I

One morning in Central Park, the sun shone it's face down on a small girl who was sleeping on a bench. She was about thirteen years old, and was what doctors call a late-bloomer. She had two older brothers, four younger brothers, a mother, and a father. But all that was behind her now. She had run away from it. Her parents hadn't been able to afford seven kids anymore, so they were going to dump the 'girl' in a convent. She was of no use to them. She couldn't get a suitable job to help support them, so of course she had to go. She had overheard them talking about it three nights ago, and that's when she'd decided to leave (after all, who wants to be in a convent?). She stole some of her closest brother, Billy's, clothes, and his cap. He was two years younger than her, but was just about her size. Now she was finally where she had set off to be. Manhattan, New York. She came here because this was where all the money was. This was where all the opportunities were. But, of course, none of the opportunities were open to women, so she had sensibly cut her hair short before she left to look like a boy.

The sound of a boy's voice yelling, "Extra! Extra! Explosion on 110 St. Thousands Die!" was what woke her up. It was a newsboy, she knew, and she got up to go talk to him. Having grown up with six brothers, she wasn't shy. When she reached his side he had just sold the paper he was yelling about to a man who was walking his dog. "Thank you, sir," he said. Then he noticed the boy standing beside him. "Hiya sleepy head! I knew ya'd wake up sooner or later!" The girl said nothing. She just nodded, glancing around sleepily. "Mind if I ask why ya was sleepin' on dat bench dere?" he asked.

"Cus I was sleepy, and it was better dan da alley," said the girl.

"I see," the newsie said.

"Where ya from?"

"Upstate," she replied.

"What ya doin' here, den?" he asked.

Suddenly she was glaring at this boy. "You sure are nosy!" she snapped.

"Sorry," he said. "Just curious."

"I's on a vacation, alright?" she said.

The boy understood what she meant. He nodded. "I see," he said again. There was a pause in conversation, so he decided to sell another newspaper. He yelled his headline about the explosion again. "Get ya paper folks! Thousands flee in panic!!" And he sold two more papers.

"A newsie huh?" said the girl.

"Nah, I just wake up at dark-thirty in da mornin' for me health! Yeah, I'm a newsie, why?"

"Ya like it?"

"I like it okay," he nodded. "Dere's worse jobs. But ya gotta know what yer doin'."

"Well dat's true wit any job," she said.

"You's very right," agreed the boy. He eyed the fellow standing beside him. "Racetrack Higgins," he said, extending his hand.

"Billy Tellani," she said, using her brother's name, and she shook his hand heartily. "Dat's an unusual name ya got, Racetrack."

"Yeah, it kinda got stuck on me by me friends cus I's always at da tracks, wastin' time and blowin' cash. Speakin' a which, as soon as I sell a few more papes I'll have enough to go place me bet on Derby. He's gonna win today's race, sure as I make up headlines."

"How much ya made so far?"

"Twenty cents. I got thirty more papes to sell, den I'm off to da tracks! C'mon Derby! Race needs to pay rent!" The girl, or Billy as she had introduced herself, thought about what he'd just said. Rent. She wondered where he lived. She wondered where she'd live. It was illegal to sleep in Central Park, and she wouldn't dare to do it again. Racetrack yelled once more about the terrible explosion on 110 St. that killed thousands.

"Hey, where's dat story?" the curious girl asked.

"Page three."

She picked one of his newspapers out of his stack by his feet. She noticed it was a World. Billy began to read the article out loud. "Da local Pest Control bug-bombs the apartments of 110 St. killin' all da bugs in da building." She turned and grinned at Racetrack. "Thousands die? Some explosion!"

"Hey! If ya wanna sell papes ya gotta makes it interesting!" he said. "Cus da headlines won't sell da papes, only newsies can do dat. Ya'll hafta get Jack to explain dat to ya. He says it better dan I do. DEVASTATION!! MASSES KILLED! Thank you very much miss, have a nice day!"

"It's dat easy?" she asked.

"Likes I said Billy-boy, all's ya gotta do is make it interesting. Dese folks dat are bought wit my phony headlines won't even look at dat pape till dere too far away to bother comin' all da way back here to bawl at me bout lyin'. See, she ain't even openin' it. Probably bought it for her husband or somethin'. Dere's nuttin' to it!"

