Newsies : A background tale

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Newsies : A background tale

** Just an introduction so far - seeing if I'm on the right track **

Prompt comes from :

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#1569604 by Not Available.

~

"How much ya got? Come on, out with 'et."

The voice was confident despite a tendancy to switch intermitantly between a treble and low tenor. Its owner, a boy of some fourteen years, held a grime-covered hand out expectantly toward the trio of younger boys surrounding him.

"Aww, Pete. I was savin' it for one of Ma's pies."
"Me shoes, they need resolin'!"
"'Av ya forgotted, Pete. It's the fair next week!"

The chorus of excuses washed over Pete as he looked down at them and sighed to himself. Head and shoulders above even the oldest of the other three, Pete was tall for his age and the de'facto leader of the group. The responsibility weighed heavily on his young shoulders. He knew if he responded to the excuses then next time they'd simply be twice as many. Patience is not a typical trait of most fourteen year olds, but Pete was an exception. He simply coughed and thrust out his hand a little further.

Joseph, or Joe as he was called, was first to resign himself to the inevitable. At twelve he was second eldest and looked up to Pete, trying to follow his example whenever possible. But more often than not this slipped when more direct desires, such as a large apple pie, distracted him. Reaching an equally grubby hand into the pocket of his tattered pants he pulled out a handful of pennies, a couple of nickles and a quarter nestled between them. A low murmur of awe uttered around the group.

"How much is there, Tommy?" Pete asked suddenly. At just nine years old, Tommy was the youngest. His boyish face suddenly took on the earnest look of complete concentration as he studied the contents of Joe's hand carefully. His lips twitched as he counted. "42 cents!" He declared proudly just as Joe poured the contents into Pete's waiting hand.

"Excellent!" Pete announced. A smile crawled across Tommy's face and his brown eys lit up with pride. Pete took the learning of numbers very seriously. It was life and death and all the boys knew it. Pete ensured lessons and tests happened whenever possible, especially for the youngest due to start work so soon. It was even more important than reading, although Pete was just as strict with the latter. A headline shouted out bought more custom, and you have to be able to read the headline to be able to shout it out. But not being able to count meant being shortchanged, and not eating.

Still beaming at the praise from the older boy, Tommy squatted down and reached into his shoes with two fingers. A few seconds of scrabbling ensued before he triumphantly pulled out a dime and added it to the pile growing in Pete's hand.

"Found 'et in the street, someone dropp-edd 'et."

Pete's smile widened. "Good lad. Sharp eyes on ya, 'eh." As he shifted his gaze to the final boy his smile began to fade. "Them shoes look ok to me, Si. A bit of gum is all ya need, will hold 'em together right as new."

Simon, 11 years old with black hair and moods to match, just grunted, his face scrunched into a scowl, his eyes cast downwards at the street. Pete had come near to blows with the sulky boy on several occassions, but held himself back in a bid to try and bridge the gap between Simon and the rest of them. The kid just hadn't been the same since he'd lost his twin brother the year before. But Pete was patient, and wasn't about to give up.

"Tell ya what. If'n we all stock-down quick this evenin' then we'll have time to swing by Bob's on the way 'ome. Maybe we'll find ya something new out back."

That got his attention Pete noted with satisfaction. Another hand was held out, surprisingly clean in contrast to the others, and revealed a half dozen nickles and a single penny. "31 cents," Tommy called out without prompting, and Pete ruffled the lad's dirty blonde hair fondly, whilst maintaining his gaze on Si.

"Thanks," Pete said, making it sound like he was saying it to all of them, but managing to catch Si's eye for just a second, letting the boy know where the thanks was really directed. "Here's mine," Pete said pulling out his own handful of coins containing no less than two quarters and a couple of dimes amongst the normal.

"Woah Pete!" Joe whispered.

Pete grinned slightly. "So how much do we have total, Tommy?"

If Tommy's face had shown concentration before, it was doubly so now. A small pink tongue sticking out between a gap in his front teeth only added emphasis.

"Oh boy, that's a tricky one, Pete. Gimmie a minute, I got it, I got it," he mummbled as he counted. "It is... erm 1 dolla and er... sixty five cents."

The kid was smart, Pete, having only just worked out the answer himself, considered the small boy thoughtfully. "I think it's time we inked your fingers!"

As soon as those words were uttered the three boys, even Simon, suddenly let out whoops of joy as they danced around the gleeful Tommy. "Tommy's getting inked, Tommy's getting inked," they chanted in unison.

Pete just smiled, clutching the coins in his hand. It'd been a gamble bringing in Tommy so young. An extra mouth to feed. But, fates be kind, it was a gamble that'd soon pay off. With four incomes and spring in the air, things were set for the summer of their lives! 'Getting inked' referred to the constant presence of ink stains on the fingers of newsies like themselves. At 9 years old, Tommy was just old enough to go out selling for the first time.

~

He waited for a few more repetitions of the chant before cutting them off. "And that's why I needed this." He declared, patting the bulge of coins now secured in his pocket.

"Of course," Jo piped up. "Tommy's gonna need himself a Newsies uniform! Oh why didn't you say, Pete. Ol'Ma's pie can wait for that."

"Wouldn't have been a surprise now would 'et," Pete retorted as he eyed Si again. Despite the moodswings there was a bright head under that black hair. He knew what another income meant to them. The dark eyes were bright, and a smile creased the usually grave face. There was definately still hope for that one yet.

"So what are we waiting for then? Last one to the Paper box takes laundry..." Three yelps announced the boys running off leaving Pete alone, "...duty tonight," he finished. Chuckling to himself, he sprinted off to catch them up, knowing full well he'd let himself be last so the other three could celebrate after work.

~

In actual fact it was over a league to the Paper box, clear across town from the Lecree slums they called home. Newspaper Row was their destination, in the heart of the Inner Expanses, where newsies from across the city picked up their stock at the crack of dawn each morning. Many newsies could practically roll out of their bunks at the Newsboy Lodge and just cross the street to pick up their stock. Pete's gang worked differently.

Fit as they were, sprinting across town wasn't a good use of energy better spent selling newspapers, so the race ended well before even the New Harbour was in sight. Joe and Si were deep in discussion as Pete spotted them, a few hundred meters ahead walking slowly. Little Tommy was someway behind them, jogging and running in bursts. Pete caught up with the young boy and slowed to match his speed, ruffling his hair again. Tommy was breathing hard, and slowed to a walk as soon as he felt it.

"Damn... it. I'm never... going... to be able to... run as... fast as those two." Tommy panted dejectedly.

"In a few years you'll be leaving them in ya dust," Pete assured him. "Gotta wait for your growth spurt - longer legs help ya run faster."

Tommy nodded along, soaking up the older boy's experience.

"But long legs ain't it all. Did ya do your stretches this morning, like I taught ya?"

"Ack no, I forgot, Pete"

"Well do them. Might stop ya getting the rips in ya legs. You know the rips means a whole week without work."

TBC

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