The Story of Cassie Tuck (Newsies/Tuck Everlasting Crossover)

Chapter 6

TW: I don't think there are any please tell me otherwise!!!!!!

We've hit the Brooklyn bridge when Jack gasps. Someone please draw a stupid version of this with them literallyhitting the bridge wile jack just has a thing over him that says *gasps* (and maybe Spot in the background like "look at these idiots they just ran into the Brooklyn bridge) - it would make me so happy lol.

"Kid, youse need a name!"

"What?" Davey says. I have the same expression on my face.

"A newsie name, ya nitwit! Youse can't go ta Spot Colon without one!"

I try to tell him I don't need one, that Spot gave me one in Brooklyn anyway, but without a pape to write on and no other way to communicate, I'm stuck.

"Well if he's getting one, shouldn't I have one too?" Davey asks. Jack shakes his head.

"Nah, you'se'll be fine – Spotty's alright with it when it's da leaders, most of da time," he reassures. "Now c'mon! We'se got a mile ovah da bridge ta think a' somethin'!"

Over the next forty-five minutes they try at least fifty different names, all of which I shake my head at. I don't want any of them, I already have two!I mean, only a few people know the second one, but that doesn't mean I won't acknowledge it.

Eventually we come to the end of the bridge and I am forced to pick one. Sadly, it has to be a game of charades, which I'm terrible at, but since Weasel and the Delanceys understood it, I'm assuming Jack and Davey will too.

I was wrong.

Davey got it easily, then laughed at Jack trying to figure it out. Eventually he had ta tell 'im, 'cause we had ta meet Spot, but it was fun while it lasted.

"Alright, Scribbles, let's go!" Jack says, grabbing my arm and ushering Davey along.

It's not long before we hear the newsies' hawking, trying to tempt people into buying their bullshit headlines and their papers. The red shirts stare at us as we walk buy, some friendlier than others – we try to stay away from the others.

All of a sudden, we heard a whistle and someone hollers, "Oi, Morse? That you?"

I know that voice!I whip around, nearly losing my balance, a grin on my face.

"It isyou! How've ya been?" he exclaims, panting slightly from running so fast.

I'm good! You?I tap on my leg. It doesn't make much – or any – sound, but Greaser can still see what I'm saying.

"Not so great wit' de higher prioce, but apart from dat I'se been pretty good," he says. His eyes move to Jack and Davey. "What're they doin' 'ere?"

"We're here ta see Spot," Jack explains.

"Okay... An' 'oo's 'e? (And who's he)?" Greaser asks, pointing to our other companion.

"I'm Davey," he says, holding out his hand – he's offering a spit shake! Aaaaaahhhhhh this is great!!Greaser spits into his hand and shakes. I watch Davey cringe slightly, but that's to be expected.

Jack laughs, patting Davey on the back. "Ya get used to it aftah a while, Dave, don' worry."

"Well, if you'se here ta see da Boss, we'se should probably 'urry it up – Morse, you'se wit me, Jackie and de new kid, you'se walk behind. Spot should be done sellin' by now so we'se gonna go straight ta 'im, aight?" Greaser puts an arm round my shoulder while Jack an' Davey stay behind us, whispering to each other. GAYGAYGAY-