Their first day as newsies had not gotten off to a good start.

As it turned out, a newsie had to buy the papers before he sold them, and the newspaper wouldn't buy back any unsold papers at the end of the day. When he simply went up the circulation gate and asked for twenty papers. He figured he would start small, and increase the number of papers he sold each day over the course of a few weeks while he learned the ropes. Imagine his surprise when Mr. Wiesel, the foul-smelling dealer, asked him to pay up. His ears turned red with shame as the other newsies laughed at him. They were dirty and smelled funny; he did not like them at all. A particularly rough-looking boy with dark hair and green eyes laughed the hardest. His only redeeming quality was that he had mocked Wiesel earlier, calling him "Weasel" and other such names.

So now David was counting his papers, just double checking to see if he had been given the right amount. He planned to split them with his little brother. He knew Les was just itching to talk to the other boys, but he told his rambunctious brother to stay put. When he only counted nineteen, his eyes widened. He counted again and got the same number.

He approached the circulation gate and said carefully, "I purchased twenty, but only received nineteen. May I have one more newspaper, please?"

The two hired muscles with Wiesel, probably brothers by the looks of them, crossed their arms. "We don't ever miscount papes. Move it along, you're holdin' up the line."

"No really, you gave me nineteen—"

"Move it, kid!" the taller muscle said with venom. David's face flushed in anger.

Wiesel rolled his eyes. "Stupid new kids," he muttered.

Before he could react, the boy who had mocked Wiesel earlier snatched David's bundle and scampered back a few feet.

David watched cautiously as the rough-looking boy rummaged through his newspaper bundle. He kept a firm hand on Les's shoulder, fearful his rambunctious brother would say something that would get them both pounded.

Instead the boy says, "You gave him nineteen, Weasel. I ain't surprised—Oscar's thicker than a rock. Youse really shouldn't have him countin' out the papes."

One of the brothers tried to charge at the boy, but Wiesel smacked him on the back of the head and shook his head. Seething, the hired muscle yanked a newspaper from the stack and tossed it at David. David was so surprised that he barely caught it. Ducking his head, he kept his grip on Les's shoulder and practically began to drag his brother towards the gate that would take them out of Newsie Square, which seemed more terrifying to him than Brooklyn.

To his horror, he heard the boy say, "I'll take another hundred for the new kids, Weasel." David heard a coin smack against the metal of Wiesel's strongbox.

Infuriated, David whirled around. "I'm not an almsman!" he snapped, glaring at the kid. "I don't even know who you are."

"I think he's called Jack," Les whispered. Les's whispering was him talking at normal volume.

"I'm your new sellin' partner, that's who I is," 'Jack' said. "I'm Jack Kelly."

"I'm Les, and this is my brother David."

"Nice to meetcha, Les, an' you too, Davey."

David is about to correct him when Kelly goes on to say, "Now, youse can sell them hundred papes an' I get seventy percent of what youse make. Sound good?"

"We aren't selling partners, and I do not want any more newspapers," David said, trying to sound firm.

The dozen or so newsboys that were crowded around them, watching, gasped. "Sellin' with Jack is the chance of a lifetime," a kid with a crooked leg like David's pop said. "He's the king of sellin' papes.

"If he's the king, why does he need me?" David countered.

"You got one more little brother than I do," Kelly said. "Little kids sell lotsa papes."

To David's horror, Les stepped forward. "We'll be your sellin' partners, but we's gotta split our earnings sixty-forty. Ain't fair otherwise."

The other newsies gasped again. Kelly looked like he was gonna pound Les, but then he grinned. "Deal." He spat in his hand and held it out. Les did too, and they shook hands.

"That's gross," David said.

"It's business." Jack Kelly climbed on top of a discarded crate. "Fellas—hit the streets an' get to sellin'. We ain't got all day!"

The newsies scattered like chaff in an autumn storm after that, until it was just Jack, Les, and David all staring at each other. "What are you lookin' at?" Jack asked. He sounded friendly when he said it.

