Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, Empress of the World, or and other media references I may make.

Emperor of the World

May 27th, 3:30pm, My House, Manhattan, New York

It's never good news when your parents decide to have a family meeting in the living room that consists of your mother talking, your father twiddling with a pillow and you staring blankly at the ground.

"James, sweetheart, are you listening to me?"

I nod, even though I didn't hear a word she's said.

"So it's OK with you then?" she asks next.

"What?" I ask dreamily, not really realizing what she's talking about.

My father laughs softly and my mother lets out an aggravated sigh.

"Your mother was just saying," I sit up straighter, when my father talks it's hard not to listen. "We were thinking about going on a cruise to the Mediterranean this summer."

I am suddenly aware of my jaw hanging open. "All summer?" I ask.

They both nod at the same time. Creepy.

"Mom!" I groan. "You know I get sea sick! I'll be throwing up the entire time!"

"James, we can't miss out on the world because of your weak stomach," she says.

"At least let me stay home!" I beg.

"Not by yourself, you're only sixteen!"

I roll my eyes; I'll be seventeen in November. "Mom, you know Specs? He's going to a camp...an enrichment camp this summer. Can I go with him?" I try for second best.

The 'enrichment' part tweaks her interest. "You mean Zachary? Yes, his mother was telling me. You'd want to go?"

'Uh huh. Please!"

"I'll think about it." Contrary to most parents, this always means 'yes'.

June 4th, 5:30 pm, Prucher Hall Auditorium

Specs and I drove up together in Specs' old, beat up car. It is multi-coloured and has cow-printed seats. Specs loves his car.

The auditorium is very large and looks unused. There is no gum on the backs of the seats or any scribbled marker graffiti anywhere in the room. Specs fidgets with his glasses and shifts in his chair, trying to get comfortable. Around us many people are filing in and chattering with others. Looks like they all came up with their friends too.

However, we seemed to have sat in the loner section, no one around us is talking and no one is moving much. One girl is leaning back with her head tilted over her seat so her chin is pointed to the ceiling and another is drawing steadily on her arm, tracing the pattern of polka dots and squiggles from her t-shirt onto her limbs. She is wearing a long red skirt that is cut and tied into strands in various places. Beside her is a boy with shocking green eyes and blonde hair of various shades. He has his feet on the seat of the chair, folding up what seems like six feet of dark, distressed, jean-clad leg. Momentarily he spots me watching him and shoots me a smile before focusing on the stage at the front of the auditorium once again.

"Damn, this is boring," whispers Specs, putting his feet up on the seat in front of him.

I nod and stifle a yawn. "I want to get some rest."

Rooms will be assigned after the welcoming speech, so we had to leave our bags in one of the buildings, helter-skelter and littering the floor. I did bring my backpack with me though. Out of it I pull my Discman and sketchbook. I push play and open my sketchbook to the first available page.

I look around, listening to the sounds of Fight Test by The Flaming Lips on my mix CD. I begin to sketch the arch of the walls into my book, trying to make the picture a birds-eye view from the centre of the roof. My lead is too dull and it leaves a second line that I haven't actually drawn, but that is just a sort of afterthought by my pencil.

"What are you drawing?" whispers Specs, leaning over to take a look. I tilt the book towards him, but quickly snap it back and remove my headphones as someone approaches the microphone on the stage and clears his throat.

"Welcome, children, to the fifteenth year that Siegel Institute has held this educational summer programme," there is a polite scattering of applause and the man smiles falsely before continuing. "My name is Bryan Denton, or Professor Denton. During the school year I teach Advanced Journalism at Brown University, here I teach Journalism 101. I am the head of staff here and any problems with teachers, a CIT or the way things are being run in any respect, please see me or one of the other adults in charge."

Beside me Specs's eyes have glazed over and I continue to sketch the auditorium. I have got the shape down and am working to the stage. Soon I will have to add details and occupants.

