Thanks a lot!
DISCLAIMER: This may come as a bit of a surprise, but the characters in this story belong to Disney. (Who'd have thought that?)
They were borrowed without permission. No copyright infrengement intended. No money was made. (As if anyone would pay me for this.)
Thanks to Scribe, Powder, Lynn, ShoeGoil and Crutchy for their input, encouragement and proofreading. I love you all!
All remaining mistakes are mine.
Thanks a lot!
The snow was falling down in heavy flakes. It was cold, freezing cold, and the fog was as thick as pea soup. The wind was howling, and the streets were nearly empty. Jack, David and Les were slowly walking through the snow, trying to find buyers.
"Oh, Jack, let's give it up!" David said. "Who'd buy a newspaper in this weather? People are staying at home, and I can't blame them!" In a lower voice, so that his little brother would not hear, he added, "We've got to get Les out of the cold! Look at him, he can't go on much longer."
Jack threw a glance at the little boy who was dragging his feet through the snow slowly, trying very hard to keep up with the older boys.
"You're right!" he nodded at David, a grim expression on his face. "Can't remember when I ever had so many papes left!" He quickly counted his stack. "Sixty-three! I haven't even sold half of them!"
"You shouldn't have bought a hundred in this weather. Everyone warned you."
"Dave, how often do I have to tell you? The weather doesn't sell papes, newsies sell papes!" Jack gave back.
"Well," David smiled, "YOU obviously don't!"
Jack had to laugh out at this.
"Okay, perhaps I get a little overly self-confident at times," he confessed, smiling sheepishly. "Now let's get out of this weather. You and Les should come to the Lodging House to warm up. Much closer than your home."
"Right, and Mama doesn't expect us back too early, anyway. Let's go!"
They started to walk towards the Lodging House. After some yards, Jack decided that he did not need his leftover papers anymore, so he laid them down in the snow, throwing a last glance at the headline: "New York struck by coldest winter in ages."
'Tell me about it,' he thought, then he lifted Les up to carry him, as the little boy seemed nearly unable to go on. Les smiled at him.
"Thank you, Cowboy," he mumbled. Then he simply fell asleep in Jack's arms.
When they reached the Lodging House, most of the other boys were already there, huddling close to the small oven. Kloppman was kneeling before it, grumbling at the boys.
"Now do you want me to repair this thing? Then give me room to work!"
"Kloppman, you've been trying to repair it for weeks now. It's simply beyond saving. The fire keeps going out. We NEED a new one!" Blink said. Jack placed Les on the nearest bunk.
"He's right, Kloppman!" he agreed. The old man spun around.
"Is he, Cowboy? Well, good for you! And what am I supposed to do? A new oven costs forty dollars. Do you think the five cents you boys pay me for a night make me rich? I can't afford a new oven anymore than you!" Angrily, he stormed out of the room, taking his tools with him.
Les woke up and looked after him, confused.
"What's wrong with Kloppman?" he asked. The newsies laughed.
"Nothing," Crutchy said. "He's just like that. Whenever we ask for something that would cost his money, he reacts like that. Usually, he gives in later, but in this case, I guess he really hasn't got the money."
"Probably not," Mush said. "Well, I guess the old oven will have to do for another year. By the way, Jack, it's December 16th already. Don't you think we should draw names soon?"
"Oh my, yes, sure. I'd completely forgotten about that," Jack answered.
"Draw names?" David sounded confused.
"A Christmas tradition," Crutchy explained. Then, with an interested smile, he asked, "Hey, Davey, tell me, how do you and your family celebrate Christmas?"
"Err...we don't."
"What? Why not?" Crutchy sounded baffled. Jack laughed.
"Crutchy, may I remind you that you are talking with DAVID Jacobs here? His sister's named Sarah, his parents are Mayer and Esther. Does that give you any clue?" He smiled.
Crutchy looked pensive for a moment, then he exclaimed, "David! You're a Jew!"
"Err...yes," David answered. There was a little tension in his voice that told Jack that David was not sure how Crutchy would react. He had obviously had some bad experiences.
Crutchy's face broke into a wide smile. "But that's great!" he said.