"Can I have the hundred papes, so I can split them between Les and me?" David tried not to scowl.

"Sure thing." Jack handed the two bundles of fifty papes to him. David handed one to Les and shoved the other in his bag. It felt ready to burst under the weight of sixty papes. Thankfully, David was strong enough to haul all of them around. "I'll show youse where to sell. C'mon."

They walked down Park Row and go down Broadway. Jack makes a left at the corner of Broadway and Ann Street, taking them down Ann until they reach the corner Ann and Gold. The city's bustling—kids to school or work, adults to work, street vendors, beggars, you name it. Plenty of kids, shoeless and ragged, just play in the street. Half of 'em don't speak English. They're rough, dirty kids, and David avoids them like the plague.

Jack told him that this was his and Les's new selling spot—Ann and Gold. "It's pretty steady through here. Lots of the fellas started here—Race, Mush, Elmer. We'll see how well it works for ya. Speak any German? There's a lot of 'em 'round these parts."

"Naw," Les said. "We speaks Polish, though."

"Call out your headlines in Polish, then. You never knows—a couple of Polacks might be walkin' around with a penny in their pocket." Jack winked at them.

"Where will you be?" David asked.

"In front of St. Paul's."

"You Episcopalian?" Les inquired.

"Naw. The priest fella, he's fine wi' me hawkin' papes out there as long as I don't drive worshippers away."

"Ain't a priest," David muttered.

"What's that?"

"There's not one Episcopalian priest that's a real priest. They're all a bunch of frauds," David muttered. He wasn't fond of Anglicanism or its American counterpart. He'd been raised hearing Mam's countless rants about the Church of Ireland.

"Youse a catlicker, ain't you?" Jack said with a grin.

Bristling at the slur, David gave a terse nod. "Yeah, I'm Catholic. Got a problem with it?"

"None at all. I'm an Irish lad myself." Jack waved a hand. "The Episcopalian priest ain't so bad. He gives me bread to share with the fellas sometimes." He shrugged. "I'm gonna go head to my spot. See ya, Les an' Davey!" With that, he scampered back down Ann. He did not even look over his shoulder.

"Go across the street, and stand where I can keep an eye on you. Don't get lost in the crowd. Be firm, but don't be aggressive," David said to his brother.

"Yes, Mam," Les said, rolling his eyes. "You like Jack? I think he's funny."

"He sure is something," David said. "Now go and get selling. We have a bunch of papers to sell."

"Like I didn't know!" Les called as he dashed across the street. He dodged between carts and pedestrians nimbly. He was born to live in New York.

David realized selling papers was a lot harder than it looked. No one liked the headline—"Trolley Strike Enters Third Week"—in English or Polish. He tried saying it in Gaelic but failed miserably. Mam would have been so disappointed.

After fifteen minutes, someone finally bought a pape. The penny was a comforting weight in his pocket. David grew more confident after that. He made the headline a bit more interesting, but he wasn't bearing false witness. He'd just shout, "'Trolley Strike Enters Rapturing Third Week'!" He could have sworn a raggedy-looking Italian bought a pape just because he wanted to know what 'rapturing' meant. This was what David got for reading so many books.

After two hours, he had sold fifteen papes. He finally managed to sell a pape by calling out in Polish to a woman in a grimy klapica. She grinned at him and bought a pape with a nickel. He did not give her any change.

"Morning pape! Get the latest news!" David called for hours.

Around two, he still had thirty-five papes left. He had a lucky five minutes where he sold seven at once. The coins clinked in his pocket, and the ever-present anxiety in his chest decreased just a little.

At three, he and Les bought a potato to split for lunch. It wasn't as good as Mam's, though.

By four, he had twenty papes left.

By five, workers began leaving the factories. He sold thirteen between the four and five o' clock bells. By six, the sun was starting to set and David was starting to feel desperate. He became more aggressive, practically shoving the papes in folks' faces. He sold three by doing that. A Polish man bought another. He had three left when he heard Jack laughing.

