Miriam looked up at the wrought iron gates of the distribution center. There was nothing anything like them in Albuquerque, and she was a bit overwhelmed. When the boy on the train with them had mentioned becoming a newsy, she never thought it meant working at a place like this.

"Are y’ comin’ or not?"

Her twin brother’s voice pulled her out of her reverie, and she ran to catch up with him. They wandered through several streets and alleyways before coming upon a simple building. Her brother, Kevin, read the sign: "Newsboys’ Lodging House. Hm. This must be the place."

The two walked up the steps and into the building. A girl of about 16 with wavy, shoulder length ash-blond hair was sitting on the front desk and smiled as they approached.

"Um, hi – we wanted to be newsies…well, I guess you guessed that… I mean…" Kevin stumbled.

"You’re new at this, huh?" Notes asked from the corner of the room.

"Yeah. Um, we came up here with a kid named Boxcar, and he said to ask for Kloppman…"

"That’s Grandpa. He had t’ run some errands, but he’ll be back," the girl said. "I’m Stargazer. Th’ other cutie over there is Notes." Notes smiled and waved at Kevin and Miriam. Stargazer continued, "That group hidin’ in th’ corner is Swifty, Mush, Snitch, and Itey. Y’ missed mosta th’ other newsies. Um, lessee, Skittery and Scribe’re with Specs and Elizabeth at Irving Hall – they’re all gettin’ married next week, so they gotta get all th’ stuff ready for th’ weddin’. Jack an’ Sarah’re out, Race is prob’ly still at th’ track, Blink’s likely got a girl somewheres, and th’ younger newsies’re asleep already."

"I’m Kevin, and this is my sister, Miriam."

"Heya! Nice t’ meetcha!" Stargazer exclaimed as she hopped off of the desk and approached them. The other newsies welcomed them as well, and they soon got into their story – the story as they had heard it from their father and friends.

"Our mother was Apache, and when she married our father, they were both regarded as outcasts," Kevin began. "It wasn’t so bad at first – she would just get…looks…when she went into town. But a few years later, when townspeople started noticing that she was pregnant, that’s when the real trouble started. They hated ‘half-breeds’ more than they hated Indians. They would attack her, hoping to kill the baby. Fortunately for us," he finished with an unsteady laugh, "it didn’t work."

"Where’s y’re folks now?" Swifty asked.

"Our mother died a few years back, and our father was killed in a farming accident a few weeks ago."

"Oh."

"Well, it’s official," Skittery said cheerfully to Snitch and Itey as he and Scribe entered the lodging house followed by Specs and Elizabeth. "As of 2 p.m. next Saturday, you guys can each have your own bunk!"

When Specs had moved into the apartment over Dr. Bradshaw’s office, his bunk had immediately been claimed by one of the younger newsies, leaving Snitch and Itey to share the same bunk they had for years.

Itey, who had been standing by the staircase, clasped his hands, looked upwards, and said, "YES, I knew there was a god!"

"Shut up!" Snitch told him, whacking him in the back of the head.

Laughing, Stargazer told Kevin and Miriam, "That’s Skittery and Scribe and Specs and Elizabeth. This is Kevin and Miriam. They’s new newsies."

"Wait," Itey said, thinking. "That means Skit’s bunk’s gonna be taken right back up again. Geez!" He slumped back against the wall in disappointment.

"Hi," Skittery said as he stepped forward and shook their hands.

Without a second thought Specs asked Stargazer, "Dey are comin’ t’ th’ weddin’, right?"

"Sure!"

"We are?"

"Y’ mean, y’ don’t wanna?" Itey asked, surprised.

"Well, sure we do, but…I mean, you don’t know us," Miriam responded.

Walking over to her, Scribe said, "Th’ second y’ walked in that door, y’ became family."

