The following night, we held the rally at Medea's theater; seeing as she was nice enough to let us use it. All the newsboys has gathered, chatting quietly.
I waiting backstage, tapping my foot nervously. Jack was standing beside me, a hand on my shoulder. "Calm down, Tate. Yous gonna be ok."
I nodded. "Hopefully." I mumbled. Jack was letting me lead the rally, seeing as it was me and Davey who organized it. Also, he felt that I hadn't dont much as leader as he has, so he gave this to me. To say I was nervous is an understatement.
"Newsies need our help today (newsies need our help today)." I heard voices sing softly. The Brooklyn newsies has just arrived, and they do have ways of making a grand entrance. "Tell 'em, Brooklyn's on the way (tell 'em, Brooklyn's on the way). We're from (Brooklyn). We are (newsies). We are Brooklyn newsies!"
The audience clapped as the boys from Brooklyn continued to sing. "Just got word that our buddies is hurtin. Facing total disaster for certain. That's our cue, boys, it's time to go slummin. Hey, Manhattan, the calvary's comin! Have no fear (you know we got your back from way back). Brooklyn's here (we'll get your pay back with some payback). We're the boys from the beaches of Brighton. Prospect park and the navy yard pier. Strikes ain't fun but they sure is exciting. Loud and clear; Brooklyn's here!"
"Borough what gave me birth." Spot sang softly, holding his cap on his chest.
"Friendliest place on earth." The others joined in, also holding their caps. "Pay is a visit and see what we means. And when ya do (when ya do), we'll kick you halfway to Queens! New them soakers is in for a soakin. What a sad way to end a career. They's a joke, but if they think we're jokin', loud and clear!"
"Manhattan's here!" A bunch of my friends yelled.
"Flushing's here!" A different newsboy said.
"Richmond's here!" Someone else added.
"Woodside's here!" Another newsie sang.
"So's the Bronx!" A Bronx newsies shouted, causing his friends to cheer.
"Brooklyn's here!" The Brooklynites sang again. "Loud and clear! We is here!"
The audience roared happily. As the cheering died down, I stepped out from behind stage and approached Spot. I spit it my hand and stuck it out to him. He did the same before shaking my hand.
"Welcome newsies of New York City! Welcome to my theater and to your revolution!"
"And let's hear it for Spot Conlon and Brooklyn!" I yelled, causing cheers to go throughout the theater.
Spot lifted his hands up, instantly shushing the crowd. "Let's see what Pulitzer's got to say to you now."
I smiled and nodded. "So, we've come a long way, but we ain't there yet and maybe it's only gonna get tougher from now on. But that's fine. Well just get tougher with it. But also, we gotta get smart and start listening to my pal Davey 'ere, who says to stop soakin the scabs."
A few newsies booed as I heard a newsies voice cut through the crowd. "What are we supposed to do to the bums? Kiss 'em?"
"Any scab I see, I soak em. Period." Spot said flatly.
"No, no." Davey spoke up, standing up from his seat in the crowd. "That's what they want us to do. If we get violent, it's just playing into their hands."
"Hey, look. They're gonna be playing with my hands, alright. Cause it ain't what they say, it's what we say. And nobody ain't gonna listen to us unless we make em."
I heard as the debate started going on in the crowd. Some people agreed with Spot while others agreed with me and Davey. I had to admit, if it was a few days ago, I would have agreed with the Brooklynite, too. But seeing how tough of a situation we were in, we needed to band together now more than ever.
"You got no brains." I said, causing everyone to shut up and listen to me. "Why we staring to fight each other? It's just what the big shots wanna see. That we're street rats! Street rats with no brains! No respect for nothin, including ourselves! So, here's how it's gonna be. If we don't act together, then we're nothing. And if we can't trust each other, then we're nothing."
"Tell 'em Pockets!" I heard Mush yell, causing a few of the other Manhattan newsies to laugh.
"So, what's it gonna be?" I asked the crowd.
"We're with ya, Tate." Race said, the other newsies nodding in agreement.
I looked over at Spot next. "So, what about you, Spot?"
The Brooklynite walked over to me, standing only a few inches away, looking down at me. He wore a serious look. "I say that what you say..." A smile slowly crept into his face. "Is what I say."
