My Sweetheart -Newsies Racetrack Higgins-

[9]

Jack was standing in Irving Hall, his smock all covered in paint and sweat, as he painted an image of a mountain and a lake.

"Here's everything I owe you for the first backdrop, plus this one, and a little extra something on account of I'm gonna miss you so." Medda, one of the performers, and owner of the theater, handed Jack a pink envelope.

He opened his mouth to refuse the money, "Miss Medda, I-"

"Jack." She insisted, basically shoving the money into his hands.

Jack reluctantly took the money, putting the envelope in his smock pocket. "You're a gem." He smiled sadly.

"Just tell me you're going somewhere and not running away." She said softly. Jack had always felt she gave off a motherly vibe, and he couldn't bear to break her heart.

"Does it matter?" Jack asked, wiping his hands off on a cloth.

"When you go somewhere and it turns out not to be the right place, you can always go somewhere else. But when you're running away, nowhere's ever the right place." Medda explained.

Davey caught sight of Jack, and ran to him. "Well, how about letting a pal know you're alive! Where did you go? We couldn't find ya."

"I'll leave you with your friend." Medda smiled, before walking away.

"Did you ever think I didn't wanna be found?" Jack groaned.

"Is that a real place, that Santa Fe?" Davey looked at the canvas. When Jack didn't answer him, he changed the subject. "Hey, did you see the papes? We're front page, above the fold! Oh yes. Above. The fold." Davey showed him the paper.

"Good for you." Jack said sarcastically 

"Everyone wants to meet the famous Jack Kelly. Even Spot Conlon sent over a kid just to say next event, you can count on Brooklyn! How bout that?" Davey smiled widely.

"We got stomped into the ground."

"They got us this time, I'll grant you that, but we took round one. But with press like this. Our fight is far from over." Davey shrugged.

"Every newsie who could walk was out this mornin', sellin' papes like the strike never happened!" Jack snapped.

"And I was right there with 'em. If I don't sell papes, my folks don't eat, but-" Davey argued.

"Save your breath, I get it, it's hopeless." Jack snapped.

Davey sighed, "But then I saw this look on Weasel's face. He was actually nervous! And I realized, this isn't over. We got 'em worried-- really worried! And I walked away. And lots of other kids did too, and that is what you call a beginning!" Davey said.

Les and Katherine walked in Irving Hall, "There he is, just like I said!" Les pointed.

"For cryin' out loud, what does a fella gotta do to get away from you people?" Jack groaned. l

"Ah, there's no escaping us, pal. We're inevitable." Davey smiled.

"So what's the story, can we have the theater?" Les said loudly, a large smile on his face, despite the cast and sling on his arm.

"Pipe down! I didn't ask yet." Davey said quietly.

"What's the hold up? I need to let my girl know we got a date." Les adjusted his vest proudly.

"Your girl?" Davey rose an eyebrow.

"You heard me. Been swattin' skirts away all mornin'. Fame is one intoxicating potion. And this here girl, Sally... she's a plum." Les smiled dreamily.

"Word is you wrote a great story." Jack said to Katherine.

"You look like hell." She said sadly, looking over Jack.

"Hey, Jack. Where's that supposed to be?" Les pointed at the canvas.

"It's Santa Fe." Davey answered.

"I gotta tell you, Jack. This "go west, young man" routine is getting tired. Even Horace Greeley moved back to New York." Katherine pointed out.

"Yes he did. And then he died." Les said simply.

"Aren't reporters supposed to be non-partisan?" Jack tried to change the subject.

"Ask a reporter. Pulitzer's had me blacklisted from every news desk in town." Katherine sighed.

"Can't we table the palabber and get back to business? Will Medda let us have the theater?" Les smiled.

Davey looked at Jack, "It's what I've been trying to tell ya. We want to hold a rally! A city-wide meeting, where every newsie gets a say and a vote; and we do it after workin' hours, so no one loses a day's pay. Smart?"

"Yeah. Yeah smart enough to get you committed to a padded room." Jack snapped.

"Well the guy who paints places he's never seen is calling us crazy?" Katherine scoffed.

"You wanna see a place I seen? How about this." Jack turned the backdrop around. There was a large cartoon of Pulitzer stepping on newsies on the back.
"Newsies Square. Thanks to my big mouth, filled to overflowing with failure. Kids hurt, others arrested."

Davey rolled his eyes, "Lighten up! No one died."

"Oh is that what you're aiming for!?" Jack scoffed. "Go on, go on, call me a coward, call me a quitter. Ain't no way I am putting them kids back in danger."

"We're doing something that's never been done before! How can that not be dangerous?" Davey began to raise his voice.

"Specs brought me a note from Crutchie at the refuge. I tried to see him. Went around back and climbed the fire escape. They busted him up so bad, he couldn't even come to the window. Ruth had to tell me how he was beaten to a pulp." Jack paused.

Katherine gulped at the mention of Ruth. She was so worried about her, she barely slept a wink last night.

"Now what if we don't make it? Are you willin' to shoulder that for half a penny a pape?" Jack sneered.

"It's not about the pennies!" Davey said, exasperated. "You said it yourself. My family wouldn't be in the mess we're in if my father had a union. This is a fight we have to win!"

"If I wanted a sermon, I'I would show up for church." Jack said sassily.

"Tell me how quitting does Crutchie any good." Davey said after a moment.

Jack scoffed, trying to form an argument, but all he could make were confused noises.

"Exactly." Davey smirked.