TO: ALEXANDRA PAIGE CABO, MEXICO
FROM: MOLLY O'MAHONEY MAINE, UNITED STATES
HOLA WORLD TRAVELER STOP I HAVE GREATEST IDEA STOP COME HOME QUICK STOP WE'RE GONNA BE RICH STOP MEET ME AT THE CAFE AT ONE O'CLOCK SHARP STOP MAKE SURE YOU AREN'T FOLLOWED STOP I AM A GENIUS STOP THIS IS FOR REAL STOP NOT LIKE LAST TIME STOP NO TIME TO WASTE STOP
It was a good thing, Keza thought, glancing at her watch for what felt like the billionth time, that the café was open twenty-four hours. Finished cups of tea and a nearly empty jar of pickles littered the table she was currently sitting at as evidence of how long she'd been there. She was just about to accept defeat and leave—it was obvious she was being stood up—when she heard a strange whoosh from somewhere outside the café. Moments later, the person she's been waiting for dropped seemingly out of nowhere, covered in dirt and wearing a strange sort of harness.
"You're late," Keza said irritably, casting another deliberate look at her watch. "I sent that telegram days ago."
"Sorry!" Shortie said, brushing some dirt from her filthy clothes. "I got here as fast as I could. I was in Cabo, you know, ziplining, and it would have been forever before I got a flight out here. I had to talk them into hooking up a special zipline to get me here and, you know, Mexico is pretty far away. At least I didn't have to waste time signing anything. You know Mexico…"
Keza laughed. Now that her accomplice had finally arrived she could relax a bit.
"So, you said it was urgent. Tell me about this amazing idea you had."
Keza sighed, clearly trying to get around the fact that Shortie was leaving a veritable sand dune everywhere she went.
"Alright, fine. You want something? Pickle?" She held the jar out eagerly, causing a fair amount of juice to slosh over the side. Shortie took the last two spears with a grateful nod.
"I absolutely gotta know," Shortie said around a mouthful. "It's all I could think about on the way here... especially those cornfields. The Midwest, man, I'm tellin ya. Not the most exciting thing to zip over."
"Er... no, I'd imagine not," Keza said, trying to shake the mental image before she got too distracted. "Anyway. To business." She cleared her throat and sat a little straighter, folding her hands together in front of her on the cafe table. A brown-haired girl came and replaced one empty teacup for a full one, Keza acknowledged her with a nod and a "Thank you, Meg." Shortie looked up from the comics page she'd somehow procured and gulped. This was going to be serious.
"It's, um... this doesn't have anything to do with..." Shortie began.
"No," Keza said firmly.
"Are you sure? Because I-"
"No," Keza repeated.
"Okay... I mean, I said I was s-"
"Shortie. No. Let me explain." She paused again, sipped at her tea, and tried to cover up the fact that she'd burned her tongue by clearing her throat once more. Shortie shifted nervously and wished for more pickles.
"I've had an epiphany," Keza said at last. "Shortie, you've been involved in the Newsies fandom for a long time now. Tell me, what has been your most popular story?"
"Um..." Shortie chewed thoughtfully on her pickle and then swallowed. "New Money, why?"
"What about mine?"
"Damned if I... oh, I guess probably NHS. "Welcome to NHS." ...hey, are you updating that any time soon?"
Keza smiled grimly and shook her head. "What's the connection between those two stories, Shorts?"
"Let's see... they were written years ago... massive casting calls... lots of our friends as characters... stereotypes - oh, and everyone fighting over Mush. Yeah?"
"Think bigger. Generalize."
"..."
"They took place in high school. Shorts, ever since NHS and Outkasts and all those fics started making casting calls and writing about modern day high schools, the fandom has been LOADED with such fics. Everyone writes them, everyone reads them, and everyone is IN them. Case in point: reviews gotten."
"Fair. But it's 2007, Kez. The fandom has changed."
"Aha. That's why we must change, too."
"I don't follow. Hey, Meg? Another jar, please... yeah, kosher. Great."
"Shortie, I've had the most brilliant idea, and no, it's not to update our old and frankly embarrassing high school fics."