"Damn!" she exclaimed, smiling for the first time all morning. "I'm gonna hafta look into dis newsie business! I need a job and dis is great!"

Racetrack smiled back. He liked this kid. He might just have to take him under his wing and teach him the newsie ways. That is, if he was serious about the job. "Well," said Race, "it ain't hard to start. Just show up at da circulation office at five thirty in da mornin', buy da papes, and sell!"

"Dat early?"

"If ya wanna get any before dey's all gone, yeah dat early!"

Billy whistled between her teeth. "Well how much are dey?"

"Two bits per fifty," Racetrack said. He gave Billy that conniving grin that he always used when talking business with people. "But, as ya probably noticed, we sell 'em for twice what we pay for 'em. It ain't much profit, but it's enough for us."

Billy wasn't so sure. "How in da world can ya pay rent when yer only profiting a quarter off a fifty papers?"

"Cus rent's only six cents a night," Racetrack said, grinning. "At least, where I live it is."

"Where?"

"Now who's askin' a lotta questions?" Racetrack laughed. Billy grinned. "At da Newsboy's Lodging House," Race went on. "Kloppman, the fella who run's it, is usually pretty understandin' if yer rent is late. A lotta newsies live dere." There was a pause while Billy thought. Racetrack knew he had him. "Any more questions while I'm on a role?" he asked.

"Yeah," Billy grinned. "Can ya tell me where I can find dis place?"

"Sure I can," Racetrack said, "but I won't." He laughed and lit a cigar.

Billy was confused, and slightly annoyed. "Why not?"

"Because, oh Impatient One, if ya go dere alone yer probably gonna get soaked," he grinned. "Da boys don't take kindly to strangers just showin' up. Just hold yer horses and stick wit me. After I's done sellin' we'll go down to Sheepshed where I will win some nice beautiful money and will be feelin' very much more cooperative. Then I'll take ya."

"Fine, I'll stay put, as long as ya let me help ya sell."

"Sure, why not!"

For the rest of the morning Racetrack and "Billy" sold papers with phony headlines, and made fun of the pansy boys who were walking along with their mommies. Billy had a near genius ability to make up the most degrading insults, such as, "Heya cheese-head, everybody knows 'bout yer mama's night job downtown!". This almost got them into a fight once, but a bull walked by at just the right moment and the insulted boy ran off. They laughed about that for a while! This was the most fun the girl had had in as long as she could remember! After they had sold all the papers they started walking to the Sheepshed tracks in Brooklyn.

On the way Racetrack asked her, "What ya run away for, kid?"

Again Billy glared, but one look at the concerned face of Racetrack and she softened. "Me mother and father was...well, let's just say I gots family problems."

Racetrack nodded. It was an all too common story. Finally they arrived at the tracks and Racetrack made his bet. Then they took a seat close to the ring, where they were promptly run off by more important people who wanted their seats. This continued where ever they lighted, but nevertheless they managed to watch the race. In fact, they were watching the moment Derby crossed the finish line, first! Racetrack was feeling quite good about himself as he collected his earnings, so of course he agreed to taking Billy to meet "da rest a da boys". During the race he'd told Billy about all his newsboy friends who also lived in the lodging house. He took Billy to Tibby's, their favorite restaurant. All the other newsies were there, as usual. Racetrack triumphantly announced to them all that his horse had won him five bucks at the races!

"Hear dat fellas?" laughed Boots as he stood up on a chair for height. "Race actually won today!" They all laughed, even though Racetrack nearly always won. They liked to mess with him about it.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he said, "laugh all ya want, but I'm da one wit money in his pocket. Real money."

"Heya Race, who's ya friend dere?" asked Crutchy.

"Oh right! I's like ya all to meet Billy...uh," he stopped and whispered to Billy, "what's ya last name again, kid?"

"Tellani" she whispered back.

"Billy Tellani! Says he wants to be a newsie."

"Oh yeah?" A tall boy named Jack Kelly stood up. "How come?"

Racetrack answered for him. "Ran away from home. Needs a job. He's not half bad. Helped me sell a little today. He thinks fast, good wit words, headlines."

"Well, " said Jack, "da first thing ya gotta learn is-" but he was cut off before he could say one more word by the whole crowd of newsies moaning, "headlines don't sell papes-newsies sell papes." They all sighed because they had heard that speech a hundred times, and really didn't want to hear it again.

