Newsies: The Movie

Chapter 1

On a sign on a statue, it read:

"Horace Greeley
Journalist & Publisher
'Go west young man'
1811-1872"

On top of the brick of the statue laid three little boys and a small girl, all having raggedy pants and shirts on, hats atop of their heads.

Two of the boys and the girl laid on the block of the statue, meanwhile the slightly bigger of the bunch laid on the lap of the statue, the kids looking comfortable where they were despite the hotness of the summer and the hard material of the statue.

A couple of buildings away, meanwhile, sat a red house, a sign above the door that read, "Newsboys Lodging House" in painted on letters, the painting of the sign and building old.

A horse pulling a carriage trotted by.

In the inside of the house, a old man walked up the stairs, heading up towards a room full of sleeping boys (and girls).

He walked into the room, a kid with a pink jumper on snapping his fingers to a beat in his head while a black bowlers cap rested on his head, shielding his face partially from the sun.

The older man stopped to look at him, before shaking his head and walking to one of the bunks.

"Boots!" he yelled at a dark skinned boy who was younger than some of the boys there.

The boy popped his head up from his bed, groggy, the bed creaking under him.

Some boys yawned in the room, shifting, while Boots laid his head back down into the pillow and sighed, trying to convince himself to wake up by punching the pillow.

The old man walked to a bunk across and to the side, towards a older and taller boy with his legs hanging off the edge of the bed.

"Skittery, Skittery." the older man repeated. He slapped one of the boys feet and he popped up. "Skittery!"

"I didn't do it!" Kloppman hit him on the face, though not hard enough to leave a mark. "Ow!"

"What do you mean, 'you didn't do it'? Get up. Get up! When you get up, you have to get up!" he turned towards another bunk, two occupying the top one where one was sucking on his thumb. They were both cuddling. "Snitch!

"Get up, get up, get up. Come on, everybody's sleeping here. They sleep, they sleep, they sleep. They sleep their life away, these kids. The ink is wet, the presses are rolling!"

The other boy who was laying with Snitch held one of the boys feet in his hand, half awake. He snuggled up with it, but then practically threw it off the bunk which startled Snitch enough to look at the boy and let out a 'hey!'.

Kloppman walked to another boy, who was taller and older than some. "Hey, Cowboy. Hey, Cowboy, come on. You dreamin' about selling papers?" he tapped him on the back, thinking about reprimanding him when he felt the thick cloth that wasn't from his shirt still tightly rapped around his chest and part of his back. "Hey, hey, hey."

The boy grunted and shifted, turning around to face the man.

"Don't want to," he said sleepily. "What's eh mattah with you?"

"What's the matter with me?"

"What's eh mattah with you?" the boy repeated. "I ain't selling any of your- get off me back."

The old man shook him. "Come on. Hey."

"Hey, 'ey, go 'way from me. You're mad."

The older man started laughing, then said, "Kid," then started laughing some more, Jack laughing with him.