"It is?" David sounded surprised. That did not seem to be the reaction he usually got. "Why?"
"Well, if you don't celebrate Christmas with you're family, then you've got time to celebrate with us!" Crutchy said.
"Oh yes, please, can we, David?" Les shouted, jumping of the bunk.
"I'm not sure whether that's all right with everyone..." David looked at the other newsies. Everyone just smiled and nodded.
"Dave," Jack said, "You're my friends, and of course I'd love to have you here at Christmas. But I don't want to bring you in conflict with your own religion, so I'd understand if you said no."
"Oh, I don't think that's a problem. The way I see it, Christmas is kind of a birthday party. I mean, you believe Jesus was the Messiah, we don't, but that doesn't mean it's wrong to celebrate his birthday."
"So we can go, David?" Les asked happily.
"I'll ask Papa to make sure he doesn't mind, but I don't think he will. It's not as if we were too strictly following the religious observations in the first place. Or have you ever seen me not selling on a Saturday because it's Shabbat?"
"Great!" Jack said. "I'm glad you're in." Then he asked, with a hopeful voice, "Do you think Sarah will be back from Boston by then?"
"Sarah!" David exclaimed. "Oh, sorry Jack. I'd forgotten." He pulled a folded paper out of his pocket. "We got another letter."
Anxiously, Jack took the paper and unfolded it. It read:
Dear Jack,
I hope you are all right. I am missing you.
Aunt Martha is still very weak, the twins
are ill and the newborn doesn't get stronger.
I am sorry, but I do not think I can come
back home before the New Year, perhaps
even later.
Look after David and Les while I am gone.
I miss you, and I keep thinking of you.
Love,
Sarah
Jack folded the paper again and sighed. "The New Year?" he asked sadly. Sarah had been gone for almost three month now. They were missing each other terribly. Whenever Sarah wrote a letter to her family she included a page or two for Jack, and he would send his responses back with the Jacobs' letters.
"Sorry, Jack," David said, "I miss her, too. But Aunt Martha simply can't do without her at the moment."
"I wish she came back," Les sighed. "Mama has so much work without her, and hardly any time for us." He sighed sadly.
"Now, if we're going to celebrate Christmas with you, don't we have to know how this name drawing thing works?" David asked. Jack smiled at this all-too-obvious attempt to distract then from their sad thoughts, but nevertheless began to explain.
"You see, none of us have got much money, so if all of us tried to buy presents for everyone else we'd end up out of money and frustrated in no time."
"Well," Crutchy interjected, "Not really all of us. Look at yourself, you bought a hundred papers this morning and in spite of the weather you haven't got any left. How did you do it?"
David started to chuckle uncontrollably. Jack just rolled his eyes.
"I warn you, Dave, you say one word and I..." David laughed even harder. The other newsies started to pry now.
"What is it, Dave?"
"Cowboy, what exactly did you do with your papers?"
"Dave, stop laughing and tell us!"
"You did sell them, didn't you?"
Jack threw his hands up in exasperation.
"No! I didn't sell them, for crying out loud. I had sixty-three left and I just threw them away and the first one who makes a stupid comment will get to study my fist real closely!"
But none of the newsies were trying to make any comments. They were all laughing too hard, howling and rolling on their bunks. Jack sighed.
"Thank you very much, Dave. I'm going to hear about this till I'm old and gray..." But he could not suppress a chuckle himself.
When everyone had calmed down again, Jack continued with his explanation.
"As I said, none of us can afford to buy presents for everyone. Therefore, we do it another way. Everyone writes his name on a piece of paper and throws it in a hat, together with two cents. Then everyone draws a name and buys only one present, for the person whose name he drew. And fifteen cents is the absolute price limit, no exceptions. So we can all get through the holiday without getting completely broke or hurting anyone's feelings."
"Does one tell the person that one drew him?" David asked.
"No, that's top-secret. No one knows which present is from whom. We use the original papers we drew as present-tags, so one can't guess from the handwriting. That's half of the fun!"