"But the reviews...!"
"Screw reviews, Shortie!" Now Keza got to her feet, clearly agitated. "We're past reviews now, kiddo. No, I'm talkin the big time here, I'm talkin the big bucks, and we're gonna make millions!"
Shortie stood too, lest she feel left out. "What! How!?"
"Isn't it obvious?!" Silence. "We make the ultimate Newsies and high school fic... but... this is no fic... this is a movie."
Shortie stared at her friend a moment and cocked her head.
"A movie, Shorts. Do you not hear the italics in my voice!?"
"We make a movie... out of a fanfic idea? Are you sure about this?" Secretly, Shortie was wondering exactly what was in the tea Keza was always drinking.
"Positive."
Both girls sat slowly and looked thoughtfully at each other.
"You have dirt caked on your eyebrow."
"Oh, thanks."
"Other one."
"Oh, thanks."
"Okay, listen. We have to split up. There's a lot of stuff to get done, and only a limited amount of time in which to do it." Now Keza lowered her voice and leaned forward a little. "We don't want anyone to steal our idea." Shortie nodded seriously and then crunched into a brand new pickle, which may or may not have ruined the mood.
"We have to get together our cast, crew, and set, not to mention write the script, find financial backers..." Keza started to ramble, ticking things off on her fingers as she went, and quickly running out of fingers.
"You send out the casting call," Shortie said, a plan slowly forming in her mind. "You know that's the only surefire way to get an audience, not to mention support. Find the newsies, we can't do this without them. You go out West, I'll stick around in the East."
"Alright. But… something's missing…"
"You're right. W're going to have to go after the NJL, that is, whoever is left standing from the venerable Newsie Justice League. I'm sure they'll be able to help us, at least in the financial sector. I know I can find us a set, too, and maybe some old trailers."
"Right. We meet back here in exactly two weeks in order to preside over the auditions. Be on time, please, and be tidy. We want to make a good impression on our potential cast."
Shortie nodded in agreement, and both girls let out a breath. They stared across the table at each other, munching on pickles, and finally Shortie nodded once more and said, "Break." They got up, left the cafe, and went in opposite directions down the street.
Meg, who hadn't been paying attention, noticed the girls leaving and ran to the door in vain.
"Guys? Kez - Keza! SHORTIE! GUYS! You have to pay! Guys, you can't just -- oh, bully."
from Keza - kezinator(at)gmail(dot)com
to Shortie - capnshort(at)gmail(dot)com
subject update from the field
--
Hallo, love.
Am currently typing to you from under the covers of a certain California home. Am hoping that laptop light does not give me away. Was trapped in unfortunate situation in attempt to convince Pie-eater to be in new movie. He said "a little fun, for old time sake?" I said "thanks but no, am under a tight schedule" he brought out the boxed wine, here I am.
Just a quick update but wanted to let you know. Will be moving up the coast with Pie to track down a few of the others who scattered West. You still in NYC? You may have to get some people off Broadway, be delicate.
Uh oh someone is waking up. Promises he knows the way to Santa Fe, but I think I'll give him his plane ticket now and ride off into the sunset alone, if you catch.
Peace.
Keza
from Shortie - capnshort(at)gmail(dot)com
to Keza - kezinator(at)gmail(dot)com
subject in new york
--
Kez,
Not gonna lie, your first paragraph brought back fond memories of the golden days of our correspondence when you were hiding your laptop from entirely different people for entirely different reasons. Glad to hear things are going well with Pie and don't worry about getting off schedule; boxed wine is brutal. It happens to the best of us.
I'm still in New York, tackling the boroughs one by one. You'd be surprised at how many of the boys have stuck around. Found Mush my first day here. Actually, he found me is more like it; seems the kid you commissioned to deliver the telegram to me in Mexico has been spending a lot of time in Manhattan, met up with Mush, shared a few stories, my name came up, the rest is history. Anyway, he's letting me stay with him. He's already agreed to sign on to our project and he's helping me rally up the rest of the boys in the area. We've already talked to Skittery, Bumlets, Snoddy and David. They're all in. Tomorrow we're hitting Brooklyn. Spot Conlon is supposedly still there and, strangely enough, Racetrack has apparently moved down there as well.
