August 1899
The Circulation Gate, Manhattan, New York City
Davey's P.O.V.
The sun is burning down at us.
It's so hot. We're standing there in front of the circulation gate, densely packed, waiting for what's going to happen.
We swore we'd continue the strike. For Jacks' sake, for Mags' sake, for the sake of the Newsies.
"Tell my I's jus' seein' things, jus' tell me I's seein' things.", I suddenly hear Spot yell. I follow his glare.
"No.", Race answers excited. "Dat's Jack!"
He's right.
There's Jack.
Standing with the scabs in a nice, clean suit. I can't believe my eyes.
It can't be.
It just can't.
It mustn't.
I freeze.
"Hey Jack!", Mush shouts. "It's me, Mush! Look at me!"
Jack doesn't.
"Wanna talk ta him?", Weasel asks me, who's all of the sudden stands in front of me. "Come an' talk ta him."
I step past the bulls and towards Jack.
It feels so unreal.
Like a dream. I very, very bad dream. A nightmare.
We walk a bit to the side to talk.
"So, that's why you didn't run.", I say, pointing at his suit.
"What if?", he says emotionless.
"You're a liar!", I almost shout. "You lied about everything. You lied about your father being out west, because he's not out west! You didn't even tell me your real name!"
"So?" Jack just shrugs, his eyes emotionless, too. "What ya wanna do about it, Dave?"
"I don't understand you.", I say desperate.
"Oh, so let me spell it out foa ya. You see, I ain't got nobody tuckin' me in at night, like ya. It's jus' me, I gotta look out foa myself, all right?"
"You have the Newsies! And Magpie!"
"Oh, what'd bein' a Newsie ever give me but a dime a day and a few black eyes? Ya know, I can't afford to be a kid no more, Dave. Foa the first time in my life, I got money in my pockets. Real money. Money, ya understand? I got more on the way and as soon as I collect, I's gone, I's away, all right?"
"Well, that's good!" I feel like I could explode every minute now. "That's good because we don't need you! We don't need you! All those words you said, those were mine."
"Yeah, but ya never had the guts to put them across yourself, did ya?"
"I do now." I already turn away, as I remember something. I look at him again. "Where is she?"
"Who?", he asks stupidly.
"Don't play stupid. I mean Mags. Where is she."
For a second it seems like I see something in his eyes. Then it's gone again and he shrugs.
"Still inside."
"Sold her too?"
Jack doesn't answer to that.
I shake my head and turn away.
Then I turn back, wanting to hit him.
Hard.
But sadly, Weasel stops me.
Some cops lead Jack through the crowd of angry newsies.
They're really mad at him. Calling him names, threatening him.
Les, being the adorable kid he is, tries to defend Jack.
"He's just fooling.", he calls. "So, he can spy on them or something."
Race pitying him, smiles down at him and says: "Sure, kid. He's foolin'. Jus' foolin'."
But I don't care. For neither of them.
Still in disbelieve I turn away.
My thoughts begin to wander and so does my body.
Aimlessly I walk through the busy streets of Manhattan, not sure what to do anymore.
After about an hour I decide to visit my sister, who's still working as a laundress.
She'll know what to do.
Sarah's smart.
As I turn into the street, I hear it.
It's Sarah. She's screaming!
I walk faster, soon run and as I reach her, I see her being harassed by the Delancey brothers.
Being the good big brother that I am, I go and try to help her. But... I'm not a really good fighter.
I'm really trying.
But they're two and they have much more experience and... brass knuckles.
So, it doesn't take long until they have me laying bruised and beaten on the ground.
Morris already launches again, when suddenly someone shoves Morris off of me.
I look up to see...
Jack.
He's smiling his wide Jack-smile and beats the brothers up. Then he helps up Sarah, giving the gentleman.
"Why did you come back?", I ask, still angry and not really believing, he's back.
"Well,", he shortly hesitates. "I guess I can't be somethin' I ain't."
"What? A scab?"
"No,", he slightly smirks. "Smart."
"Really, Jack? Really?"
He nervously chuckles. "Listen, I's sorry, but I have a... quite good... ok plan? An' I need ya help."
"Excuse me? Now? After..." I sigh. "I'm glad you're back. What's your plan?"
Jacks P.O.V.
I quickly explain what I have in mind.
Davey agreed (thank god) an' dey even already have an article. Written by Denton.
Together we go ta find Denton.
We more or less catch him a bit of guard, but he lets us in.
He's packin' in his apartment. Says he lost his job an' is now goin' back ta report war stuff.
he meant every woid, he wrote, so he assures us. He tells us of all the child labour in dat damn city, an' how much money da people make from it.