Friday morning, Miriam headed with the other girls to the distribution center. As she watched her, Scribe thought of her first day as a newsy. Her uncle Bryan had helped her print and bind The Newsies Letterpress, and it was in her room now, a permanent reminder of what was turning out to be the best time of her life. But so much more had happened that first day. It was also the day she had first started getting to know Skittery. He was everything she’d always imagined from her uncle’s letters – a boy who tried too hard to be a man, but who really wanted to spend just a little more time as a kid before finally growing up. And that was just the way she wanted him. She couldn’t believe that in just one week, she would be standing on the stage of Irving Hall, becoming Mrs. Alexander McAfee.

Midnight took Miriam and shoved ahead of the entire group – boys and girls – to get to the distribution center. "I want y’ t’ get th’ best papes," she said with a laugh that was characteristic of her inherent good nature. There was really no difference between the papes at the top of the pile and the ones in the middle or at the bottom, but Midnight liked being at the front of the line, and she liked making up excuses to take her friends there. But she was almost sorry that she had chosen today to head up there with the boys so far behind.

"Now, y’ prob’ly just wanna start wit’ about fifty, ‘cuz y’ can sell with me. When y’ learn th’ ropes a little more, then y’ can start sellin’ more papes," Midnight told Miriam as she backed towards the gates. When she turned around, she was looking straight into a pair of all-too-familiar ice blue eyes.

"Well, well," said the handsome young man behind the eyes, "it’s been a long time, Tootsie. How’s my fav’rite little newsy, huh?"

"Ain’t been long enough, Morris," Midnight said coldly as she knocked away the hand that was caressing her cheek. "Did y’ miss New York City, or did they just run outta room at th’ North Pole?" She turned and started to walk away.

"Glad t’ see my leavin’ didn’t break your fiery spirit," Morris responded, grabbing her shoulder and spinning her towards him. Midnight tried to pull away, but he just pulled her closer, his grip tightening. Bumlets was one of the first newsies of the rest of the group to show up, and he immediately went to help Midnight. "Didn’t know y’ had a new boyfriend," Morris said with a smirk, obviously hoping for a fight.

"Didn’t know I had an old one," Midnight caustically responded. "By th’ way, how’d y’ get Oscar t’ let y’ out alone so early?"

While the newsies laughed, Morris gave Midnight a look that could have frozen the core of the sun. He loathed the implication that he let himself be ordered around by his seventeen year old brother. Looking at all of them, he said, "Just remember, y’ don’t have th’ town t’ yourselves anymore, so watch your backs."

"Who was that?" Miriam asked as she watched Morris leave.

"Just a creep who usta woik at da distribution centah," Tinker explained, "but ‘is bruddah wasn’t wit’ ‘im, so y’ don’t gotta worry ‘bout it."

From behind the statue of Horace Greeley in Newsies Square, Oscar watched as the newsies waited for the gates to open. Granted, he didn’t have any great love for the newsies, but he couldn’t forget what Specs had done for his young cousin, and he certainly couldn’t forget what Specs had done for him.

It was late in the evening, and a lone teen walked down a deserted Manhattan street. "Why’d I even come back here?" Oscar thought as he kicked a pebble into the grass. "I got no job, nowhere t’ go – Uncle Weas just up an’ left – maybe I could…" Looking up, he saw the building he’d seen so many times before, the building he’d often thought of going into since the end of the strike. He laughed to himself, "Delancey, y’ must be outta your mind. You, a newsy?!" Shaking his head, he backed away from the building and headed back down the street. "If y’ walked int’ that building, Cowboy’d kill ya. If he didn’t, and Morris saw ya sellin’ wit’ th’ newsies, he’d kill ya. Either way, y’ get killed. Manhattan just ain’t a safe place for ya no more."

"You’re right, Delancey, it’s not."

Oscar was suddenly surrounded by three boys who were obviously quite…upset…about something. Knowing that alone he was no match for them, he attempted to back out, but the boys closed in, blocking all empty spaces. "Y’ made my sistah unhappy, Delancey, and now, y’ gotta pay."

"What?" Oscar asked, truly confused.

"See, she don’t like it when guys try t’ hoit ‘er, and neidah do I."