Someone, I'm don't know who but I'm suspecting Snitch, has leaked the news of our movie. It's getting a bit insane; I can barely go outside without getting resumes shoved in my face from every direction. Looks like we'll have a good turnout. Thought I'd give you warning in case the rumors spread out west.
Good luck and keep me posted.
Shorts
from Keza - kezinator(at)gmail(dot)com
to Shortie - capnshort(at)gmail(dot)com
subject planes, trains, more wine
--
Shortie,
Hello and more apologies for my rather unprofessional message. I'm feeling quite a bit better now, and Pie is on the way to meet up with you and whatever group you've so far assembled.
At present time I find myself in the dining car of a southbound train. As promised, the roast duck was fantastic. Perfect glaze, but that's neither here nor there.
Oh, I nearly forgot. I ran into Swifty while I was getting on the train, seems he's on his way to Mexico after some deal gone sour. I will admit that he was loathe to meet me, never mind find himself in the sleeping quarters across from mine. Apparently, he hasn't forgiven me for his last, rather unsavory role in... oh, something or other, I can't keep track. I claimed ignorance, but it's hard to do such a thing when your penname is, ah, plastered all over said work.
I digress. Swifty and I have been getting along just fine, though not without our little misadventures and misunderstandings here and there. He's rather like my own Cary Grant, you know? The good news is that I managed to convince him to join our project (over a bottle of Merlot, no less), and he agreed to catch a flight from Santa Fe. I promised we would make his protection a priority, so I'm counting on you to line up the necessary bribes, guards, etc, etc.
Well, we near our destination. I must admit that I'm a bit apprehensive about finding one Mr. Jack Kelly. I suppose it's possible that he is a fine, upstanding young businessman, but I can't shake the feeling that he was the one leading the gang that has been trying to sack the train for the past eighteen hours.
Remind me to elaborate on that later.
Sincerely,
-Keza
from Shortie - capnshort(at)gmail(dot)com
to Keza - kezinator(at)gmail(dot)com
subject partayyyy!1
--
Keza,
Well, things have gotten highly out of control. Between the boys that you've sent over and the ones I've rounded up myself, there's barely any room to move around in Mush's tiny apartment. This doesn't seem to bother them any though, they're all having a big reunion. It's been a raging party for the past three days that doesn't look like it's going to let up anytime soon. I can barely think. I've taken refuge in the bathroom to get this letter out to you before I give up and just join in on the festivities.
Someone's knocking, I should go before he bangs down the door. I'd like to hear what's going on with Jack. If the stories the boys here have been telling me are true, then it sounds like you really have your work cut out for you. Good luck and I hope you can join us soon enough.
Shortie
PS. Pie says hi
from Keza - kezinator(at)gmail(dot)com
to Shortie - capnshort(at)gmail(dot)com
subject the wild west!
--
Captain Short --
AMAZING NEWS! I had stepped down from the train and onto the station platform when who should dash by and snatch my parasol from my very hands but JACK KELLY. That fiend! This, however, is not the AMAZING NEWS. (!). I was standing with my carpet bag in one hand and shaking the other after the scoundrel when I heard a familiar and unmistakable sound.
Reluctantly, I turned from pursuing Mr. Kelly and found myself face to face with none other than Misprint and Shade. The two of them were dressed in all manner of high boots and baggy shirts and thick golden necklaces and quickly summed up how they had traveled down the coast from Vancouver, pirating as they went, and stealing away dear Rosie. She, apparently, was getting changed.
Glad as I was to see our old friends, I had to leave them with just an invitation to join us in the East, and then I ditched my bag and dashed after Mr. Kelly, heels and petticoats be damned! (I will never get used to the strange dress code in Santa Fe, has nothing changed in 100 years? I suspect Mr. Kelly to be behind it.)
Enough with the story, here are the facts. I wined and dined Mr. Kelly (emphasis on the former) and discovered that little Boots has been with him this whole time! I let them coax me into a friendly game of hold 'em and was, unfortunately, unable to "hold" onto my petticoats (yet another story for another day) but was able to regain their trust and to secure a promise. They'll be there, but insist on traveling via Pony Express.