"If ya don't mind Jack," said Racetrack, pulling Jack to one side, "I'd like to be da one to teach dis guy da ropes. What little training he needs I can give him. He's a natural, I'm tellin' ya!"

"A natural, huh?" Jack thought about this. "Sure Race, you take him."

"Thanks!" Racetrack had a feeling this kid was gonna be a great newsie, and he wanted to be able to say, "I taught him everything he knows." That's why he was so eager to take what was usually Jack's responsibility on himself. He turned back to the girl who was under the alias of Billy Tellani. "I guess yer in, kid! Whenever Jack makes his, 'Da first thing ya gotta learn' speech, we know we gotta new newsie."

"That's fine!" Billy smiled. "When do I start?"

"Tomorrer," said Racetrack. "You'll start out wit me, on my beat. After ya get da feel for it I'll send ya out somewhere's else." Racetrack led her over to the bar. "Two franks wit everything. Thanks."

Then everyone's attention was caught by Mush, who suddenly jumped up onto one of the chairs and proclaimed; "Me and Kid Blink's goin' over to Central Park to take a swim. Who's comin' wit us?" Everybody cheered. True, this was against the law, but that had never stopped a newsie before! As the only girl in the whole party, our little actress wasn't exactly thrilled about going swimming with a bunch of boys who thought she was a boy too. But she smiled as they all walked out of Tibby's, Racetrack holding their franks, and over to Central Park. She had been able to excuse her neglect to take off her shirt and plunge in like the rest of them for a little while, by saying she had to finish her frank. But after the food was gone there was no reason for her not to get in. She just sat there, hoping nobody would notice her. However it wasn't long until Boots saw her on the bank of the pond.

"Heya Billy!" he yelled so everyone could hear him. "You's is lookin' awful dry. Whasamadda? You need yer mama to help ya takes off yer shirt?"

"Ya shut yer dirty rotten mouth, ya shrimp!" she yelled.

"Why don't ya come over here an' make me, huh?" he mocked. She was mad. Especially cause she knew she could soak the little toadstool any day of the week. A few more insults were thrown before Boots and a couple other kids ran up the bank and started teasing her and trying to pull off her shirt and push her in the water. *Author's note: I suppose I should clarify that these boys were not swimming in the nude, as boys often did when there were no girls about.-Punkey* Of course, they were just playing around, but to "Billy" this was horrifying! She pushed one kid down but he grabbed onto her shirt on the way, ripping it slightly. When she heard the rip, anger and irritation filled her, so she pulled the kid back up by his hair to give him what for. Seeing that it was Mush, the boy who's stupid idea this was to begin with, she knocked him right in the kisser! Immediately she cradled her hurting fist, and whimpered quite femininely and not quietly. "Ow!" she whined in a high girlish voice. All her attackers heard it and backed off, staring at her. All except for Mush that is, who was too busy moaning muffled curses about the pain in his jaw to hear anything else. Breathing heavily from the struggle, and favoring her right fist, she decided she should tell the truth. They all knew anyway, she might as well admit it. She looked at them all bitterly.

"So what if I am a girl?" she spat angrily. "Whadaya wanna do about it?" All the newsboys fell silent, but that didn't last long, for soon they were all laughing. At first they were laughing at her. I mean it was an insane concept for a girl to be accepted in the Newsboy's Lodging House. But then Mush was the object of their ridicule. On hearing her words he had undertaken some kind of miraculous recovery. He was completely healed!

"Uh...fer a girl ya can punch almost hard," he said, still dabbing the blood off his lip. They all knew he was trying to salvage what little dignity he had left. After all, he had been punched in the jaw by a girl, and he had moaned about it a good deal. It was too hilarious, and even "Billy" laughed a little. However, Mush's ridicule didn't last long, and soon they were shouting catcalls at her, whistling, and teasing her, and splashing water on her! She was at the point of storming off in rage to cry in some far away alley, when Crutchy, the only guy who hadn't been teasing her, limped up out of the water, picked up his crutch, and went over to where she was standing.

Before she had time to slug him he said, "Heya, fellas." Everyone quieted. "Ya know," he said, "I always saw you's guys as very accepting people. After all, you's were da only ones who would take in a crip when nobody else would. Why don't ya leave her alone, 'kay. She don't deserve it any more dan I do." This made them all stop and think about what they'd been doing. How they'd been acting. It wasn't that they were naturally disrespectful to women, they were just mad about being lied to. "C'mon kid. I'll take ya back to da lodgin' house and show ya where ya can sleep. Dat is, if ya still wants to be a newsie."