Attempting to defend himself, but knowing that it would do no good, Oscar said, "Look, I don’t know what your sister’s been sayin’, but she’s got me mixed up with some other guy…" He had a feeling he knew exactly who the ‘other guy’ was.

"Oh, I don’t t’ink so. My sistah’s pretty smaht, an’ she always knows what she’s talkin’ about."

Oscar saw the boy pull out a large knife. The others had no weapons, but if he turned his back on this one, he knew exactly where that knife was going. Everything from that point on seemed to go in slow motion. The boy brought the knife down, and Oscar tried to push it away. He didn’t feel anything at first, but he saw the blood. The boy dropped the knife, and all three of them ran. Relieved, Oscar leaned back against the wall; suddenly, the pain set in. Looking down, he realized that the knife had gone deep into his arm.

Specs was headed back to his apartment; as he started up the steps, he noticed someone in the alley behind the building. He went up to them and asked, "Need h…Oscah?!"

"Um, no, I’ll…be…I’ll be…OK…"

Even in the dim light of evening, Specs could see the stain that was growing on Oscar’s sleeve. He began to reach for Oscar’s arm which, without thinking, Oscar yanked away. Pain seemed to shoot in every direction at once, and he had to lean back against the wall to keep from passing out. "I gotta get y’ inside. C’mon," Specs told him, taking his other arm. This time, Oscar didn’t put up a fight.

Oscar leaned against the statue, rubbing his arm. It still hurt a little, but thanks to Specs, he could use it. Thanks to Specs, he was still alive to use it.

He started to walk towards the gates but stopped. "I’m still not ready for that," he thought. "Not yet."

"Café owner’s tainted food causes death of citizens!"

Midnight listened with interest as Miriam sold her papes to every person who walked by. One secretary had taken one for each person in the office where she worked. When Miriam’s last pape had been sold, Midnight approached her.

"What headline were you usin’?"

Miriam proudly showed her: Entrepreneur poisons corn, eliminates pigeon problem

"Y’re good as Jack! Glad I brought y’ with me. Maybe y’ can show me th’ ropes," Midnight said.

Laughing, the girls took their earnings for the day and headed for Tibby’s. When they walked in, Skittery and Scribe were sitting in a booth, Specs and Elizabeth across from them, talking about the wedding. Jack and Sarah had two chairs at the end of the table and were joining in the conversation. Mush, Race, Blink, David, and Les were sharing a large plate of French fries. Bumlets was sitting at a booth with Stargazer and Swifty; when Midnight walked in, he slid over and motioned for her and Miriam to join them. Swifty reached over to a table where Pie Eater and Snoddy were sitting and dragged an empty chair for Miriam over to their booth.

"Hey, what if I got a girl comin’ in latah who needs that?" Snoddy asked with a smile, looking up from his hamburger.

"Uh huh, sure," Swifty replied lazily. "If a girl comes in here lookin’ for you, I’ll wave my hand and make a chair outta this napkin here." He ducked as Snoddy tossed an ice cube at him.

A waiter approached their table. The others were already engaged in conversation of the day’s events, so Midnight just pointed at the Coke Bumlets had and held up two fingers. The waiter nodded and went to get her order. She pushed her short blond hair behind her ears and grabbed a French fry off of Bumlets’ plate. He playfully slapped her hand and told her, "Work for y’re own food, kiddo!"

Pouting and widening her blue eyes in a puppy-dog gaze, she whined, "But Miriam sold all th’ papes, and nobody wanted none from me."

"Wow, really?" he said, ignoring Midnight. "That’s great!" While he was asking about Miriam’s sales, Midnight triumphantly sneaked another French fry.

The bell on the door rang, and Kevin and Snitch entered, Itey lagging behind them. It had apparently been decided that Skittery’s bunk would automatically go to the newest member of the group, so while Snitch and Kevin pulled up a couple of chairs and joined Miriam at the booth, Itey slumped alone at a table in the far corner of the restaurant.

Jake grabbed an extra fork from the table where he was sitting, took the salad he was eating and walked over to the table, sitting down next to Itey. Shoving the salad in front of Itey, he said, "Maybe if y’ chew some lettuce an’ exercise your lip muscles, y’ can smile better."

