Les

1 0 0
                                    


Hello there again! TNE is here again! And it's time for our favorite kid, Les, to shine! 

September 23rd 2005, 2:45 PM

Les lied on the couch, unsure what to do. In one afternoon, one sentence and one car ride home, his world was flipped upside down. Or rather, it was flipped sideways. Not everything had changed. He still had his siblings, the family apartment, and worst of all, school was still a thing he had to attend. What actually would change was his free time. Getting a job was nothing he had ever imagined doing at nine years of age, yet here he was, waiting for his brother to finish his research about what newspapers needed more teenagers and kids to sell their papers. His father was at the hospital with a serious leg injury, his mother was crying in the kitchen and Sarah was off talking to her older friend, Morgan, who owned a shop. Things were changing rapidly.

The fact that made the situation even more infuriating was that Mr. Jacobs had been planning on leaving his job as a vehicle mechanic in the very near future. He had a better job waiting for him, and was going to quit his current one. Now they were going to fire him because he couldn't work with that leg. His mom hadn't said it directly, but Les could figure out on his own that one couldn't repair cars and trucks with a severely damaged leg. Thinking about this, he crossed his arms demonstratively.

"Calm down, I'm gettin' somewhere," said David, who had noticed Les' action, and wrongly assumed it was to demonstrate that he was bored of David's research.

"So what have you got?" Les asked, deciding to not point out David's mistake. He sat up on the couch.

"Well, pretty much every paper needs more kids to sell their newspapers," David started clicking things on the family computer. He was probably showing some things Les couldn't see from his place on the couch. "The Sun, The World, The Tribune, The Journal..."

"So which one do we go for?"

"I'd probably say The World. They've got the biggest circulation, so we'd earn the most there."

"Doesn't that mean that's where there's the most kids sell?"

"So?" David sounded confused.

"It'll be harder to find people to sell to, won't it?"

"Or maybe the other kids will help us out."

Les secretly thought that assuming that was quite stupid, but decided not to mention it. He didn't care that much about where they would sell papers.

"I'm gonna see with mom when she thinks we should start sellin'," David announced, proceeding to stand up and leave the room, and the computer unattended. This of course left Les no other option than to go there and check it out.

A very boring-looking page rested on the screen. It was all white background and black text. The only thing sticking out was a picture of a strict and unpleasant-looking man. Les guessed this was Joseph Pulitzer, the newspaper owner that the text next to the picture told Les about. Scrolling up and down the page, it became more and more obvious that new newsboys really were needed. Mrs. Jacobs hadn't lied about the headlines being tedious. Les would actually have liked to take it a step further, and call them painfully boring. Half of them spoke about the city's current bus strike, with headlines like "Bus strike still going!", "Bus strike reaches second week!" and "Bus strike drags on." Who came up with those?

Other than dull headlines and pointless facts about the newspaper owner, the website told Les that the paper currently had nineteen of what they called newsies, and that more help was always wanted. Perhaps selling for this paper wouldn't be too bad.

The Next EditionWhere stories live. Discover now