In 1899, the streets of New York City echoed with the voices of newsies peddling the papers of Joseph Pulitzer, William Randolph Hearst, and other giants of the newspaper world. On every corner you saw them carrying the banner, bringing you the news for a penny a pape. Poor orphans and runaways, the newsies were a ragged army, without a leader. Until one day, all that changed�

�Carryin� the banner! C�mon! Wake up!� Smudge gave a little shriek of surprise and tumbled out of her bunk.

�Real smooth there, Smudge,� Snitch smirked. She grabbed the edge of the bunk and pulled herself up.

�Yeah, well, I don�t listen to criticism from thumb suckers,� she tossed out. Snitch pulled a face at her. She grabbed her clothes off the bedpost and slid her wire-rimmed glasses on her face.

�Move it, Mush,� she groused.

�Aw, c�mon, Smudge, lighten up!� he grinned. She stepped on his foot. �Ow!�

�I said move it!� But she winked at him and slipped into one of the changing stalls.

�You smell bad,� Crutchy complained.

�Hey!� Kid Blink protested.

�Guys, listen,� Mush butted in. �Met this goil last night��

�Aw, ya meet a goil every night,� Bumlets kidded. Smudge finished buttoning up her shirt and opened the door.

�Kloppman�s gonna be mad if ya don�t hurry,� she singsonged.

�Won�t he get mad at you too?� Robby asked, confused. Smudge pinched his cheek playfully.

��Course not. I�se too cute!� she smirked.

�C�mon, Smudge,� Jack groaned. �Come down from your little pedestal there.� He slung her over his shoulder and started to carry her out of the lodging house.

�I�m a little big for ya ta do this,� she objected.

�You�re nothin� but a midget.�

�Am not!�

�Are too.�

�Am not! I�se just, eh, kinda short.� Jack set her down on her feet.

�Yeah, real short,� he grinned. Then he rolled his eyes. �Hey, look, it�s da Pity Brigade.�

�Free food,� Mush reminded him.

�Yeah, well, I don�t take charity,� Jack retorted. The others shrugged and got in a somewhat orderly line for the nuns handing out bread and water. Smudge tapped her foot impatiently.

�Robby, c�mon!� she urged. �We�ll miss the show.�

�Hold it,� he crabbed. He took off his black cap and held out his hand for the bread, then ran to catch up.

�Ya happy now?� she asked. Robby nodded, chewing fast. Smudge squeezed his skinny shoulder. �Youse too thin anyway, kid.�

�Dear me!� Racetrack called. �What is that unpleasant aroma? I fear the sewer may have backed up durin� the night.� Robby cracked up.

�Nah, too rotten ta be the sewer.�

�Yeah!� Crutchy jumped in. �It must be the Delancey bruddahs!� The newsies started laughing. Oscar and Morris, however, were not amused. The bullies smiled tolerably for a moment. Then Oscar jumped Snipeshooter.

�In the back, ya lousy little shrimp!� he hissed. He shoved Snipes to the ground. Jack glared at the Delanceys, then reached out to help Snipes to his feet.

�Ain�t good ta do that,� Race murmured. �Not healthy.� Jack looked at Oscar.

�Shouldn�t be callin� people lousy little shrimps, Oscar, unless you�re referrin� to the family resemblance ta yer bruddah here.�

�Hey, five ta one Cowboy soaks �em! Who�s bettin�?� Racetrack hollered.

�Nah, bum odds,� the others answered cheerfully.

�That�s right. That�s an insult,� Cowboy said, grinning. �So�s this!� He knocked Oscar�s hat off and darted through the crowd. Morris and Oscar took off after him in a second. The others followed, egging them on. Smudge stuck her fingers in her mouth and whistled appreciatively. Jack was the only one who could keep irritating the Delanceys and still live. The pursuers flagged behind, and Jack bumped square into two other boys.

�What do you think you�re doing?� the older one asked, perplexed. Jack glanced behind and saw the Delanceys pushing their way through the crowd.

�Runnin�!� he shrieked, and he ran off again. Morris and Oscar plowed right through, knocking into the older boy.

�Wimp!� Smudge called when she saw him wince.

�Hey! I can�t see!� Robby complained.

�Welcome to the club,� Smudge groused. Jack climbed easily up the cast iron gate of the distribution offices and grinned cheekily. Froggy came out the door of the building with the fist load of papes.

�This is for the newsies!� he called, and the gates creaked open. Jack swung down.

�Aw, we�ll get ya tomorrow, Cowboy,� Morris threatened. Jack waved it off.

�Better�n yesterday!� Race cackled.

�Thank ya! Thank ya!� Jack said. Smudge poked him.

�If I get off my pedestal, will you get off your high horse?� she joked. Jack rolled his eyes and stepped up to the grate. He swung the clapper of the bell a few times.

�Mistah Weeeeaaaa-sel,� he called teasingly.

�I�m comin�!� Weasel complained as he lifted the grate. �I�m comin�.�

�Did ya miss me, Weasel? Did ya? Did ya miss me, Weasel?� Jack brown-nosed.

�Told ya a million times. The name is Weisel. Mistah Weisel to you.� Jack grabbed a pape and the fat man glared at him. �How many?�

�Don�t rush me, I�m perusin� da merchandise, Mistah Weasel,� he said. Crutchy snorted. Jack slammed a coin down on the desk. �The usual.�

�Hunnert papes for the wise guy,� Weasel grouched. �Next!� Race wrestled a cigar and a match out of his pocket and stepped up.

�Mornin�, yer Honor,� he said. �Listen, will ya spot me fifty papes, huh? I got a hot tip on the fourth; won�t waste your money.�

�Sure thing?� Weasel asked skeptically.

�Oh, yeah. Not like last time.� Weasel still looked dubious.

�Fifty papes,� he said finally. Race grabbed the papers and plopped down next to Jack on the boardwalk.

�Leave your money in your other pants, Race? The ones that match?� Smudge teased.

�Anythin� good this mornin�?� Racetrack asked, purposefully ignoring her. Jack glanced up. A little boy was staring at him.

�Hey, ya wanna sit down?� Jack offered. The kid nodded, wide-eyed. Smudge grinned, remembering another little kid Jack had taken in. She�d been just a little older, but scared of everything. She glanced up at the boy at the head of the line.

�Twenty papes, please,� he said.

�Never say please to Weasel,� Smudge snorted. �An� twenty papes? He�s new at this.�

�Hey, look at this,� Race said. �Baby born wit� two heads. Must be from Brooklyn.�

�What is this with you and Brooklyn?� Smudge asked.

�Spot Conlan,� Racetrack said, raising an eyebrow. Suddenly Weasel started yelling.

�Are you accusin� me of lyin�, kid?� he threatened. The object of his anger, the wimpy one Oscar had plowed over, looked a little nervous.

�No, I just want my papers,� he stammered. Jack, who had been paying attention, sauntered over and flipped nonchalantly through the pile of papes.

�It�s nineteen, Weasel. Nineteen. But don�t worry about it; it�s an honest mistake.� He leaned against the grate and jerked his thumb at Morris. �I mean, Morris here, he can�t count ta twenty wit� his shoes on.� Morris lunged for Jack. The little boy laughed. �Hey, Race, spot me two bits?� Racetrack, forgetting his supposedly penniless situation, dug a quarter out of his pocket and flipped it to Jack. �Thanks. �Nother fifty for me friend here.�

�I don�t want more papers,� the boy objected.

�Sure ya do; every newsie wants more papes.� Jack handed the stack to the boy and started to walk away.

�I don�t take charity from anyone, I don�t even know you, I don�t care to, so here are your papes,� the boy said, thrusting them in Jack�s face. The smaller boy darted up.

�Cowboy! They call him Cowboy,� he chirped.

�Yeah, that an� a lotta other things, includin� Jack Kelly, which is what me muddah called me.�

�Liar,� Smudge said under her breath as Weasel handed her forty papes. She went over to join them.

�What do they call you, kid?� Jack asked.

�Les,� the little boy answered. �And this is my brother David. He�s older.�

�Yeah, no kiddin�,� Jack replied, handing his stack of papers to Mush. �How old are you, kid?�

�Uh, near ten,� Les said.

�Eh, that�s no good.� Les� face fell. �If anyone asks you, say you�re seven. See, younger sells more papes, Les, an� if we�re gonna be partners, we�ve gotta be the best-�

�Wait a minute,� David broke in. �Who said anything about being partners?�

�Well, you owe me fifty papes, right?� David nodded, a little confused. �Still, I�ll consider it an honest investment. We sell tageddah, we split�seventy-thoity, plus you get the benefit of workin� for me no charge.�

�That�s fair,� Smudge chimed in. David laughed and Jack imitated him. Davy looked perturbed.

�You�re gettin� the chance of a lifetime here, Davy. Ya learn from Jack, ya learn from the best,� Crutchy encouraged.

�If he�s so good, how come he needs me?� David responded. Jack was starting to look exasperated.

�Listen, I don�t need you, pal. But I ain�t got a cute little brother like Les here ta front for me. Wit� this kid�s puss, an� my God-given talent, we could be movin� thousand papes a week. So whaddaya say, Les? Ya wanna sell papes wit� me?�

�Yeah!� Les said, excited.

�So it�s a deal?�

�Hold it,� David argued. �It�s got to be at least fifty-fifty.� Jack stopped to think.

�Sixty-forty, I forget the whole thing,� he offered. David sighed and reluctantly put out his hand. Jack spat in his and reached out to shake. Hurriedly Davy withdrew his hand.

��Smattah?� Jack demanded.

�That�s disgusting!� David said in revulsion. The veteran newsies cracked up. Smudge shook her head.

�Jack, you�ve got your work cut out for ya,� she sighed.

�Aw, he might be good,� he shrugged. �Eventually.� Smudge snorted as Jack took his papes back from Mush. �Name of the game is volume, Dave. Ya only took twenty papes. Why?�

�Bad headline,� David said.

�That�s the foist thing ya gotta learn,� Jack told him. Dave looked crestfallen. �Headlines don�t sell papes. Newsies sell papes. Wit�out newsies, nobody knows nothin�.�

�That�s us,� Smudge reaffirmed. Just then a pretty girl walked by. The newsies started whistling.

�Look at dat angel! I�m in heaven!� Mush drooled.

�Why don�t you guys ever do that ta me?� Smudge demanded.

�You ain�t a goil! Youse just�youse just a newsie,� Kid Blink shrugged. Smudge whapped him with her cap.

�Baby born wit� three heads!� Specs hollered, waving one of his papes. Smudge waited a bit for the stampede to subside.

�C�mon, Robby,� she said. �Let�s go down to Central.�

�Whaddaya think of the new kids?� he asked.

�The Davy guy�s got a lot ta learn,� she smirked. �Give him two weeks.�

�D�ya like him?� Robby asked slyly.

��Course not,� Smudge scoffed. �Stop tryin� ta play matchmaker!�

�Okay, okay,� Robby said, waving his hands in surrender. �Whaddaya think about the headline?�

�Lousy,� Smudge confessed. �Who wants ta read about a trolley strike that�s been goin� on for three weeks? We gotta come up wit� somethin� better. What can we fix up?�

�There�s a trash fire on page nine,� Robby suggested.

�Nah, Jack�s prob�ly got that one covered. How �bout page twelve, the horse auction?�

�What can we do to a horse auction?�

�Eh�I don�t know. Maybe one of �em bolted or somethin�. You think it up.�

�You came up with the idea!�

�Well�I don�t know!� Smudge sputtered. �Make it up as we go along.�

�That�s what we do every day,� Robby reminded her.

�Oh, well. Tough bananas,� Smudge retorted.

�What�s a banana?� Robby asked.

�Somethin� they gave us on Christmas in the orphanage. It�s this sort of fruit thing. The outside�s kinda tough, an� some little kid tried chewin� on it. So we used ta say �tough bananas� at Saint Patrick�s.�

�Oh,� Robby said, still not understanding. �So we can make up somethin� �bout tough bananas?�

�No,� Smudge said. �You�re really dumb sometimes, Robby. Why do I even keep an eye on you?�

�Because of my dashing good looks?� Robby suggested. Smudge whacked him upside the head.

�Stop it. Go annoy Kid Blink.�

�Okay!� Robby chirped, running off. Smudge shook her head. Robby was a handful, but if she didn�t look out for the twelve-year-old boy, no one else would. She sighed and started shouting out headlines. A few people strolled up and bought papers.

�Runaway horse bolts at auction!� she shrieked. �Tramples two-year-old!� She paused. �This ain�t workin�. Eh�Mrs. Astor�s cat disappears! Reward offered!�

�Mrs. Astor�s cat?� Snoddy snorted. She whirled around.

�Well, what did you come up with?� she demanded.

�Eh�.nothin� yet,� he admitted. Smudge elbowed his side.

�So I�m doin� better�n you. Sold six already,� she said smugly.

�Outta what?�

�Forty,� she confessed. Snoddy shook his head.

�Where�d Robby go?�

�He was startin� ta get all hyperactive on me, so I sent him off ta annoy Kid Blink,� she told him.

�Help me sell, then,� Snoddy asked. �Let�s see if people will actually buy papes about Mrs. Astor�s missing cat.�

�Don�t mock me,� Smudge pouted.

�I ain�t. People are prob�ly dyin� ta know �bout Mrs. Astor�s cat.� Snoddy winked at her.

�Yeah. Sure. Go away, Snoddy,� she retorted. �I c�n sell better wit�out ya.� He tugged on her long braid, then sauntered away whistling. She shook her head and went back to work. The headline weren�t the best, but she sold thirty-eight by the end of the day. She started back to the distribution center.

�How many d�ya gotta eat?� Bumlets asked.

�Two,� she told him. �You?�

�Eleven,� he said unhappily. �Don�t think I have enough.� She patted his arm.

�I�ll help ya out if ya need it,� she promised. �I did pretty good taday.� He grinned a little.

