Newsies everlasting

Chapter 15

"Why do we need new clothes?" Jack whined, "I'm fine as I am".

"Would Pulitzer agree with that?" Jesse reminded him, practically dragging his reluctant friend into the clothes store.

Once they were inside, the pair of them tried their hardest to stay out of sight of the other customers, aware that they easily stood out in their grubby attire compared to the crisp white shirts surrounding them. Snaking their way between aisles, they tried to find something suitable, or rather, Jesse did while Jack complained about the prices, despite the generous amount of money Katherine had given them.

"Hey," Jesse reminded him, "she's the one making us spend the evening with Pulitzer, so I have no sympathy for her paying. That man is disgusting in every way."

"Charles Morris, how can you say that about my new father in law" Jack gasped sarcastically, bringing his hand to his chest as he pretended to be offended, "give him the credit he deserves, we both know he's far worse than that!"

Without bothering, or really knowing they were meant to, trying their new outfits on, they hurried from the shop with their purchases in an attempt to find a decent barbershop - both the boys had grown used to other newsies cutting their hair for them and had no idea what to expect. Finally, Jesse noticed a sign reading JACKSON'S BARBERS, and, shrugging, stepped inside.

The shop was empty besides an older looking man, probably in his fifties, sweeping the floor after the last customer. He had fading, silver hair, accompanied with a matching beard that was spread out across his wrinkled, ageing skin.

"Do you boys have an appointment?" He asked glumly as he noticed Jack and Jesse stood in the doorway apprehensively.

"Erm, no, no we ain't. Should we have one?" Jack asked, new to the whole experience. He looked over to Jesse who just shrugged and leaned against his crutch.

"Well, I should probably tell ya to scram, but lucky for youse, my client can't make it. Died." Despite the severity of what he had just said, the elder man shrugged off his comment like his customers dropped dead all the time, earning awkward looks of confusion and fear from the boys.

"Erm, I'm sorry?" Jesse said, though it sounded like more of a question, considering the man didn't seem to care at all.

"Eh, don't be," he shrugged, "never liked him. Who's first then?"

Jack stepped forward tentatively, as if he thought the man would chop his head off as well as his hair, although his nervousness subsided after 10 minutes as the barber got to work on his hair, neatening edges Jack didn't even know needed to be neatened.

Once he finished with Jacks hair, finally clean and styled, Jesse sat down, handing his crutch to his friend.

"How did ya do that, kid?" Mr Jackson said, nodding towards that crutch.

"Um, I got hit by a wagon a few years ago," Jesse replied, mesmerised by the feeling of getting his hair properly cleaned.

"Shame, kid, real shame. Stuff like that ain't meant to happen to kids, it's meant to happen to old folk, like me. You've barely even experienced the world and lifes already thrown that at ya, real shame."

Jesse resisted the urge to roll his eyes. If he had a dime for every person who told him he hadn't had time to "experience the world", or that he had "his whole life ahead of him", he would be able to pay for his own haircut once a week.