I have completely stopped listening to what the man is saying, but am jerked back to reality by someone snickering behind me. The girl who was drawing on her arms has shoved her hand in her mouth and is struggling with laughter. I raise my eyebrows at her and she laughs even harder. I turn back around and begin to sketch again.

I start on the audience now, having finished the stage and a little man on it waving and seemingly speaking to the crowd. I just draw heads with bits of hair on them, not venturing into much detail. When I get to our section I draw a sloppy sketch of Specs, I draw the girl with her head tilted back, except now you can see what I imagine her face looks like, with her eyes closed. Then I draw the girl who is laughing, her curly hair wild and untamed and then I draw the boy with the blonde hair who smiled at me. Last I draw what I imagine what I must look like, clutching my sketchbook. As I finish the drawing applause erupts, as if to congratulate my picture. Of course, this is not the case, they are applauding Professor Denton, who has finished his speech and dismissed us.

I show Specs my drawing now and he shrugs. The girl with the red hair who was laughing comes up to me. "Hi, I'm sorry about laughing. He started talking about not getting pregnant while you're here—" my eyes grew wide. "But not in those words, of course. Were you even listening to the speech?" she asks.

I shake my head. "No, I was drawing," I admit.

She smiles cheekily. "Really? Can I see?"

I shrug. "I guess." I hand her the book.

She stares at the picture of the auditorium for a few seconds before flipping through to other pages. "These are good," she tells me. "Did you just get this done now?" she asks incredulously.

"Yeah," I nod.

"My name's Medda, by the way," she says, handing me back my sketchbook. "What's your name?"

I smile, happy to have met someone already. "James, but everyone calls me 'Dutchy'," I tell her. "Oh!" I almost forget. "This is Specs, we go to school together back home."

She turns and faces Specs, who has stood up and is stretching out his legs. "Oh, hello," he says when he sees her.

"Hi, I'm Medda," she says again. They shake hands.

She turns to the both of us. "I was here last year, but none of my friends came back."

"I hope that's not an indication of the year to come," jokes Specs.

I watch the blonde boy walk up the stair to leave the auditorium. When he's standing he is very tall, taller than me by a few inches. When he reaches the top of the steps he stops and seems to be contemplating something. After a pause he turns back around and begins back down towards us.

"Um..." he calls uncertainly upon approaching us. "Do you think I could walk with you guys?" he asks us.

Medda's face breaks into a smile. "Of course! I'm Medda," she says for the third time.

"My name's Christopher," he flinches when he says this. "But please call me Skittery."

I don't ask what's so wrong with the name 'Christopher'; it's a very normal name.

The four of us begin to walk away when I realize I have left my backpack on the ground. I hand Medda my sketchbook and run back to get it. In the row behind me the girl is still sitting with her chin tilted up.

"Uh..." I push her knee slightly. "Are you awake?" I push her knee again.

She sits up and rubs her neck. "What's going on?" she asks, blinking and looking around slowly.

"The speech is over," I tell her. "Did you hear any of it?"

She shakes her head.

"Don't worry," I assure her. "You didn't miss much."

"Dutchy!" calls Specs from the top of the stairs. "Hurry up!"

I shoulder my backpack. "We're going to get our rooms, want to come?" I ask her.

She nods and stands. She is wearing an eighties style skirt over black tights and a lacy white shawl over a plain white shirt. "My name's Isabel."

Together we walk up the stairs and join the others.

June 4th, 6:15 pm, Anderson Hall

"I'm telling you," insists Medda, jumping around the group. "Get a room in Hall B, it rocks!"

None of us have ever been here before so we take her suggestion into consideration. In front of us a girl and a boy turn to face us. "What's so great about Hall B?" asks the boy.

Medda smiles and jumps around a bit more. "The CIT there was awesome there last year! I was checking the hall list and it's the same guy. Seriously."

The girl blinks dumbly. "What's a CIT?" she asks slowly.

Medda rolls her eyes. "Counsellor In Training," she says, though still smiling.

We all introduce ourselves to the couple.