�Hey, Smudge, seen Race?� Crutchy asked.

�Not since this mornin�,� she told him. �I heard there was a good race taday. Prob�ly still at Sheepshead. Where�s Jack an� the new kids?�

�Don�t know,� he shrugged. �Ain�t seen �em.� Suddenly Smudge felt someone grab her from behind.

�Robby,� she screeched. �Are ya tryin� ta choke me ta death? I can�t breathe!�

�He�s been like that all day,� Blink moaned.

�That�s why I made him go annoy you,� Smudge smirked. Blink kicked her playfully.

�I�m hungry,� Robby announced.

�Youse always hungry,� Crutchy retorted.

�C�mon, kid,� said Smudge. �We�ll head back to the lodging house. It�s gettin� dark. Jack should be comin� home soon, an� I want ta talk to him.� However, it was long past dark when Jack and Race finally came home.

�Good day at Sheepshead?� Mush inquired.

�Can it,� Race sulked.

�That�s a no,� Bumlets affirmed.

�Where�ve ya been, Jack?� Itey asked.

�Jacobs� apartment,� he replied.

�Jacobs?�

�That�s the new guy. David Jacobs.� Jack started upstairs.

�You�re late,� Smudge frowned.

�Yeah, well, I had dinner over at Dave�s house,� Jack told her.

�What was it like?� she asked him, sitting up on the bunk. Jack flopped down on his back next to her.

�Aw, just soup. And a cake.�

�Don�t make me jealous,� Robby shouted from under the covers.

�Go to sleep, Robert Caraway,� Smudge told him. �They got a family?�

�Yeah. Faddah, muddah, an� a sister.� She started running her fingers through his light brown hair.

�She pretty?�

�Yeah,� he whispered. �Her name�s Sarah.�

�Think you�ll see her again?� Smudge asked.

�You get made if I try gettin� you interested in guys, Julia Caraway,� Robby scowled.

�Go to sleep, Robby,� she threatened. �Jack needs a goil.�

�Aw, I got me a li�l sis,� he grinned. �Youse good enough.�

�I ain�t your real sister,� she reminded him.

�Yeah, an� Robby ain�t your real brother,� Jack countered. �We�s all the family we need.� He looked up at her. �Saw Warden Snyder taday.�

�He see you?�

�Eh�he started chasin� after me,� Jack mumbled.

�Jack!�

��Sokay; I'll just lie low for a while,� he shrugged. �Some other kid�ll get in the Refuge an� he�ll forget.� Smudge shoved his battered hat over his eyes.

�Go to bed, Jack Kelly,� she said. �And kindly get off my bunk.� Jack lazily peeked at her under the brim of his black cowboy hat and dragged himself over to his own bed.

�Hey, I saw the trolley strike. Looks like we�ll be gettin� a good headline tomorrow. They�s beatin� up the bulls an� everythin�.�

�Anythin� would be better than the headline we had today,� Bumlets groaned

. �Lights out!� Kloppman hollered. �And I want everybody in by ten tomorrow. Understand?�

�We understand, Kloppman!� Jack yelled.

�Just making sure.� Smudge unhooked her glasses and set them on the nightstand. She had just closed her eyes when she heard Kloppman yelling in her ear.

�Caraway!� he bellowed. She cracked open one eye.

�I�m awake,� she mumbled.

�Just making sure. Get up!� Smudge dragged herself up and got dressed. She was still trying to button up her vest when she reached the distribution offices. Several of the boys were standing in front of Weasel�s little grate, screaming at him.

�What the heck is Blink doing?� she asked Robby sleepily. His eyes were big.

�They raised the price!� he shrieked. �Seventy cents!�

�I�m awake now,� Smudge said. �Whaddaya mean? We gotta pay seventy cents for a hundred papes? That�s insane! That�s ludicrous! That�s-�

�That�s just dumb!� Robby blurted out. Jack walked up. Smudge grabbed his arm.

�Did ya hear? Did ya hear?� she demanded. He looked confused.

�Hear what?�

�Did ya hear that, Jack?� Blink repeated. �They jacked up the price! Can ya believe that? Ten cents a hundred! Plus we gotta eat what we don�t sell!�

�This�ll bust me,� Skittery moaned. �I�m barely makin� a livin� right now.�

�I�ll be back sleepin� on the streets,� Boots surrendered. David and Les walked up, unaware of the new development.

�It ain�t fair,� Mush broke in. �All the money Pulitzer�s makin�, why would he gouge us?�

�He�s a tightwad; that�s why,� Racetrack said in disgust. Jack strode over and glared at Weasel.

�So why the jack-up, Weasel?� he demanded.

�Why not?� Weasel countered. He stuck a finger in his mouth and held it up as if testing the wind. �It�s a nice day. Why don�t ya ask Mistah Pulitzah?� Jack ignored him and thumped down next to Boots in disgust. He looked at the smaller black boy.

�It ain�t fair!� Boots burst out. �We got no rights at all.�

�C�mon, it�s a rigged deck. They got all the marbles, okay?� Race snorted.

�So let�s get out lousy papes while they still got some, huh?� Mush suggested.

�What are we gonna do, Jack?� Blink asked. Les pushed his way through the crowd.

�Give him some room, give him some room,� he protested, sitting down next to Jack. �Let him think.� Blink handed Jack his cigar. He took a long draw and looked thoughtful. Race shifted impatiently.

�Jack, ya done thinkin� yet?�

�Hey!� Weasel shouted. �World employees only on dis side of the gate!�

�Aw, put a lid on it!� Pie Eater retorted.

�One thing�s for sure. Nobody goes through those gates �til they put the price back where it was,� Jack said.

�What, like a strike?� David asked.

�Yeah, like a strike.� Davy pushed forward.

�Jack, I was just joking. We can�t go on strike; we don�t have a union,� he reasoned.

�Well, if we go on strike, then we are a union,� Jack countered.

�Jack, you can�t just rush everyone into this!�

�Well, we�ll organize,� he said. He clapped a hand on Crutchy�s shoulder. �Crutchy, ya take up a collection.�

�Swell!� the crippled boy exclaimed. �C�mon, guys! We�re a union now!�

�Jack, you�re crazy!� Smudge burst out. He grinned at her and she rolled her eyes.

�Jack, remember what happened to the trolley workers,� Davy reminded him.

�Hey, that�s a good idea!� Jack enthused, missing David�s point. �IF anyone don�t join wit� us, then we bust their heads like the trolley workers!� The newsies cheered.

�No!� Davy objected. �We can�t beat up kids on the street! It�ll give us a bad name!�

�All right,� Jack said. �Pulitzer and Hearst, they own this city. So are we just gonna take what they give us, or are we gonna strike?� It was silent for a moment. Smudge stopped to think. Things could get dangerous. But could they afford to ignore it? Les broke the silence.

�Strike!� he hollered. The others cheered in agreement. Davy grabbed his little brother and clamped a hand over his mouth.

�So what do we do, Dave?� Jack asked. Davy sighed.

�Pulitzer and Hearst have to respect our rights,� he said finally.

�Pulitzer and Hearst have ta respect the rights of the woikin� boys of New Yawk!� he shouted.

�And goils!� Smudge reminded him. Jack laughed.

�Well, that went good,� he told David. �So what do I say now?�

�Tell them that they can�t treat us like we don�t exist.� Jack abruptly leaped up onto the statue of Horace Greeley that stood in the courtyard. The other newsies craned their necks to see him.

�Pulitzer and Hearst, they think we�re nothin�. Are we nothin�?� he hollered.

�No!� the others shouted.

�If we stick together like the trolley workers, then they can�t break us up,� Davy exclaimed as he got caught up in the fervor.

�Pulitzer and Hearst, they think they got us- do they got us?�

�No!�

�Even though we ain�t got hats or badges, we�re a union just by sayin� so!� Jack shouted.

�The World will know!� Smudge called.

�What�s gonna stop �em from sellin� our papes?� Boots objected.

�What about �em?� Jack retorted.

�Some of �em don�t hear so good,� Race told him.

�Then we�ll soak �em!� Jack shouted. The newsies cheered.

�No!� David exclaimed. The others ignored him.

�What�s it gonna take ta stop the wagons? Are we ready?�

�Yeah!�

�What�s it gonna take ta stop the scabbers? Can we do it?�

�Yeah!� Bumlets tossed Jack his walking stick.

�We�ll do what we gotta do until we break the will of mighty Bill an� Joe!� Jack broke the stick over his knee and waved the halves in the air. �The World will know!�

�Strike! Strike! Strike!� Smudge began shouting, punching her small fist in the air. The others took up the chant as Jack jumped off the statue and clambered up the ladder to the marquee. Brandishing the stick of chalk, he scrawled �Strike� over the neatly printed headlines. He jumped down off the platform to the wild crowd.

�We need ta get the word out to all the newsies in New York,� he told David as they gathered around the steps of Pulitzer�s office. �I need some of the�whatchacall�� Jack waved his arms around.

�Ambassadors?� David suggested.

�Yeah.� Jack turned and faced the crowd. �Yeah, youse guys, ya gotta be am-bastards ta go tell the othahs that we�re on strike.�

�Say, I�ll take Harlem,� Kid Blink called.

�I got da Bowery, Jack,� Mush told him.

�Yeah, I got Midtown,� Race announced.

�I�m gonna go down ta Bottle Alley!� Jake said. �Gonna go see Classic.� He winked and the other newsies hooted.

�An� I got the Bronx,� Crutchy decided. �C�mon.� He grabbed Robby�s shoulder. Smudge wiggled her fingers in a little wave at him and he grinned happily.

�Itey, Skittery, an� Bumlets, ya take Queens,� Jack informed. �Pie Eater, Snoddy- East Side. Snipeshooter, ya go wit� �em. An� Brooklyn! Who wants Brooklyn?� The remaining newsies seemed to shrink. �C�mon, Spot Conlan�s territory!� Still no response. �What, ya scared o� Brooklyn?�

�Hey, we ain�t scared of Brooklyn!� Boots shouted. �Eh, Spot Conlan just makes us a little noivous.�

�Well, we ain�t scared of Brooklyn. So you an� me, Boots, we�ll go to Brooklyn,� Jack said. Boots nodded.

�Me too!� Smudge called. �I know Spot.�

�Yeah, she�s got him wrapped �round her little finger too,� Snitch snorted. �Who�s she?� David asked. �There�s a girl newsie?� Smudge jammed her hands on her skinny hips.

�Yeah, what did ya think?� she demanded. �I ain�t scared of Brooklyn, so I�se comin�.� Jack rolled his eyes.

�An� Dave can keep us company,� he said, throwing an arm around David�s shoulder.

�Sure, just as soon as you take our demands to Pulitzer,� he told him, unruffled. Jack looked askance.

�Me? Ta Pulitzah?� David put a hand on Jack�s shoulder.

�But you�re the leader, Jack,� David said. Jack still looked unsure.

�Go get �em, Cowboy,� Smudge smirked. He grabbed Les.

�Well, maybe the kid�ll soften him up.� Jack swung open the big double doors and disappeared, Les at his heels. The other newsies started to saunter off to their various assignments. Smudge plopped down on the step to wait.

�What is this? What is this strike?� someone asked. Smudge glanced up.

�It�s the newsies strike,� David answered.

�I�m Bryan Denton of the New York Sun,� the man said, shaking dave�s hand. �You look like the kid in charge; what�s your name?�

�David,� he told him.

�David? David as in David and Goliath?� David laughed. Bryan turned his attention to the girl squinting up at him. �And who are you?�

�Smudge Caraway,� she responded. �I�m Jack Kelly�s little sister of a sort.�

�Is Jack Kelly the boy who went in?� Denton inquired. She nodded. �Really think old man Pulitzer�s going to listen to your demands?�

�He has to,� David said in innocence. Just then the doors burst open and Jack and Les were flung out unceremoniously.

�So�s you�re an old lady!� Jack hollered. �You tell Pulitzah he�s gotta make an appointment wit� me!�

�Yeah!� Les shouted as the door closed, almost pinching his little nose.

�So how�d it go?� Smudge asked.

�Could be better,� Jack admitted. �Who�s he?�

�A reporter,� David told him.

�Could I interview you?� Denton asked. Jack shrugged.

�Guess so.�

�There�s a small restaurant down the street, Tibby�s. I�ll buy you lunch,� Bryan offered. Jack�s eyes lit up.

�Sure,� he said. �We�ll go see Spot after.� He flung an arm around Smudge�s shoulder as they walked down the street.

�Ya might want ta reconsider offerin� ta buy Jack Kelly lunch,� Smudge warned the newspaperman. �I�se seen him eat.�

�Oh, I can afford it,� Denton said confidently. However, his confidence wasn�t quite as strong when he heard Jack ordered. He waited until they had started eating to ask questions. �What exactly went on in there?�

�Oh, there was this real snooty mug. Said �ya can�t see Mistah Pulitzah; nobody sees Mistah Pulitzah.� Real hoity-toity. Know da type?� Jack asked.

�Real hoity-toity,� Les reaffirmed.

�Chew wit� your mouth closed, Jack,� Smudge reminded him. He obediently swallowed before continuing.

�Anyway, I told him that I don�t make habit of talkin� ta office boys an� that Jack Kelly�s here ta see him now.� He banged his fist on the table for emphasis.

�That�s when they threw us out,� Les said. Jack smacked his shoulder, but Davy laughed. Denton leaned forward.

�You�re going up against the most powerful man in New York City,� he said.

�Look at me, I�m tremblin�,� Jack said sarcastically.

�I want you to keep me informed,� Denton said, handing David a business card as he got up from the table.

�Are we really an important story?� Davy asked.

�Last year I covered the war in Cuba. Charged up San Juan Hill with Colonel Teddy Roosevelt. That was an important story.� Denton started to get up from the table. �So is the newsies strike important?� he asked rhetorically. �It all depends on you.� Bryan headed over to get his hat and coat. Jack stared thoughtfully at his glass.

