Chapter Two

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Amy found she'd become more daring than she had even the day before.

Of course, she hadn't become some reckless rebel, that title suited Laura infinitely better than her, but a fire had sparked in her since she'd last talked with Romeo that she couldn't ignore.

Which was why, the next day while her father was out at a meeting, Amy snuck out once again.

She hadn't even told her sister.

"Well, if it ain't tha Princess," Romeo mused as she approached Jacobi's that afternoon. "Gloves 'n everythin'. I didn't think I'd ev-ah have tha pleasure 'a seein' ya again.Y'know, wit yer fancy life 'n everythin'."

The others turned towards her, curious. Her cheeks burned red at all the sudden attention, and at Romeo's words. But that was mostly canceled out with everyone else staring at her. Rows of eyes, all boring into her, burning with intrigue and skepticism.

Amy was slightly envious of them. They only had one new face to memorize.

"Princess, huh?" A boy asked, flicking some ashes from his cigar.

"It's just Amy," Amy mumbled, playing with the hem of her gloves. She didn't like the way everyone was watching her. She normally liked social events, the only moments when she wasn't forced to be so alone, but this kind of attention put her on edge. She wondered if it was too late to turn around and head back home.

"So, what's a pretty thing like ya doin' out he-ah in tha rough parts 'a good ol' 'Hattan?" A short boy with tufts of blond hair sticking out of his newsie cap questioned, arms crossed.

A redhead snorted. "It's tha gloves ya should be askin' 'bout. I don't know how she ain't overheatin' in those things."

"Ah, guys, give tha goil some space!" The newsie who'd spoken turned towards her with a wide smile drawn on his lips. "Hi, me name's Jojo. It's real nice ta meet ya."

Amy smiled at his warm greeting, jumping when an arm suddenly wrapped around her waist. "What-?"

Romeo straightened his spine from beside her, casting Jojo a cool glare. "She wasn't yer date, last I checked. Yer bett-ah off findin' yer own goil, Jo."

Jojo shrugged, tilting his head slightly to the side as he did so, as if to say he agreed.

"He was just being nice," Amy countered softly, but didn't pull away. The newsies seemed close. She knew that harsh words thrown around there weren't to be taken seriously.

Unless it was clear that they were.

"Alright, boys," a blue clad newsie interrupted, standing up on his chair, arms held out. "She also ain't an object. Yer givin' her an awful foist impression."

Amy assumed he was in charge. Although, how much in charge, she couldn't say. They all seemed to have an air of authority surrounding them in a certain, peculiar way.

"I agree," a newsie who looked a little cleaner than the others seconded, "but... who is she?"

"My father owns the clothing factory," Amy told him, hoping she didn't come off as bragging. It was hardly anything to be proud of. Not when the man in question cared only about said factory.

Romeo snorted. "Really is a princess."

"Yet I've got nothing to show for it." 

"Eh, well, welcome ta tha club," another newsie said. "We work our rear ends off all day, everyday, only ta get a few pennies in return. I bet it wouldn't be terrible livin' yer life."

a hopeless romantic | r.s Where stories live. Discover now