A/N: guess what? This is my first fic! Yay for me! Oh and now is where I do
the stupid disclaimers where I say " I don't own the Newsies, Disney does."
Okay I'm glad that I got those few words out. Now please be the kind soul
that you are and read. Review it would make me very HAPPY! (
Chapter 1
Now I sit here on a bench crying my eyes out never thinking that I would ever be able to cry this hard in my life and wondering what to do next. I mean I couldn't go home, my uncle and brothers would think that I take them as a last resort and not let me unless they really did love me. But who was I kidding? They'll just use me as their servant like I'm not even part of the family; instead a piece of property. I did everything for them. I cooked, I cleaned, and I ran errands. I couldn't go out and make friends like all of the other girls my age. I couldn't go out and meet guys. I didn't even have a social life of any kind and the only people I talked to were my two brothers and uncle. All I know is that I didn't have a social life until I became one of them.
Now I'm telling you about 'them' and not even mentioning who 'they' are! What kind of person am I any ways? I bet if they heard that they'd be calling me a scab, and a low life scab is nothing and less to them. I remember the day when I first met the newsies, like the back of my hand! It was a day, like any other day, and I figured that I had to get out of the house for once . . . .
~~~~flashback~~~~
"Ah, da noisy streets of Manhattan. Nothin' like a little fresh aih."I sighed to myself. I could smell the scents of roses as I passed Mrs. Oppenhiemer's flower shop and the wonderful smell of freshly baked bread and pastries from Mr. Dwight's bakery. Two boys , around the age of eight, were playing tag as their older sister was yelling for them to come home from the ledge of their apartment up above. Business men were heading towards their work offices, buying a newspaper here and there from newsies all around. I wonder what it would be like to be a newsie. They always seem to be free and independentcompared to me, always being bossed around by my brothers and Uncle Wiesel. What I am trying to say is that they are as free as the fish in the sea, moving around like nothing could go wrong.
I wish I could be free like that. Maybe I could. We do need some more money. Would it hurt to make a few extra cents . Maybe I could get my own place and get out of that hellhole. Then I would be able to start a new life on my own and not live up to what people are always telling me to.
I started walking back towards the distribution office hoping that the newsies were still there. I really shouldn't be doin this. I mean if Oscar and Morris found out that I was becoming a newsie they would soak me. I thought this as I walked down Daune street heading towards the distributing office, where I hopefully got the job of being a newsie. Maybe I shouldn't be doin this. What would my only family think? They would probably think that I have turned against them, but I need to become more independent and stop being cooped up all day in that stupid, stone cold apartment in the DO. You know what, who cares what they think, im gonna become a newsie and that's final!
When I came back from my thoughts I was knocked to the ground by something and not sure what, until it spoke. "Ooh, sorry 'bout dat. Are ya ok?" he asked while pulling me up to my feet with his free had. The other hand a newspaper in it. I kind of figured that he was a newsie just by the way he dressed and of course, the newspapers.
"Yeah tank ya. I guess I wasn't looking where I was goin'." This is when I noticed that he had dark brown hair,big brown eyes, and an Italian looking face structure. He stood about 5'3 with an unlit cigar hanging freely from his mouth, newspapers under his arm and an unique pattern of plaids.
"Dat's ok, woudja like ta buy a pape, miss?"
"no tanks, I don't even have any money but thanks fo' askin'."
"No problem goily, den I guess dat I'll be on me way then?" coming more out as a question then a statement.
"Wait!" I yelped suddenly, thinking that, maybe I could ask him about the becoming of a newsie or who I needed to ask. Then I remember that a guy named Jack Kelly was the Mahattan newies leader. Who ever that is, this guy must know him.
"yes?"he answered becoming a little impatient all while trying to think of a faster way to head to the racetracks
"Um.do ya know where I can find a Jack Kelly?"
"Why, are ya thinkin of becoming a newsie?" asking the question with a little curiousity .
"Yeah." I said sheepishly.
""Alright den I guess that I have tah show ya where tah find him, and by dah way me names Racetrack Higgins but you can call me Race," then being the gentlemen that he is, took her small hand in his own and lightly kissed it. "And yours is?"He asked.
"Kiara."
"Kiara what?"
Oh no, I didn't think that this would happen. What was I suppose to do? I couldn't tell him the truth because if I did then none of the newsies would talk to me. Even worse, did they even know that I existed? Wait, maybe it was a good thing that they didn't know I existed. I guess the only way to do this newsie thing is to lie. Didn't this Jack Kelly lie bout his name or something like that? I always hated lying but if that's what it takes then so be it. " Miller." I responded thinking of my mother's maiden name.
