Selling a Story (Spot Conlon Fanfic)

Strike?

Carly's POV

I get up early as usual and wash my hair in the sink and dry it before getting dressed. I bind my chest to give more of an affect that I'se a boy. Every morning I wrap my chest in bandages, not that my chest was big before, but it still helps. It doesn't hurt as some people might expect. It's more of an uncomfortable bra. At least I don't have to wear a dress.

I hurry out with my bag and cane (almost falling down the fire escape in the process). I bring it with hope to find the guy while working. My feet naturally take me to newsie square where I find my friends. I have few friends. And before the reader questions me, no they don't know I'se a goirl.

"Mush! Crutchie!"

I run up to them and spit shake with em.

"Hey CJ! You'll neva guess what I did yestaday!"

Crutchie sets his free hand on my shoulder.

"Whatcha do Crutchie?"

"I stole an apple!"

My face becomes concerned. I can't be teaching the kid things like this. He'll die if he gets caught.

"Crutch! No!"

"I thought ya be proud of me. Like ya said, I needa' toughen' up!"

He raises his eyebrows and I chuckle. A small punch lands on my arm and he grins. After, though, I go right back to being serious.

"I'se didn't mean steal! If you end up in the refuge you'll die, straight as dat."

I punch him in the shoulder and he rubs it like it hurt. Maybe it did. I did punch him a little harder than usual.

"Then what's I da do?"

Now it's my turn to set a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't let people push ya arou-"

"They jacked up the price!"

I look over to see a sign posted saying 60cents per hundred. This has gotta be a joke. Dumb Pulitzer can't be dat stupid. Blink speaks up.

"Ya hear that Jack? Ten cents more a hundred! It's bad enough that we gotta eat what we don't sell! Now they jacked up da price! Can you beli' dat?"

Jack is the leader of Manhattan newsies. I've thought of joining but that would just make it harder to keep my secret.

They all start complaining and I turn to Jack who seems lost in thought. That's unusual for Jack. He doesn't seem to think a lot. I watch him head off to Weasel to set everything straight.

"So why the jack up, Weasel?"

"Why not? It's a nice day." Jack starts to walk away and weasel calls after him. "Why don't you ask Mr. Pulitzer!"

Every one huddles around Jack, waiting for a solution. Before he can think Weasel speaks up.

"Aye! Aye! Aye! World employees only of dis side of the gate!"

A chorus of screaming newsies shuts him up. As he goes back into his hole, I hit the bars with the cane and yell at him.

"Put a lid on it!"

Jack finally stops thinking. I can still smell smoke.

"Listen, one thing for sure, if we don't sell papes den nobody sells papes. Nobody comes through those gates till they put the price where it was."