"Mornin', Weasel! Didja miss me?" I gushed cheesily, earning a laugh from the other newsies. I placed my money on the box with a clang. "The usual for me and my brudda, if ya please."

"How many times I gotta tell you rotten kids, it's Wiesel! Mr. Wiesel to ya! Now beat it, Quick." The heavier set man insisted angrily. Quick was my newsies name, on account'a I get into trouble so much, but get out of it so quick. I feigned innocence as one of the Delancey brothers shoved 200 papes at me.

"Ain't that what I said?" I asked, splitting them between Jack and I. 100 each, that was the routine. Race was next in line, teasing Wiesel with his antics when two new kids showed up, a boy who looked about Jack's age, seventeen, and a younger one, maybe nine or ten. Race approached me, leaning on my shoulder, as the new kids walked up to Wiesel.

"I'll take twenty newspapers, please." The older boy asked.

"Twenty papes for the new kid. Lemme see the dime." Wiesel demanded. We all watched in fascination at the kid's bravery.

"I'll pay you when I sell them." He responded. I looked up at Race with wide eyes. He wasn't serious, right?

"Funny, kid. C'mon, cash up front." Wiesel retorted. The boy looked a little confused.

"But whatever I don't sell, you buy back, right?" He asked, and I was in shock. Jack met my eyes with amusement and a hint of disbelief. The kid put the dime on the box and took his papes as Wiesel laughed. But it didn't stop. "Sorry. Excuse me. I paid for twenty, but you gave me nineteen." Again, everyone froze. My older brother strode over and began counting the papes as Wiesel was yelling.

"New kid's right, Weasel. Ya gave him nineteen." Jack handed the papes back to the kid, and Wiesel forked over another.

"I'm sure it was an honest mistake on account'a Oscar can't count to twenty with his shoes on." I reassured the older man. Oscar Delancey lunged at me from behind the counter, but Wiesel held him back. Lap dog. "Give him anotha fifty papes." I told Oscar, tossing a coin onto the counter.

"Thank you, miss, but I don't want more papes." The boy insisted, resting a gentle hand on my forearm. All the boys laughed, and Elmer pushed the kid's shoulder.

"That ain't no miss!" He laughed. "That there's Quick!" He wouldn't stop laughing so I hit him square in the chest with a rock, just hard enough to shut him up.

"Ah shut ya trap! What kinda newsies don't want more papes?" I asked, directing the last part at the boy. Jack nodded, thrusting the papes into his arms.

"I'm no charity case. I don't even know you two." He insisted. The younger boy piped up.

"That's Jack Kelly! And that's Y/N!" He beamed. What a cutie.

"That is very true, but you can call me Quick." I winked, bending down to shake the little boys hand.

"I'm Les! And this here is my brother David." He told me, shaking it eagerly.

"Nice to meet ya, Les. And you too, Davey." I offered my hand to David next, and he looked at me almost sheepishly as he shook.

"How old are ya, kid?" Jack asked Les.

"I'm ten. Almost." He admitted, and I smirked knowingly at my brother.

"Well, if anyone asks, you're seven. Younger sells more papes, and if we's gonna be partners-" Jack began, but was cut off by Davey.

"Who said we wanna be partners?"

"Sellin' with a Kelly is the chance of a lifetime. You learn from one'a them, you learn from the best." Crutchie told them happily, hobbling closer. Race nodded, trying to further prove our point.

"Here's the thing. You got a little brother, and my sister? She ain't so little no more." Jack told Davey, slinging one arm around me and squeezing my face. "That there face used to could sell a thousand papes a week, and I'll betcha your brother could do it, too."

I pulled away from Jack, rolling my eyes. "Les, look sad." The little boy did as I instructed, and he did it beautifully. "Youse is gonna make millions!" I told Davey excitedly. The boys agreed to team up and split profits 60-40, which worked out for me considering what Jack gets, I get.

"Newsies, hit the streets. The sun is up, the headline stinks, and this kid ain't getting' any    younger!" Jack yelled, and Race grabbed my hand and we raced to find a good spot. As we hurried away, I heard Davey's voice.

"She's beautiful... who is she?" He asked Jack quietly. I turned to see Jack glower at him, poking a finger in his chest.

"She's my kid sista, and I strongly suggest you stay the hell away from ha. Now let's go sell some papes."

The Boy Who Loved CigarsWhere stories live. Discover now