"Sing 'em to sleep, why don't ya!" He smirked and grabbed a paper from an astonished David. "'Fire Destroys Six Buildings in Indonesia'!" he yelled. Someone snatched it five minutes later.

"You just lied about that," David accused.

Les spotted Jack across the street and scampered over. "Sold all my papes!" he yelled.

Jack slapped him on the back. "That's a good fella! Help your big brother out an' see if youse can sell the rest."

"Easy as pie," Les laughed. He swiped the papers from David and ran down the street to approach a nicely-dressed lady who was probably a typist at some office. "Buy a paper an' feed a boy an' his sick ma!" he practically begged.

The lady put a hand over her mouth. The other one went into her pocket. She pulled out a dime. "Of course I'll take a paper—here's ten cents. Buy medicine for your mama, sweetheart," she said.

"Thanks, ma'am! God bless!" Les called after her.

He waited until the woman was gone before he selected his next victim, a man wearing a factory foreman's uniform. "Buy a pape from an orphan lad! Help keep me an' my siblings from starvin' this winter!" he cried.

The man frowned a bit, but took the paper. He handed Les a penny and hurried on his way.

"He's a natural if I ever saw one. Sure your last name ain't Kelly, kid?" Jack asked.

"No, but that was my mam's—" Les began excitedly.

Jack interrupted him. He turned to David. "Say, Davey, I never caught your last name. What is it?"

"Jacobs," David said. He dug out the thirty pennies he had stowed into one pocket. "Here's your sixty percent, Kelly."

"Jacobs," Jack repeated. He shoved the coins in his trousers pocket. "Sure you're Catholic? Jacobs sounds Jewish to me."

Les said, "We ain't Jewish, but—"

Les got spoken over again. "They changed Jablonski to Jacobs when my grandpop came over from Poland," David said quickly. He shot a look at Les. Pop constantly told them, "Don't tell no one your pop's a Jew. It closes a lotta doors."

"I can't even say that. I's see why they changed it," Jack chuckled.

"Les, give Jack his thirty cents. Did you count it out like I asked you to?" David put a hand on his brother's shoulder.

Grumbling under his breath about David acting like he was his mam, Les fished the coins out of his pocket and dumped them into Jack's cupped hands. Jack winked. "Youse officially out of debt," he said. "Now, Davey, how much money a day are you hopin' to make?"

"A quarter," David said.

"Then youse gonna want to set twenty-five cents aside each tonight, an' save the rest for buyin' your papes tomorrow. Youse both got fifty cents each, right? Forty each from the papes I bought you, and ten from the papes Davey bought?"

The brothers nodded.

Jack clapped them both on the back. "It was nice doin' business with you mugs. Now, let's get some chow an' see if we can get you beds at the 'Hattan lodgin' house for newsies."

David's eyes widened. "Oh no, we have to get home, dinner's probably ready. The rest of the family'll be waiting until we get back."

"You got a home and a family?" Jack said, frowning a bit.

"Don't everybody?" Les chuckled a bit. David squeezed his shoulder firmly. He'd have to scold him for his tactlessness later.

"I, uh, why don't you come back to our flat for dinner? There's usually enough to go around," David said.

Almost flustered, the usually-glib Jack stammered out, "Oh, y'know, I got plans with this one mug from Brooklyn later tonight—"

"Mam's a good cook. You like potatoes?" Les asked.

Jack looked between David and Les. Finally, he sighed. "Your folks don't mind if I's come over?"

"Not at all," David said. "It's always crowded, so they don't really notice an extra face."

They began walking in the direction of the Jacobses' tenement in a bit of an awkward silence. Soon, Les filled it by chattering about his day and everything he saw on the street. "I saw a kid steal apples from the same vendor four times," he gushed.

"Did you tell the vendor?" David asked.

"Kid was real skinny. Probably needed the apples." Les shrugged.

