if it involved food, but Jack looked like a deer in headlights.

“Ah, thanks for the invite. But I-I just remembered, I got plans with a fella! He’s probably waitin’ on me right now.” He looked at me, and it was as if his entire body screamed HELP!

I, stupidly, wasn’t looking for anyone suspicious. The only few minutes out of the day I wasn’t looking…

“Is that the guy you’re meeting?” Les yelled.

I looked to where the kid was pointing, and my (empty) stomach plummeted. There was a suspicious-looking guy, slightly resembling a mean pitbull with a mustache who was out looking for blood.

“Kelly!” Pitbull growled. Well, that rules out some anonymous time assassin, at least, I thought. It’s just your friendly neighborhood…pitbull…thug.

Jack’s face turned to one of terror. “Run for it!” He said to me and the two brothers.

We ran, me trailing behind to protect the boys who were so important to history. Sure, they might’ve gotten away originally, but with two time travelers on the table, all bets were off.

We kept on it, ducking and dodging through streets and alleyways, the early evening punctured with the Pitbull’s distant calls of “This way, officer!”, “Get him!”, or the insanely common “Jack Kelly!”

Finally, after ducking through a back door, Wally found himself in what appeared to be the backstage of a theatre.

“Slow down, I think we lost them.” Jack heaved. Davey and Les looked totally out of breath as well. I wasn’t that out of breath, because of my speedster reasons, but I pretended not to be that out of breath as to not raise any red flags.

“Does someone want to tell me why I’m running?” Davey protested, glaring at me. “I got no one chasing me. Who was that guy, anyway?” I shrugged. I mean, I honestly didn’t know.

“That there was Snyder the Spider. A real sweetie,” Jack said, with a level of disgust he didn’t think was possible.

“I thought he was more of a pitbull,” I said. Les smiled, but Jack wasn’t having it.

“He runs a jail for underage kids called The Refuge. The more kids he brings in, the more the city pays him. The problem is, all of that money goes straight into his own pocket. Just do yourself a favor. Stay clear of him and The Refuge.” Jack looked almost haunted as well as disgusted, and I wondered if he had spent time there.

A lady walked by below us. “Hey, you up there! Shoo! No kids allowed in the theatre!” I thought we were busted before Jack spoke up, all hints of Snyder and his unpleasantness gone from his face.

“Not even me, Ms. Medda?” He called charmingly.

She put her hands on her hips. “Jack Kelly?”

“Yeah!”

“Man of mystery! Come down here and give me a hug!” She called, clearly happy to see Jack.

He ran down and gave the lady, Ms. Medda, a hug. I made a mental note that, when he wanted, Jack could be really charming, inspiring, or threatening, depending on the person. You did not want to be on any side but his good side. Jack kept talking to Ms. Medda, charming her.

“Boys!” Jack said. “May I present to you Ms. Medda Larkin, the greatest star on the Bowery today. She also owns the joint.”

“The only thing I own is the mortgage,” she joked.

When I turned around, I saw Les, bent over double, gaping at two of the dancers.

Davey tapped Les on the back. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Are you blind?” Les retorted. “She got no clothes on!”

I hid a smile. I mean, I knew that 1899 fashion was a bit--scratch that, a lot--more conservative than 2018 fashion, but little Les was just so dumbstruck at the fact that the ladies were wearing just leggings and some kind of leotard. Oh, God, I thought, if only he walked around in the 21st century for even an hour…

“That’s her costume.”

“But I can see her legs!” Les sounded like he’d never seen a lady’s leg before. Although, in all honesty, he probably hadn’t.

“Well, step out of his way so’s he can get a better look.” Ms. Medda said. The performers struck a pose, revealing more of the tight leggings. Ms. Medda continued to say something about theatre being educational, but I wasn’t really listening, making sure no one was watching us.

Suddenly, a man with a mustache came running in. “Ms. Medda! You’re on!” He shouted.

“I am?” Ms. Medda said. “How am I doing?” She looked at the mustache guy, and then scoffed, and then looked at us, and we started laughing. “Boys, lock the door and stay all night. You’re with Ms. Medda now.”

We followed her to the curtains, Les and Davey watching from behind the curtain, but Jack and I snagged two seats. Ms. Medda continued to sing about being rich, but I wasn’t paying much attention to the words. Again. Oh, us millennials and our attention spans, I thought jokingly. But it was because Ms. Medda had an amazing voice. When the song was over, Jack gave a standing ovation, and I did, too. I mean, she did hide us from the cops. Well, I guess they weren’t cops. Abusive prison wardens?

“And now, gents,” she called, “let’s have a big hand for the Bowery Beauties!”

