𝖇𝖗𝖔𝖔𝖐𝖑𝖞𝖓 𝖇𝖗𝖎𝖉𝖌𝖊 𝖎𝖘 𝖋𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖉𝖔𝖜𝖓 (spot colon)

chapter two

        ⇏ A girl hurries past and some of the boys whistled and stared. The ones who lived with me sent me nervous glances while I rolled my eyes.

Specs yelled, "Baby born with three heads!" And of course, other newsies yelled out their exaggerated headlines.

A little while later Jack and the brothers are selling at a wrestling match and I was nearby, selling to a few older ladies. Once I finished my sell, I started towards the sound of the boys hawking headlines.

"'Trash Fire Next To Immigration Building Terrifies Seagulls'?" David asked. He had this disbelieving look on his face. What did he expect? We're newsies. Our headlines are never completely accurate.

"Terrified flight of inferno! Thousands of lives at stake! Extra! Extra! Thank you sir. Extra! Extra!" I called, apparently stealing Jack's headline, based on the scandalized look on his face.

Les skips up to us, pure joy evident in how he moved.

Jack smiled and bent down, "Hey, you start in the back like I told you?" Les nodded. "Ok, show me again."

Les let out a cough and muttered "Buy me last pape, mista?"

My brother smiled and clapped Les on the back. "It's heartbreaking kid. Go get 'em."

"My father taught us not to lie." David snapped at us.

"Well, ours told us not to starve, so we all got an education," I snapped back at him. He glared down at me and I snarled at him.

"You're just making up things. All these headlines."

Jack responded with a, "I don't do nothing the guys who write it don't do.

Anyway, it's not lying, it's just improving the truth a little."

Les comes back with no paper and a quarter. "The guy gave me a quarter! Quick, give me some more last papers."

"Wait, wait. You smell like beer." David says after sniffing the air.

Les smiled at us while saying, "Well, that's how I made the quarter. The guy bet me I wouldn't drink some." I giggled and started towards the man who Les had just sold to.

I pulled my cap off and untied my hair. It hung to my shoulders and looked much more feminine than when it was back. Sliping my suspender off my shoulder, I moved toward him. He was an older man, he was balding and buzzed if not drunk.

"Sir?" I tapped his shoulder, attempting to mimic the accent I had when I first arrived.

He turned to look at me and when I saw that I was girl he smirked. "Would you pease buy a paper, wes 'as intresting 'eadlines-" I let him cut me off.

"Wise of cawrse" His accent was much stronger than most New Yorkers. I couldn't place which borough it was from, but I prayed that he wasn't once a newsie.

I grinned, but waited for the inevitable "if."

"If, yous does mes a favors in returns."

"Oh? And what would zat be?" Darn. I let my accent slip for a second. Perhaps he wouldn't notice? Or think I'm getting used to America?

He smirked, clearly proud of whatever plan he had cooked up in his head. He slurred out, "Wells it appears Is had to much to drink, but Is alreadys bought one more. Would ya drink it for mes?"

He showed me a pint of alcohol. Just from the smell I could tell it was strong. He definitely wasn't ever a newsie. We were smarter than this.

He slid a dollar into my hand as I shakily lift the pint. As soon as I had a good enough grip on the dollar I threw the pint up and chugged the beer. After a few seconds, I slammed it down on the table. Even though my throat was burning I said to the man, "What? Youz didn't know zat newsies do zeir fair zare of driwking?"