"It's still no excuse to steal," David said.

"Anyways, I think I learned more in one day of newsyin' than I ever did in school," Les concluded.

That finally got Jack's attention. "Youse went to school?"

"Until yesterday," Les confirmed.

David knew he would be the one who had to explain. "Our pop, he got hit by a truck on the job and broke his leg. Since they tossed him to the curb, everyone had to find work. It's not a big deal for me, I would've started working in a year anyway, but Les didn't get to go for nearly as long as he should have." The words left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"Least you got to go," Jack said. "Sounds like your dad got a rotten deal."

"He really did…We're luckier than most, getting to go school at all," David acknowledged. "Did you ever go?"

"I went until I was ten. Learned to read an' count. That's basically all you needs to know." The older boy shrugged.

"How long you been newsyin'?" Les asked. They were about two blocks away from their tenement.

"Well, I'm sixteen now, so six years."

"Is that a long time, for a newsie?" David wanted to know.

"Naw, some fellas've been sellin' since they was five or six. Younger youse are, the more papes you sell."

"Makes sense," David said. "Les is a lot better at selling than I am."

"That's also 'cause youse is you," Jack said with a laugh.

"You don't even know me!"

"You seem to be the quiet type. Quiet folks, it takes them a bit to get used to sellin'. You just have to be a bit louder, is all. You ain't a bad seller at all; youse did really good for your first day."

"Thanks," David said.

They walked in silence until they reached the brothers' tenement building. David and Les led Jack down the side alley and to the entrance. They clambered up four flights of dark, narrow stairs. When they stepped into the fourth floor hallway, it was lit by a single gas bulb. Two grimy windows on opposite ends of the hall let in a bit of natural light. David went four doors down on the right and knocked. Someone inside shuffled around, and his sister Sarah opened the door. "Oh good, you're home just in time for dinner. Mam an' I have to go to work in about an hour—I hope Jonny gets back before we have to leave." She stepped out of the doorway. When David, with Les and Jack trailing behind, entered, she finally noticed Jack. "Who's this?"

"Jack Kelly. He helped us get places selling at The World, so I invited him to come to dinner," David said. "Jack, this is my little sister Sarah."

"Hi," Jack said with an easy grin. David thought he saw Sarah swoon a bit.

Sarah shook his hand. "Hello. I'm afraid dinner's simple tonight, just potatoes, meat broth soup, an' bread."

"It's food, ain't it? I'll eat anythin' you puts in front of me," Jack assured her. He was looking around the "eatin' an' livin'" area. The big table shoved in one corner, the peeling wallpaper, the cook stove that sometimes spat coal dust, the battered wood floors, the mantle crowded with photos and little plastic saint statues. It was humble and small, but it was also clean and homey. David wondered if Jack was wishing he could come home to a place like this every night.

"Where's the girls?" he asked, meaning Lou, Essie, Ellie, Susie, and Lottie.

"Lou an' Essie're doing a bit of sewing in the front bedroom, an' Ellie, Susie, an' Lottie are playin' in the street, burnin' off some energy. Don't know how they still got it, they was workin' all day. Didn't you see 'em walkin' in?" Lou, Essie, Ellie, and Susie had gotten jobs selling ribbons and flowers.

"The street was really crowded," David explained.

"Where's Mam an' Pop?" Les said. He took a seat at the table, and the other three moved to join him.

"Pop's restin', I think Mam said she was gonna pray before dinner, an' I just got Sammy to nap, so don't go botherin' 'em," Sarah admonished him.

"I ain't gonna bother 'em," Les grumbled.

"So how many brothers' an' sisters you guys got? Youse keep throwin' around a lotta names," Jack said.

"I have three brothers and six sisters, including Sarah and Les," David told him.

Jack's eyes bugged out. "Ten kids. I gotta tell you, Davey, that's a lot. Older or younger?"

"One older brother, and the rest are younger. Lucky me," David grumbled. He grunted when Sarah elbowed him in the ribs.

