Blitz: A Newsies Story

Chapter 15: Harlem

((Hey Fansies! Sorry for the wait, here's the new chapter! Hope you enjoy!))

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Chapter 15: Harlem

Seeing the Delanceys cry was not exactly something that I had ever thought I would see. I sat there for a moment, watching them try to pull themselves together, but I could tell that I had touched a nerve. I almost felt bad. It seemed that they hadn't let out any sort of emotion in a long time. After a while, Morris managed to wipe away his tears. He leaned his head back against the wall of the distribution center and let out a long, slow breath.

Oscar seemed to be avoiding my eyes as he fiddled with his hat.

After what I deemed was a long enough pause, I declared, "I'm not goin' back ta the Refuge."

The boys looked momentarily surprised, but then seemed to think better of it and exchanged a look. "What'a we supposed ta do then?" asked Oscar, finally looking me in the eye, some of his confidence seeming to return.

I shrugged.

"What'a you goin' ta do?" asked Morris, watching me closely.

I thought about it for a moment. "I'm goin' ta Brooklyn. I'll explain everythin' ta Spot. He'll understand."

The boys nodded slowly. "Whadda we tell Uncle Weisel?" murmured Oscar.

"Just tell 'im that I escaped in da middle 'a da mess earlier today. We haven't seen 'im since, so he wouldn't know ya was tellin' a lie. He can't blame ya if ya tell 'im you were soakin' a newsie that got too close ta the scabs or somethin'," I muttered, cringing at the thought.

The boys nodded in agreement. "That jus' might work," Morris mused. "If we take ya to the Bridge, we oughtta be out long 'nough to convince 'im we was out scourin' Manhattan for ya."

"It's settled then," I confirmed. "Let's go."

After taking a quick look around to make sure neither Mr. Weisel nor any of the newsies were anywhere in sight, the Delanceys and I left the distribution center, heading across Manhattan in the direction of the Brooklyn Bridge. We walked as quickly as possible without drawing attention to ourselves in an attempt to get out of Manhattan unnoticed. However, we failed to remember that, with the strike going on, newsies were coming and going all the time in an attempt to bring newsies from other boroughs to join the cause. And because there were newsies from the other boroughs hanging around Manhattan, it was hard to find a street without a single newsie on it.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't da Delancey bruddas!" an amused voice jeered from our left as we neared the Brooklyn Bridge. The boys and I froze, slowly turning to see who it was.

Leaning casually against the brick building on the side of the street was a solid, muscular boy with shaggy, black hair.

"An' look, they brought us a scab, too!" shouted one of the boys behind him, a tall, thin kid with flaming red hair. I counted six boys in all as they moved towards us, some emerging from the alley next to the building. It took me a minute, but then I recognized them from the rally.

"They's Harlem newsies," I murmured under my breath to the Delanceys who both moved to stand in front of me, "The big one's Shark, the lead'a." I realized then that I was wearing the fancy new clothes the brothers had given me, so I looked very much like a scab.

Shark watched us carefully before gesturing with a hand to his boys, who began to spread out. "Shit," I muttered under my breath as I rolled up my sleeves. Getting in a fight was the last thing I wanted right now.