"More now dan ever Crutchy," she said. "But, I's a girl. I can't stay in a boys' joint."

Crutchy grinned and shook his head at her. "It wasn't gonna stop ya before was it?" So she followed him to the lodging house. "Here," he said when they'd come into the bunkroom of the lodging house. She'd signed the role book for Kloppman as "Lucille Tellani", which was her real name. Then Crutchy had taken her upstairs. "Dis here bunk's been empty for as long as I can remember," said Crutchy, "so I guess it's yers, Tellani."

"Thanks a lot Crutchy, for what you said back dere" she said awkwardly.

"I meant every word of it," he said. "Oh, ah...one more thing. Ya might wanna...uh, sleep in yer clothes, ya know. And uh, I think for yer own sake, try to wake up first in da mornin'. Dat way ya can get da bathroom first, and ya don't gotta see a lotta guy's in dere underwear first thing. Believe you me, it ain't so great a way to wake up."

The girl laughed. "Thanks again Crutchy!" she said as he left the room. He only waved his hand in response. She thought about what he'd said about waking up first. As early as Racetrack had said she'd have to be at the circulation office she knew she'd be lucky to wake up at all. She decided it was useless so she just shrugged it off, but she did take his advice about sleeping in her clothes. Besides, she didn't have anything else to sleep in. This arrangement might not be so bad as she'd first imagined, she decided as she climbed into bed. She was asleep by the time everyone else came in that night.

The next morning Racetrack woke her up. It was dark outside. He still wanted to teach her how to be a perfect newsie, even though he knew what she really was now. A liar, an imposter...a girl! "She's still a natural," he thought. Her being a girl didn't change how well she'd sold yesterday, her natural talent. And he still had the feeling he...er, she was going to be a great newsie. After all, there were a lot of good newsgirls out there. At the circulation office he bought sixty papes, instead his usual fifty. He gave the girl, whom they were all calling Tellani for nothing better to call her, thirty papers, and he took thirty.

"We'll see who gets rid a dere's first," he said. She was definitely up to the challenge. Race was sure he'd finish first because he had experience, and he was the fastest seller in Manhattan! He was shocked at the end of the day, when he arrived at Tibby's for dinner, to find the girl was already there with no papers in sight!

"Beatcha!" was all she had to say. Racetrack told her that she didn't need his help at all.

"Yer a natural tootsie!" he said, giving her a playful slap on the back. That was the end of her training, and she now had Racetrack's full respect. He figured any girl who sell quicker than him was worth it. She was making friends with most of the boys, despite her obvious gender flaw. They had all forgiven her. All except one. She had noticed early on that Jack 'Cowboy' Kelly had it in for her. Usually a lady's man, he didn't know how to act around a girl that wasn't obsessed with him, or one that nobody could tell by looking was a girl at all. Because he didn't know how to handle her, and because he was still angry about her lying, he would just talk about her behind her back and make fun of her when she wasn't looking. She knew he did it. Everybody knew. But she wasn't going to soak him for it. She had a better idea. About a week after she had come clean, when they were all down at the circulation office, she waited to buy her papes until after she knew how many Jack had bought. He had bought his usual hundred. Now it was time to put her plan into action. She heard Weasel yell, "Next!" and she hopped up on to the platform to buy her papes. Shoving three quarters under the window she said, "A hundred an' fifty please." She could feel all the newsies' eyes on her as she received her papes. She jumped of the platform with the papes on her shoulder, and started walking out into Newsies Square.

That was where Jack stopped her. "I heard ya buy yer papes girl," sneered the leader of the Manhattan Newsboys.

"Ya stop me just to tell me dat Jack?" she glared up at him from her small height.

"Ya think ya can sell dat many?" he said. It wasn't a question, more like a threat.

"Nah," she grinned innocently. Then in a much more serious and ominous voice she said, "I know I can."

Many boys whistled or mumbled to each other when she said this and Jack laughed, though he really didn't think it was funny at all. From what Racetrack had told him, she probably could outsell him. This scared him. Jack was the best in Manhattan, or so it was said. He didn't like to think there might be someone better. And a girl, to boot! She pushed passed him and walked away, tired of his stupid game.