"We ain't that bad," Sarah said. "We just keep him on his toes, is all. It helps him not be so uptight all the time."

"It must be hard work," Jack chuckled.

David scowled. Thankfully, he was saved by a knock on the door. Sarah got up and opened it, revealing a sweat-soaked Jonny standing in the hall. He walked in and immediately went to the back room to change out of his work clothes.

"That's my brother John," Les murmured to Jack. "He's always quiet after work. He'll be out in a second."

"Where's he work?"

"The docks. He unloads ships."

Sarah touched Les's shoulder. "Can you climb down the fire escape an' go get the girls? Tell 'em dinner's ready."

David stood up. "I'll get Mam, Pop, Jonny, Lou, and Essie. You start dishing, Sari. I'll be right back, Jack."

"Sounds good," she replied, going to get their chipped plates and bowls from the cabinet by the stove.

"You need any help, Sarah?" David heard Jack ask just before he stepped into the front bedroom.

Lou and Essie were sewing shirts on their beds when David walked into the room. Jonny was clad in a clean undershirt and the same trousers. He was putting his suspenders back on. "Dinner's ready," he told them. "Potatoes, bread, and soup."

"It's always that," Essie replied.

"Aren't you a laugh a minute?" David rolled his eyes and shut the door. Quietly, he turned to the second door in the narrow hallway and knocked on it. "Mam, Pop? It's David."

"Come in," David heard his mam say in her lilting Irish accent.

When David walked in the back bedroom, he saw Pop looked a little better. He lay under the covers reading a Polish newspaper from last week. David figured he was probably bored out of his mind, being stuck in bed all day. His bruises had lightened a bit, the cuts were scabbing, and his face had a bit more color to it. Mam sat on the bed, bouncing Sammy on one knee. In one hand she clutched an old wooden Rosary.

"How was work?" Pop immediately wanted to know.

"Not bad, I sold all my papes. Les and I made sixty cents between the two of us. A kid got us set up with a selling spot, so I invited him over for dinner." David lowered his voice. "I don't think he has a family or a play to stay; his face and clothes are a little grimy. You don't mind, do you?"

"Of course not, dear. It was a good thing you did, invitin' him over," Mam said. "Take Sammy, will ye?"

David took his toddler brother, placed him on his hip, and planted a kiss on the boy's dark curls. Delighted, Sammy wrapped his arms around David's shoulders and kissed his cheek in return. "Dwavid!" he said loudly.

"He sounds like Les, always yelling," David said to his parents.

"Put the money in the strongbox after dinner," Pop said in a low voice.

"Will do. By the way, I'm in here to tell you dinner's ready. Jonny just got home."

"I heard him lumber in," Mam said. She stood up. David noticed she was wearing her factory dress. "Harry, I'll have one of the girls bring you a plate. I love you." She kissed him.

When she pulled away, Henryk looked up at her and smiled. "Love you too, Alannah. Watch out for Sarah at work."

"I watch out for all of 'em." Mam took Sammy from David and stepped out into the hall. Her son followed her. She turned to him.

"Your da was in low spirits today," she said in Gaelic. "Would you mind singin' to him a bit later? He loves yer voice, laddie."

David nodded. "Of course, Mam," he replied in English. He understood Gaelic and could speak a bit of it, but he preferred English. Mostly his mother just spoke to him in Gaelic and he replied in English.

"You must." Mam squeezed his shoulder and headed to the kitchen. David trailed behind her, mulling over her request. David had been told his whole life by his family that he had a fantastic singing voice, but he had never thought so. Pop was the one with real talent—in a different life he could have been a famous singer. It was funny how fate worked.

Mam went over to the table, where everyone was crowded around. The littler girls sat on the floor, playing with rag dolls. Lou and Essie skittered around the kitchen, restless. Les and Jack were deep in conversation; they seemed to be talking about the best street corners in 'Hattan to sell papes. Jonny sat across from them, listening intently. When Mam stepped into the kitchen, she was immediately swarmed by a small horde of her children. She laughed, and kissed and hugged each one of them. Even Les left Jack's side to greet her. Only Sarah, David, and Jonny held back—they were too old for such antics.

