Blitz: A Newsies Story

Chapter 5: Soak 'em for Crutchie!

((Hey Fansies! Here's the latest chapter in "Blitz." Sorry it took so long! Life is crazy! I will try and do as many chapters as possible during my week or so between the end of field hockey season and the beginning of the musical! Hope you like the new chapter! The picture is of Spot Conlon, if you didn't know. -Wolf))

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Chapter 5: Soak 'me for Crutchie!

I woke up the next morning to the shouts of, "Wake up! Let's go! Up and at'em! Carryin' the banner! Go sell those papes!" Yawning, I rolled over to see an older man walking quickly between the bunk beds, yelling and shaking boys to wake them up. Movement above me told me that Jack was awake. A moment later, a shoe went flying across the room towards the man, who turned around to glare at Jack. "Up!" he shouted. "Go sell those papes!" "No!" shouted Jack right back, yawning and sitting up slightly in his bunk. "We're on strike, Kloppman, remember?" The man rolled his eyes. "You kids are stupid, ya know that? You don't sell the papes, you don't make any money!" "Yeah, we know!" shouted Race as he sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "But then "The World" and Pulitzer won't make no money either!" The man, Kloppman, rolled his eyes, but finally left after realizing that getting the Newsies to sell the papes today would be an impossible task.

I yawned and propped myself up onto my elbows, running a hand through my hair to comb it. The piece of twine I used to tie my hair back had fallen out during the night. I sat up slowly and then grabbed it from where it had fallen beside my shoes. Looking around the lodging house, I pulled my hair back, tying it with the twine. As I reached for my cap, I saw Race staring at me. "What?" I asked, putting my cap on my head. "I just noticed that your hair is really...long," stammered Race, looking like he had been caught doing something wrong. I rolled my eyes and laughed softly. "I just met ya yesterday, so you've neva seen ma hair down, o'course ya just noticed it's long," I pointed out. Racetrack shrugged, regaining his composure. "It's pretty," he said softly as he pulled his suspenders up onto his shoulders. I blushed slightly and looked away. "You boys don't know what ya talkin' 'bout," I muttered as I pulled my suspenders up as well. Race buttoned up his shirt and began to put his shoes on as Jack slid out of his bed and landed lightly on the ground beside our bunk. He sat down on my bed beside me as we both put our worn shoes on and laced them up. I sat back once my boots were tied, leaning up against the frame of the bunk, and Jack mimicked my movements, leaning against the frame beside me.

"How'd ya sleep?" asked Jack, pulling his vest on over his dark, blue-grey shirt. "Fine, you?" I said, looking at him out of the corner of my eye. "Not so great," he muttered, running a hand through his hair before putting his cowboy hat onto his head and tying his red bandanna around his neck. "And why's that?" asked Race, as he sat down on the other side of me so I was sandwiched between the two boys. "I was thinkin' about the strike," said Jack with a sigh. "What about it?" I asked him curiously. "Whetha or not we should risk doing somethin' like we did yesterday. Crutchie got soaked an thrown in the Refuge. I don't wanna risk that happening ta any more a da boys," said Jack. "Well, Jack, I know ya want ta protect everyone, but we can't jus' do nothin'," said Racetrack, pulling his cigar our of his pocket and putting it in his mouth, not bothering to light it. "Race is right," I said to Jack. "Ya got ya message across ta old man Pulitzer yestaday, but if ya want 'im ta change 'is mind Jack, ya gotta do somethin' more." Jack looked at me for a moment before he sighed and said, "Ya right Blitz. Let's head down ta the distribution center an' see what we can do. I betcha there'll be some scabs ta soak..." "That's the spirit Jacky Boy!" I laughed. "Let's soak 'em for Crutchie!" Jack grinned, but then he paused for a moment. "Did ya just call me Jacky Boy?" I frowned and nodded slowly. "Yeah, why?" Jack shrugged. "The only person ta ever call me that is Spot Conlon." I almost said something but caught myself. "It's a good nickname for ya," I said. "And I'm gonna need ta meet this Spot Conlon sometime, if ya gonna keep talkin' 'bout 'im." Jack and Racetrack laughed, but promised to introduce us sometime.