"I'm Jack," says the boy dully. Jack has stringy light-brown hair to his ears and muted blue eyes. He is taller then me, but not quite taller than Skittery. He's maybe about six feet. He is wearing a pair of interestingly chosen pinstripe pants and a navy shirt that reads 'Just be Happy I'm Not Your Kid'.

The girl smiles as if someone has made a mediocre joke. "I'm Jade." Jade looks like the female version of Jack. She has the same blue eyes and light-brown hair; only it is silkier and hangs to her mid-back. She is tall too, but not as tall as Jack, maybe about an inch shorter than me. She is wearing tight jeans and a tank top with a short pink sweater on overtop.

When we all reach the front of the line we request Hall B and the girl behind the desk gives us our keys. Specs and I are sharing a room because we requested it upon signup, but no one else has rooms together because we just met. Luckily, though, Isabel's room is next to ours and Jack's is across the hall.

June 4th, Siegel Institute Cafeteria, 6:30 pm

"Jade is my sister," Jack explains, putting his tray of food down on the lunch table. "Our dad found this place and signed us up. We didn't even know we were coming until the last day of school, I was planning a trip to California with my friends." He sounds understandably upset.

"My parents wanted me to go on a cruise," I laugh bitterly. "I get motion sickness."

Specs nods. "We had to take fifty rest stops on the way up here 'cause Dutchy 'wasn't feeling well'."

I blush and begin to eat my soggy pizza.

Medda sprawls onto the bench and thrusts her tray down dramatically. "I came back because last year I loved it!"

"It was that good?" asks Isabel sceptically.

Medda shrugs. "I'm not sure. Maybe it was just because all my friends were here."

Jade blinks. I don't say anything, though not sure why no one else is.

Medda continues. "But this year I've got you guys! It'll be great." She laughs shakily.

"Cigarette?" offers Jack, producing a pack from his back pocket.

Medda nods and grabs one from him. She lights it and twirls it between her fingers for a few seconds before taking a very long drag on it. Nearby a table of cheerleader-like girls have looked up and are shooting us dirty looks. One of them walks over, smirking.

"Excuse me," she says loudly and simpering so that the whole cafeteria can hear her.

Medda looks up and exhales, covering the girl's face in fresh cigarette smoke. "What?" she asks shortly.

The girl coughs and fans away around her head. "It says there is no smoking on the property," she says demandingly, still smirking at Medda.

Medda rolls her eyes and answers coolly. "Oh, does it? I'm terribly sorry." She smiles sourly.

"Well..." the girl stares at Medda's cigarette expectantly.

Medda nods and takes a bottle of Dasani from the girl's hand. She unscrews the top and drops the still-burning cigarette in. "There you go Barbie. Sorry to cause you problems," says Medda sarcastically.

The girl makes a disgruntled sound and storms back to her table. Medda watches her before tossing the bottle in a garbage bin nearby and taking another cigarette from Jack.

As Medda lights up Jack begins to laugh. In seconds all of us but Medda and Jade are laughing hysterically. Medda is sitting coolly on her chair; lighting up her second cigarette and Jade is just staring blankly around the room.

Halfway through this cigarette a CIT approaches Medda and tells her to put out the cigarette.

Very innocently Medda taps the end of her cigarette into the trash before obviously raising her shoe and smushing the butt against it. The Cheerleader Table is looking smug, but when the CIT turns away Medda turns and flips them the bird.

"I'm turning in for the night," she says to us, making a large, fake yawn. "So much activity in one day can wear a girl out.

We follow her to Hall B and turn in to our rooms.

"See y'all tomorrow," says Skittery before closing the door softly behind him.

End Chapter

((Hmm, OK, I know I tried writing this before, but it was too close to the real story. Now I am not even looking at the book and trying to write it. The same basic plot line will follow, but not with the same events and such. I hope you enjoyed! Please review!)) ((Oh, what do you think of me making Medda a student? Imagine her some thirty years younger than in the movie. Yep, that's Medda.))