I suppose you must pick your battles.
Yours,
the Kezinator
ps- did you ever find Racetrack?
from Shortie - capnshort(at)gmail(dot)com
to Keza - kezinator(at)gmail(dot)com
subject snyder smells (still)
--
Keza,
Well, just as I was told, Race was living in Brooklyn. He says it was in order to be closer to Cheapshed, but I can't help but wonder if the rumors are true... I wanted to ask, but even though he looks just as young as ever, (a good thing since he's playing a high schooler) this didn't feel like something I wanted to ask Spot.
The troops are pretty much all rallied at this point. girls are dropping by in groups nearly every hour to drop off resumes. They're all starting to blend together at this point. I'm not sure if it's because I've seen so many or if it's because they actually all are that similar.
Oh, interesting story. A couple nights ago, we got a visit from, wait for it, Warden Snyder. He's a cop now. No, i have no idea how he got out of jail, it's not like i sat down and had a conversation with him. Anyway, there was a noise complaint so he came investigating and he'd heard of the project. Told me he'd drag me off to the refuge if I didn't give him a part. I'm sure it was an empty threat as he clearly is no longer in charge of the refuge, but I accepted anyway. I'm sure we'd have room for him as an evil principal or janitor or something.
Looks like we'll be ready for action soon enough. I've just contacted Denton to set up a press conference. This is surely one for the papers.
Shortie
from Keza - kezinator(at)gmail(dot)com
to Shortie - capnshort(at)gmail(dot)com
subject hate chickens.
--
Shortie,
Everything seems to be in order, then? I'm glad to hear that the casting call got such a positive response, we'll have to start the auditions immediately after I return.
One more bit of good news, then I'll have to let you go. I'm in a bit of a tight spot, crammed between twenty old chicken crates on the back of a Chevy pickup... yet I can still get a wireless connection; marvelous, isn't it?
I digress. Sitting behind me is none other than Hilby, former fandom recluse, I'm sure you remember her fondly. Well, I've been catching her up on the recent happenings, and for some reason she couldn't stop giggling when she read your last email. Must have been the bit about Snyder.
I'll try to swing by and grab Frog and Dragonfly on the way up the East coast, I've decided to dispatch Hilby to fetch Gothic and TSB, as she can deal with the Georgian humidity much better than I.
I suppose any newsies we've thus missed will wander over in due time, Denton has that... charismatic way about him. Stay in touch, we shall be reunited any moment!
Keza
from Shortie - capnshort(at)gmail(dot)com
to Keza - kezinator(at)gmail(dot)com
subject this is it!
--
Keza,
Don't worry about D-fly. Found her at the Short Hills mall the other day and she was more than happy to accompany me back to the city. If you're looking for a better mode of transportation, I'd like to remind you of Rhys and her giant van that she's willing (or at least was willing five years ago) to drive around the country to New York.
Denton has agreed to help us out and he's currently rounding up the leading newspaper and TV journalists in the area. We're holding a press conference at Irving Hall one week from tomorrow. This is a big deal to a lot of people; most can't wait to see the return of high school fics: movie style. I hope you can make it! Please hurry.
Until then,
Shortie
"I feel like I could take a never ending shower." Keza stood winding her wet hair into a bun and looking not a little anxious.
"Kez, you just took a shower," Shortie glanced up from her clipboard to remind her friend. "And you only got out because my hot water tank is not the size of an Olympic swimming pool. Anyway, you ready?"
Keza muttered something about "not long enough" but steeled herself toward the double doors. "The auditions had to be in a high school gymnasium, eh?"
"Well… well, yeah, actually."
"Alright. Let's do this."
Shortie flashed a winning grin and let the clipboard fall to her side. "Bomb."
Next chapter: The auditions, aka reading through of profiles! (That's you, dear reader!) Press releases! More emails and/or voicemails! General debauchery! Is it too early for a cast party?
Note: The casting call is still open, if you're interested, simply leave a review indicating such, and we'll send a form over to you right quick! Everyone will get in, eventually.