"Yeah," Blink commented, "But one shouldn't use this to buy someone a present he has absolutely no use for. Like a pair of honest dice for Race or something." Race jumped up.
"Now what is this supposed to mean? All of my dice are honest. I've never used loaded dice in my life!" His voice sounded angry, and he took a menacing step towards Blink, but there was an amused twinkle in his eyes.
"Oh, sure!" Blink laughed. "And that's why you always win at dice and always lose at horse bets."
"I don't lose at horse bets! Not always, that is!" Race exclaimed, jumping at Blink. Soon, the two boys were rolling on the floor, both laughing and each trying to pin the other one. The other newsies just watched them, grinning. Finally, Race managed to hold Blink down.
"Confess it," he shouted, still laughing, "I'm the king of the tracks!"
"No, you're not!" Blink answered.
"Yes, I am! Confess it!" Race repeated.
"Never!" Blink cried.
"Oh, never, hmm?" Race said, a mischievous smile on his lips. Using the weight of his body to hold Blink down, he began to tickle his ribs with his free hand. Blink started to wriggle desperately, trying to break free.
"No...don't! Stop it! Stop!!!"
"So, confess!" Race laughed.
"Okay, okay!" Blink gasped for air very hard. "You're the king of the tracks, the king of dice, anything you want. But PLEASE, stop!"
Race laughed, but stopped immediately. He rose, holding out a hand to help Blink up. Blink took it, smiling.
"That was really mean, Race. I'll get you for this!"
"Oh, I'm so scared," Race chuckled, throwing an arm around Blink's shoulders.
Jack spoke up. "Well, well, if the both of you could try to behave for a moment, perhaps we could finally get to draw names." He looked at David. "Any more questions about this?"
"Just one. What are the two cents for?"
"Well," Jack answered, "You know, the 25th of December is the only day all year we don't have to work. So we make a real celebration of it. The money buys cake and candy, and a present for Kloppman, too."
"And Kloppman always gets us a Christmas tree!" Snipeshooter shouted. "We're the only newsies in New York with a tree, not even Brooklyn has one!" He beamed proudly.
"Don't say that where Spot can hear you!" Jack warned, smiling. "Now, everybody get some paper and a pen and write down his name, okay?" The newsies broke in feverish activity. Only one little pencil stump was found, and some old newspapers were torn into shreds to make tags. It took forever until everyone had prepared one, but finally Jack could go around and collect both the tags and the money in his hat.
"Okay, guys," he yelled, while he took out the money and mixed the tags, "You know the drill. Everyone takes one paper and looks at it. If someone draws his own name he yells AT ONCE, so we don't have to repeat the whole procedure when he tells us later. Got it?" He looked at Mush.
"Yeah, yeah, got it. Oh, give me a break, that was three years ago," Mush murmured. Jack grinned.
"Sorry, couldn't resist." He slowly walked trough the room, letting each boy draw a name. They looked at them, most of them grinning as they thought about possible presents. The last remaining paper Jack took himself, looked at it and smiled. "Okay, now find a present, and tell no one!" he reminded them.
The newsies nodded.
The rest of the afternoon was spent with the usual chatting, games and bantering.
After some hours, Les and David went home, and the other newsies decided to turn in early that night.
The next morning, the weather was not any better. The newsies moaned as they made their way to the distribution center, knowing another bad selling day was lying ahead.
When they met David and Les at the World's Gate, David took Jack aside.
"Jack, be reasonable today, okay? You know what happened yesterday," he warned.
Jack nodded. He hated the thought of taking less than his usual hundred. He was proud of being able to sell that many every day, but he knew David was right.
After the gate had opened he went up to Weasel's box, David and Les right behind him as usual. Jack took a deep breath, placing 25 cents on the counter.
"Fifty," he said.
Weasel called to Morris, "A hun..." He turned around slowly, grinning wickedly.
"What did you say, Cowboy? FIFTY? Do you feel well?" His words dripped with sarcasm.
Jack stared at him. "My papes, Weasel," he said, having difficulties controlling his voice.
"Sure, sure," Weasel said with mock-friendliness. "Morris, fifty-one papes for Cowboy here." He turned around, a broad grin on his face. "The extra pape is a Get-well-soon-present!" he laughed.