�So my name�s really gonna be in the papers?� he asked.

�Is that all right?� Bryan inquired.

��Slong as ya get it right. Kelly, Jack Kelly,� he said. �Oh, an� Denton? No pictures.�

�Sure,� Denton said.

�Warden Snyder won�t like this,� Smudge said under her breath.

�Isn�t he that guy who chased us?� Les asked.

�You was there too?� she demanded. �Jack, ya didn�t tell me about that.� He shrugged.

�I got arrested when I was thirteen. I was just hungry,� he defended himself. Smudge sighed.

�C�mon, we gotta go talk ta Spot. An� find Boots,� she said. She and Jack got up from the table.

�Les, you go find Sarah, okay?� David said. Les nodded. The four of them left Tibby�s.

�Where�ve ya been?� Boots demanded. �Been lookin� for ya.�

�Well, we�re goin� now,� Jack amended. Les left and they started for Spot Conlan�s territory.

�I�ve never been to Brooklyn,� David said as they walked over the Brooklyn Bridge. �Have you?�

�I spent a month there one night,� Boots smirked.

�I don�t get it,� David said.

�Hey, watch this,� Jack told him. Boots, Smudge and Jack leaned over the side of the bridge and screamed.

�Well, I don�t get that either,� Davy sulked.

�Neither do we,� Smudge giggled. �It�s just fun ta do.�

�So this Spot Conlan,� David began. �Is he really dangerous?� The veteran newsies looked at each other and laughed. Davy started to look scared. �Come on, tell me!� Smudge shook her head and laughed again. They walked along the pier. The Brooklyn boys were jumping off the boardwalk into the cold river. One of the bigger ones climbed up and stared Jack in the face.

�Goin� somewhere, Kelly?� he asked. Jack brushed past him.

�Well, if it ain�t Jack be nimble, Jack be quick,� a voice said. Smudge laughed as Davy�s eyes darted around, looking for the fearsome Spot Conlan.

�So you�ve moved in the world, Spot,� Jack said. A thin, wiry boy jumped off a makeshift throne of crates and landed at Jack�s feet. The two leaders looked at each other for a moment, then spit in their hands and shook. Spot stuck his cane back into his red suspenders.

�Finally brought Smudge, huh?� he asked, grinning at her. She flipped her long honey colored braid in his face.

�Aw, get over it, Conlan,� she retorted. Then she smiled and spit-shook with him.

�Heya, Boots, how�s it rollin�?� he asked. Boots dug in his pocket and showed Spot a handful of shiny marbles.

�Got a couple of real good shooters here,� he said.

�Yeah?� Spot said coolly. He selected one of the largest ones and pulled out his slingshot. David slipped behind Smudge a little bit.

�Davy, get a backbone,� she hissed.

�So, Jacky boy,� Spot said, taking aim at a half full beer bottle. David shrank back even further. �I been hearin� things from little boidies. Things from Harlem, Queens-� He let the marble fly. The bottle shattered, sending beer everywhere. �-all over.� He stepped back and regarded Jack. �They�s sayin� that Jacky-boy�s newsies is playin� like they�s goin� on strike.�

�Yeah, but we�re not playing,� David objected. Spot stepped up and stared him in the face, rising up on his toes so he could see his eyes.

�Yeah? Yeah?� He stepped back in disgust. �What is this, Jacky-boy? Some kinda walkin� mouth?�

�Yeah, a mouth,� Jack agreed. �But a mouth wit� a brain, an� if you�ve got half of one, you�ll listen ta what he has ta say.� Spot nodded reluctantly and plunked down on a barrel, his short legs dangling off the side. Smudge prodded Davy forward.

�Well, we started the strike, but now we�re trying to get newsies from all over New York,� he began.

�Yeah,� Spot interrupted. �So they told me.� David swallowed hard.

�Well, they said they�ll see what Spot Conlan does, that you�re the key.�

�Oh, please, not flattery,� Smudge groaned. �Please don�t make that ego of his any bigger.� David went on recklessly.

�That Spot Conlan is the most powerful newsie in all of New York, and probably everywhere else.� Spot Conlan grinned and nodded happily. �So if you�ll join, then they�ll join. And we�ll be unstoppable. So you got to join us- well, you gotta!� Spot jumped off the barrel.

�You�re right, Jack. Brains. But I got brains too, an� more�n just half of one.� Suddenly his face turned menacing as he yanked his cane out and waved it in Jack�s face. �How do I know you punks won�t run the first time some goon comes at you with a club? How do I know you�ve got what it takes ta win?�

�That�s what I�m tellin� ya, Spot,� Jack said. Spot turned and looked at him, his large blue eyes serious.

�Ya gotta show me,� he told him. Jack started muttering under his breath and stalked off, Smudge at his heels.

�Ain�t ya thinkin� you�re over your head?� she asked him. He sighed, blowing the shaggy hair off his forehead.

�Yeah,� he admitted. Smudge tucked her small hand into his.

�Good. Youse still human.� A corner of his mouth turned up. �Oh, I was right. You can smile.� He tugged on her hand and they walked back to the square. Skittery, Racetrack, and Les were playing marbles.

�Knuckles down, boys!� Race screeched. He aimed his shooter expertly and shot a handful of Skittery�s marbles out of the circle.

�Aw, Racetrack,� Skittery groaned.

�Hey, guys,� Mush said. �So where�s Spot?�

�Oh, he was worried about us bein� serious, can ya imagine dat?� Jack asked sarcastically.

�Well, maybe he�s right,� Kid Blink said. �I mean, wit�out Spot an� the others�there�s not enough of us, Jack.�

�Yeah, maybe we�re movin� too soon,� Mush agreed.

�I definitely think we should hold off for a while,� Skittery admitted.

�Wimps!� Smudge frowned.

�Yeah, Spot was right! Is it just a game to you guys?� Jack demanded. The others looked slightly ashamed of themselves. �Hey, Crutchy,� he said.

�Heya, Jack.� Crutchy and Pie Eater were painting a banner with the word �strike� painted on it in bold red letters. David walked over and helped Crutchy to his feet.

�We need to seize the day,� David said.

�Come again?� Racetrack asked.

�Seize the day,� he repeated. �Nothing can break us and no one can make us give our rights away.� He tossed his hands in the air. �Arise and seize the day!� Smudge grinned. The circulation bell started clanging, indicating the afternoon edition was ready to be sold.

�Anybody hear that?� Jack called.

�No!�

�So what do we do about it?�

�Soak �em!� the newsies cried. Smudge joined in the mad rush to the distribution office. A few frightened scabs lined up to buy papes. The strikers stood by the boardwalk, arms crossed. The first boy handed over the exorbitant price, then turned and faced the wrath of the newsies. Reluctantly he dropped his pile of papes. Jack�s face relaxed in a smile and he clapped a hand on the new striker�s shoulder. The next few boys followed without buying papes, their hands held up in surrender.

��Bout time, Southy; where�ve ya been?� Race snorted. The next scab, a tall grouchy faced boy known in Manhattan as Sixkiller, bought his papes and stared Jack down. Jack shoved him. Sixkiller glared. Blink started forward as if to knock the defier over.

�Blink,� Davy warned. Racetrack reached up and pushed Sixkiller. �Race.� Jack appraised Sixkiller coolly, then slammed the papes out of his hands. Sixkiller glanced at the newspapers lying in the dust, then rammed Jack in the stomach. All bedlam broke loose. Scabs scattered in all directions like pigeons. Several of the larger strikers tipped over the circulation wagon crammed full of papers.

�Robby!� Smudge cried. The smaller blond boy appeared.

�What?� he asked. Smudge thrust a box full of rotten tomatoes she�d snitched into his arms.

�We got tons of rotten fruit an� poifect aim. Go get �em!� she shrieked. Robby grinned and darted off. Smudge grabbed a stack of papes and ripped them to tiny pieces, scattering them like confetti.

�Whoo!� Pie Eater screamed, spinning on a wheel of the overturned wagon. �Smudge, come join me!� He grabbed her hand and yanked her up. She laughed wildly as Pie Eater and Bumlets spun her around. Suddenly a sharp whistle interrupted her.

�Hey, cheese it! Cheese it, it�s the bulls!� Jack shouted.

�Catch me!� Smudge told Bumlets. He caught her and they took off running. Several cops on horses attempted to catch them, but they were too quick.

�Crutchy!� Racetrack screamed. �Scram!� Crutchy was still stuck on the wagon.

�Oh, no, Crutchy!� Smudge cried. The crippled boy had barely hobbled five feet when coppers on horseback blocked him. The Delanceys grabbed him from behind.

�Come on,� Bumlets insisted, grabbing her arm and yanking her away. They ran breathless and hid in the lodging house.

�Everybody okay?� Jack asked.

�They got Crutchy,� Smudge stormed, her blue-gray eyes tearing up. Jack put his arms around her.

�It�s okay, it�s okay,� he soothed. �We�ll get him out.� She buried her face in his chest.

�Think they took him to the Refuge?� Racetrack asked.

�Prob�ly,� Jack answered, rubbing Smudge�s back. �Dave, you�n me�ll go get him out tonight.�

�What�s that Refuge place again?� David asked.

�Jail for kids,� Jack responded shortly. �C�mon, Smudge, it�s okay. Ya can stop cryin�.� She dried her eyes.

�Are ya sure?� she quavered. �The Delanceys had him. He could be dead by now.�

�Nah, he ain�t dead,� Snoddy snorted. �That�s a little farfetched,� She glared at him and then sighed.

�Okay, can ya get off me? My legs are asleep,� Jack complained. Smudge kicked him. �We�ll go get him tonight. I promise.�

No matter how hard she tried, Smudge couldn�t get to sleep that night. The last thing she remembered was tossing and turning in her bunk. But the next thing she knew she was cracking her eyes open drowsily. It was still dark. Jack was climbing onto his bunk.

�Jack,� she whispered. �Jack, did ya get him?� He lay down on the bed and sighed. Smudge slipped over to talk to him.

�No,� he confessed.

�He�s okay, ain�t he?� she demanded, her voice rising in pitch. Jack held a finger to her lips.

�Shut up. Don�t want Kloppman ta hear.� He flipped over to his side to look at her. �He�s okay. Sorta.�

�Sorta?�

�Oscar and Morris kinda beat him up. He ain�t walkin� so good. Had ta walk wit� his crutch an� a kid helpin� him. He didn�t want ta be carried out.� Smudge sighed. �But he�s okay, Smudge. Tenpin�ll keep an eye on him.�

�I hope so,� she muttered as she went back to her own bed. She fell asleep thinking about Crutchy locked in the Refuge.

�Smudge!� She jerked awake. Robby�s frightened face was two inches from her nose.

�Calm down, kid,� Smudge groused. �Whatsa mattah?�

�Crutchy�s not here!� he shrieked.

�I know. They couldn�t get him out.� Robby sank down on her bunk and flopped backwards. �Watch it! That�s my stomach youse usin� for a pillow.�

�Is he okay?� he asked.

�I hope so,� Smudge replied, shoving him off. �Lemme go get dressed, okay?� Robby curled up in her now-vacant bunk.

�Sure,� he mumbled. By the time she returned, still fumbling with the buttons on her gray vest, he was fast asleep and snoring.

�Wake up!� she hollered in his ear. Robby jumped.

�not funny,� he sulked. She helped him up.

�C�mon, Robby. There�s gotta be somethin� interesting happening taday,� she said. He groaned, but let her drag him to the courtyard.

�I like bein� lazy,� Mush sighed, lying on a bench. Smudge thunked down on top of him. �Ow.�

�Ya doin� okay, Smudge?� Jack asked, tapping the top of her head. She squinted up at him.

�Guess so.� He grasped her hand and yanked her upright.

�C�mere. I want ya ta see this.� Jack tugged her over until they stood in front of the World office building. �Ya see it?� She shaded her eyes and tried to look at the spire.

�Yeah, I see it, Jack,� Smudge said. �but I don�t get it.�

�Joe�s got all of this, but he still is tryin� ta cheat us outta a lousy ten cents,� he said, shaking his head in disbelief. �A stupid ten cents. So we�re gonna show Pulitzah he can do all right with all that he�s got already, but we need that dime more�n he ever will.� Smudge squeezed Jack�s hand. The circulation bell clanged.

�All right,� David said. �Everyone, remain calm.� Jack slid his suspenders over his shoulders and glared at him.

�Let�s soak �em for Crutchy!� Jack hollered. The newsies cheered and dashed for the gates. Davy�s shoulders sagged and he got swept away by the crowd. The frightened scabs backed away and started banging on the door.

�Yeah, c�mon,� Racetrack threatened, swinging his fists. Suddenly the doors swung open, letting loose a barrage of thugs. �Jack! Jack, it�s a trick!� Smudge caught Jack�s arm. He shoved her away.

�Smudge, be careful,� he hissed in her ear. She ducked into the crowd. Oscar Delancey stepped out of the flock of heavies.

�Hiya, Jacky-boy,� he said. One of the thugs swung a chain at Jack, but he ducked in time. A hand clamped down on Smudge�s shoulder.

�Hey, pretty lady,� one of the goons grinned. She glanced him over.

�Bonehead,� she said as she brought her small foot up and kicked him square in the groin.

�Nice shot, Smudge,� Blink complimented as she darted past. She tipped her hat and dodged a fist aimed in her direction.

�This ain�t goin� so good,� she called back. Suddenly an arm wrapped around her waist.

�Hey, look what I got! A little newsgoil.�

�Let go of me!� Smudge shrieked, writhing in Morris� grasp. Her small teeth sank into his arm. He howled and wrenched at her harder.

�Nevah fear,� an amused voice said from high above. �Brooklyn is heah!� Suddenly Morris yelped and dropped her. Spot waved his slingshot triumphantly from his vantage point on the roof.

�Thanks, Spot!� she hollered as she scampered off.

