Queen of New York (Spot Conlon Fic)

Chapter 2: Strike

    "They jacked up the price! You hear that Jack? Ash? Ten cents a hundered! You know, it's bad enough we gotta eat what we don't sell, now they jack up the price? Can you believe that?" Kid Blink shouts as Jack and I walk into the distribution center.

    "This'll bust me. I'm barely makin' a livin' right now," Skittery says.

   "I'll be back ta sleepin' on the streets," Boots says, throwing his hands up slightly.

   "It don't make no sense. I mean, all da money Pulitzer's makin', why would he gouge us?" Mush asks.

    "Because he's a tight wad, dats why," Race says bitterly.

   "Pipe down, it's just a gag," I order. Jack goes up to the counter.

   "Why the jack up Weasel?" Jack asks, a bit of anger in his tone.

  "Why not?" Weasel licks his finger - gross, you don't know where that thing's been - and holds it up like he's checking the wind. "It's a nice day. Why dontcha ask Mr. Pulitzer?"

   "They can't do this ta me," Blink groans.

  "They can do whatever they want. It's their stinkin' paper," Race grumbles.

   "It ain't fair. We got no rights at all," Boots says sadly. I set a hand on his shoulder. Boots smiles halfheartedly at me.

   "Come on, it's a rigged deck. Dey got all da marbles," Race says. Leave it to Race to explain it using gambling metaphors.

    "Jack, Ash, we got no choice. So why don't we get our lousy papes why they still got some, huh?" Mush says.

   "No!" Jack and I both exclaim.

   "Nobody's going anywhere. They can't get away with this!" I say. Les suddenly pushes throufh the crowd. Not sure when him and David showed up. It doesn't really matter. Ignore me.

   "Give them some room! Give them some room! Let them think!" Les shouts,  pushing everyone away. The boys allow themselves to be moved back. Les sits down next me. I ruffle his hair. 

    "You two done thinkin' yet?" Race asks after a minute.

    Weasel suddenly slams a window open. "Hey! Hey! Hey! World employees only on this side of the gate!"

   We all yell at him to shut up or put a lid on it, as one of my boys put it.

    Jack speaks up. "Well, listen. One thing's for sure, if we don't sell papes then nobody sells papes."

   "Nobody comes through those doors until they put da price back where it was," I say.

   "You mean like a strike?" Davud asks.

   "Yeah! Like a strike!" Jack says. A good amount of the boys facepalm.

   "Are you out of your mind?" Race shouts.

   "It's a good idea!" We defend. David sighs and moves so that he's next to me and Jack.

   "I was only joking. We can't go on strike, we don't have a union," David says. Good point...

   "But, if we go on strike then we are a unuon, right?" Jack asks. Uh, not quite Jackie boy.

   "No, we're just a bunch of angry kids with no money. Maybe if we got every newsies in New York, but..." David trails off.

  Jack and I stand. We begin to move toward Newsie Square. "Yeah, well we organize. Crutchy, you take up for collection. We get all the newsies of New York together," I say.