July 1899
At many places in Manhattan, New York City
Jacks P.O.V.
We'se standin' in front of da woild buildin'. Again.
I sigh an' sit down on the statue of Horace Greene.
Da sun's boinin' down, da boys's all skittery.
Skittery and Mush restlessly walk around the statue, drivin' everyone mad.
Davey's leanin' next ta me.
Mags is feedin' boids.
What if dey don't come?
What if I failed again?
Da time flies by, wit'out anythin' that happens.
Da fellas try ta motivate me.
I's about ta give up when suddenly...
Voices.
Hundreds of voices.
Very quiet, faintly in da distance, growin' louder an' louder every second.
An' then I see 'em.
Hundreds of children and teens swapin' onto the place like a wave of the anger of people, dat finally break free from their oppression.
Hundreds of children dat is tired of bein' da little guys, da guys no one cares for.
Hundreds of children raisin' their voices against their bosses and cops.
Hundreds of children joinin' our strike.
Hundreds of children cheerin', celebratin' da strike.
Filled with new hope Davey an' I make our way into da da Woild boildin'.
This time no one can stop us!
I open da doors ta da woild (wit'out knockin'), a copy of da Children's crusade in my hand.
His butlers make ways foa us.
But at da second door, da door to his office, I suddenly become shy. A bit afraid even.
But I take a deep breath, shove all worries aside, step forward ta da desk, lay da pape down on it an' say: "Extry, extry, Joe. Read all 'bout."
"I promised I'd break you.", Pulitzer says, makin' an... awkward movement wit' his hands dat definitely doesn't mean "break". "I'll keep that promise, boy. Now I gave you a chance to be free, I don't understand."
I stick my hands in my pockets.
"Everyone who doesn't act in his own self-interests is a fool.", he continues.
"Then what makes that you?", Davey asked from behind me.
"What?", Pulitzer asks, seemingly only now realisin' Dave's even here.
"Oh, dat's my pal, David.", I introduce 'em. "Da walkin' mouth."
"Oh yeah. David.", Pulitzer repeats.
Davey then gives a speech about how Pulitzer also didn't act in his own self-interests. About how da pape is down 70 per cent. About Pulitzer's loosing thousands of dollars because of da strike.
Very imperssin' if I may say.
"Why?", Dave eventually ends his speech.
Pulitzer doesn't answer, so I do it foa him.
"Oh, ya see, dat ain't 'bout money, Dave. If Joe gives in ta nobodies like us... that means we got da power."
Pulitzer jus' continues ta smoke.
So, I jus' continue ta badge him. "He can't do dat, no matter what it costs.... Ain't dat right, Joe?"
"I'll call the police.", he answers calmy. "They'll be here any minute."
"Oh, I won't go back ta jail.", I say, makin' my way around da desk ta da window.
That's where da power is.", I say an' open it. As I's done, da voices from outside become so loud, one hardly can understand ones' own woids.
"Close it! Close the window!", Pulitzer yells at me. To the fellas down on the street he yells: "Go home."
"I can't hear ya.", I yell back.
"Go home!", he tries again.
Then he gives up an' goes back in.
There I finally get ta say anythin'. I explain dat those kids won't jus' go away, an' dat puttin' me inta jail won't do anythin' eighter.
"Dat's da power of da press, Joe.", I say triumphal an' go ta close da window. "Thanks, foa teachin' me 'bout it."
Now, Pulitzer actually reads our pape.
"I ordered a printing ban. Who defied me? Whose press did you use?"
"Whose press? Please.", I say innocent. "We'se your loyal employees. We'd never print somewhere else. So, let me say it again. Thank ya."
We exit da big cold buildn'.
Da fellas is waitin' foa us, an excided tension layin' on 'em.
I bow down ta Les an' whisper: "We won." inta his ear.
He looks up at me, his eyes full off joy. I pick him up an' sit him down on my shoulders.
"We won!", he shouts ova all da heads of all da kids.
There's a short realisin' silence, which ends abruptly wit' loud cheerin'.
Mags suddenly is there an' hugs me tightly.
Everyone's happy... until... a whistle.
Da bulls.
Da fellas quickly shieldin' us.
But before we can away, Denton suddenly appears.
He tells us not ta worry an' really. Dey's not here ta bring us back ta jail... no, dey's here ta get all da kids from da refuge outta jail!
Soon Crutchie is layin' in Mags arms, who is cryin' tears of joy.
Teddy Roosevelt joins us too, congratulatin' us ta our successful strike an' offerin' me a ride, to wherever I want.
"So... He can give me a ride ta da train station?", I ask, still not really believin', what jus' happened.
"If that is, what you want.", Denton answers.
Excited I look at Mags, who's standin' right beside me. "Ya comin' wit' me, little sista?"
But she sadly smiles an' shakes her head. "No, Jack. I's sorry. I can't... I got family here, ya know?"
"So... we part here?"
"Looks like it."
"Well then. Farewell Magpie. I hope ta see ya again (It's only a matter of time. I'm sorry I had to.)." I hug her.
She smiles as she hugs me back. "Send me a post card, Cowboy.", she mumbles in my shirt.
"Promise." I kiss her hair, let her go an' climb into da carriage.
Davey's P.O.V.
I wave as the carriage leaves the court. With Jack.
Les is crying and I have one arm around him. My other arm lays around Sarah.