�Any time, Smudge,� the short dictator nodded.

�Hey, Spot!� Jack shouted. Spot grabbed a pulley and swung down, flattening the tough attempting to flatten Jack. Smudge cheered as the Brooklyn newsies swarmed through the distribution center, scattering the bruisers.

�Yes! Yes!� Smudge yelled. Kid Blink grabbed her.

�Boys!� someone was shouting over the terrific din.

�What?� she asked as the camera flashed in her face.

�My eyes!� Spot yelped.

�My foot!� David moaned, hopping up and down. Denton waved from behind the camera.

�This�ll make the afternoon papers!� he told them. �Jack, take them to Tibby�s. On me.�

�They eat a lot,� Smudge warned. Bryan waved them off.

�I�ve got to get to the Sun. I�ll see you there.�

�That was great,� Racetrack grinned. �Did ya see me? Did ya? Oh, man, he thought he had me! But he didn�t! Oh, dang!�

�Someone stepped on my foot,� David complained. Jack tossed an arm around Spot�s skinny shoulders.

�Thanks for showin� up, Spot,� he said.

�Any time, Cowboy,� Spot grinned. The Manhattan newsies and the leader of Brooklyn invaded the small restaurant.

�Where�s Robby?� Smudge asked Mush. He jerked his thumb over to the corner.

�Ov� dere. Hey, dis is real good,� he mumbled through a mouthful. She rolled her eyes and found Robby.

�Y�okay?� she asked. He nodded, his mouth full. She squeezed his shoulder. �Good.� �Hey, li�l sis,� Jack called. Smudge wandered over and perched on the arm of Jack�s chair. �Did ya do okay?� She held out her hands for inspection.

�Yeah, bruised me knuckles a bit,� she shrugged. Jack caought one of her hands.

�Sure youse okay?� he worried. She rapped the top of his head.

�I�m fine,� she said. �Gimme that.� Smudge snitched one of the biscuits off his plate.

�Hey!� Denton said as he entered with a freshly printed newspaper. Dutchy waved his fork in greeting. �Look at this.� He set the paper in front of Jack. �CHILDREN�S CRUSADE STOPS THE WORLD� the headline blared. On the front was a picture of them, totally unprepared for the picture. Jack stood out at the top, waving his fists in the air. The real Jack stared dumbfounded at the newspaper. Spot started jumping up and down, trying to see over Jack�s shoulder.

�Hey, where�s my name, where�s my name?� he demanded. Jack wiped Spot�s enthusiastic spit off his cheek.

�Will ya stop thinkin� bout yourself?�

�What is it? All about us?� Boots asked.

�Hey, look at ya, Jack; ya look like a gentleman,� Mush laughed, pointing to the picture. Jack batted his hand away.

�Yeah, will ya please get your fingers off my face?� he groused.

�You got us on the front page!� David exclaimed.

�No, you got yourselves on the front page,� Denton countered. �Now I just have to make sure you stay there.� Skittery, however, was nonplussed.

�So what?� he asked. �Ya get your picture in da papes, so what does that get ya?�

�What, are ya nuts?� Race shrieked.

�You�ve been in a bad mood all day,� Jack said.

�Glum an� dumb!� Racetrack smacked Skittery, who bumped into Mush. �Ya get your picture in da papes, you�re famous! You�re famous- you can have anythin� ya want.� He banged his fist down on the table, making Smudge jump. �Dat�s what�s so great about New Yawk!�

�If ya could have anythin� ya wanted, what would ya pick?� Smudge asked.

�A pair of new shoes wit� matchin� laces,� Mush said, staring ruefully at the broken laces of his battered boots.

�A permanent box at the Sheepshead Races,� Racetrack grinned, his face blissful.

�But ya can�t bet worth beans,� Smudge laughed. He poked her.

�A porcelain tub wit� boilin� water,� admitted Spot.

�What?�

�Nevah mind.� Kid Blink jumped up on a table.

�A Saturday night wit� da mayor�s daughter,� he winked. The others whistled. Smudge clamped her hands over her ears.

�If you�re gonna go into all dat goil stuff, I ain�t gonna hear it,� she warned. Kid Blink made a face at her. Racetrack jumped up on another table.

�I�m the King of New York!� he cheered.

�Can it, youse two,� Smudge ordered. Racetrack popped down. Kid Blink dangled his long legs over the side of the table.

�So what do we to from here?� David asked Denton.

�We gotta stay in the papes,� Jack said.

�Well, my paper�s the only one printing any strike news,� the reporter shrugged.

�Then we gotta do somethin� big, so the other papes�ll feel stupid if they try to ignore us.� Jack�s hazel eyes sparkled. �Like a rally! A big newsie rally, wit� all da kids from all over New Yawk. They�d hafta listen to us then.� A waiter set a tray of drinks on the table; Jack picked up a glass. �We�ll keep fightin� till dang doomsday if it means we get a fair shake.� Smudge stuck her hand in between Snitch and Jake and grabbed a glass for herself.

�Hey, guys,� Davy said. �To our man Denton!�

�Our man Denton!� the newsies chorused. Smudge downed the sarsaparilla and set the drink back down.

�Where do you think you�ll have the rally?� Denton asked.

�Friend of mine runs Irving Hall. Medda Larkson- ya heard of her?� Jack questioned.

�Oh, the vaudeville actress,� Denton nodded. �All right, then. Keep me informed.� He handed the waiter his money and left Tibby�s.

�Spot, ya gonna come?� Jack asked.

�Whaddaya think?� the Brooklyn newsie snorted. ��Course.� He got up from the table and stuck his cane back in his red suspenders. �I�ll see ya there.�

�See ya, Spot,� Smudge said. He tipped his gray hat at her and sauntered out.

�I�m gonna go talk ta Medda,� Jack said. �You keep an eye on things for me, �kay, Smudge?�

�All right,� Smudge said smugly. �I think we�re gonna make some more signs. The ones we used ta have are�kinda dead.� Jack stopped.

�Dead?�

�They got trampled when the goons showed up,� Smudge shrugged.

�Oh.� Jack left, and the crowds began dispersing.

�What are we gonna do again?� Swifty asked.

�Make signs,� said Smudge. �Stuff like, y�know, �Strike� an� �Stop the World�.�

�How do you spell that?� Robby asked. Smudge sighed.

�Which one? Strike, stop, world, or the?�

�Eh�all of �em. Except �the�. I can spell that one.�

�I�m quite proud of you, Robby.� Smudge opened the door to the lodging house. �Kloppman!� she called.

�What, Smudge?� he asked.

�D�ya got any cardboard or paint or anythin�?� Kloppman cocked an eyebrow.

�Check the back room,� he said. �And who died and made you queen?� Smudge grinned.

�I get ta be temporary leader,� she sang. Kloppman just arched his eyebrow again. �Don�t look at me like that. I can do it.�

By the time dark fell, she was more than ready to relinquish her title to Jack.

�Smudge, should I use red or blue?�

�I don�t know.�

�Smudge, did I spell this right?�

�I don�t know.�

�Smudge, do we have any more cardboard?�

�I don�t know.�

�Smudge, does �Pulitzer� have one �s� or two?�

�I don�t know.�

�Smudge, did I spell this right?�

�I don�t know.� Dutchy threw up his hands in disgust and lugged his sign to Kloppman�s desk.

�So did I spell it right, Kloppman?� he asked.

�S-T-R-I-K-E. Hm, very good.�

�Strike,� Dutchy said proudly. The door opened and a man dressed in a black suit stalked into the room. He started flipping through Kloppman�s logbook. Smudge latched onto Skittery�s arm.

�That�s Warden Snyder,� she hissed. Skitt nodded. Kloppman took the book from Snyder�s grasp.

�Can I help you?� he asked. Snyder fixed his cold, fishy eyes on Kloppman.

�I believe you know the whereabouts of a boy who calls himself Jack Kelly,� he rasped.

�Eh, Kelly, Jack Kelly�never heard of him. Never heard of him.� Kloppman looked over at the newsies clustered in the front room. �Any of you boys ever heard of a Jack Kelly?� Specs stood up.

�That�s a usual name for these parts,� he said, his voice calm. Race straightened up. Smudge�s hand tightened on Skittery�s arm as Jack walked in the door. Swifty yanked him back and pointed to Snyder. She could see Jack�s eyes widen. Racetrack�s dark eyes flicked over at him, then focused on Snyder.

�Oh, you mean Jack Kelly.� He pushed his cap back over his curly hair. �Yeah, he was here.� Snyder�s eyes gleamed. �But he put an egg in his shoe an��beat it.� The newsies hooted. Snyder glared. Jack smirked and ducked behind Bumlets.

�I have reason to believe he is an escaped criminal and possibly dangerous,� the warden said. Jack, from behind Snyder�s back, mouthed the words, me? No, never! Kloppman�s eyes opened innocently.

�Dangerous? Oh, my! I�ll have to look in my files.� He waved Snyder into his office. Jack disappeared behind Swifty, Mush and Racetrack, who held up their posters to cover him.

�Give to the Newsies Strike Fund, mistah?� Race asked sweetly. Snyder handed him a dime.

�Tightwad,� Skittery mumbled. Snyder left the room. Jack peeked out from behind the others. Smudge let the blood start circulating in Skittery�s arm again.

�Kelly!� she hissed. Jack held a finger to his lips.

�Ya want him comin� back in?� He glanced towards Kloppman�s office. �I�m gonna go out.� Without waiting for anyone to answer, he slipped outside. Smudge shook her head.

�If Snyder catches him again, Jack�ll be dead,� she prophesied. Robby rested his chin on her knee.

�Tell me the story again,� he pleaded. Smudge ruffled his blond hair.

�It was back in 1895, when Jack was thirteen,� she began. �I had just joined the lodgin� house.�

�Yeah, she was a skinny little thing wit� big eyes an� a big mouth,� Racetrack joined in. �She ain�t changed much, come ta think of it.� She yanked a handful of his thick dark hair until he yelped. �Guess I deserved that.�

�Yeah, ya did. Anyway, Jack had just learned how ta gamble, an� he�d been winnin�, an� then he lost it all. Kinda like Race here.�

�Can it, Smudge.�

�But he decided not ta ask anyone for help, so he got real hungry and got caught stealin� a loaf of bread,� Smudge continued. �He was sent to the Refuge for three months. But ya know Jack; he can�t keep his mouth shut. He got in trouble for takin� food from Snyder.�

�Why?� Bumlets asked.

��Cause Snyder don�t use the money the gov�ment sends ta take care of the boys. It goes in his own pocket,� Smudge snorted. �Jack got three more months for stealin�. But he got out. See, Mistah Roosevelt, the gov�ner of New York, was visitin� the Refuge. Jack sneaked out and hid under his carriage an� he got outa the Refuge an� cam back an� they all lived happily ever after,� she finished.

�Kid�s asleep,� Skittery whispered. �I�ll take him upstairs.� He scooped the boy up and carried him to the bunkroom. Smudge yawned.

�We�d better go ta bed,� Race said. �After all, we�s got the rally tomorrow night.� Smudge yawned again, this time so hard she popped her jaw.

�Yeah, I s�pose,� she said sleepily. �G�night.� She vaguely remembered changing clothes and climbing into bed, but she was sound asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. When she finally awoke, Jack wasn�t there.

�Racetrack,� she hissed. �Racetrack Higgins!� The Italian boy rolled over and looked at her.

�Wha?� he murmured.

�Where�s Jack? I don�t see him!� Racetrack sat up and rubbed his eyes.

�Don� know. Guess he didn�t come back.� He yawned and curled up under the covers again. �I�m gonna go sleep again, �kay?� Smudge ignored him, but slipped out of bed and got dressed.

�Where are you going, Smudge Caraway?� Kloppman demanded as she reached the front door.

�Gonna go look for Jack,� she explained as she headed outside. Smudge started walking aimlessly around New York. �If I was Jack Kelly, where would I hide from Warden Snyder?� she asked herself. Abruptly she turned on her heel and walked to the Jacobs� apartment. She paused outside the door. What if she had the wrong tenement? What if the Jacobs� didn�t like her? What if David answered the door? Hesitantly she knocked. A tall pretty girl with soft brown hair answered.

�I�se�I�se lookin� for Jack,� Smudge stammered awkwardly. The girl smiled.

�You�re Smudge Caraway, aren�t you?� Sarah asked. �Jack and David told me about you.� She opened the door wider. �Come in. I�m Sarah.� She pointed to a man sitting in the corner attempting to turn the pages of a book with a broken arm. �That�s my father. Papa, this Smudge.� Mr. Jacobs looked up and nodded absently.

�Was Jack here this morning?� Smudge asked. Sarah darted a glance at her father and tugged Smudge into the bedroom.

�He slept on the fire escape last night,� she whispered. �I woke up and he was curled up outside. I gave him some breakfast and he left.� Smudge smiled.

�Good,� she said in relief. �I was wonderin� where he was. He�s prob�ly at Irving Hall, gettin� ready for the rally tonight.�

�Are you coming?� Sarah brightened. �Good! I didn�t want to be the only girl.�

�Well, you prob�ly will be,� Smudge answered ruefully. �I haven�t worn a dress since I was in Saint Patrick�s, and that was two, three years ago.�

�Saint Patrick�s?� Sarah frowned. �The orphanage?�

�Yeah. I lived there till I was about twelve.� Sarah looked at Smudge carefully. �What? Whaddaya doin�?� Sarah�s brown eyes gleamed.

�I�m going to fix you up for the rally tonight,� she decided.

�What?� Smudge yelped. Sarah nodded.

�You need to look pretty for tonight.� She pushed Smudge onto a chair. �Take your hat off and undo your braid.� Bewildered, Smudge shook out her long honey-colored hair. Sarah picked up a hairbrush and started running it through her hair.

�Are ya sure about this?� Smudge asked. Sarah nodded, counting off strokes.