I smiled as he spit in his hand. I did the same and we shook, causing all the newsies gathered in the theater to cheer.
•~•
"Newsies of New York," I announced. "Please welcome to the stage, Ms Medda Larkin."
The audience cheered as I went to my table, where a few others sat; Jack, Davey, Sarah, and Spot. I sat in between Sarah and the Brooklyn leader. Jack was leaning against the girl, clearly relaxed.
Medda walked onto the stage and started to sing on of her songs. Most specifically, the newsboys' favorite.
"High times, hard times." The newsies and Medda sang. "Sometimes the living is sweet. And sometimes there's nothing to eat. But, I always land on my feet. So when there's dry times, I wait for high times and the I put on my beat, and stick out my chest, and I'm off to the races again!"
Medda stood at the end of a small runway, her hand on her hip, and open umbrella resting on her shoulder. "Hello, newsies! What's new?" The crowd cheered loudly. Medda quieted her voice before singing softly again. "So, your old lady don't love you no more. So you're afraid there's a wolf at your door. So you got street rats that scream in your ear."
There was a pause before the newsies started singing with Medda again. "You win some, you lose some, my dear. Oh...high times, hard times. Sometimes the living is sweet. And sometimes there's nothing to eat. But, I always land on my feet." I smiled as I sang, having a blast. Looking over at Jack, I saw him smiling at Sarah before he stood up and walked over to Medda, holding his hand out. The woman took it and started dancing with the young boy. "So when there's dry times, I wait for high times and the I put on my beat, and stick out my chest, and I'm off to the races again!"
"I put on my best!" Medda sang.
"I put on my best!" The newsies echoed.
"And I stick out my chest!"
"And I stick out my chest!"
"And I'm off-"
"And I'm off-"
"And I'm off..."
"To the races again!" Everyone sang together. The song ended and the hall erupted in cheers.
I heard the snap of a camera and smiled. At least Denton was getting memories of this. Suddenly, I heard whispering to my left. Looking over, I saw Davey telling something to Spot, whose face dropped to worry.
Davey rushes away as Spot stood up quickly, saying something softly to the boys behind him. I watched as Davey said something to my brother before pointing to something behind me. Turning my head, my heart stopped as I saw it wasn't something he was pointing at, but someone. Warden Snyder to be specific.
I turned back to Jack to see him telling something to Medda before kissing her and pushing through the crowd. Jack rushed over to our table as a whistle blew throughout the theater. Bulls suddenly appeared for almost every exit, charging at the newsboys.
Newsies started to panic as Jack took Sarah's hand. He turned to Spot next. "Get Tatum out of here."
Spot nodded as Jack rushed away, Sarah in tow. The Brooklynite grabbed onto my wrist and started pulling me through the crowd of newsies, who were rushing to get out of the theater. Spot suddenly froze and turned to face me. He started to gather my hair before tucking it all into my cap.
"What was that for?" I asked as he started pulling me away again.
"So you're not easily recognized." He explained. "You're kinda, a little bit, wanted by Snyder, remember?"
Just as we were getting away from the crowd, I heard someone shouting over the roar of the crowd. "No! No! For god's sake! He's just a child! Can't you see that? Racetrack!"
"Race?" I asked myself.
Not needing any further explanation, I snatched my wrist away from Spot and rushed away, not giving him a chance to catch me again. I pushed my way through the crowd towards the stage, where I could see Medda standing. As I got through the crowd, I saw Race getting dragged away by a bull, clearly in pain.
"Let. Him. Go!" I shouted, jumping onto the bull's back. He reached back and grabbed at me, but I held on tight. It worked for a minute or two before the man got a grip on my and flung me over his shoulder, right into the floor in front of him.
The impact caused the air to rush out of my lungs and I shouted in pain. I held my arms up to my chest as I breathed heavily, trying to get air back into my lungs.
The man picked me up by my shirt collar and put my half conscious body over his shoulder before he grabbed the back of Race's shirt and started walking towards the door. Knowing there was nothing I could do, I let my eyes slip closed as I finally passed out.
Word Count: 1662