Sellin' Papes

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Davey, Jack and myself were weaving through the crowds gathered to watch the next boxing match. My brother and I were selling papers left and right, while no one was even listening to Davey. "Extra! Extra! Trolley strike drags on!" He shouted, getting ignored by the crowd.

"Extra! Extra!" I shouted. "Ellis Island in flames!" A man called out to me and I tossed him a paper, him handing me a coin in return. "Thank you, sir."

Davey has flipped open one of his papers after hearing my headline, his brows furrowed in confusion. "Wait, where's that story?"

"Page nine 9." I told him as another man bought a paper. "Thanks sir. Thousands flee in panic!" I sold a few more papers while Davey read the actual headline.

"Trash Fire Next to Immigration Building Terrifies Seagulls?" He asked as he looked up front he paper and over at me.

I just shrugged and continued to shout through the crowd. Davey ignored me and started trying to sell his papers again. "Extra! Extra! Evening paper!" The boy tried to pass a paper to a man, who just swatted him away.

Jack appeared next to me, sighing. "Newbie mistakes?"

I nodded. "Newbie mistakes."

"He'll get it eventually. How many you got left?"

I glanced down at the small stack that was draped over my arm. "Four."

"Damn, I still got ten left." Jack sighed before he turned to look at Davey again. "Sing 'em to sleep why don't ya?" He took a paper out of hug bag and turned to the crowd, Davey watching him. "Extra! Extra! Terrified flight from burning inferno! You heard the story right here." Jack sold most of his remaining papers before turning back to Davey.

"You guys are just making that stuff up." The new kid said, sighing.

"No, I said he heard it right here. And he did."

"My father taught us not to lie."

"Well, mine taught me not to starve." Jack retired without thinking. He instantly glanced over at me with a hurt expression. I looked down at my feet, not wanting to meet his gaze.

I hadn't known our parents; they left for the West when I was younger. Jack, on the other hand, knew them. He knew it hurt me to talk about them, so he usually didn't mention them at all.

Thankfully, Les running up broke the uncomfortable tension that had fallen across the three of us. "Just sold my last paper!"

"I got one more." Davey said, sighing.

"Yeah, I got a couple, too." I chipped in.

"Sell 'em or pay for 'em." Jack spoke up.

"Give it here!" Les shouted as he snatched the paper from his brother and running off.

I, too, left the boys. I walked a little ways away and sold the few papers I had before joining the other newsies again. They had walked away from the crowd and were now standing on a pretty empty sidewalk.

Jack patted me on the shoulder before turning to the brothers. "Hey, hows about we divy up the money? We'll grab some chow, den find some place for you to spend da night."

"Oh, we gotta get home." Davey said before anything else could be said. "Our folks will be waiting with dinner."

I sighed slightly before speaking. "Yous got folks, huh?"

"Doesn't everyone?" Les asked innocently.

A silence fell over our group. I looked down, my shoes becoming very interesting at the moment.

Davey took the money out of his pocket and started counting it, setting coins in two different piles on his outstretched palm. "Our dad tangled with a delivery truck on the job. Messed up his leg bad, so they laid him off. That's how come we have to find work."

"Yeah, yeah. Sure, that makes sense." Jack said softly. "Hey, too bad about your dad."

"Well, how about comin' home with us for dinner? Our folks would be happy to have you."

"Mom's a great cook." Les added.

Jack glanced over at me and I subtly shook my head, hoping neither Les or Davey would see it. My brother seemed to understand, for he turned back to the brothers and sighed. "Thanks for the invite, but, ah, I just remembered that wes got plans with a fella. He's probably waiting on us right now."

Les was looking somewhere behind us before he pointed down the street. "Is that the guy you're meeting?"

Jack and I both turned around only to be met with the stare of Synder. I felt frozen to my spot as I looked at the rounded man. He saw us a second later and started to pick up his pace, pointing to my brother and I. "Sullivans!"

"Run for it! Go, go!" Jack yelled, pushing the boys away.

When I didn't move, my brother grabbed my arm and started pulling me with him. I finally came to my senses and the four of us ran down the streets of New York, Synder hot on our trail.

Why does it feel like I'm always running?

Word Count: 843

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