"So, we can't really do, as long as dey have da power?", I ask.
Denton looks at me an' then looks back at his stuff on da table.
"Sometimes...", he says. "All it takes is a voice. One voice that becomes a hundred, and then a thousand, unless it's silenced."
He looks at each of us.
"But why can't we spread da strike?", I ask. "We could have another big rally. Wit' all the sweatshop kids."
"And what will you do? Put an ad in a newspaper?", Davey askes almost mockingly.
"No, we'll do better than dat.", I say. "We'll make our own pape."
But none seems really into it.
"Tell 'em day have ta join us.", I try again. "Ain't dat a good idea?"
"Yeah, it is.", Dave says. "But...", he looks ova ta Denton layin' a careful emphasis on his woids. "What do we know about printing a newspaper?"
"Nothin'." I answer, playin' along. "But our man Denton..."
Looks like Denton finally gets what we'se tryin' ta do, for he stops, turns ta us an' gives us a seriously-look.
"Yeah.", Davy speaks again, referrin' ta Dentons new job. "But I think our man, Denton, has something more important to do." He grabs da journalist by the shoulders.
"I mean, he's going to be an ace war correspondent.... Right Denton?"
Denton chuckles. Then he sighs. "All right. Where do we start?"
We all (except Les who is wanderin' through da room) sit down at da table.
"We gotta move fast.", I say an' explain my plan, again.
"That's good, just one tiny problem.", Denton says as I's done. "We need somewhere to print on."
I smirk. "So, it happens I know a guy wit' a printin' press. Come on."
I lead 'em through the already dark streets of Manhattan, back ta da circulation centre.
We sneak through da gate an' down da stairs.
"You've been living here?", Sarah asked.
"Yeah.", I whisper back. "But be quiet, dey'se right above us."
I lean against da door ta open it. It doesn't.
Da damn door's locked.
"Da damn doors locked", I tell da others my thought before another one hits me. "NO! Mags!"
"What's the matter with her?", Davey asks confused.
"I completely forgot 'bout her!"
"I found the key.", Les interrupts my worryin' an' gives me da key.
I unlock an' open da door.
Inside it's dark but we'se got a lantern.
"Mags?", I whisper as I walk down da stairs.
No answer.
"Mags? Ya here? It's me Jack."
Silence
At first.
After a short while: "Jack?"
I look around an' finally spot her.
She's standin' in da darkest corner, behind da old printin' press, an' slightly smiles at me.
But she can't fool me. Her face is covered wit' bruises an' her skirt an' blouse is torn.
"Mags!", I say. "What... what did dey do ta ya?"
"Calm down, Cowboy. I's ok."
"No, ya not."
"Hey Davey."
"Don't ignore me, god damn it." I grab her shoulder, causin' her ta wince. "Oh my god, I's-I's so sorry." I immediately let her go.
"Les. Sarah... Mr. Denton. What-"
"Sh!", I interrupt her. "We'se got a plan."
"A... plan?" She raises her eyebrows.
"Yes."
Magpie climbs through da window.
We had ta break it open by da way.
She's wearin' one of my new shirts an' a pair of my new trousers. Both is awfully too big, but she doesn't care.
We climb in da wagon an' begin our work.
After dat, all we have ta do is wait.
I use da, hopefully short, free time ta finally talk ta Magpie.
"Hey.", I says as I sit down beside her.
"Hey.", she answers, lookin' at me, slightly smilin'.
"So, tell me. What did dey-"
"Drop it, please. I ain't in da mood foa dat now."
"Mags-"
"No. Please. Jus'... jus' forget it."
"No."
"Why?"
"You'se my sista an' I care 'bout my sista, ya know?"
"No. Really. Why do ya care?"
"Ain't dat enough reason?"
"No! I's jus' a Newsie. I's not ya real sista, so much I wanna be, I's not. Ya said it ta Davey. Da Newsies ain't enough foa ya. Ya don't see 'em as a family. Ya still wanna go away. So, tell me why, foa gods' sake, da ya care about me?!"
"Did dey...", I ask when she finished her outburst.
She looks away ta her hands in her lab an' begins ta play wit' her fingers.
"They soaked me... again. Ok? It's fine.", she says, wavin' her hand like it's nothin'.
"I's gonna kill 'em!" stand up, but she grabs my hand.
"No!"
"Why?!", I almost shout. I can't believe her! "Dey freckin' soaked ya! Again!"
Some of da boys confused turn ta us.
"SH, ya idiot!" She shoves her hand over my mouth. "Ya won't kill 'em, because I'll do it myself, when we'se finished here."
I smile an' take her hand off my mouth. "Dat's da Magpie I know."