(Okay listen, I know that the timeline is kinda wack, so imagine the Newsboy Strike of 1899 was actually the Newsboy Strike of 1954. This story takes place in 1955.)
"I think your best bet is the boys in Lower Manhattan." Bernardo said, wiping his thumb over the space that read the words "Bowery; The World."
"No." Riff said with a quick shake of his head.
"Why not?" I asked.
"Them boys is the most hard headed and stupid I ever seen." Riff replied, crossing his arms. Bernardo glanced at him in boredom.
"I hope you've had your coffee, we're going to Lower Manhattan." Bernardo said as he put on a jacket and slid a small knife into the inner pocket. "And maybe Brooklyn."
"Them Brooklyn boys is big." Riff said with a sigh of contempt. My hand dropped to the side of my skirt, checking to make sure that I had my own knife in my pocket.
"Let's go." Bernardo said darkly.
It took about two hours to walk from Upper to Lower Manhattan, completely wasting away the rest of the night and giving way to the sunrise. When we strode into the dumps of Lower Manhattan, a loud bell rang.
"That's the Circulation Bell." Riff told me quietly. "The news boys are gonna be out here soon." The three of us then stood by a dark brass gate.
"Hey!" A voice from our side of the gate said loudly. We all turned to see two boys storming toward us. They both wore white shirts and black bowlers caps. They both stopped in front of us and one began talking. "We ain't never seen you three around here."
"We ain't from around here." Riff said, taking the lead in talking to the boys.
"Scabs?" The other boy said. The first one shook his head.
"No, they's from the Upper side." The first one said. He then stuck a callused hand out to Riff. "Oscar Delancey. This here is Morris."
"And who is this?" Morris asked, moving to stand next to his brother. He looked me up and down. Riff noticed and stepped in front of me, blocking their view.
"Not yours." He said. Oscar let out a mocking breath, hands up jokingly. Bernardo shook his head and shouldered past Riff.
"We gotta talk to the Newsies." He said. Both the boys' faces twisted in stifled laughter.
"The Newsies?" Oscar asked, punching his brother lightly in the arm to silence him.
"You rang?" A sudden voice said from the gate. The five of us then looked over to see a gang of guys standing on the other side of the gate. The one that spoke was wearing a dark blue shirt and gray vest. Morris unlocked the brass gate was slowly swung it open, allowing the boys to flood out. Some went to the paper stand, but most stayed.
"Go buy your papers, boys." Morris said sharply.
"Outta the way." The boy in blue said, shoving the brothers away. The two looked as though they were about to fight back, but were squared away by four newsies. The boy in blue held his hand out to Riff. "The name's Jack Kelly."
"Riff Lorton, Bernardo Nunez, and Liza Byrne." He said, shaking it. Jack then shook Bernardo's hand, then mine.
"This guy needs help." Bernardo said to Jack. "There's another gang in Upper Manhattan that's gonna rumble with his boys tonight and he doesn't think that his boys are enough to beat them."
"You want my boys to fight for you?" Jack asked, looking back at Riff, who's face was unchangingly stoic. There was a long period of silence before Jack turned around and faced the newsies that had lingered around him. I watched a thin blond boy with very blue eyes and a cigar turn to a boy with dark hair and dark eyes.
"I'll do it if Jackie does." He whispered. It was loud enough for the other boys to hear. Loud shouts of agreement erupted from the group. Jack nodded then turned around the three of us.
"You heard them." Jack said with a proud smile on his face. "We'll be there. Who's the other gang?"
"You know the Celts?" Riff asked, subtly moving his right hand behind his back and finding my own hand, giving it a quick squeeze.
"The Irishmen in the Upper?" A boy with dusty blond hair and a crutch asked, limping forward. He then locked eyes with me.
"Hey Jack, she's a Celt." He said to Jack. Jack's green eyes slid past Riff and focused on me. Riff stepped beside me, allowing them to actually see and talk to me. He previously hadn't moved from in front of me, where he was blocking the Delancey Brothers.
"Kid, say somethin'." He said, an authority-type tone taking over his voice.
"Don't say nothing." Riff breathed.
"Don't be shy, sweetheart." The cigar boy piped up loudly.
"Shut it, Race." Jack said, not breaking eye contact with me. "Look kid, I already said that we's gonna help you. Say somethin'." Riff was silent.
"I was a Celt." I said, hearing whistles and shouts come from the newsies. Riff tightened his grip on my hand. "I'm a Jet now."
"The hell is a Jet?" Race asked, bumping a black haired boy with his arm jokingly.
"Shut it, Race." Jack said again. He then moved forward, spat into his own hand, and held it out to me. "We'll be seein' you tonight, Ms. Ireland." I spit into my own hand and we shook.
"That's disgusting." Bernardo said with a shake of his head.
"That's just business."
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The Celts (West Side Story: Riff X Reader)
फैनफिक्शनElizabeth Byrne is newly imported from Galway, Ireland. Their town had been impoverished for a hundred years following the potato famine, forcing a small group of teenagers to sneak aboard a cargo ship to America. They quickly butt heads with the re...