Jack lost his temper. "All right, that does it!" he exclaimed, slamming some more coins on the counter. "Two-hundred!" Weasel stared at him, unbelieving.
"Jack, don't..." Dave whispered.
"Shut up, Dave! I want two-hundred papes, Weasel, and I want them now!" The other newsies just stared at him, shaking their heads and mumbling warnings.
Weasel handed Jack a big stack of papers. "You'll never sell these, Cowboy! Never!" he said.
"We'll see," Jack answered, taking the papers and walking down the steps.
David quickly bought his papers and followed him.
"Are you out of your mind?" he asked, staring at Jack in disbelief. "What do you plan to do with these papes, praytell?"
"Sell them, Dave, what else?" Jack answered, determined.
"Oh, and how do you intend to do that?" Dave asked, anger at Jack's stubbornness in his voice.
"Watch and learn, Dave. Watch and learn," Jack grinned. He saw the doubtful glances his friends threw him from all sides. 'I'll show them,' he thought. 'The Cowboy can sell any amount in any weather - somehow.'
Smiling, he left the yard, David and Les following him.
In the evening, the three boys returned to the Lodging House. When they entered the bunkroom, Blink shouted,
"Hey, fellows, look, Cowboy's got no papes! What did you do with them today, Jack - give them to an orphanage as fuel for the oven?" He laughed at Jack good-naturedly.
"No," was all Jack said.
"Threw them into the Hudson?" Skittery asked, grinning.
"No," Jack answered again.
"So, what did you do?" Mush asked.
"Oh," Jack said, "Why don't you ask Dave?" His face was blank of any emotion.
The newsies looked at David expectantly.
"Well?" Boots asked.
"He sold them." Dave's voice was full of awe. He shook his head as if he couldn't believe his own words. "He sold all of them!"
"What?"
"Really?"
"How?"
"No kidding?" the newsies asked in complete surprise.
"No kidding!" David nodded. "You should have seen him! He was like a whirlwind, not letting anyone pass him without buying a pape. He even stormed three factories during lunch break, selling papes to the workers. And he improved the headlines so much that...well, that I had to suppress the urge to buy a pape from him!"
The newsies cheered and applauded. Jack bowed with mock-gracefulness, smiling broadly.
"Well, didn't I tell you Jack's the best, right the first time we met?" Crutchy asked David, smiling.
"Yes, but till today I didn't know HOW right you were..." David shook his head.
"Well," Jack said, pulling several coins out of his pocket, "Something to add to my savings!" He went to his bunk and lifted the mattress, taking out a small, old leather pouch. He opened it and dropped the coins in, still smiling. Suddenly, his expression changed. He frowned, and began to count the money in the pouch slowly.
"What's wrong, Jack?" Bumlets asked.
Jack just shook his head to silence him and counted the money again, cautiously. He looked up, a grim expression on his face.
"Ten dollars are missing!"
"What? You're sure?" David asked.
"Yes," Jack nodded, anger in his voice. "I am sure. Someone has stolen them."
"But Jack," Mush began, "That's ridiculous! Kloppman's always downstairs, watching the door, and most of the time some of us are here! There's no way a stranger could get in here unnoticed!"
"I know," Jack said, his voice made of stone.
"But you don't think that one of us..." Blink's voice trailed of.
"Do you see another possibility?" Jack asked. "Besides, if some stranger had come in here and found my money, he'd have taken all of it, not just ten dollars." His voice was grave.
The newsies looked at each other, shocked. A thief among them? Impossible! But Jack was right, it was the only explanation.
"Okay, guys," Jack spoke up slowly, carefully considering every word. "I'll take this as a joke. Who ever took the money, just say it now and everything's all right. We won't talk about it again."
Silence met him.
"Okay," Jack continued. "I understand it's hard to confess it here and now in front of everyone." His gaze searched his friends' faces, looking for something, anything that could tell him who was responsible.
