Brooklyn Turned Queen

By: Iheartrace9

Hey y'all. I know. I suck. I am so very sorry that I'm changing the beginning yet again. But I promise, this is the last time. Because I came up with that whole plot change, and series thing, I decided that I needed some more scenes in this chapter and the next, to fill them out, and give them some meat. I hope you like them; I think they are way better with them. I've decided to not just stick with Song's 1st person perspective, and have added some scenes with other people's 3rd person perspective as well. I think it makes it way more interesting (I get tired of Song sometimes). Anyways, please reread the whole thing (luckily it's only two chapters), and I promise no more redos. I will continue from here on out. Thank you all for reading! 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies. Just Song and Josie.

"Good, very good girls. I think we'll call it a day."

The class dispersed all heading for their wall cubbies across the room, excitement in the air. Our big performance was on Saturday, and there was talk of nothing else. Chatter was nonstop as we changed out of our sweaty leotards and into our everyday clothes. My bun had come undone near the end of class, but I fixed it now, getting my long hair out of my face. It was better up and out of the way. It wasn't much to look at, after all. It was just one plain brown color. The only time that ever changed was in the summer, when the top of my head was streaked with gold highlights from the sun.

"Songbird! I am so excited for Saturday! I hope I don't get sick!" I smiled at Josie's worried face. We had cubbies right next to each other, so I knew her pretty well. And I knew she would be fine.

"You'll be fine," I told her. "Just make sure you keep hydrated." She nodded, and then smiled back at me, her eyes narrowing slyly.

"Hey, but you're performin too, aintcha Song?" I shrugged, not showing how incredibly nervous I really was.

"Yeah," I replied. "So?"

"Aren't you afraid you're gonna mess up?" I shrugged again.

"Not especially," I lied. I was probably the most nervous out of all the girls here. "I kind of just don't think about it." Josie looked a little frustrated.

"How do you do that? It takes up every inch of my brain, at all times!" I laughed.

"I don't know, Josie. I just don't get nervous!" She sighed, rolling her eyes.

"Well fin, Miss I'm-So-Perfect-I-Don't-Even-Get-Nervous. Be that way." At first I thought she was mad, but then a grin broke out on her face. "I'll see you Saturday, alright? If I'm not here at least an hour before the show, you better come looking for me, to make sure I survived the night." I laughed and waved as she left. She was so funny.

I quickly gathered my last couple things and put them in my bag, before turning to find Medda, our instructor standing there.

"Hi, Medda." She smiled at me.

"Hello, my little songbird." I smiled at her nickname for me. She had called me that the first time I'd sung for her. She'd also said, that if I practiced hard enough, I might someday become famous! Of course, she was probably just saying that to be nice, but a girl can dream, can't she? Especially since that is my dream. Singing. I don't really care if anyone knows my name or face really, just my voice. I want the world to remember my voice.

Medda waved a hand in front of my face. "Is anyone home? Songbird?" I blinked hard at the rush of air from her hand and she laughed. "Is someone dreaming about Saturday? Are you excited?" I gave her a big smile.

"I can't wait! This'll be my first time with an audience." Medda smiled brightly.

"I am sure you will leave them calling for an encore. Which, by the way, you probably should have ready, just in case." I hugged her.

"Thanks, Medda. Thanks for everything. You really are great." I wanted to get all my feelings across to her, about how really grateful I was to her for doing all she did. She'd been so kind to us girls for teaching us dance lessons in return for us singing every couple weeks or so, to fill out her show. It was practically charity.

Medda patted my head, a smile on her face. It was a nice moment, until my stomach had to go ruin it all. That just sent Medda into gales of laughter.

"Why don't you go down to Tibby's and get something to eat. And while you're at it, could you pick me up a sandwich?" I nodded, thoroughly embarrassed. "Oh, and if a Jack Kelly happens to be there, could you tell him I'd like to speak with him?" I smiled and nodded again. "Thank you, darling, I'm sorry for turning you into an errand boy… er… girl." I shook my head.

"No, it's fine! I love doing stuff for you!" Medda looked me over suspiciously. Then she smiled again.

"Even so, how about I buy you lunch? Here's two dollars. Get my sandwich, and you can have the rest of it." Before I could protest, she had me out the door, and on my way to Tibby's.

I'd never been to Tibby's before, and I had stupidly not asked Medda the way. I thought I might have passed it before, and I walked in the direction I thought it was. While I was walking I realized I had no idea what this 'Jack Kelly' looked like. Oh well, maybe next time.

It was a nice day out. With only a few clouds and a nice breeze, I wanted to sit outside all day. We rarely got sun and a breeze at the same time in New York. It was either broiling hot or freezing cold. Maybe I would eat my lunch outside. That is, if I could find Tibby's. I looked around as I tried to figure out where I was. I couldn't Great, I was lost. Just what I needed when I was getting Medda's lunch. I should've just asked her. I spotted a newsboy shouting out headlines a little ways down the street and I hurriedly approached him.

