Extra, Extra! (A Newsies fanfiction)

Carrying the Banner----- Esther

Play the song up top. I put a high school version up here so you could see the dialogue that goes with it.

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"Papers for the newsies, line up kids." We all form a straight line and fish our money out of our pockets. Jack, as usual, is first with me next.

"Good morning, Weasel." He says and I roll my eyes.

"Miss us?" I batt my eyelashes and smile sweetly.

"The name's Wiesel." He says and waves the Delanceys over. Morris hands me 50 papers and I give him the money. I take a seat on a crate next to the gate and try to think of some good headlines. Maybe I can find a way to somehow expose the Delanceys....

Jack's voice snaps me out of thoughts.

"Ain't that what I said? I'll take the usual." He gives Weasel his money.

"A hundred papes for the wise guy." Oscar shoves the papes at Jack and rubbs his shin where Jack hit him with the crutch. Race moves to the window.

"How's it going, Weasel?"

"At least call me mister."

"I'll call you sweetheart if you spot me fifty papes." He raises his eyebrows up and down. Weasel looks at him disgusted. We all laugh so hard, I thought my stomach could fall off.

"Drop the cash and move along."

Race moves away from Weasel saying, "Whatever happened to romance?"

"Good morning Mr. Wiesel." Crutchie hobbled along.

"Fifty papers for Crutchie." Race approached me with his papers.

"Hey Kicks." I turn around and face him. I earned this nickname for getting Morris in the spot.

"What?"

"We all knows this headline is bogus. Help me come up with some good ones."

Except a new newsie caught my eye. He'd caught everyone's eye.

He wore a blue and white flannel shirt with a black tie and vest. His brown pants didn't have a speck of dust on them and his brown shoes shone. His brown cap shades a pair of bright eyes.

He held the hand of a little boy, about the age of ten. Like the boy holding his hand, he wore flannel but his was red, gray, and white plaid. He wore no vest so we could see his suspenders. His hat was grey and so were his pants. His shoes were black and his curly hair was brown.

"Would you take a look at this new kid?" Weasel says and the Delanceys snicker.

"I'm new too!" The ten year old pipes up.

"Don't worry kid----rubs right off." Race commented and I smack him in the arm.

"You want headline help or not?" But even I take my eyes off this kid.

"I'll take twenty newspapers, please." The older kid says.

"Twenty newspapers for the new kid. Let's see the dime." He holds out his hand.

"I'll pay you when I sell them." All the other newsies tried not to laugh. This kid has a lot to learn.

"Funny, kid. C'mon, cash up front." He hesitates before speaking.

"But whatever I don't sell, you'll buy back, right?" Elmer cracked up and snorted so loud, I bet Harlem could hear him.

"Certainly. And every time you lose a tooth, I'll slip a penny under your pillow. C'mon. Cough up the cash or blow." He hands them a dime and looks over his papers as if he were counting them. He stopped, shook his head and counted them again.