“Hey, Wally,” Jack said, poking me. “Look who’s here.” He pointed up to what looked like a theatre balcony.

I looked up and saw a lady sitting inside. “Wasn’t that the girl you were hitting on earlier?”

“Oh, yeah.” He had a stupid grin on his face. He ran up to Ms. Medda, who was now off-stage. They conversed quietly, and then Jack ran up to the ladder to the little balcony and climbed in.

I couldn’t hear them, but as they talked, Jack’s face varied from cheeky to downright flirty, and the girl mostly looked either uncomfortable or mocking. I smiled. She’s gonna have fun with Jack, I thought.

I watched the two of them, not exactly sure how it was going to play out. Well, until the girl yelled: “Do you mind?”

Some guy in the audience rapped his cane on the structure. “Pipe down up there!”

“You got in for free!” Ms. Medda called. “At least pay attention!”

Jack whisper-shouted something down, probably something along the lines of I’m sorry.

And then he, of course, started serenading her. Of course, he did. And…was he drawing something, too? I shook my head. Jack Kelly, the romantic. Who’d have thunk?

The song went along…and so did my attention. I have issues, I thought.

When the song(both Jack’s and the ladies’) Jack snuck down the ladder, not before leaving something on a chair.

He practically skipped over to Davey, Les, and I. After the brothers left, on our way back to the Lodge, then he started to boast about his serenading epicness.

“Did’ya see that? I’s got her hooked!” Jack whooped.

“You sure did, pal,” I said. Suddenly, the smell of a bakery wafted into my nose. “Hey, Jack? What’s that smell?”

Jack grinned. “Oh, that’s the Cooks’. Yep, they’s called the Cooks and they cook. If you’re hungry”--I could’ve sworn he heard my stomach growling--“they sometimes gives us a loaf of bread.”

“Well, I think you know the answer to that question, Jack,” I said. I fingered the dollars I took from the Waverider before dragging Jack to the street. There was about $20, which was a lot in this era, especially for the newsies. It was for an emergency, but if this wasn’t, I didn’t know what would constitute an emergency anymore. Jack started moving into the store, but I put a hand out in front of him. “Lemme try. They don’t know me.”

Jack shrugged. “Have at ‘em.”

I walked into the store, slipping my cap into my bag. A newsie with 20 bucks would raise all kinds of alarms. I walked up to the front, where a young girl was sitting, looking quite bored.

“How can I help you today?” She asked, looking like I was the most interesting thing that had happened to her all day.

I looked behind her at the vast shelves of baked goods, breads and pastries galore. “Uh, can I have ten loaves of bread? And one of the pumpkin loaves?”

The girl’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. “You got money to pay for it?”

“Yeah.” She gave me a once-over, like ‘why can this kid afford ten loaves of bread?’ Then she shrugged. Business was business.

“$2.50.” She said, gathering the load of loaves.

I pulled out some money and gave it to her.

I just really hoped she didn’t pay much attention to the dates on the bills.

She handed me the loaves, and I put each in my bag. “Thanks,” I said, and flashed a smile at the girl. She just nodded.

I walked outside to where Jack was waiting. He looked at me and only saw the emptiness of my hands.

“Ah, youse struck out, huh? Well, sometimes they’s just want the Jack…” He trailed off when I patted my bulging bag. “No way.”

I smirked. “Yes, way. Ten loaves of bread, and one pumpkin loaf.”

“How’d you…?”

“She just was begging for business. I don’t think they sold a thing all day.”

“Good on youse! We’s’ll eat good tonight!” Jack whooped, patting me on the back.

We walked back to the Lodge, Jack’s arm around my shoulder. By the time we got back, the sun was nearly set. As soon as we opened the door, the newsies were on us.

“Where were youse?”

“We’s been waitin’!”

“We’s thought Snyder got youse!”

Jack held up his hands, and they all quieted down. “Now, me and Speedy was busy.” He took my bag of bread from my hands. “Seems ol’ Speedy ‘ere has got a bit of charm!” The shouts rang out again.

“Is that bread?”

“WOAH!”

“Did’ya steal that?”

“FOOD!”

“A’IGHT!” Jack yelled. “All of youse get some! Obviously!”

Jack and I distributed the some of the bread to the newsies, and only after we finished did Jack take any. I assumed that was normal, knowing Jack.

The boys all got a large chunk of bread, and against Jack and I’s protests, the boys insisted we share a whole loaf.

That night, all of the newsboys at the Newsboy Lodging House went to bed with full stomachs.

I hope that doesn’t screw with the timeline.

You know what? Screw the timeline. Just seeing the joy on those kids’ faces when they realized they didn’t have to go to sleep hungry was enough.