Finally, Mam unattached herself from the small horde. "Essie, go take a plate to yer da. Susie an' Lottie, go eat in the back room wi' Pop, it would make him so very happy."

"Yes, Mam." David's little sisters did as they were told.

Mam set Sammy on the floor to play with wooden blocks, and took a seat at the table. She finally got a good look at Jack, and her faced paled a bit. "Y-ye're Jack, right? David an' Les's friend?"

"That's me, Mrs. Jacobs. Thank you for lettin' me stay for dinner," Jack said. The smooth-talking newsie actually sounded a bit uncomfortable.

"Of course…" Mam shook her head. "Forgive me, but—ye look a lot like a lad I used to know back in Ireland."

Jack shrugged. "My dad was from Ireland, ma'am. Maybe that's why?"

"It's prob'ly the Irish blood. Lots of lads there have green eyes and dark hair over there. It's good blood to have." Alannah sighed, and Sarah brought her a plate. She ate quickly, as did her eldest daughter. They had to leave for the factory in a matter of minutes.

"Where do you live, Jack?" Jonny asked after a long moment of silence.

"Lodging house near Newspaper Row. Most of the Lower Manhattan newsies bunk there," the newsie said.

"Is it clean? I heard some of the lodgin' houses are kinda gross."

"Clean enough."

"Why are you askin' about such things, John?" Sarah said with a nervous chuckle.

"I'll be eighteen in less than a year. A lad's got to think about how he's going to make his own way in the world," Jonny said.

"What's a lodging house got to do with that?" Les furrowed his brow in confusion.

"That's where I'll live when I first move out. Then I'll meet a nice girl, marry her, an' rent a proper room somewhere. Once we start havin' kids, we'll move into a proper flat, with maybe two bedrooms and a kitchen. Maybe even a privy on each floor." Jonny's face seemed distant, dreamy.

Les snorted. "Ain't a cheap flat around here that's got an indoor toilet."

"At the lodging house we do, but I think it's a law that they got to get one," Jack piped up. "If that's five cents a night there, maybe there's a tenement with cheap rent that's got an indoor privy too."

"One can dream," Jonny sighed.

Mam laughed. "We didn't live in a place with multiple rooms until after the twins were born. Six kids an' two adults in a ten by ten room. I dunno how we did it."

Jack raised his tin cup full of water. "To Jonny an' his search for a cheap flat with multiple rooms an' an indoor toilet!" he said. They all clinked their cups and laughed.

"Where'd you find him?" Jonny asked David with a grin. "Wherever it is, don't put him back. 'Cause I got a feeling he's a good mug to have around."

A/N: Hello! Long time no write (sort of). I really wanted to write Jack meeting the Jacobs family, so here it is. I'm not sure if this is going to have a "plot"-I'd prefer keeping this as a collection of one-shots about the newsies' interaction with the Jacobs family. With some other characters from the musical sprinkled in as well, of course. In this fic, Davey is four and Jack is sixteen. Les is still "ten, almost". This is set in early March, four months before the strike. I wanted Davey to get to know and be friends with everyone before the strike. Also, it makes him be more invested in it, as he has been a newsie for a longer period of time. I promise I will include other newsies in future one-shots. I already have plans to write Race- and Crutchie-centered one-shots :)

A few additional things:

Davey's view of Episcopalians does not reflect mine AT ALL. I just included that bit to highlight the Protestant-Catholic tension back in Ireland. As the son of an Irish Catholic immigrant, Davey's strong dislike of Episcopalians and Anglicans was something he was taught from practically birth.

As always, a huge thank you goes out to everyone who followed, favorited, and reviewed. I was blown away by the great reviews I got on this story. Much love~