"Hey girl," Jack called, "where ya think yer goin'?"

"Brooklyn Bridge," she shouted without looking back. After the show was over everybody went to their own beat and began their day. Racetrack came up behind Jack and laid a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.

"Ya best watch out Cowboy," he said. "She's a dangerous woman."

When she arrived at the Manhattan entrance to the Brooklyn Bridge, she was relieved to find nobody had already claimed it as their territory. Well now it was hers. She sat down her stack of papes and read the top one for a good headline. She found a few very good ones and decided to start out with the dead body that was found in the Bronx...missing it's head. She didn't need to improve this headline any. She broke the stillness of the morning with the penetrating sound of a newsie with a great headline! "HEADLESS BODY FOUND IN BRONX! READ ALL ABOUT IT!" she called. With that she began her day of work. Appropriate isn't it? For the rest of the day she hawked the phony headlines and worked her butt off for her dough. But not only for the money. The money was really only half of it. The main reason she sold today was for the respect she would earn for outselling Jack Kelly, the greatest newsie since time began! Or some other bullshit like that.

During the day she met a very handsome fellow who called himself Spot Conlon. He asked her who the hell did she think she was, selling on his bridge without his permission. She told him she was Lucille Tellani, and on realizing she was a girl, he started up a conversation. They talked about everything and nothing. From today's headlines, to yesterdays gang fights. She told him about what she was trying to prove by outselling Jack Kelly, and he told her that outselling him would earn her respect from all the newsies but Jack would still go out of his way to make her life miserable.

"Oh well," she said. "Who wants Jack's respect anyway?"

"Well I didn't particularly want it tootsie, but when I got it, it was worth it," he said.

"What'd ya do?"

"I soaked him."

"Why?" she asked, smiling at the thought.

"Cus he was makin' fun of me pink suspenders," Spot said in a very dignified voice. 'Tootsie', as Spot had been calling her all day (Racetrack had made a bit of a habit of calling her that too), hadn't even noticed them till now. She swallowed her urge to laugh. Instead she yelled again about the headless body. She hadn't yelled about that headline since Spot had sat down with her, and he asked her what the headline really was.

"Didn't make dat one up Spot," she said, receiving a penny from a man walking by. "Have a nice day sir."

"Really?" he was mildly surprised.

"What page is dat on?" he grabbed a pape off the diminishing pile.

"Page two," she grinned. "Gotta a nice picture. RUTHLESS MURDERER ON DA LOOSE! EXTRA! EXTRA! Thank you sir! And thank you ma'am, have a nice day." Two more papers disappeared off her stack, two more pennies in her pocket. She was down to fifteen newspapers and the sun was getting low. Spot tossed her a penny for the pape he had in his hands.

"See-ya 'round, Tootsie!" he said as he walked back over the bridge.

"Bye Spot! And Thanks," she said. Again she got a wave of the hand as a response, instead of a "you're welcome". She wondered why nobody said "you're welcome" in this city. Twenty minutes later the sun was setting and she had run out of papers to sell. She stuffed all he money into her pockets and set off running, all the way back to Newsies Square. There she stopped and walked the rest of the way to Tibby's so it would appear as if she'd actually had time, after selling all her papers, to casually walk the whole way back. She knew Jack was waiting for her in Tibby's, with all the other boys, but she wasn't worried. She had succeeded, and she had the proof in her pockets. She waltzed in Tibby's with a wide smile. It did not fade when the rest of the noise in the room did. Jack stood up in the middle of the dead silent room and walked up to her.

"Hiya Jack! Met an old friend a yers today," she said as she cockily sat down at a table by the door.

"Oh yeah?" he asked. "Who?"

"Spot Conlon. Ring any bells?"

Crutchy stood up and hobbled over to her. "So ya finally met Spot, huh? Geez! She movin' right up in da world! Why I wouldn't be surprised if-" He was cut off by the dirty look Jack gave him which said to sit down and shut up. This he promptly did.

"Where's awl yer papes, girl?" Jack asked.

"Up yer ass, Jacky boy!" she snapped before she could stop herself. "And also, my name ain't girl, much as I know ya like to call me dat. My mother called me Lucille, but you can call me what Spot and Racetrack seem to like to call me."