"Um… excuse me, but do you know how to get to Tibby's?" The boy turned to me and smilded.

"Do I? I only eat dere every day of da week. I'll be headin dere in bout five minutes. Can ya wait?" I nodded, immensely relieved that I would get to Tibby's after all. The boy sold a few more paper then turned back to me. He held out his hand.

"Ma name's Jack Kelly, or some people calls me Cowboy." I jumped in surprise. "You're Jack Kelly?" The boy smiled proudly. "Ya hoid of me?" I laughed at that.

"Well, sort of. It's just that Medda wanted me to tell you—"

"Ya know Medda?" I sighed inwardly and rolled my eyes. I did not like being interrupted.

"Yes, I do know Medda, and she told me to tell you that she'd like to talk to you." Jack nodded pleasantly. "Thanks fer da message… what was yer name again?" I smiled. I thought for a second before I answered.

"Some call me Songbird." Jack raised his eyebrow.

"And what do udders call you'se?" I frowned at him before replying, "A pain in the ass." Jack laughed at that one. "You'se alright, kid." I smirked up at him.

"Well, gee, thanks, I do try." He smiled again.

"Let's go. Da boys'll love youse. 'specially Race. You'll give him a run fer his money." I had no idea who he was talking about, but I did get the part that we were going to Tibby's now, so I followed.

The restaurant was packed with newsies. They all cheered when Jack walked in (don't ask, cause I don't know), and then looked curiously at me. Jack put an arm around my shoulders and loudly announced,

"So, dis is Songboid. She's one a Medda's goils." I heard a round of "Hi's", and "How ya doin?"s. I smiled, a little uncomfortably, and waved at them. Jack steered me over to a table that two guys were already sitting at. They seemed to be in a serious game of poker.

"Songboid, dat dere is Skittery." Jack pointed to one of the boys. The boy, Skittery, had a sour look on his face. "And dat—" he was cut off by the other boy.

"Da one and only Racetrack Higgins, at your soivice. What can I do fer ya?" I smuggled a laugh. I tilted my head up to Jack. "What a heartthrob." Jack laughed again.

"You'se should get a job doin dat." I looked at him confused. "Doing what?" He smiled. "Well, makin people laugh." I shrugged and sat down next to Skittery.

"Having a bad day?" It was a simple question, but Skittery glared at me.

"Hey kid, don't worry bout it." Racetrack pretended to whisper. "He's always in a bad mood." Now Racetrack was under Skittery's 'powerful' glare. A waiter brought my food right as Race yelled, "I win! Tree times in a row, Skits, when'll ya evah loin?" Skittery scowled and left the table. I tried not to smile, but it was hard when Race was grinning crazily at me. I assumed the stakes had been high.

"So," I said, "Are all these newsies from around here?" Race nodded, and suddenly got an evilly mischievous glint in his chocolate brown eyes. He turned to Jack quickly. "Jack, Susan's here." I had no idea who 'Susan' was, but Jack paled and tried to hide under our table.

"I'm not here." He whispered to Race and me. I looked at Racetrack, who was now squirming with amusement.

"Well now, who's dis? Ya finally get yaself a goil, did ya Race?" I turned at the hard voice. The boy behind me was probably about my height, and he was resting a golden tipped cane on the back of my chair. He had dirty blonde hair, and… amazing blue eyes. He caught me looking at him and he smirked. "How ya doin doll?" and he tipped his cabbie hat to make his point. And then I did something super embarrassing. I laughed. I know, it was terrible. But the way he was looking at me, with amusement and arrogance (is that even possible?), plus the idea of calling me doll, was just too much. Race was laughing too. He stood up and came over to me.

"Oh, yeah, didn't ya hear Spot? Dis is me fiancé. Da weddin's on Thoisday." I almost fell out of my seat, which wasn't good because Jack was getting out from under the table. The boy, Spot I guess, looked strangely at Jack.

"Jackey-boy, what ya doin undah da table? Hidin from da weirdos here?" He gestured at Race and me, and Jack glared at Race.

"Dat was low, Higgins." Racetrack just laughed and gave me a high-five. Spot looked un-amused, and I wondered how many people were having bad days. Then Spot turned to look at me.

"Since ya 'fiance' doesn't seem ta know ya name, perhaps you'll tell me." I shrugged.

"He did tell you. My name is 'Race's Goil'." Spot rolled his eyes at me and turned to Jack.

"Ya got a real strange one Jack. Can she even sell a pape widout crackin a joke?" I stopped laughing.

"Oh, I'm not a newsie." Spot turned to me again, a frustrated look on his face.