Then we hear the circulation bell ring.
Time to go to work again.
I go to get my papes an' almost die of a shock, when Mags is suddenly standing beside me.
"Magpie!", I say, still in shock. "You scared me to death!"
"Sorry." She smiles at me.
But her smile's sad, not the usual sunny one.
"Didn't mean ta."
"You already miss him, don't you?"
She looks away. "Let's... jus'... Let's not talk 'bout dat now."
"Ok."
I turn to the new pape seller an' take out a 60-penny-piece.
I dramatically turn it in my hand before I slam it on the counter.
"One hundred!"
I hear the others cheer.
"Jack!", somebody shouts, causing us all to turn.
Whoever shouted is right.
There is Jack.
On the carriage, which is rolling through the circulation gate.
At once, everyone's crowding him.
They pat his shoulders, hug him and... then he... he kisses Sarah.
Briefly I'm in shock.
"Look!", I say and turn to Mags... but she's gone.
Confused I look around.
She's nowhere to be seen.
Well, that's not difficult, since she's very short, but still...
"Heya Davey!", Jack calls and waves. "How's da headline today?"
"Oh, Jack.", I say with a smirk an' put on my hat. "Headlines don't sell papes. Newsies sell papes."
We spit in our hands and shake.
"So,", Jack asks. "Where's my sista?"
"To be honest.", I answer. "I don't know. She was with me no five minutes ago."
"Strange... Well, I'll see her tonight at da Lodge."
He's not really as calm as he pretends to be. I see the worried look in his eyes. But he buys his papes anyway.
And so, we go selling.
After we're finished, we all meet at Tibby's to celebrate.
The end of the strike an' Jack's return, of course.
Everyone's happy.
Everyone but Jack.
He seems to be somewhere completely else. I eventually walk up to him.
"Let's go out of here.", I say.
He thankfully smiles and we walk outside.
"You're worried about her?", I ask, already knowing the answer.
He nods. "Ya think... ya think she hates me?"
"Why should she? She was happy for you. For sure."
"I don't know... It's jus'..." He sighs. "I mostly came back because... because of her..."
"Really?"
"Kinda... But don't ya ever tell her I said dat!"
"Um... ok..."
We start walking.
Silence.
"So... um...", I try to start a conversation. "You're with my sister now?"
He blushes... or maybe I just imagen that. "... Maybe..."
"You kissed her... And kiss isn't even the right word for... for what you two did there."
His, maybe just imaged, blush grows darker. "I didn't ask her ta be my goil yet."
"Which means?"
"We ain't officially together... yet."
We reach the Lodge House and Jack visibly stiffs.
"Frightened?", I ask jokingly.
He nods.
Oh.
We walk in. Him behind me.
Mr. Kloppman's sitting behind his desk as always.
"Is Mags home?", I ask him. The old man nods and points at the ceiling. She seems to be upstairs.
So, we climb the stairs and enter the bunkroom.
It's empty, the curtains around her bed open.
The bathroom too.
She's on the roof.
I look at Jack. He should go up there alone. He looks scared, but nods.
I have to confess, I have absolutely no clue, why he's so afraid of Magpie... but, for sure, he has his reasons.
He opens the window and looks back at me. Then he climbs out.
Jacks P.O.V.
I's standin' on da fire escape. Davey still inside, Mags on da roof, in my Penthouse in da sky.
I don't know, why I's so scared an' what I's afraid of... I simply is.
I climb da ladder, reach da top an' step on da roof.
Mags is sittin' on da ledge, her feet hangin' over Manhattan. Jus' like in da night she came back. Now it's da night I come back.
I walk over an' sit down beside her. She doesn't look at me an' keeps her glare on da houses an' streets below.
Neither of us speaks.
"So", she says after a while. "Ya came back."
"Looks like it."
"Why?"
"I's sorry?"
"Why, Jack? Dat was a chance of a lifetime!"
"Well... I realised somethin'. I realised I still got work here." I look at her. "And... I still got family here."
"So? An' who might dat be?"
I's confused an' hesitate foe a second. "Ya, of course. Ya an' da boys."
"Me?"
"Yeah. What'd ya think?"
She shrugs. "Don't know. Sarah?"
"Ya... You'se jealous?!", I ask surprised. I expected everythin'. Everythin' but dat.
"What?! No! Ya my brother, Kelly!"
I start laughin'.
"What's so funny?" She crosses her arms an' turn away.
"Oh, come on." I hug her an' peck her head.
"What did Davey say anyways?", she asks, completely ignorin', what I's doin'.
"'Bout what?", I ask, gently strokin' her hair.
"Dat you'se datin' his sista."
"She's not my goil.", I answer. "... yet."
"Ya kissed her though, Cowboy."
"He doesn't really mind, so-"
"He doesn't really mind? Is ya kiddin' me?"
"Well, he ain't against it, so... I think... it's ok."
"Ok? Sure... I mean what would ya do if Davey'd kiss me?"
"I'll better not think 'bout that."
"Thought so."
"Do... do ya hate me?"
"Maybe a bit."
"Fair enough."
Silence.
"Jack?"
"Hm?"
"I's glad ya back."
"Me, too, Mags. Me too."
She lays her head on my shoulder an' I lay my arm 'round her. So, we sit there, watchin' da moon, which is jus' raisin'.