counterfeit [newsies x reader]

chapter one

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CHAPTER ONE

A HAT, A BAG, AND A LIE
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BEFORE THE DOCTOR LEFT he had told you of what your mother's newfound sickness meant. Unfortunately, it meant expensive medicine and quarantining your mother. Not much was known about the sickness, so you had to try your best with the knowledge you had of common colds.

You were now taking her role as the head of the household, taking care of those who lived with you. You wanted so desperately to cry, but you refused to at such an important time. You had many things you needed to do before you could rest and mourn your unknown fate.

First, you had turned your mother's room into her own hospital room, setting out extra blankets, cold medication, and food out for her whenever she needed it. Then you had proceeded to make a call to your mother's work, borrowing the apartment building's shared phone. Her employers needed to know that she wasn't going to be able to come in or even work on much from home.

Then it hit you. Your mother didn't have a job anymore. That meant no more income. No money meant no fancy medication that the doctor had suggested. Your hands began to sweat and your mind cluttered more. You told your mother to go ahead and try to sleep as you excused yourself from the room.

In your own room, you threw open a window and looked out onto the streets in the late afternoon. The breeze added some relief to your panic, but you still felt hopeless. How were you supposed to get a job that paid enough and take care of your mother? You closed your eyes and imagined all the possible options.

There was bound to be a job at the florists down the road, but you'd be paid a cut salary. You could always take up your mother's job, but you weren't a mathematician by any means. You put your face in your hands and sat there, halfway out of the window, before you heard a holler. It was from the streets below. You looked up from your hands and searched for the producer.

Your eyes wandered aimlessly before landing on a few young men chasing after one another down the street.

"Race! Wait up, will ya? You'se acting like the Lodge is gonna stand up and walk away." One of them yelled at their friend who had preceded them running down the road.

You'd seen them and heard their loud voices before. They were newsboys, the young men who sold papers to the masses, often spinning a lie or two in the process. You'd wondered how they'd even gotten the jobs in the first place.

Then it hit you.

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In the morning you were prepared to perfectly execute the plan you had constructed last night. First, you rose early, earlier than you usually would, and ever so carefully left a note for your mother telling her that you had gone to school and if she needed anything than to call for your neighbors. Next, you raided the old wardrobe hidden in the office. It was ridden with old clothes of your fathers', from worn out coats to shined shoes. You picked an outfit similar to the boys you saw yesterday, a light combination of a button up and vest.

You entered the bathroom and searched the cabinet for the industrial roll of bandages that you'd never used before. You had never had a need for them–until now that is. You started slowly and stuck part of the roll under your armpit before continuing to wrap your chest. You weren't going to let anyone get by paying you less because you were a girl.

Following the bandage, you threw on the button up and vest. Looking in the mirror, you thought the outfit looked very convincing. You finished it off by wearing some slightly too large trousers, shoes, and suspenders. The only thing missing was one of the classic newsie hats you'd seen them wear around town. It would make a great final addition and successfully cover your hair.

Pinning your [H/c] hair to your head, and allowing the ends to fall on your face, you pulled the grey cap over your head. You gave yourself a once-over in the mirror, just to make sure you wouldn't be suspicious. Instead of seeing a fifteen-year-old girl, you saw a small teenage boy who had yet to become a man.

Smiling in glee, you left the bathroom, snagging a bag from your room. This couldn't be all that hard, could it? You exited the apartment and navigated the hallways until you stepped out in the streets of New York.

Then, as soon as the sense of glee had come, it left. The city streets of New York bore a stern and cold feel to them, far more so than usual.

How on earth were you supposed to do this?