�Positive. Hold still.� So she sat frozen while Sarah fussed with her hair.

�Can I see it now?� Smudge ventured.

�Not yet. You need a dress to wear,� Sarah waved her hand towards the handful of dresses hanging on pegs. �Go pick one out.� Slowly Smudge wandered over to the wall, her fingers running over the smooth fabric of the dresses, skirts, and blouses.

�I like this one,� Smudge said finally, holding up a rose colored dress.

�Perfect,� Sarah dimpled. �But I�ll probably have to alter it. You�re a lot smaller than I am.� She held the dress up against Smudge. �Definitely. Here, I�ll hem it up and you talk.�

�About what?� Sarah pulled out a bobbin of pink string.

�Tell me about the strike,� she suggested.

�Well, Pulitzer jacked up the price, so we�re tryin� ta show him it�s unfair. That an� makin� us eat what we don�t sell.�

�Eating newspapers?�

�Not really eatin� �em. It means we pay for what we don�t sell.� Sarah still looked confused. �Eh�okay. Bumlets bought fifty papes, but he only sold thirty-nine of �em. So he paid for the eleven papes he didn�t sell. It�s hard enough eatin� �em, an� when Pulitzah jacked up the price, it made it harder. So we went on strike. An� we�re all soakin� the scabbers-�

�Soaking scabbers?� Sarah asked, looking up from the dress in her lap.

�Soakin� scabs,� Smudge repeated. �Scabs is strikebreakers. They knows we�re on strike, but they sell anyway. So we soak �em.�

�Soak?�

�We beat �em up,� Smudge clarified. Sarah looked slightly shocked. �Yeah, I can soak �em too. If youse a newsie, ya gotta be tough.�

�I wouldn�t make it,� Sarah laughed.

�Prob�ly not,� Smudge affirmed. �So, ya like Jack, huh?� Sarah�s blush gave it away. The two of them talked for a long time, about Jack and cowboys and newsies and papes and scabbers. They had just gotten started when Sarah pulled on her dress and finished curling her hair.

�How do I look?� she asked, twirling around.

�Ya look like Little Bo Peep,� Smudge giggled. Sarah pulled a face.

�Oh, well.� She grinned at Smudge admiringly. �But you look beautiful.� Smudge blushed and smoothed the fabric of the skirt. �I think you should keep the dress.�

�Really?� Smudge gasped. She flung her arms around Sarah. �Thank you!� Sarah smiled and hugged her back.

�Sarah, can we go now?� Les whined.

�Is David ready?� Sarah asked.

�I don�t want to wear a tie,� Davy complained.

�I guess that�s a yes,� Sarah whispered to Smudge. The two girls left the bedroom. David�s jaw dropped.

�Is that Smudge?� he demanded. Smudge giggled.

�I like seein� Davy speechless,� she said. Sarah tugged on her brother�s arm.

�Come on; we�ll be late.� She grabbed Les� hand as they left the apartment. David trailed behind, still gaping at Smudge. She tried to act calm like Sarah, but she was too excited.

�Hey, Dave, who�s the goils?� Mush whistled.

�Can it, Mush Meyer,� Smudge called.

�Hey�� he stammered. �Smudge? Smudge Caraway?� She rolled her eyes.

�Who else d�ya think I�d be? Jenny Lind?� Mush poked Kid Blink.

�Blink, Blink, look! It�s Smudge!� Blink rubbed his eyes in disbelief.

�She looks like a goil!� he exclaimed. �I mean, I knew ya was a goil, but ya always looked like a boy�I mean�I mean��

�Just be quiet before ya stick your whole foot in your mouth,� she snorted.

�She�s still Smudge,� Racetrack said in relief.

�Hey, look at the crowd!� David called.

�Guys!� Jack called. He paused. �Wow.�

�Yeah, Smudge looks like a goil for once.� She jabbed Blink.

�Nah, I was talkin� �bout-� He saw Smudge. �Yeah, she does!� Smudge jammed her hands on her hips.

�Stuff it, Kelly, or I�ll rip your lips off,� she snarled. Jack held his hands up in surrender.

�All right, all right. C�mon; we�s about ta start.� He took Sarah by the hand and led them into the theater.

�Ew,� Les groaned. David and Jack abandoned them to go onstage.

�C�mon,� Race said. �There�s still some seats up here.� Smudge slipped in between Race and Mush.

�Jack�s on!� Mush cheered.

�An� there�s Dave and Spot. It�s gotta be a special occasion. Spot changed his shirt!� Smudge smirked. Onstage Jack waved his hands to quiet down the crowd.

�Carryin� the banner!� he screamed as the crowd erupted. Spot clapped his hands.

�Davy�s got stage fright,� Sarah pointed out. �Look!� Smudge laughed.

�We�ve come a long way,� Jack continued, yelling to be heard through the theater. �And things are gonna get tough. But we�ll just tougher wit� it!� The crowd erupted. Jack clapped a hand on David�s shoulder. �Also, we gotta start listenin� ta my pal David, who says stop soakin� the scabs.� The crowd was displeased.

�What are we s�posed ta do to the bums? Kiss �em?� Racetrack snorted. Spot�s nostrils flared.

�Hey, any scab I see I soaks �em. Period,� he emphasized.

�No!� David insisted, momentarily forgetting his stage fright. �If we do that, it�ll just be playing into their hands!�

�Well, they�re gonna be playin� wit� my hands,� Spot roared. ��Cause it ain�t what they say, it�s what we say! And nobody�s gonna do it unless we make �em!� Half the crowd bellowed in approval. Jack shoved forward.

�Got no brains!� he shouted. The crowd quieted. �It�s just what the bigshots wanta see! That we�re street rats, street trash, wit� no brains! And if we don�t stick tageddah, then we�re nothin�. If we can�t fight tageddah, then we�re nothin�. An� if we can�t even trust each other, then we�re nothin�!�

�Tell �em, Jack!� Kid Blink hollered from the balcony. Jack leaned on the railing and stared down the audience.

�So what�s it gonna be?�

�We�re wit� you, Jack,� Racetrack nodded. The others murmured in agreement. Jack turned to the feisty leader of Brooklyn.

�What do you say, Spot?� Spot thought for a second, then rose up to look Jack in the eyes.

�I say that what you say�� His blue eyes were freezing. Then he grinned and relaxed. ��is what I say.� Jack grinned in relief.

�All right, Jack!� Mush screeched. Smudge jumped on her chair and whistled loudly with her fingers in her mouth. Sarah laughed. Then the curtains parted and Medda appeared onstage.

�Is that Medda?� Sarah yelled. Smudge nodded.

�She was a friend of Jack�s faddah.� The crowd started singing rowdily.

High times, hard times

Sometimes the livin� is sweet

And sometimes there�s nothin� ta eat.

But I always lands on my feet

So when there�s dry times

I wait for high times and then

I put on my best and I sticks out my chest

And I�m off to the races again!

Spot, Jack, David collapsed in the chairs next to Sarah and Smudge.

�That went good.� Jack grinned at Sarah. �Hey, I�m gonna go see Medda.� Sarah smiled happily as Jack retreated into the crowd. Smudge elbowed David.

�Glad it�s over?� she asked. Davy nodded. Spot downed a glass of sarsaparilla and laughed.

�Why ain�t ya singin�, Smudge?� he shouted over the roar of the crowd.

�Don�t remember the words. Why ain�t you singin�?� she shot back.

�Can�t sing,� Spot shrugged. He leaned over and kissed her cheek. �They�s gonna listen to us now!�

�Wait a minute,� David called. �That�s Snyder!� Smudge and Spot jerked to their feet. The warden with a vendetta was searching through the crowds. David darted off and grabbed Jack. �Jack, it�s Snyder!� Before Jack had a chance to get away, the police whistle sounded. Blue-coated bulls swarmed over the place.

�Get out!� Jack barked, grabbing Smudge�s thin arm. David dragged Sarah and Les with them. The three of them dashed out of the exit.

�I have to get back!� Smudge cried, her fingers fumbling with the sash on her dress.

�What are you doing?� Sarah asked. Smudge pulled the dress off. Underneath she was wearing a pair of ragged pants and a thin white shirt. The muggy air settled around her neck as she pulled her long hair up and tugged her cap over the heap of shining waves. �I�ve got ta go back,� she told Sarah as she thrust the dress into Sarah�s arms. �These are my brothers. I have to see what happens to them.�

�Good luck,� Sarah whispered as Smudge pushed her way back into the theater.

�Robby!� she screamed. �Jack! Race!� The coppers didn�t notice the tiny figure darting around them. �Get off! Get off!� Frantically she pummeled her small fists into the hard muscled back of a mick copper. He ignored her as he dragged Racetrack�s limp body away. She ran faster, her breath coming in rapid gulps. Spot was lying in a heap on the floor. Morris Delancey kicked the boy in the stomach. A police officer carted him off before he could even react. She ran for the front steps. �Run, Jack!� she urged. Kid Blink and Jack were running for the door. Abruptly Jack ran back in, his face pale. He started to run up the stairs when a hired tough materialized at the top of the steps and punched his huge fist in Jack�s face.

�No!� Smudge sobbed. Jack fell backwards and was caught by the waiting coppers. David tried to pull the dazed boy away, but the cops had the upper hand. Warden Snyder stood at the door, contented as a cat in the fish bowl. Smudge clenched her fists. �How dare you!� she screamed, lunging at him. Caught off guard, Snyder retaliated, slapping her hard across her face. Her cheek smarted, but she dug her nails in. A bull latched onto her and yanked her off.

�C�mon, kid,� he growled, carting her to a waiting Black Maria. He tossed her in among the bruised passengers. She sat up as the wagon started moving, her hand to her lip.

�Smudge,� a voice whispered. �Smudge Caraway.� She turned. Mush beckoned to her. �Are y�okay?�

�I don�t know,� she whimpered. Mush held out his hand and made room on the bench for her.

�Did they get Jack?� he asked as she leaned her head on his shoulder.

�Yeah. They got him,� Smudge said, her voice shuddering. She looked at him. �Are ya all right?�

�Might�ve twisted my knee. I fell kinda hard,� he admitted. She squeezed his hand. The paddy wagon jerked to a halt. Mush winced as he struggled to his feet. Smudge hopped down and helped him hobble to the ground.

�Lean on me,� she whispered, slipping her arm around his shoulders. The officer at the door jerked his thumb upstairs.

�Go to dorm three,� he barked. Smudge and Mush made their way slowly up the rickety stairs. The bull at the door unlocked the bolt and let them in. A dozen or more boys were lying on the bunks, most of them bruised and beaten.

�Mush?� Blink asked hazily. �Y�okay?�

�Can�t walk,� he panted. �You?� Blink rubbed his forehead.

�Think they cracked my head open,� he groaned. Smudge helped Mush lie down on the bunk.

�Are ya all right, Spot?� she asked, remembering Morris� boot slamming the thin boy onto the floor. He grinned impishly.

�Yeah, just tired,� he said. But as she walked by he tugged her sleeve and his smile faded. �I feel real bad. I got a huge bruise,� he whispered. �It hurts.� Smudge laid her hand on his shoulder.

�It�s okay. Go to sleep,� she told him. Someone rapped on the door.

�Hey!� a voice called. She knelt by the door. Crutchy grinned up at her through the slot in the door.

�Crutchy!� Smudge smiled.

�Y�okay? That looks real bad.� She absentmindedly touched the cut above her ete where her glasses had gouged her.

�I�m fine,� she reassured him. She slipped her hand through the slot in the door and laid her hand on his cheek. �Is Jack all right?�

�Yeah, he�s fine,� Crutchy told her. �Got him in solitary. Listen, you�re gonna have the hearing tomorrow. So be ready.� He glanced over his shoulder. �I gotta go. Snyder�ll be lookin� for me. I�ll keep an eye on Jack.� He patted her hand, then shut the slot. She slumped against the door as the soft thump, thump of his crutch died away.

�Smudge?� She looked up.

�Robby,� she whispered. �What did they do to you?� The boy curled up on her lap, crying miserably.

�They broke my nose!� he wailed. �One of �em punched me.� Smudge stroked his hair.

�They�re monsters,� she whispered. She held Robby in her arms until he finally fell asleep. And apparently she did too, because the next thing she knew Warden Snyder was stalking through the room.

�Get up! You have your hearing now,� he snapped. Smudge smirked in satisfaction when she saw the nail marks on Snyder�s ugly face. Kid Blink moaned as he sat up.

�Are ya dead or somethin�?� Smudge asked. He nodded, then winced.

�That hurt.� Smudge straightened up slowly, still carrying the sleeping Robby.

�Ya gonna wake him up?� Spot inquired as they made their way slowly downstairs, escorted by the cops.

�I�ll let him sleep,� Smudge said.

�Lemme take him,� Bumlets offered, lifting the child from her. �They takin� us down in one of them Black Marias?�

�Apparently,� Smudge said, pointing to the wagon waiting at the curb. They climbed in, Robby still fast asleep. �Ya doin� okay, Spot?� she asked him as the wagon started moving.

�Sorta,� he answered. �Them Delanceys ain�t so light wit� their fists.� She rested her hand lightly on his arm.

�Hey, look! It�s Denton!� Blink said as they pulled up in front of the courthouse.

�Get inside,� the bull blustered, pushing them inside immediately.

�Whas gon� on?� Robby mumbled.

�Wake up, kid. We�re goin� to the trial,� Bumlets said, setting him on his feet.

�Oh, okay,� Robby yawned.

�Smudge! Y�okay?� Racetrack hugged her. �We been lookin� for ya!� She reached up and touched his cheek.

�Bad shiner ya got, Race,� she said. His right eye was ringed with a varicolored bruise.

�Hey, it coulda been worse,� he shrugged. The Manhattan newsies were herded into the witness box.

�All rise, all rise,� the bailiff droned. �Court is now in session. Hon�rable Judge E.A. Monaghan presiding.� Monaghan peered over the side of his desk.