"And what's dat?" he asked, decided to ignore the comment about his posterior.

"Tootsie," she said, grinning. "I like dat much better dan girl! By da way, I sold all me papes, as if it's any a yer business."

Jack eyed her with a challenging stare. "I don't believe ya," he said smoothly. The girl flew from her seat in rage.

"Ya callin' me a liar?" she asked in a very quiet and dangerous voice. It was right then that Racetrack walked in, his smile disappearing when he heard Tootsie's last remark and saw that she and Jack were standing nose to nose, both with pretty angry faces on.

"Well ain't dat what ya do best...Billy?" he sneered. The room hummed with oh's and muffled snickers. Many boys muttered to the laughing to "shut da hell up".

"Ya know what Jack Kelly," said Tootsie softly, dangerously, "yer one low bastard. But don't worry. I can prove it." And she sat down again, emptying her pockets on the table, and proceeded to count the pennies out loud. When she reached one hundred-fifty she shoved the money back in her pockets and stood back up to the great leader. "Now whadya say Cowboy?" she hissed, glaring.

This was too much for the rest of the guys, who had been in sheer suspense the whole time she'd been counting her money. They all stood up and cheered, clapped, and whistled! She had to swallow a very strong urge to burst into laughter and smiles. It's hard to keep a straight, angry face when there's a restaurant full of boys cheering for you! But she kept her face cold, her eyes locked on Jack.

Jack, who was looking frantically around the room like a lost puppy. "I say dere's only one way ya made dat money girl!" he yelled at her, trying to shut everyone up. "So just how friendly did you and Spot get, huh?"

The room fell dead silent. That had been low, too low. Now he had gone too far. Nobody called Tootsie Tellani a whore and got away with it. She balled up her fist and slammed Jack Kelly right in the eye with all her strength. It hurt her hand more than punching Mush had, but she didn't even wince this time. She just watched coldly as Jack toppled back into a table, knocking over chairs as he stumbled. When he regained his balance, he stormed out of Tibby's in an embarrassed rage. As soon as he was out the door, Tootsie's hard face burst into laughter. She laughed until she couldn't stand up anymore, and had to sit back down in her chair. But she couldn't stay there either. The boys were immediately upon her, raising her up with handshakes and pats on the back. She was bombarded with congratulations from all the newsies! She was so happy she could have cried, but didn't dare. No way she would throw away all respect she had just earned from the guys. Racetrack gave her a huge hug, which had started out as a hand shake. This was the biggest thing to happen to the newsies since Jack had come into their little world. He had been the best seller since day one! True, the way they were acting seemed like somebody had just gotten married or something, but you have to remember that nobody had ever, ever outsold him before! They were all wishing it could have been them, but they were glad somebody did it. They all loved Jack like a brother of course, but his ego had been getting a little out of hand lately. Jack didn't sleep at the lodging house that night. Nobody really knows where he slept, but it's generally thought that he went to Medda's. His pride had been hurt, and he was about as angry as a boy can get without exploding (ya almost feel sorry for him, don't ya?). Needless to say, Tootsie, which was what all the boys were calling her now, slept very well that night.

A few weeks later, after things had settled back down from the record breaking night in which the newsgirl had outsold the former best newsboy in Manhattan, Tootsie and a bunch of the boys were hanging out in Tibby's. The day was almost over and Jack, Racetrack, Mush, Boots, and Crutchy were playing a hand of poker to relax. Tootsie was sitting behind Racetrack, but had to really watch what her face was doing because she knew he was going to win. He had a really good hand, and the best poker face she'd ever seen!

"Ah, I's out," sighed Mush. Tootsie looked away for a minute to take a bite of her sandwich, and heard someone say for everyone to show what they had. When she turned around again all the guys were getting up from the table, disgusted looks on their faces. Racetrack had won...again.

"Nice job, Race!" she said.

"Thanks Toots!" he replied. Giving her a warm smile, he stuffed five quarters in his pocket. He put his cigar in his mouth and gave it a few triumphant puffs before heading to the bar to buy everyone a drink. It was their money anyway.

"I'll see ya later fellas," said Crutchy as he left the joint. "Bye Tootsie!"

"See ya Crutch!" she said. Inside Tibby's, everyone began to talk about the threat of a trolley strike that was growing as they sipped their brandies and scotches.

