All the Manhattan newsies were gathered at Jacobi's Deli. Everyone woke up this morning, bruised and sore. The boys were spread across the deli, slumped in their chairs, some with cold cloths on their bruises. I sat leaning up against Race's side, my arms crossed and my head leaning back against his shoulder.
"Drink up, boys." Jacobi said as he passed out waters. "And don't ever say I don't give you nothin'. And before you say water is nothing, just ask a fish. In the desert." With that, he left.
Finch stepped forwards, looking at where Jacobi disappeared back into the kitchen. "Why do old people talk?"
"To prove theys still alive." Race sighed.
I rolled my eyes at his comment. Just then, the bells on the door chimes as a familiar man walked through the door, a paper tucked beneath his arm. "Good morning." As Denton glanced around the room, his smile fell. "Oh, would you get a load of these glum mugs. Can these really be the same fellas who made front page of the New York Sun?" Denton held up the paper for everyone to see.
All the boys perked up, including myself. I sat up straight in my chair and looked over at Denton, shock on my face.
"Front page of what?" Henry asked excitedly.
Race shot up and rushed over to Denton. "Let me see!" He snatched the paper from the reporter and looked at the cover. "Well, would you look at that! That's me!"
"Front page and you ain't even dead!" Jojo exclaimed.
"Where's me?" Romeo asked, grabbing the paper from Race. "Where's me?"
Elmer snatched it from Romeo, a large smile on his face. "Just wait til my old man gets a load of this. I won't be last in line for the tub tonight!"
I rolled my eyes and grabbed the paper from Elmer, reading over the article. "Modern day Davids are poised to take on the rich and powerful Goliath with the swagger of one twice their age, armed with nothing but a few nuggets of truth, Jack and Tatum Kelly stand ready to face the behemoth Pulitzer." My eyes were wide as I turned to Denton, a smile on my face.
"You got us in the papes?" David asked, look to Denton.
"You got yourselves in the papes." He replied.
"Newsies Stop the World." Mush said, reading the title of the article. "Now there's a headline even Elmer could sell."
Spec looked away from the paper to the reporter. "Hey, what else do ya got?"
"Oh, well, mine is the only one that ran. Pulitzer declared a blackout on strike news, so even I'm shut down." Denton said, sighing. He turned towards Davey next. "I heard they arrested Crutchie. Did they get Jack, too?"
"The Delanceys are spreading the word that he took it on the land at the first sight of the cops." Albert said, approaching our small group.
Les stood up to him, trying to get in his face despite the height difference. "Jack don't run from now fight!"
"Hey, get down, short stuff. I'm just reporting the news."
I shook my head, a sad look on my face as I looked at the boy standing on the other side of the restaurant. "He's right, Al. I saw Jack there even after the bulls arrived; he didn't run."
"For jumpin' Jack's sake, can you stow his curiosity long enough to just drink...in the moment?" Race said, walking over to Albert and playfully punching his chest; this kid was full of energy all of a sudden, seeing as five minutes ago, he didn't want to get up. Race pulled Albert in for a side hug, much to the red head's disgust. "I'm famous!" Race smirked and stuck his cigar in his mouth, straightening his cap.
"Yeah, what of it?" Henry asked from his place standing on top of a table, the paper in his hand.
Race turned to look at the other newsies with a slightly shocked look on his face, snatching the cigar out of his mouth. "Well, are ya stupid or what? When you're famous, The woyld is yer erster." The boy stuck his cigar back in his mouth, a smug look on his face. Everyone looked at him with confused faces.
"Your what?"
Race took the cigar out of his mouth again. "Yer erster." When everyone still looked at him crazily, he continued. "Your erster? You know, your fancy clam with the poil inside."
"Oh! Oyster!" Everyone yelled at him, to which Racetrack just shrugged.
(^^You're welcome 🙃)
"Well, how much does being famous pay?" Henry asked his friend.
Race rolled his eyes and approached the table, snatching the paper out of Henry's hand. "Ya don't need money when you're famous. They gives ya whatever you want. Gratis!"
Henry scoffed. "Such as?"
Race smirk and pointed to the photo on the paper. "A pair of new shoes with matching laces." He sang.
Romeo sang as he snatched the paper from him. "A permanent box at the sheepshead races."
"Pastrami on rye with a sour pickle." Henry sang next, taking the paper from Romeo.
Finch went next, having his own turn with the newspaper. "My personal puss on a wooden nickel."
Racetrack took the newspaper back before walking out onto the open floor of the deli. "Look at me: I'm the King of New York!" The boy sang, holding the paper at arm's length away while he tap danced on the wooden floor. "Suddenly, I'm respectable. Staring right at'cha, lousy wit sta'cha."
Albert stood on a table, waving his hand dismissively at the other newsies. "Nobbin with all the muckety-mucks. I'm blowin my dough and going deluxe."
"And there I be! Ain't I pretty? It's my city. I'm the King of New York." Race sang again, smiling up at me; I had to climb onto a table to be able to see anything due to the crowd of boys.
"A solid gold watch with a chain to twirl it." Jojo sang, taking the paper.
Les piped in next, a large smile on his face. "My very own bed and an indoor terlet."
I rolled my eyes and took the cap off his head, ruffling his long and messy hair. "A barbershop haircut that costs a quarter." I sang before putting the hat back on his head.
"A regular beat for the star reporter." Davey sang next, holding the paper open while smiling over to Denton.
"Am-scray, punk." Race sang, pointing towards the reporter. "He's the King of New York."
"Whod'a thunk?" Denton sang, a smile on his face as he shrugged. "I'm the King of New York."
All the newsies joined in together now. "We was sunk! Pale and pitiful."
"Bunch of wet noodles."
"Pulitzer's poodles." The newsies and Denton sang, putting our hands out like a pouting dog.
Les stepped forwards. "Almost about to drown in the drink."
"When he fished up out." I sang.
"And drowned up in ink." Race finished.
"So, lets get drunk!" Denton sang, causing cheers of agreement to ripple throughout the restaurant. The newsboys threw their hands up in celebration before Denton ellaborated. "Not with liquor; fame works quicker when you're King of New York."
A few boys booed before we all sang together again. "I gotta be either dead or dreamin', cause look at that pape with my face beamin'. Tomorrow they may wrap fishes in it, but I was a star for one whole minute!"
Some of the newsboys started tap dancing, myself included. It was rare moments like these nowadays that the newsies would just have fun like this. We used to mess around and play with one another before the strike started, but ever since then, we haven't. It was nice to be doing it again.
Race and a few of the other boys got spoons and were clanking them together. A few boys climbed onto the tables and were hitting the spoons on their knees as they did a little dance battle.
A few boys convinced Denton to give it a try, and I attempted to show him a few steps, but he didn't pick them up; he wasn't a dancer, at all.
"Look at me!" Everyone in the deli sang loudly; it was only the Manhattan newsboys and Denton, so it's fine. "I'm in the King of New York! Wait and see; this is gonna make both the Delanceys pee in their pansies. Flashpots are shootin' bright as a sun! I'm one highfallutin son of a gun! I guarantee: though I crapped out, I ain't tapped out! I'm the King of New-. Friends may flee! Let 'em ditch ya! Snap one pit'cha. You're the King of New-. History! Front page story! Guys and glory! I'm the King of New York!"
We all stayed at the deli for a while after, dancing and joking, laughing and smiling. It was a totally different scene. If you had walked in not even ten minutes ago, you would have not expected to see this afterwards. The whole mood of not only today but of the strike had ch aged; we were hopeful now. Hopeful that our voices would be heard.
Word Count: 1531