My Poor Head Is Spinning

Chapter 1

*click the image to see what Emilia would look like, just probably not as masculine in the face (I did photoshop and I'm proud of it. Just note that she looks more feminine than that, but that's just my product.)

The older boys that we met when we came had left years ago. A new 'generation' of newsies, me still the only girl, had inhabited the Lodging House. Jack and Crutchie sleep on the roof where Dax used to sleep. Elmer and I have the same room still. There's been a few new boys. Mush, Specs, Romeo...

Ring ring ring

The morning bell. I leapt out of the bottom bunk, which I'd been in for the five years we'd been here.

"Elmer!" Our accents had come after half a year of being Newsies, so my brother's name sound more like Elmah. My name—or uh, nicknames— sounded pretty much the same with or without the accent. My brother was sleeping face down and clearly didn't hear me. "Wake up!"

"Wha—" Elmer started, voice muffled by his pillow.

"Mornin' Bell." I told him, climbing down from the ladder. He groaned and followed suit. We typically slept in our undershirts and knickers. So we picked the flannels we wanted to wear, and vests, and our only shoes (old boots). I can't wear knickers when I sell, because girls can only wear skirts and dresses. So, I wear the pants I have on underneath my skirt to bed.

"D'ya think it would affect sellin' if I didn't wear a skirt?" I asked subconsiousl

"Probably." He nodded, fastening a buckle on his boots and fixing his hair. "Goils ain't even supposed to work."

"It's not fair." I sighed, brushing out my long, black hair.

"It never is." Elmer nodded. "It'll change soon."

"I's hopin' so." I placed my brush down and grabbed my white paper bag, ready to head out. "Ready?"

"Yeah." My twin nodded and we went downstairs and to the gate. As soon as we got there, the Circulation Bell rang. Only Jojo, Albert, and Racetrack were at the gate. Jojo had a happy face, brown hair, and brown eyes. He came a few years ago from the nuns. Albert was the ginger boy I grabbed five years ago. Racetrack had curly blond hair, the bluest eyes, and a cigar. Jack, Elmer, Dax, and I saved him from Snyder a year after we arrived.

But now it's 1899. Elmer and I are fifteen. Crutchie is sixteen, and Jack is seventeen. Most of the boys are around seventeen, barely dropping down to mine and Elmer's age. The headline comes:

Trolley Strike Enters 3rd Week.

"The trolley strike?" I sighed.

"Not again!" Elmer exclaimed, snaking his arm into the metal bar of the gate.

"Man, three weeks of the same story." Race complained. Then the Delancey's came over.

"Hey, make way!" Oscar ordered from the other side of the gate.

"Yeah, step aside." His brother, Morris  glanced at us as though he were above.

"Oh, dear me." Racetrack grinned, eyes flicking between the brother's. "What is that unpleasant aroma? I fear the sewers may have back up during the night."

"Or could it be...?" Crutchie made a face.

"The Delancey Brother's." The Newsies finished. I zoned out as they spoke about the Trolley Strike, but my attention flicked to Oscar and Race when the cigar-smoking boy was shoved and ushered back. A squabble broke out and Morris took Crutchie's crutch, causing him to fall back. I lurched forward to try and catch him. I shoved my arms under his own and tried to at least soften his landing. Elmer caught on and shot forward to help me. Together, we caught the crippled boy in a staggering movement. By now, Jack was being chased by the Delancey's. Albert came and picked up Crutchie like a baby to carry him to the counter.