"Dat'll make great headlines," Boots said, and was going to continue but nobody was listening to him. They were all looking out the window at Crutchy. He was being harassed by a cop from the looks of things.

Outside this was what happened. When Crutchy came out of Tibby's he saw the cop. Having no dirt on his hands he said "Heya!" to him in his usual friendly manner. The cop immediately jumped on his case about being a fake cripple. Now Crutchy was certainly no fake cripple but he knew that a lot of kids were pulling that rap to beg. He told the cop he wasn't a fake, but the cop wouldn't listen and kicked his crutch out from under him. That's when Jack, Tootsie, Racetrack, Boots, Mush, Kid Blink, and Skittery came out of Tibby's and surrounded the cop. They left Crutchy outside of the circle so he wouldn't get hurt.

"What's da big idea, sir?" Boots asked sarcastically.

"Get on outta here kids," said the cop. "This doesn't concern you!"

"Ah, but I thinks it does," said Racetrack. "Whadaya you's guys think?" They all nodded their heads.

"I don't like it when people pick on me friends, bull," Tootsie said, and kicked the man's nightstick out of his hands and away a few feet. They all began to push him around and kick him.

"Hey, how da you like it Rolly?" laughed Kid Blink, as he pushed the fat cop into Boots, who in turn kicked him in the shins.

"Damn you streetrats!" yelled the cop. With that he broke out of the mob, and reclaimed his nightstick . He banged it on the curb a few times, which made a loud whoing sound that could be heard by all the bulls in the area and meant for them to come running! Without even waiting to see which way the bulls were coming, the newsies helped Crutchy on his feet and started running! Luckily, the cops came from behind them, and thus the chase was on! Tootsie had never had to run from the bulls before, and she wasn't sure she could outrun them! Only a few seconds had passed before she got panicky and tripped over her own feet, falling hard onto the cobblestone street. Jack had been running just ahead of her and saw someone fall out of the corner of his eye. Without thinking, he stopped and helped the person to his feet. He didn't take time to see who it was, but it didn't matter. When it came to the bulls it was one for all and all for one. He held the person, who was Tootsie of course, by the arm, and soon they ducked into an alley. Still breathless he looked over to who he had helped, and saw that it was Tootsie. She had known it was Jack all along but was too breathless to say anything.

When she caught her breath she panted, "Thanks Jack."

"Don't mention it," he said, waving his hand. She was beginning to hate that!

"No really!" she said, taking a step towards him. "I would've been a goner! Da Refuge for sure!"

Seeing she wasn't going to let it go, he gave her what she wanted, "Yer welcome," he said.

"Ya know, dat's da first 'yer welcome' I've gotten since I came here!" she smiled. "I was beginnin' to think Manhattans didn't say yer welcome!"

"Yeah?" he laughed. They both knew what they wanted to say, but they weren't sure they had the courage to say it.

"Listen," they both said at the same time.

"You go first," Tootsie said, awkwardly.

He was silent for a moment, gathering his words carefully. "Tootsie...I'm, uh, sorry, and all dat other kinda stuff, for callin' ya...ya know. It was kinda stupid a me." He stumbled on the words, as they were very new to him.

"Yeah," Tootsie agreed. "I'm sorry too Jack. 'specially for dat shiner."

They laughed a little at this, and soon Jack announced that he had to go and that he would see her tomorrow. "Carryin' da banner," said he.

"Yeah, see-ya," she mumbled, and then; "Wait a second Jack." She spat on her hand and held it out to him. This was a world renown way of proclaiming a truce, and he accepted it by spitting on his own hand and shaking hers. It was official! The Jack vs. Tootsie war was over!

Three weeks later all the newsies were standing around at the circulation office, not buying any papers. Why? Simply because Joe Pulitzer, the owner of the World, and William Hearst, the owner of the Journal, had decided to raise the prices of the papers to the newsies. It was now sixty cents per one hundred papers. A tenth of a cent higher. The newsies were outraged, especially Jack. He was thinking of a way to make Pulitzer and Hearst lower the prices again, and could only think of one solution. Tootsie was sitting on the platform, and, like everyone else, was waiting to hear what Jack wanted to do about it. Suddenly he stood up out of the crowd and yelled, "We'll go on strike!" And as you know, the rest is...a movie!

Part Two!