Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies. Too bad for me.

A/N: So, last week, I was thinking how I hadn't written anything for Newsies in a while. Then, my mind started singing. Like, "Now is the time to seize the day!" And I was thinking, Mind, what are you doing? And it answered, "Speak up, take a stand, and there's someone to write about it-that's how things get better!" Thus, this story you're about to read. I've recycled this idea about 6 times, so we'll see how it goes.

ATTENTION READERS: Updates will be slow from now on (please see profile for more information!).

Katherine forgot there was a staircase in the main hall of her high school. And when you try to walk down stairs you forgot existed, you fall. Tragically.

The bell buzzed, signifying the end of the school day, and the students filed out of their classrooms, laughing, pushing, eager to get home. Amongst them, a smaller girl with curly brown hair carried a bulging backpack on her shoulders, and a mound of papers in her arms. As the crowd of teenagers bustled past her, she struggled to keep her papers from flying.

And that's where the stairs came in. Looming before the girl was the daunting, 5-step staircase that led to every student's freedom: the main entrance door. The stairs were closing in. Ten steps away. Eight. Five. Two. One.

As the girl took her next step, it landed not on level floor, but in the air. She tripped. The papers went flying. Crap.

Katherine lay on the ground, watching, as about twenty different papers that she had previously kept all in order in a neat pile, soared through the air, and landed unceremoniously on the floor, where unaware students stepped on them, leaving dirt footprints on the once pristine, white papers. She groaned in dismay. Stupid stairs.

She scrambled around, avoiding feet and legs to collect her scattered papers. She had gathered maybe two, when she heard a male's voice say, "You dropped something."

Not bothering to look around, she gritted her teeth and replied, "You don't think I didn't notice?"

The boy laughed, "You need some help with those?"

Katherine shook her head vigorously, "Just leave. You're going to miss the bus, anyway, if you help."

"Ah, and miss out helping a pretty girl like you?" the voice responded, the amusement in his tone. Oh, so now he was flirting with her?

Katherine sighed as she snatched another paper, "Help if you want. I don't care. But when you have to walk home in the cold, I won't take responsibility." The boy laughed again-a pleasant, resounding sound-and in seconds, kneeled down next to her.

Out of the corner of her eye, Katherine glanced at her helper. He had brown ruffled hair and dark eyes, and taller than her. He was handsome, but that was irrelevant.

Within a few minutes, the boy had gathered most of her papers, and handed it to her.

"Thank you," she said, itching to just leave.

The boy smirked, "Hey, no problem. The name's Jack. Jack Kelly."

"Oh, um," Katherine said, "I should get going now. My parents are probably having a fit right now because I'm late."

"Okay," Jack replied, "I'll come with you." Katherine tilted her head.

"What?"

"Well, we both missed the bus, right? Now, we can just walk together. I'm sure we're heading in the same direction. What bus do you usually ride home?" Jack asked.

"Eighty-nine," Katherine answered.

Jack grinned, "Great! Same as me!" He grabbed her arm, and dragged her out the door. Katherine sighed.

"So," Jack started as they walked, "what are those papers for anyway?" He gestured to Katherine's stack of papers.

"This is my journalism assignment," she responded, picking up a couple of the papers. "And these," she picked up the rest of the papers, "are my failed attempts to complete the assignment."

Jack whistled. "Wow. What's the assignment."

She exhaled, "So, it's actually pretty simple: I have to write an article about an assigned historical event, except I have to write it as if I was actually there reporting it."

"What event did you get?"

"The Newsboy Strike of 1899," Katherine said, looking at him.

"Oh, yeah...the Newsboy Strike of 1998-"

"1899," Katherine corrected.

"Whatever. The Newsboy Strike of 1899...never heard of it!" Jack declared amiably.

Katherine laughed, "I thought you wouldn't have. Once upon a time, in this very city, there were these boys called newsboys, or newsies…" She explained the whole strike to Jack, who watched in utmost interest, nodding and asking questions. He seemed to like these newsie characters very much.

"Well, that was really cool and interesting," Jack breathed after she was done her history lesson, "Obviously, you know a lot about the topic. What's the problem, then?"

"I have writer's block. I don't know what to write, or the right way to write it. I don't even have a headline!"

Jack thought for a moment, before suggesting, "'Newsies Stop the World'."

"Hmm?" Katherine asked, lost in her own thoughts. Jack took her shoulders and turned her towards his direction.

"'Newsies Stop the World'. Not a bad title, eh?" he said, looking proud of himself.

Katherine's eyes widened, "Not a bad title at all! Nice use of a hyperbole, by the way."

"A what?"

"Nevermind."

So the two talked and walked without really looking where they were going, and by the time they stopped again in front of an apartment, Katherine and Jack had basically figured out the whole article.

"Um, Jack?" Katherine said, glancing at the building, "Why did you stop?"

He looked at her, puzzled, "This is my apartment."

"What? You live here? What floor?"

"Third."

"What room?"

"Uh, 317?"
"No way," Katherine said, "I'm in 315! And you're not new here, are you? You've been my neighbor the whole time? I've never seen you before."

"Same," Jack replied, looking honestly confused, "I don't even know your name after I just walked with you for maybe an hour."

"Oh. Katherine Plumber, nice to meet you," she introduced herself, "Well, neighbor...let's hope my parents don't kill us both for being late."

"Yup," Jack said as they climbed the stairs to the third floor, "We should do this everyday!"

A/N. Bleeegh, I did not know how to end that. Sorry readers. By the way, this IS a multi-chapter story. Meaning, more that one chapter! I'm so proud of myself. See you sometime soon. I have an idea. Also, title is liable to change. A lot. Anyway, BYE!