�Are any of you represented by council?� he asked.

�What�s a council?� Snitch asked.

�Good, good. That�ll move things along.�

�Hey, y�Honor, I object,� Spot said, crossing his arms. The judge leaned over.

�On what grounds?� Spot thought for a minute.

�On the grounds of Brooklyn, y�Honor,� he answered. Racetrack started hyperventilating. The judge shook his head.

�I fine each of you five dollars, or two weeks confinement in the House of Refuge,� Monaghan ordered.

�Five bucks?� Race snorted. �We ain�t got five cents! Hey, y�Honor, how �bout I roll ya for it, double or nothin�.� Smudge poked him.

�I�ll pay the fines,� a voice interrupted. Denton pushed through the crowd, David at his heels. �All of them.� The judge looked disappointed, but banged his gavel.

�Pay the clerk. C�mon, move it along.�

�We�ve got to meet at the restaurant,� Denton said to the boys. Spot wavered and clutched Smudge�s arm.

�What�s wrong?� she whispered in his ear.

�I�m either gonna hurl or pass out. Take your pick,� he whispered back.

�Wait,� she said. �There�s Jack!�

�Hey, Cowboy!� Race called. �Nice shiner!� Jack glanced up and grinned. Smudge caught her breath.

�Oh, Jack,� she murmured. His thin wrists were handcuffed together and one of his eyes was swollen shut. �Wait. We have to see what happens.� She dragged him over to where David, Denton, and Les were waiting to see the trial.

�Hey, Denton, I bet we made all the papes this time. So how�d my picture look?� Jack asked.

�None of the papers covered the rally,� Denton said, refusing to meet Jack�s eyes. �Not even the Sun.�

�Case of Jack Kelly. Inciting to riot, assault, and resisting arrest,� the bailiff said. Warden Snyder stood.

�Your Honor, I�ll speak for this young man,� he said.

�Oh, you two know each other. Ain�t that nice,� Jack snorted. Snyder ignored him.

�Your Honor, this boy�s real name is Francis Sullivan. His mother is deceased; his father�s a convict in the state penitentiary. His original sentence of three months was extended to six months for disruptive behavior.�

�Like demandin� we eat the food ya steal from us,� Jack interrupted.

�The six months was increased to a year for attempted escape-�

�Attempted? Last time wasn�t attempted. Remember, Snyder? Remember Roosevelt an� the carriage?� he asked, his voice rising.

�I suggest incarceration in the Refuge until the age of twenty-one, in the hopes that we may yet guide him to a useful and productive life,� Snyder said, grimacing in what was intended to be a smile.

�So ordered,� the judge said, banging his gavel.

�No!� Les shouted. The coppers took Jack away.

�C�mon, Spot,� Smudge whispered. Denton tried to negotiate with the judge as David and Les walked back with them to the restaurant.

�I don�t understand,� David burst out. �He lied to me! He said his parents were out in Santa Fe waiting for him, and that his name was Jack Kelly. He lied!�

�I know,� Smudge said softly. �But he was young. He didn�t want anybody ta know that his father was a criminal and his mother was dead. He didn�t have a family or a future. So he made one up.�

�You knew about it?� David demanded. She nodded.

�Yeah. He told me.� They walked into Tibby�s.

�What happened?� Robby asked.

�Jack�s gonna be in the Refuge for four years,� Smudge told them. �We ain�t gonna see him �til he�s twenty-one.�

�I�m gonna go back ta Brooklyn,� Spot said. �I�ll be back. But I�m gonna go.� Smudge squeezed his shoulder as he left. Denton came in, bumping into Spot as he left.

�Why didn�t the Sun print the article?� David asked, his voice cold.

�Because it never happened,� Bryan answered.

�Whaddaya mean it never happened? We was there!� Racetrack said, puffing on his cigar.

�The newspapers said it never happened, so therefore�� His voice trailed off. �I came to tell you goodbye.�

�What?� David asked. �Did they fire you or something?�

�No, the owner has decided I should only cover the really important stories. So I�m going back to being the Sun�s ace war correspondent,� he joked weakly. Race threw his cigar down in disgust. David�s eyes dulled. Denton took him by the shoulders. �I would be blackwalled from every newspaper in the country.� He shook David a little bit. �Hey, I�m a newspaper man. I need a newspaper to write for.� Denton pressed a few pages into David�s hand. �This is the article I wrote about the rally.� He put his hat on and started to leave, then turned back. �They don�t always fire you, David,� he said cryptically. Then he left. David crumpled up the paper in revulsion.

�We get Jack out of the Refuge tonight,� he said. �And from now on, we trust no one but the newsies!� They started to leave for the lodging house. Les smoothed out the tattered paper and wrapped his hot dog in it, then hurried to catch up with his older brother.

�Who�s gonna go with ya ta get Jack?� Kid Blink asked.

�Yeah, I wanna come,� Mush said.

�Me too,� Race added.

�I hafta come,� Smudge said. �Jack�s my brother.�

�Hold on,� David interrupted. �Smudge, have you seen your face?�

�Oh, yeah, they got mirrors in every room at the Refuge,� she snickered.

�No, I�m serious,� David persisted. �That cut looks really bad. You might need stitches.�

�He�s right,� Race agreed. �Smudge, ya gotta stay here.�

�I�m fine,� she fumed. �Stop babyin� me.�

�Yeah, well, you baby us when we get beat up, so it�s our turn,� Blink said. He smoothed down her long hair.

�I can�t believe you�re makin� me get stitches,� Smudge complained. She went upstairs and lay down on her bunk. The next thing she knew Robby was staring at her face.

�Whaddaya lookin� at?� she mumbled.

�That was gross!� Robby exclaimed. �He stuck a needle in your head an� everythin�!�

�Ew,� she frowned. �I�m glad I was asleep. What time is it?�

�Eh, I think about seven or eight,� Robby said. Smudge bolted upright.

�What! They left without me!� she shouted.

�Hey, down, Smudge,� Bumlets said. �You�re gonna rip your stitches open.� She slunk down.

�Youse guys is plottin� against me ta keep me from havin� any excitement,� she sulked.

�Excitement! Ya just got five stitches in your forehead!� Robby blurted out. Smudge pulled the covers over her head.

�Oh, joy. Wake me when Jack comes home.� And she did. The sun was glaring at her when she finally awoke.

�Jack?� she called, throwing off the covers and dangling her feet over the side of the bed. �Jack? Where are ya?�

�He ain�t here, Smudge,� Race told her morosely. �He didn�t escape.�

�What?� she gasped. �No, ya got it wrong. He- he didn�t decide to stay in the Refuge, did he?�

�They took him ta Pulitzah�s house. David fixed it up so�s he could run away, but he didn�t.� Smudge buried her face in her hands.

�It can�t be true!� she cried. �What are we gonna do? What are we gonna do?�

�Ya go get dressed, an� ya can meet us down at the distribution offices, okay?� Racetrack said. Dazed, Smudge got up and changed clothes, then made her way down. The newsies were in a state of shock. Without Jack, they had lost their anchor. David was trying to get Racetrack�s attention.

�Hey! Come on! I need help!� He grabbed Race by the shoulders. Race shook his hands off.

�All right!� he shouted. �I ain�t deaf!� Spot limped up.

�Race,� he said suddenly. �Race, just tell me I�se seein� things. Just- just tell me I�se seein� things.� Racetrack glanced up.

�No, that�s Jack.�

�He�s dressed like a scabber!� Kid Blink exclaimed.

�Jack?� Smudge breathed. The scruffy newsboy had been replaced by a young man dressed in brand-new clothes and an unsure look on his face. Weasel had him by the arm and was grinning like the Cheshire cat.

�Jack? What�s goin� on? Come on, look at me, will ya? It�s me, Mush!� The coppers pushed him back.

�This can�t be happening! This can�t be happening!� Kid Blink roared.

�Hey, what is this? Where�d ya get them clothes?� Boots demanded.

�Mistah Pulitzah picked �em out hisself,� Weasel leered. �A special gift for a special new employee.�

�Look at him in his new suit. Ya bum! I�ll soak ya!� Racetrack spat. Spot pushed him back.

�Hey, lemme get my hands dirty.� The scrawny boy lunged for Jack, held back only by the cops. �C�mere, ya! Dirty rotten scabber! I�ll murder ya!� he screamed.

�Spot!� Smudge called. �Spot, don�t!� A bull was about to push the boy to the ground when Skittery grabbed Spot and dragged him away, still screaming at the top of his lungs. �Traitor!� David looked at Weasel.

�Eh, ya wanna talk to him?� Weasel asked. �Go ahead.� The cops parted enough to let David past. The two boys glared at each other.

�So this is why you didn�t escape last night,� David began, flipping the lapel of Jack�s new coat in disgust. �You�re a liar! You lied about everything! You lied about your father being out West, because he�s not out West! You didn�t even tell me your real name!�

�So?� Jack shrugged, unconcerned.

�I don�t understand,� David said.

�Oh, let me spell it out for ya,� Jack told him. �I ain�t got nobody tuckin� me in at night like you. It�s just me.�

�You had the newsies!� David retorted. �You had everybody here. And do you know what? They suffered because of you. They broke Robby�s nose. He�s twelve years old. And you see Smudge? She got five stitches above her eye.� Jack flinched. �You had the newsies, Jack.�

�What did bein� a newsie ever give me but a dime a day an� a few black eyes?� Jack sighed. �I can�t afford ta be a kid no more, Dave. For the foist time in my life I got money. Real money!� He shook his pockets; the coins jingled. �I got more on the way an� as soon as I collect, I�m gone. I�m away.�

�Good!� David exclaimed. �Good, because we don�t need you! We don�t need you! Because all those words you said- those were mine.�

�Yeah, but you never had the guts ta put �em across yourself,� Jack said. David�s eyes met his.

�I do now.� He started to rejoin the group, then turned, his eyes dark.

Whatsa mattah? Jack mouthed. Come on. David lunged for Jack. Before Jack could even react, a cop had wrenched David�s arms behind his back.

�Davy! Davy!� Weasel cajoled. �Maybe you�d like a new suit of your own. Huh?�

�Never!� David screamed in Weasel�s face.

�Get away,� Weasel spat. The cop thrust David back in the group.

�I�m not like you!� David shouted to Jack. He ignored him and allowed Weasel to drag him to the offices.

�Bum!� Boots called. �I trusted you!�

�Seize the day, huh, Jack?� Racetrack roared.

�He�s foolin� �em,� Les suggested, his small face hopeful. �So he can spy on �em or somethin�.� Racetrack snorted. �He�s foolin� �em!� Spot patted the kid�s shoulder.

�Yeah, he�s foolin� �em,� Race repeated.

�I give up,� Spot said, his thin shoulders drooping. �I�m gonna go back ta Brooklyn.�

�I don�t blame ya,� Smudge said softly. �There�s nothin� we can do but pay Joe the money we ain�t got.� She rubbed her forehead above her right eye. �I�m gonna take a walk. I�ll be back.� Nobody stopped her. She walked for a long time, until her small feet ached in the too large boots and her head ached from hunger. The sun began to sink behind the horizon, like a child hiding behind his mother. As she started heading in the direction of Duane Street and the lodging house, she saw someone familiar.

�Smudge!� Jack caught her arm. She jerked away.

�Get away from me,� she said roughly.

�No, Smudge, ya don�t understand,� he pleaded.

�No, I don�t understand,� she blurted out. �I trusted you. I loved you. I thought you was the world ta me. But ya just turned on me.� She started to stalk off.

�Smudge,� he begged. She turned around. His eyes were wet.

�Jack? What�s wrong?� she asked, her voice softening. He drew his sleeve across his eyes.

�I- I can�t say,� Jack said, his voice catching. Smudge raised up on her toes and pressed a tiny kiss on his cheek.

�Come back to us, Jack,� she whispered. Then she ran down the street, tears streaming down her cheeks.

�Hey!� Snoddy said, catching her shoulders as she ran. �What�s wrong?�

�I saw Jack,� she sobbed. �Why�d he do it, Snoddy? Why?� Her tiny body trembled as she cried.

�If ya could see what you�ve done, Kelly,� Snoddy muttered under his breath. He picked Smudge up. �Lemme take ya home. You look exhausted.� She didn�t protest as he carried her to the lodging house and laid her on her bunk.

�Will he come back?� she hiccuped. Snoddy tugged the blanket around her and kissed the top of her head.

�I don�t know,� he said helplessly. �I just don�t know.� She burrowed her face in the pillow and cried herself to sleep.

�Is she okay?�

�Don�t wake her up, Robby.�

�Blink, is she gonna be all right?�

�Shut up, Race. I don�t know. Let�s go.� Smudge kept her eyes closed. When the last boy had left the lodging house, she slipped out of bed, still fully dressed, and walked out the back way.

�Twelve o�clock,� she murmured in surprise. �I slept real late.� She rubbed her eyebrow where her stitches were.

�Smudge?� She glanced up. Sarah and her brothers were walking down the street towards her.

�Hi, Sarah,� she mumbled. Sarah was smiling tremulously.

�Smudge, it�s okay. Look,� she urged. Smudge did.

�Jack!� she cried. Jack opened his arms and hugged Smudge tight.

�I missed ya, li�l sis,� he whispered in her ear.

�Jack! Jack, what happened?� she wailed. He set her down on the ground, still holding her hand tightly.

�It�s a long story,� he began. �But I�se back now.�

�Is David all right?� Smudge asked.

�I�ll be fine,� David wheezed, clutching his stomach. �Little run in with the Delanceys. That�s all.�

�Smudge, read this,� Jack insisted, thrusting a crumpled, greasy piece of paper into her hands. �What is this?� she asked, wrinkling her nose.

�It was in my drawer,� Les shrugged.

