Play the song up top. I put a high school version up here so you could see the dialogue that goes with it.
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"Papers for the newsies, line up kids." We all form a straight line and fish our money out of our pockets. Jack, as usual, is first with me next.
"Good morning, Weasel." He says and I roll my eyes.
"Miss us?" I batt my eyelashes and smile sweetly.
"The name's Wiesel." He says and waves the Delanceys over. Morris hands me 50 papers and I give him the money. I take a seat on a crate next to the gate and try to think of some good headlines. Maybe I can find a way to somehow expose the Delanceys....
Jack's voice snaps me out of thoughts.
"Ain't that what I said? I'll take the usual." He gives Weasel his money.
"A hundred papes for the wise guy." Oscar shoves the papes at Jack and rubbs his shin where Jack hit him with the crutch. Race moves to the window.
"How's it going, Weasel?"
"At least call me mister."
"I'll call you sweetheart if you spot me fifty papes." He raises his eyebrows up and down. Weasel looks at him disgusted. We all laugh so hard, I thought my stomach could fall off.
"Drop the cash and move along."
Race moves away from Weasel saying, "Whatever happened to romance?"
"Good morning Mr. Wiesel." Crutchie hobbled along.
"Fifty papers for Crutchie." Race approached me with his papers.
"Hey Kicks." I turn around and face him. I earned this nickname for getting Morris in the spot.
"What?"
"We all knows this headline is bogus. Help me come up with some good ones."
Except a new newsie caught my eye. He'd caught everyone's eye.
He wore a blue and white flannel shirt with a black tie and vest. His brown pants didn't have a speck of dust on them and his brown shoes shone. His brown cap shades a pair of bright eyes.
He held the hand of a little boy, about the age of ten. Like the boy holding his hand, he wore flannel but his was red, gray, and white plaid. He wore no vest so we could see his suspenders. His hat was grey and so were his pants. His shoes were black and his curly hair was brown.
"Would you take a look at this new kid?" Weasel says and the Delanceys snicker.
"I'm new too!" The ten year old pipes up.
"Don't worry kid----rubs right off." Race commented and I smack him in the arm.
"You want headline help or not?" But even I take my eyes off this kid.
"I'll take twenty newspapers, please." The older kid says.
"Twenty newspapers for the new kid. Let's see the dime." He holds out his hand.
"I'll pay you when I sell them." All the other newsies tried not to laugh. This kid has a lot to learn.
"Funny, kid. C'mon, cash up front." He hesitates before speaking.
"But whatever I don't sell, you'll buy back, right?" Elmer cracked up and snorted so loud, I bet Harlem could hear him.
"Certainly. And every time you lose a tooth, I'll slip a penny under your pillow. C'mon. Cough up the cash or blow." He hands them a dime and looks over his papers as if he were counting them. He stopped, shook his head and counted them again.
"What's the problem?" I asked and he sighed.
"I asked for twenty but they gave me nineteen. Should I say something?"
"Of course! Oscar probably can't count to ten to save his life, let alone twenty. Go tell Weasel. I'll be by your side if anything happens."
"Really?" I nod. He ambles over there but stops halfway.
"Which one is Weasel?"
Albert walks up to get his papers and he has a wide grin on his face.
"Albert, lemme see your money."
"You know," he starts. "You have a very interestin' face. Ever thought about getting into the moving pictures?"
"You think I could?" Weasel fixed his hair.
"That one." I pointed at him and the boy marched over.
"Sure. Buy a ticket, they'll let anyone in."
"Sorry. Excuse me. I paid for twenty but you gave me nineteen." Everyone stops what they are doing to watch him.
"You see how nice I've been to this new kid? And what do I get for my civility? Ungrounded accusations."
"I just want what I paid for." He stands a little straighter.
"He said beat it." Oscar cracked his neck and got ready for a fight. The newsie shook and fear flashed in his eyes. I was going to intervene but I didn't have to. A blue shirted flash came in and quickly counted the papers.
"New kid's right, you only gave him nineteen." I recognize that voice as my brothers. "I'm sure it was a honest mistake in account'a Oscar can't count to twenty with his shoes on."
Oscar can't count with his shoes off, I think to myself.
Oscar's face darkens and he steps toward him but Weasel pushes him back. He holds Oscar back with one hand and tosses another paper to the new kid with the other.
"Here. Now take a hike." He finally manages to get Oscar under control. Jack slaps a coin down.
"Give him another fifty papes."
"But I don't want more papers." He looks confused.
"For him." I say and gesture to the little boy he brought with him.
"Oh. But I'm no charity case. I don't even know you guys."
"Their names are Jack and Esther." I smiled at this kid.
"This here is the famous Jack Kelly. Famous for two reasons. One: He once escaped jail on the back of Teddy Roosevelt's carriage and made all the papes. Two: He rescued Esther from The Refuge." Crutchie nods to me at the last part.
"What's The Refuge?" The smaller one asks.
"Pray you don't find out." I say.
"How old are you, kid?" Jack takes a look at the young boy.
"I'm ten. Almost."
"If anybody asks, you're seven."
"Why?" He asks.
"Younger sells more papes." I explain.
"And if we're gonna be partners..." Jack started.
"Who said we want to be partners?" The older one says defensively.
"Selling with Jack is the chance of a lifetime. You learn from him, you learn from the best." Crutchie smiles proudly.
"If he's the best, what's he need with me?" The older kid asks.
"Cause you got a little brother and I don't."
"Jack, you have a sister!" The kid points at me.
"But his puss could sell an easy thousand a week." He turns to the small kid.
"Look sad." He makes a sad face and Jack smiles.
"We're gonna make millions."
"This is my brother David and I'm Les." The smaller kid told me.
"Nice to meet ya, Davey! My bits come off the top, then we'll split everything 70-30."
"50-50! You would try to pull a fast one on a little kid!" Les protests.
"60-40 and that's my final offer."
"Deal."
Jack spits on his hand and Les copies. They shake and Davey has a horrified expression on his face.
"That's disgusting."
"That's buisness." I decide to leave. With this snoozer of a story and Race's slow brain, we need all the headlines we can get.