"You have time till tomorrow night. If the money's back where it belongs by then, we'll forget the whole incident." He put the pouch back under his mattress. "I'll go and get some stuff for Christmas, now." There was still bitterness in his voice. He turned around abruptly and ran down the steps, leaving his speechless friends behind.
When Jack returned later that night, the lights were already out and most of his friends were sleeping. 'Guess they were in no mood for playing and joking tonight,' he thought. 'I just hope the money will be back tomorrow. I can't stand the thought of one of them actually stealing from me.' He sighed. Somehow he doubted his hopes would be fulfilled. He stored the bag with the candy he had bought under the bunk he shared with Bumlets, then he went to bed. 'God, let this all be a mistake and let everything be all right tomorrow!' was his last thought before he fell asleep.
The next day, the newsies were still full of tension. The weather had cleared up, it was sunny and they knew the selling would be better today, but none of them cheered at the sight. Jack realized that his loss was as hard for his friends as for him, because it destroyed the atmosphere of mutual trust they had always shared.
On the way to the circulation office and in the World's yard, all of them were unusually quiet. Jack quickly bought his papers, completely ignoring Weasel's remarks about the two-hundred he had bought the day before.
He waited for David and Les to get their papers and left the yard, obviously deep in thought. So they sold for a while, hardly talking to each other.
At noon, they stopped to buy some food.
"Do you want to talk about it?" David asked. Jack shook his head.
"There's nothing to talk about, Dave. Either the money will be back this evening or it won't, and that would mean we have a thief among us."
"But," Les said, "We're all friends! Friends don't steal from each other. I can't believe any of them would do that to you!" Jack ruffled his hair.
"This time yesterday I wouldn't have believed it either," he said bitterly.
"Jack," Les asked, sounding a bit afraid, "You know that I didn't do it and David didn't do it either, don't you?" His eyes pleaded. Jack hugged him.
"Of course I do. You don't even live at the Lodging House, and you've always been with me during the days." He smiled at David. "Besides, I'd never believe you'd be capable of doing such a thing." His face darkened. "I didn't believe any of them was." David put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
"You'll see, the money will be back tonight and everything will be all right," he said. Jack smiled at him.
"Thanks for trying to cheer me up, Dave, but you've always been a terrible liar."
With that, he started hawking the headlines again, though with much less enthusiasm than usual.
That evening, when they reached the Lodging House, they found the others already waiting for them. Everyone stared at Jack expectantly.
Warily, Jack walked to his bunk and drew out the pouch. He opened it, and counted the money. He closed his eyes.
"Jack?" David asked.
Slowly, Jack shook his head. "It's still missing." His eyes flew open. "We have a thief among us! Well, I don't know who it is, but I swear I'll find out and he'll regret the day he was born!"
The other newsies looked first at him, then at each other in complete shock. Jack slammed the pouch in his shirt pocket. His face was red with anger.
"I must advise all of you to take your belongings with you from now on. They're no longer safe here."
He pulled the bag with the candy he had bought from under his bunk, tossing it at David. "Dave, please keep that at your place, it's safer there."
He fought back tears of rage and disappointment.
"We are a family, damn it!" he screamed at the others. "How could you, whoever did it, how..." He stopped, panting heavily.
"Jack," David said softly. "Try to calm down. Screaming won't help and most of them are as innocent as you." Jack looked at him and then down at Les. He realized the little boy was crying.
"Les?" he asked. "Did I scare you?" Les only looked at him, still crying. Seeing his young friend in this state calmed Jack immediately. He went over to him and stroked his hair. "I'm sorry I lost my temper. It's just that I'm so disappointed." He looked at Dave. "But you're right. Screaming won't help." He turned around to the others.
"All right, whoever did it, you have just destroyed an atmosphere of love and trust. Hope you're proud of yourself." His friends looked at him, all of them hurt and confused, some even crying. "I'll go to bed now. Good night." Jack jumped onto his bunk.
The other newsies headed for their beds, too. David took Les' hand and walked out slowly.
Jack lay awake for hours that night, and he realized that most of his friends did, too. 'My friends?' he thought. 'One of them isn't. If I just knew who did this to me, and why.' But he could not find any answer.
It was already dawning outside when he finally fell asleep.
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