�I still don�t get it. �Why Our City Really Fears the Newsie Strike,� by Bryan Denton. Wait.� She looked up, her eyes shining. �It�s Denton�s article!�

�Yeah!� Jack said. �We�re gonna go see if we can get him ta help us.�

�Last night I saw naked force executed against mere boys, the newsies,� Smudge read, following Jack and the Jacobs kids. �What are we gonna ask him?�

�I don�t know,� Jack shrugged. He knocked on the door. Denton answered. Jack shoved the paper in his face. �Ya mean what ya wrote here?� he demanded. ��Bout all these sweatshop kids listenin� ta me?� Bryan�s face relaxed slightly.

�I don�t write anything I don�t mean.� He opened the door. �Come in.� Smudge slipped in behind Jack. The ritzy apartment was almost bare. Boxes were piled throughout the front room. �So, yes, I meant it,� Denton continued. �The city thrives on child labor. A lot of people make money that way. They�re terrified the newsies strike will spread.�

�Well, there ain�t much chance of that, as long as they�s got the power,� Jack said. Denton looked up.

�Sometimes, all it takes is a voice,� he said, looking Jack in the eyes. �One voice that becomes a hundred, and then a thousand- unless it is silenced.�

�Why don�t we spread the strike?� Jack asked. �Have another rally an� get the word out ta all the sweatshop kids? Why not?�

�How? By putting an ad in the newspaper?� David asked sarcastically.

�No, we�ll do better�n that- we�ll make our own newspaper!� A devilish glint lurked in David�s eyes.

�But what do we know about printing a newspaper?� he questioned. The corners of Jack�s mouth turned up in a smile as he caught David�s drift.

�Nothin�- but our man Denton�� He let his voice trail off in insinuation. Denton rolled his eyes. David tossed an arm around Denton�s shoulders.

�Yes, but I think our man Denton has more important things to do. I mean, he�s going to be an ace war correspondent.� He looked up innocently at Bryan. �Right, Denton?�

�From what war will ya be correspondin� from?� Smudge snickered. The reporter started laughing.

�All right. Where do we start?�

�We gotta move fast,� Jack began. �We�re gonna need da newsies ta circulate.�

�I�ll get �em,� Smudge said.

�There�s something else we need. We need a printing press,� Denton pointed out.

�So happens,� Jack said, �I know a guy wit� a printing press.�

�Well, let�s get going,� Denton said. Sarah tugged Les away and the group headed out to the street. �Who is this friend of yours?�

�It�s kinda confusin�,� Jack began. ��Cause he ain�t really what ya call a friend. More like an acquaintance. I stayed wit� him last night.� He turned into the courtyard of the distribution offices.

�It�s in here?� David asked. Jack rattled the rusty doorknob.

�Yeah, it is.� The door creaked reluctantly open. Jack grabbed a lantern off a table and lit the candles. �Follow me, but be real quiet.� Jack led them downstairs in the basement.

�You�ve been living here?� Sarah whispered. Jack held a finger to his lips and offered his hand to help her down.

�Weasel�s right above us. If he finds out, we�ll all be in the slam.�

�So where exactly is this press, Jack Kelly?� Smudge whispered in his ear. Jack set the lantern down and drew the dusty cover off a monstrous contraption in the middle of the floor.

�All right!� Denton whispered. �A platen press. Joe never really threw anything away.�

�Will it work?� David asked.

�It better,� Denton answered. �We have a deadline.� Jack cracked his knuckles.

�So what do we do first?�

�I know how to work the machine, but we need the articles written up,� Denton said. Smudge raised her hand like a schoolchild.

�Can I write one?� she asked shyly. �I have a good idea. Exposin� Snyder.�

�You do that,� Denton said. �David, you help me set the type for the announcement about the meeting. Jack, you and Sarah work on getting the press ready.�

�Look what I found!� Les chirped. �There�s all this paper under the stairs.�

�Good job,� Denton praised. �Smudge, get to work on the article.� She saluted and grabbed a sheet of paper and stubby pencil. Her eyes started sparking as she scribbled down the truth behind the crooked warden.

�Smudge, are you done yet?� David asked. She waved the paper in triumph.

�Sure �nough!� she said. Denton skimmed it over.

�This is pretty good,� he said. �David, you start setting the type.� David picked through the box of metal letters and fitted them into the wooden tray.

�What are we going to call it?� he asked.

�The Newsies Banner,� Jack answered. Sarah smiled. Denton took a wooden mallet and tapped the metal letters into place. Then he rolled the ink over the cast.

�Hand me a piece of paper.� Jack and Smudge looked over his shoulder as Denton pressed the paper down and carefully drew it back up.

�Perfect,� David said.

�Hey, now we�s only got four hundred an� ninety-nine ta go,� Jack said. �C�mon, Smudge. Ya can help me out.�

�What do I do?� she asked.

�Ya can put the paper in. Youse too short ta run the pedals.� She glowered at him.

�Hey, Jack?�

�Yeah?�

�Can ya tell me why ya tried ta be a scab?� She could barely hear him sigh over the click and whir of the press.

�I didn�t want ta do it,� he said. �But he said that if I worked for him an� then got outta town after the strike, he would pay me.�

�That�s bribery, Jack! Why�d ya give in?�

��Cause he threatened ta put all of ya in the Refuge. You�n Race an� Blink an� Mush- all of ya. Even Dave.� He hung his head. �So I turned myself in.� Smudge slid another sheet of paper in the machine and squeezed his shoulder.

�I�m sorry,� she whispered.

�I am too,� he said.

�You really did that?� David asked. Jack glanced up guiltily.

�Yeah.� David looked ashamed.

�Smudge,� Denton interrupted. �Smudge, I need you to go get the newsies. By the time they get here, we�ll have enough for them to start circulating.� Smudge nodded.

�Sarah can take over for me. I�ll be back,� she said.

�Be careful,� Jack cautioned. She saluted, then slipped out the back door. It was pitch black outside. A few lone wagons clipclopped their ways down the streets. She started running. Familiar landmarks looked like nightmares. But she found Duane Street eventually and sneaked in the front door. Kloppman wasn�t at the desk. She dashed upstairs. Mush was snoring, his face buried in the pillow.

�Mush!� she hissed. He kept snoring. �Racetrack Higgins!� No response from him either. She sighed, then rolled him off the bed. He landed on the floor with a hard thunk.

�What the hey�� he mumbled. Race sat up and rubbed his eyes sleepily.

�Racetrack, I need ya ta help me.� He started.

�Smudge! Where�ve ya been? We were lookin� for ya all day!� he said.

�I�se sorry, but I need ya ta help me,� she repeated.

�With what?�

�It�s a real long story, but I need ya ta come down ta the distribution offices and circulate our newspaper. See, we�re tryin� ta get all the other workin� kids, so we wrote up a newspaper, an� we need all of ya ta spread it around.�

�Who�s we?� Racetrack interrupted.

�Me, Dave, Sarah, Denton, an� Jack. Come on,� she insisted.

�Jack? Denton?� Race snorted in disbelief. �You�re insane. I�m goin� back ta bed.�

�No, ya don�t understand,� Smudge persisted desperately. �Ya gotta believe me.� Race looked her long and hard in the eyes.

�I don�t know why I�m doin� it, but I am,� he answered slowly. He got up. �C�mon. It�ll take about three years ta wake all them up.� She grinned.

�Thanks, Race.�

�Yeah, well, don�t make a habit of wakin� me up at three in the mornin�,� he yawned. She shook her head and sat down on Robby�s bunk. He was curled up under the covers so only the top of his head was showing.

�Robby,� she called softly. �Robby, wake up.� He stuck his head out a little farther.

�It ain�t mornin�,� he said sleepily.

�Robby, get up,� Smudge urged.

�Wake me when it�s daylight,� Robby yawned. She grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him awake.

�Robert Caraway, get up,� she said. �Race, ya doin� any better?�

�He�s snorin� too loud ta hear me,� he answered, nudging Mush. Smudge disappeared into the bathroom. �Where�re ya goin�?� She reappeared lugging a pitcher. Smiling smugly, she dumped about half the contents in Kid Blink�s face. He bolted up, gasping and sputtering.

�What the heck was that?� he spluttered.

�Good idea,� Race said. �Let me try.� She handed the pitcher over and he threw the water over Mush. The snoring stopped instantly. Mush pushed himself up.

�What was that for, Higgins?� he snarled.

�We�re gonna help Jack,� Race reported. �C�mon, get up.� Bumlets peeked out from under his blanket.

�What are ya doin�?� he asked. Smudge shook her head.

�Guys, wake up!� she hollered. �Ya gotta get up!� Groans rose from every bunk as the newsies dragged themselves awake. �I�m only gonna say it one more time, so listen good. Jack needs us ta circulate a newspaper. We�re gonna get all the workin� kids in New Yawk City ta join the strike. So we�re gonna tell �em. Will ya do it?�

�Yeah!� they called.

�Good! Now hurry up an� get down to the distribution offices. We�ll be by the back window,� she instructed them. Robby ran up and grabbed her hand as she started out the door.

�I�m ready,� he said. �I�m comin� too.� She hugged him.

�Okay, Robby,� she grinned. �C�mon.�

�Did ya get �em?� Jack asked as she and Robby entered the basement.

�Think so. They�re kinda asleep.� She pulled something out of her pocket. �C�mere, Jack. I got this for ya.� Smudge reached up and tied Jack�s bandanna around his neck. �There. Now you�re really back,� she grinned.

�Sun�s coming up,� David observed. �They�d better come soon.�

�Someone�s there,� Sarah said, pointing to the window. Jack slid the window open.

�Jack!� Racetrack exclaimed. �So she wasn�t makin� it up!�

�Nope,� Jack said. He hefted a thick stack of papers through the window. �Pass these out. Meeting in the square at two o�clock taday. Remember that.� Racetrack nodded and headed out with the newspapers. A steady stream of newsies passed by the window. Each left with a two-inch stack of papes.

�We still have hundreds left,� Sarah sighed.

�That�s where we come in,� Denton said. �Isn�t the circulation wagon somewhere around here?� Jack grinned devilishly.

�Yep. Horses are in the stable.� He stood up and stretched. �Smudge an� me�ll get the wagon. Youse guys bring the papes.�

�Jack,� Smudge whispered as they walked up the steps. �I don�t know anythin� about horses.�

�I do,� he confessed. �Used ta come out here an� see �em when the stableboys wasn�t there.�

�So that�s where ya kept disappearin� to,� Smudge laughed.

�Yup,� Jack said. He patted the neck of a tall chestnut horse, who rubbed his nose against Jack�s chest and whinnied. �Hey, quiet down there, Ace.�

�His name�s Ace?�

�Nah, her name�s Ace. The black�s Deuce an� the gray�s Seven.� Jack unhooked the stall door and led the mare out. �I named �em.� He thrust Ace�s lead line into Smudge�s small hands. �Here, ya hold on ta her an� I�ll hitch her to the wagon.� Smudge glanced up in trepidation at the horse.

�What if she tries ta bite me?� she asked timidly.

�Bite her back,� Jack shrugged. �Lead her over here.�

�Lead her?� Smudge squeaked.

�It ain�t all that hard.� She gulped and tugged timorously on the rein.

�Eh�c�mon, Ace,� she said. The mare followed her obediently to the wagon. Jack hefted the harness and started fastening it over Ace�s broad back.

�See, that wasn�t so hard, was it?� he grinned. Smudge shuddered.

�Just don�t make me hafta ride that beast,� she shivered. Jack laughed and jumped on the seat.

�C�mon, Smudge.� She grabbed his hand and settled beside him.

�That was quick,� Denton commented as he came out the door with a pile of papers. Sarah and David followed, similarly weighted down.

�Load �em on an� then we c�n get goin�,� Jack said. When everyone was aboard, he slapped the reins over Ace�s back and the wagon lurched its way out to the street.

�So we just hand them out to all the working kids we can find?� Sarah asked.

�Guess so,� Jack said.

�Like what kind of working kids?� David inquired.

�Like the shoeshine boys, the blacksmith workers, the miners, the factory kids,� Jack answered. �Smudge, ain�t that the way Crutchy got hurt?� She nodded.

�He was one of the bobbin changers. Fell off one of the machines an� got his leg crushed,� she replied. �Think he was about six years old or somethin� insane like that.� Denton shook his head.

�I can�t believe that people actually try to get away with something like that,� he said sadly. Jack slowed Ace to a halt.

�Smudge, ya go in the factory an� hand them out,� he said, indicating the grimy building belching smoke. She nodded and picked up a stack of the papers. David helped her down to the ground.

�Thanks, Dave,� she smiled. He grinned back.

�Good luck.� She sighed as the wagon started.

�They�s already workin�, an� it�s seven o�clock in the mornin�,� she grumbled to herself. She slid through the gap in the tall iron gates. Already she could hear the endless clanging of the thread machines inside. Smudge crept in the front door. A spindly clerk sat at the front desk, busily shifting through paperwork. She dropped to her knees and crawled beneath the level of the desk. Seven feet�five feet�three feet�she reached the door. The protesting creak was covered by the sound of the machines. She was inside. Slowly she straightened up. The dark, dusty room was already sweltering, despite the early morning. The clanging and swishing of the looms nearly deafened her. Smudge sidled up to the girl working the first loom. She glanced up. Her silky blonde hair was cropped short to keep it out of the way of the hungry bobbins. She smiled, but looked confused.

�What are you doing here?� she asked. �Are you the new girl?�

�No, I�m Smudge. I�se a newsie.� The factory girl�s blue eyes brightened.

�From the strike?� She nodded in response. �I�m Jessica.�

�Jessica, d�ya think ya could pass some of these out?� Jessica glanced down, her work worn fingers still working the loom.

�I don�t know,� she answered, her eyes serious. �I might get in trouble.� Smudge laid one of the papes by Jessica�s loom.

�At least read it,� she begged. Jessica nodded. Smudge smiled at her, then moved on. A tall spinner tucked a strand of hair back into her bun. Smudge tapped her shoulder. The girl looked down.