" Well nice ta meet ya Kiara Miller. Come wit me, I'll take ya tah Jack." And with that they headed back to the noisy streets of Manhattan.
Chapter 1
Now I sit here on a bench crying my eyes out never thinking that I would ever be able to cry this hard in my life and wondering what to do next. I mean I couldn't go home, my uncle and brothers would think that I take them as a last resort and not let me unless they really did love me. But who was I kidding? They'll just use me as their servant like I'm not even part of the family; instead a piece of property. I did everything for them. I cooked, I cleaned, and I ran errands. I couldn't go out and make friends like all of the other girls my age. I couldn't go out and meet guys. I didn't even have a social life of any kind and the only people I talked to were my two brothers and uncle. All I know is that I didn't have a social life until I became one of them.
Now I'm telling you about 'them' and not even mentioning who 'they' are! What kind of person am I any ways? I bet if they heard that they'd be calling me a scab, and a low life scab is nothing and less to them. I remember the day when I first met the newsies, like the back of my hand! It was a day, like any other day, and I figured that I had to get out of the house for once . . . .
~~~~flashback~~~~
"Ah, da noisy streets of Manhattan. Nothin' like a little fresh aih."I sighed to myself. I could smell the scents of roses as I passed Mrs. Oppenhiemer's flower shop and the wonderful smell of freshly baked bread and pastries from Mr. Dwight's bakery. Two boys , around the age of eight, were playing tag as their older sister was yelling for them to come home from the ledge of their apartment up above. Business men were heading towards their work offices, buying a newspaper here and there from newsies all around. I wonder what it would be like to be a newsie. They always seem to be free and independentcompared to me, always being bossed around by my brothers and Uncle Wiesel. What I am trying to say is that they are as free as the fish in the sea, moving around like nothing could go wrong.
I wish I could be free like that. Maybe I could. We do need some more money. Would it hurt to make a few extra cents . Maybe I could get my own place and get out of that hellhole. Then I would be able to start a new life on my own and not live up to what people are always telling me to.
I started walking back towards the distribution office hoping that the newsies were still there. I really shouldn't be doin this. I mean if Oscar and Morris found out that I was becoming a newsie they would soak me. I thought this as I walked down Daune street heading towards the distributing office, where I hopefully got the job of being a newsie. Maybe I shouldn't be doin this. What would my only family think? They would probably think that I have turned against them, but I need to become more independent and stop being cooped up all day in that stupid, stone cold apartment in the DO. You know what, who cares what they think, im gonna become a newsie and that's final!
When I came back from my thoughts I was knocked to the ground by something and not sure what, until it spoke. "Ooh, sorry 'bout dat. Are ya ok?" he asked while pulling me up to my feet with his free had. The other hand a newspaper in it. I kind of figured that he was a newsie just by the way he dressed and of course, the newspapers.
"Yeah tank ya. I guess I wasn't looking where I was goin'." This is when I noticed that he had dark brown hair,big brown eyes, and an Italian looking face structure. He stood about 5'3 with an unlit cigar hanging freely from his mouth, newspapers under his arm and an unique pattern of plaids.
"Dat's ok, woudja like ta buy a pape, miss?"
"no tanks, I don't even have any money but thanks fo' askin'."
"No problem goily, den I guess dat I'll be on me way then?" coming more out as a question then a statement.
"Wait!" I yelped suddenly, thinking that, maybe I could ask him about the becoming of a newsie or who I needed to ask. Then I remember that a guy named Jack Kelly was the Mahattan newies leader. Who ever that is, this guy must know him.
"yes?"he answered becoming a little impatient all while trying to think of a faster way to head to the racetracks
"Um.do ya know where I can find a Jack Kelly?"
"Why, are ya thinkin of becoming a newsie?" asking the question with a little curiousity .
"Yeah." I said sheepishly.
""Alright den I guess that I have tah show ya where tah find him, and by dah way me names Racetrack Higgins but you can call me Race," then being the gentlemen that he is, took her small hand in his own and lightly kissed it. "And yours is?"He asked.
"Kiara."
"Kiara what?"
Oh no, I didn't think that this would happen. What was I suppose to do? I couldn't tell him the truth because if I did then none of the newsies would talk to me. Even worse, did they even know that I existed? Wait, maybe it was a good thing that they didn't know I existed. I guess the only way to do this newsie thing is to lie. Didn't this Jack Kelly lie bout his name or something like that? I always hated lying but if that's what it takes then so be it. " Miller." I responded thinking of my mother's maiden name.
" Well nice ta meet ya Kiara Miller. Come wit me, I'll take ya tah Jack." And with that they headed back to the noisy streets of Manhattan.