"Someone bettah tell me yer name, doll, what yer doin here, and where ya stand wid da newsies." I glared at him. He didn't have to act all high and mighty!

"Fine, if you insist on knowing. My name is Songbird, I'm here is because I'm hungry, and I sing for Medda." Spot suddenly smirked. Okay, so it's not like I have anything against smirks, it's just arrogant smirks that bother me. Spot had an arrogant smirk on his face. I sighed impatiently. "What are you smirking at?" Spot pretended to look innocent.

"Oh nutin, just dat yer name's Songbird. Let's hear ya sing." I scowled deeply at him. The restaurant suddenly went very quiet. They had all heard what Spot said, eerily, and now they were all staring at me. And there was no damn way I was singing for them here.

I turned to Spot with a lot more confidence than I felt. "Sorry, but I have to leave now. I guess you'll just have to wait, and come to the Saturday night performance." I smiled sweetly and got up to leave. Spot snorted (I almost died, shudder), and Racetrack winked at me. I waved to Jack and walked out of Tibby's. Great. Now there was absolutely no way out of Saturday. I would have to perform. I really was excited, and I really wanted to, but I also was very nervous, and I really didn't want to. I'll probably mess up, and Medda will throw me out. No, stay positive. I have to think positive. I walked back to Medda's as quickly as I could.

Racetrack Higgins walked slowly back to the Newsboys Lodging House, oblivious to the noise around him. He was thinking. About a girl.

Songbird had walked into Tibby's, Jack's arm slung around her, a big smile on her face. She'd sat down at his table, and as soon as she'd said a word to him, Race knew he liked her. He didn't know quite what it was; she was funny, and didn't show Spot respect. She wasn't really pretty, her beauties more subtle, like how she had a dimple in one cheek when she smiled. But those weren't it exactly. He just couldn't put his finger on it. But he smiled. He was so glad he had met her.

"'ey, Racetrack, whatcha tinkin about?" Kid Blink had fallen in step with Racetrack and Race blinked, his thoughts scattering, and quickly put on his poker face.

"Ah, nuttin. Some guy gave me a hot tip on thoity seven, and I'm tinkin bout if Ise gonna take it a not." He grinned like he didn't have a care in the world. Blink nodded, as if he was really interested, then changed the subject.

"So, dat goil, Song, saw she was talkin to ya in Tibby's." Race shrugged nonchalantaly.

"She was, till Spot came in. Did you see her sass dat boy." Blink laughed with Race.

"Well, Spot asks foah it. He struts round New York, like everybody knows 'is name." Race smiled.

"Apparently not." Blink grinned, the gap between his front teeth showing.

"So, you goin to Medda's Sataday night?" Race raised an eyebrow. He most definitely was.

"Are you?" Blink nodded.

"After da talk she gave Spot, I'se sure is. I hope she's as good as she says dough." Race resisted the urge to talk back to him, saying he was sure she was even better.

"Den I guess I'll go witcha." Blink smiled and clapped a hand on Race's shoulder.

"Alrighty, den. Medda's it is! Ise gonna see who else wants ta go. Latah, Race!" He ran ahead, and Racetrack lifted a hand.

"Latah." Race put his hands in his pockets, and meandered slowly throught the streets. How was he going to wait till Saturday to see her again?

When Songbird practically skipped from Tibby's, Spot was not pleased. That girl had shown him no respect. Less then respect. In fact, it was disrespect that she had more or less shoved in his face. And she had left with a smile on her face. Some of the boys were still laughing.

"Soya, Spot, ya goin to Medda's Sataday?" Race sat at his table, trying to control his laughter. Spot just looked at him.

"Yeah, I am. Ya gotta problem wit dat?" Race just shook his head, still snickering. Spot rolled his eyes and strode out of Tibby's. He was not going to stick around just to hear them laugh at him. That was not something Spot did.

Spot walked quickly back to Brooklyn, removing the girl from his thoughts. She wasn't that pretty, she thought she was funny at his expense, and she wasn't even a newsie. Spot wasted no time on her. He had bigger things to deal with. Namely Harlem.

Harlem and Brooklyn had always had a tough relationship. But lately it had gotten quite a bit more strained, when some Brookies had beat up a couple of Harlemites for selling in their territory. Both sides had officially apologized, but who were they kidding. They were both still was fuming that Harlem had the gall to send their newsies into Brooklyn to sell and then get upset when Brooklyn wasn't so welcoming. But, to avoid a newsie war, Spot hadn't pulverized Harlem's leader. He had wanted to, but he had controlled himself.

As Spot passed over the Brooklyn Bridge he grimaced. He needed to talk to Jack. Harlem was becoming a serious problem.

How did you like the new scenes?! Did I get Race and Spot's characters down? I have so much planned for this story, and I can't wait for you to see where I'm going with it. Please leave me a review and tell me what you think of it. Thanks!