�I didn�t see you there,� she said. �Who are you?�

�Smudge.�

�I�m Beth.� Beth�s eyebrow shot up. �Wait. You�re one of those newsies, aren�t you? I think I saw your picture in the newspaper.� Smudge nodded.

�Join our strike,� she pleaded. �Could you pass these out?� Beth�s eyes skimmed over the paper Smudge held up.

�I could try,� she answered slowly. �I�m not promising anything, though.� Smudge grinned and dropped the papers on the floor, hidden under the spinning jenny.

�Quick,� Beth hissed. �The foreman�s coming.� Smudge nodded and darted out of the factory. The skinny clerk didn�t even notice her.

�Yes!� Smudge shouted, pumping her fist in the air. A few passerby looked askance at the small girl. She took off running for the square. A few of the newsies were clustered around the statue of Horace Greeley. �Anybody here yet?� she asked eagerly.

�Nah,� Mush answered. �The meetin� ain�t until two.�

�That�s about six hours,� Snoddy clarified, lounging on the bench.

�Good,� Smudge sighed. She sat down next to Snoddy and laid her head in his lap. �I�se gonna go ta sleep. Wake me when they get here, �kay?�

�Hold it,� Snoddy interrupted. �Smudge-� She was already fast asleep. It was hours later when she finally awoke.

�Are they here yet?� she yawned. Snoddy didn�t answer. His head was thrown back and his mouth was gaping open.

�He�s gone,� Blink grinned. She sat up and stretched.

�Ain�t they here?� she repeated. David shrugged. He looked tired. He�d taken off his blue shirt and now wore just his ink-smeared undershirt. His suspenders flopped around him.

�When�s the others comin�, Kid?� Mush asked.

�They ain�t comin�,� Jack said heavily. �There ain�t gonna be nobody but us.� Les� small shoulders slumped.

�When the circulation bell starts ringing, will we hear it?� he asked, repeating what Jack had said so long ago.

�Nah,� Racetrack said, joining the boy. He shoved Les� hat over his eyes, then sighed and wiped his forehead with the back of his arm. �What if the Delanceys come out swingin�? Will we hear it?�

�No!� Les exclaimed. Racetrack patted the hopeful child�s back. Sarah sighed and put her arm around David�s neck.

�It ain�t gonna work,� Robby said gloomily. His short legs dangled far below the ground as he sat on the edge of the statue�s platform. Smudge stood and patted his knee. Suddenly, from very far away, they heard a dull roar. Jack straightened up. The roar grew louder.

�Look!� Kid Blink screamed. A crowd was pouring out into the streets- Union Telegraph messengers on bicycles, grimy breaker boys, sweatshop workers, factory girls, shoeshine monkeys, watch painters, thread winders, glove makers, patchwork sewers, flower sellers. The crowd stretched on forever. Teenagers, children, girls, boys. Some carried homemade, badly lettered signs. Some waved tattered copies of the paper in their hands. All of them were screaming. The chant echoed through the city. �Strike! Strike! Strike! Strike!�

Around the statue, the newsies were shouting victoriously. Jack picked up Smudge and spun her around. �We did it! We did it!� he called. Smudge kissed his cheek and laughed. David hugged Sarah. Pie Eater was whooping for joy.

�Jessica! Beth!� Smudge shrieked. Beth headed up a horde of the factory girls. She waved to Smudge.

�Look!� Kid Blink shouted again. Spot Conlan was leading a swarm of Brooklyn newsies, waving his cane.

�Brooklyn!� he hollered.

�Knew ya would come back,� Jack grinned. Spot�s face lit up.

��Course!� he said. �Ya can�t do nothin� wit�out Brooklyn.�

�Dear me,� Racetrack called. �What have we here?� He pointed to the World building. An older gentleman was standing on the steps, looking at all the children screaming. He shook his head slowly. Then he said something to a police officer and disappeared into the building. The bull pushed his way through the crowd.

�Are you Jack Kelly?� he bellowed.

�Depends.�

�Mr. Pulitzer wants to see you.� Jack smirked.

�C�mon, Dave, Smudge. Youse gonna come with me.� Smudge held onto to David�s arm as they shoved their way towards the building. Jack turned and winked at the crowd as he was led through the double doors he had once been thrown out of.

Inside it was quiet as tombs, the din of the crowd hushed to a dull roar. Smudge�s battered boots made a soft clicking noise as she followed David and Jack through the cool marble halls and up the wide flight of stairs to the very top of the building. A tall thin man materialized and wordlessly led them upstairs. He opened a thick solid door and stepped inside, Jack at his heels. The thin man hurried over to speak to the same gentleman who had been outside.

�The �phone�s been ringing off the hook. Mister Hearst and the mayor in such horrible language. The city�s at a standstill and they all blame the Chief. It�s like the end of the world.� The thin man gasped. �Oh, dear, I didn�t say that.� Jack strode up to the desk. A giant of a man glared at him.

�Extry, extry, Joe,� Jack said coolly. He unfolded a copy of the Newsies Banner. �Read all about it.� Joseph Pulitzer stared at the scrap of paper.

�I promised that if you defied me, I would break you,� he growled. �I intend to keep that promise. Now I offered you freedom. I don�t understand.� Pulitzer gestured eloquently with his cigar. �Anyone who does not act in his own self interest is a fool.�

�Then what does that make you?� David demanded, unable to hold his tongue.

�What?� Pulitzer asked.

�This is my pal, David,� Jack explained.

�Huh! David,� Pulitzer snorted.

�He�s the walkin� mouth.� David sent Jack a look.

�You say that anyone who doesn�t act in his own self interest is a fool, but since the strike your circulation has been down seventy percent. Every day you�re losing hundreds of dollars, just to beat us out of one lousy tenth of a cent.� David leaned closer. �Why?�

�Well, ya see, it ain�t about the money, Dave,� Jack explained. �If Joe gives in ta nobodies like us, it means we got the power.�

�And then he�ll look like more of a fool,� Smudge blurted out. She clapped a hand over her mouth.

�Who is this now? You pull companions like rabbits out of a hat,� Pulitzer complained. Smudge walked from the door and stood between Jack and David. Pulitzer glared at her. �And this is a girl. Go home to your mother, girl.�

�Don�t have one,� she shrugged. �I�se helpin� my brother.�

�It runs in the family,� Pulitzer said.

�He�s right, though,� Smudge told him. �An� ya know it. Ya don�t want ta lose your power.�

�Y�see, Joe,� Jack strode over to the balcony and flung the doors open. �Y�see, right out here? That�s where all the power is.� Pulitzer stood and stumbled out to the balcony. The crowd clamored louder when they saw him. Pulitzer slammed his hands over his ears.

�Go home!� he bellowed. �Go home! Go home! Go home to your mothers and fathers! Go home!�

�Can�t hear ya, Joe,� Jack shouted.

�Shut the window and shut up!� Pulitzer screamed as he retreated from the balcony.

�No!� Jack roared. �There�s a lotta people out there, an� they�re gonna be listened to. �Cause there�s a lot of us who ain�t goin� away. That�s the power of the press, Joe.� He stepped inside and shut the window. �So thanks for teachin� me about it.� Pulitzer sat down at his desk and slowly picked up the Newsies Banner.

�I ordered a printing ban on all strike matters,� he said. �Who defied me? Whose press did you use to print this? Whose?�

�Well,� Jack replied, �we only use the best, Joe. So I just want ta say thanks again.� Pulitzer dropped the paper like a hot coal and glared at Jack.

�I will speak to this one alone,� he glowered.

�But-� Smudge stammered. David took her by the hand and dragged her away.

�We have to go,� he said as they walked down the marble steps.

�What is he gonna do ta Jack?� she wailed.

�I don�t know,� he answered. They walked outside.

�Hey, fellas!� Spot called. He ran up to them. David�s shoulders were slumping. �What happened? Where�s Jack?�

�I�m here,� Jack called. He sauntered past them.

�Jack, what did he say?� Smudge demanded. Jack ignored her and whispered something in Les� ear. He lifted the little boy onto his shoulders and straightend up. The crowd was silent, waiting.

�WE BEAT �EM!� Jack shouted. The crowd erupted.

�We did?� Smudge shrieked. �We did! We won!� Suddenly someone grabbed her and pressed his lips onto hers. She started to pull away, then leaned into him. Their lips parted and David grinned sheepishly at her.

�Sorry,� he said. She flung her arms around his neck.

�We did it!� Spot crowed. Smudge let go of David and hugged Spot.

�Ouch,� she complained. �Your cane just stabbed me.� He laughed.

�Look at that,� Racetrack called. Weasel scowled at them in disgust and stalked off, the Delancey brothers at his heels. Smudge stuck her tongue out at him. Robby hugged Smudge. She laughed and kissed the top of his head. Suddenly a police wagon lumbered through the crowd. Warden Snyder was seated at the front, next to a bull.

�Jack, put me down,� Les insisted. �Put me down! It�s the bulls!� Jack set Les on his feet and started to push his way through the crowd. Denton appeared and grabbed Jack.

�No! Jack, it�s okay!� he told him.

�C�mon!� Race argued, pulling Jack away.

�No! You don�t have to run,� Denton said. �Not from the likes of him. Come on.� Jack followed Denton reluctantly. The police wagon halted. A copper opened the door. Several boys spilled out- all former prisoners from the Refuge. A soft thump, thump echoed from inside. Crutchy poked his head out and hopped to the ground. Warden Snyder was led around back, handcuffed.

�Remember what I told ya, Mistah Snyder,� Crutchy reminded him. �The foist thing ya do in jail- make friends wit� da rats. Share what ya got in common.� The copper laughed as he pushed Snyder in. �Eh, officer?� he asked. �May I please?�

�Sure, kid,� the bull nodded. Crutchy wedged his crutch between two cobblestones, then slammed the door of Police Wagon Number Seventeen shut and bolted it. Then he picked up his crutch and hobbled over to his friends.

�Crutchy!� Smudge sobbed. He patted her back.

�Hey, I�se back now,� he said. �Ya don�t gotta cry.�

�But I�se happy!� she wailed. Crutchy looked at the others.

�She�s a goil,� Kid Blink shrugged. The paddy wagon jolted away.

�Say goodbye to Warden Snyder,� Denton said gleefully.

��Bye, Warden Snyder,� they chorused, waving.

�Aw, ya should�ve seen it,� Crutchy said. �He comes stormin� in like he owned the joint, wavin� his walkin� stick like a sword an� he�s leadin� this army of lawyers an� cops-"

�Who comes stormin� in?� Jack interrupted.

�Oh, you know. Your friend- him! Teddy Roosevelt!� Crutchy exclaimed, pointing to a man in an open carriage, laughing and waving to all the young strikers. Racetrack�s dark eyes bugged out.

�That�s Roosevelt?� he gasped. Denton clapped a hand on Jack�s shoulder.

�The governor�s very grateful you brought this matter to his attention. He said he can take you anywhere you like.� Denton�s eyes glinted. �And this time you ride inside.� Jack blushed slightly.

�Could he- could he take me to the trainyards?� he asked hesitantly.

�The trainyards?� Racetrack repeated in disbelief. Denton nodded and led Jack to Roosevelt. A handful of the Manhattan newsies followed him, including Spot.

�G�bye, Jack!� Smudge called. Jack blew her a kiss. He stood up in the carriage, waving to the crowd. Soon the carriage had disappeared. The circulation bell clanged.

�Looks like the afternoon edition�s ready,� Spot observed. His skinny shoulders drooped. �I wish I could go wit� Roosevelt, �stead of Jack.�

�He�s really going to Santa Fe, isn�t he?� David sighed. Smudge nodded and wiped the tears from her eyes.

�He�s wanted ta go since he was seven years old.� The tears began streaming down her face with a vengeance. �But I don�t want him to go!� David kissed her cheek awkwardly. Then he led the newsies up to the distribution offices. Smudge joined Sarah.

�I�m going to miss him too,� Sarah said. She hugged Les, who was crying harder than both of them put together. �But look at David.� David stood at the head of the line of newsies. He held up a coin.

�A hundred papes,� he said confidently. Mush grinned and slapped David�s back. From very far away, they heard the crowd shouting. David glanced back as he picked up his papers. A slow grin spread over his face.

�It�s Jack!� Les shouted.

�He�s back!� Mush called, grabbing David�s shoulders. Jack stood up in the carriage.

�I knew I was important to youse guys!� he called. He said something to Roosevelt, who smiled and shook Jack�s hand. Jack jumped down. Smudge grabbed Spot�s arm and dragged him forward.

�Mistah Roosevelt!� she called. The governor smiled at her.

�You�re Smudge Caraway, aren�t you?� he asked. She nodded and tugged on Spot�s sleeve. His blue eyes were enormous as he stared up at Roosevelt.

�This is Spot Conlan, the leader of Brooklyn. He told me he wants ta go wit� ya. He�s just a little tongue-tied at the moment.�

�Of course,� Roosevelt said. Spot hugged Smudge impulsively.

�Thanks, Smudge,� he told her. Then he climbed up into the carriage. He grinned cheekily and waved.

�There ya are,� Jack said. �I�se back, li�l sis.�

�Good!� she said.

�Hey, Dave!� Jack called. �How�s the headline taday?� David shook his head.

�Headlines don�t sell papes,� he said. �Newsies sell papes.� The Manhattan newsies roared in approval. Then Sarah pushed her way through the crowd and smiled at Jack. He grinned. She slid her arm around his neck, and their lips met.

�Whoa, Jacky-boy!� Racetrack whistled.

�Are they gonna stop or what?� Kid Blink asked. Jack came up for air and Les jumped him. He laughed and took Sarah�s hand.

�Goodbye, Spot!� Sarah called.

�Aw, go back ta Brooklyn!� Jack hollered. Spot waved. David hoisted Smudge on his shoulders.

�Carryin� the Banner!� she shouted.

THE END

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