"Very funny," Itey grumbled.

"OK." Jake shrugged, took the salad back, and arranged two olives and a tomato wedge into a smiley face.

Itey tried as hard as he could not to laugh, but despite his best efforts, a smile crossed his face. "Gimme that," he said, yanking the salad back in front of him. "Sheesh, messin’ with good food like that." The two boys finished it off in five minutes and joined the rest of the group.

When everyone had finished lunch, Jack and Sarah walked Miriam back to the lodging house, both of them asking questions about her home. Sarah’s interest in the west had grown since she had met Jack, and she was enjoying Miriam’s stories as much as Jack was.

Across town, Bumlets and Midnight walked silently through Central Park; while Bumlets tossed bread crumbs to the pigeons and ducks, Midnight nervously looked over her shoulder at every sound. When a snapping twig nearly made her jump out of her skin, Bumlets grabbed her arm and asked, "Midnight, WHAT is wrong with you?"

Tears filling her eyes, Midnight said quietly, "I can’t talk here. We gotta go someplace no one else is."

He led her down the street and towards a deserted alley. "We can talk in there," he started to tell her.

Midnight took one look, and fear covered her face. Trying to comfort her, Bumlets put his arm around her shoulders, but this only seemed to scare her more – she pushed him away and ran down the street. "Midnight, wait!" he called after her, but she had vanished into the crowd.

By the time he got back to the lodging house, the sun had already begun to set. Walking in, he saw all of the newsies engaged in some sort of amusement – all except one. He immediately walked over to the ledger. "She hasn’t signed in yet," he mumbled worriedly.

"We thought Midnight was with you," Blink explained.

"Yeah, I know," Bumlets said. "I thought maybe she came back here. Ever since she saw Morris this mornin’, she’s been real jumpy. Ran away from me this afternoon."

"We gotta find ‘er," Jack said, immediately jumping up from his poker game with Race.

"Before Morris does," Skittery added as he and Jack rounded up search groups. "Who knows what he’ll do?"

Les had wanted to spend some time with Jack at the lodging house, and David had come with him. Now David was joining one of the groups. "I’m going with you," he said.

"Y’ sure y’ wanna do that?" Jack asked him, remembering what had happened during the strike.

David just gave him a glare, and Jack backed off. He knew there was no stopping David when he was determined to do something.

The newsies split up to cover Manhattan in search of their lost friend. A group that consisted of Skittery, Blink, Snoddy, David, and Race soon found a young man running out of an alley where Morris was helping a frightened Midnight to her feet. Her blond hair was filled with the same brick-colored dust that covered the back of her shirt, and bruises wrapped themselves around her chin and throat – someone had obviously held her against the wall with one purpose in mind. Skittery and Race would likely have killed Morris without a second thought had Snoddy not held them back. He seemed to be the only one that noticed that Morris was helping Midnight. "I think we should let ‘em explain," he told them.

"Fine. Explain," Skittery said, still keeping an icy warning glare fixed on Morris.

"I saw that guy followin’ her down th’ street – I knew him, and he ain’t no choir boy, OK? Anyway, when he pushed her int’ th’ alley, I knew what was gonna happen. If I hadn’t done nothin’…why’d y’ let ‘er walk these streets alone anyway?"

"I ran away from ‘em," Midnight interjected.

"Brilliant."

"Well, y’ made me nervous when I ran int’ ya at th’ distribution center this mornin’…"

"So y’ run away from your friends t’ be alone when there’s creeps like me out there?"

"I needed t’ talk, and Bumlets took me to an alley, where Nate…"

His interest suddenly piqued, Morris said, "Where Nate what?"

Jerking her head towards the wall, Midnight said, "He…well…"

"That stupid…" he whispered angrily. Looking at Midnight and the other newsies, he said, "You guys can believe me or not, I know I can’t make ya, but if I’d known he’d done anything like that, I’da taken care of it a long time ago."

Timidly, Midnight said, "That’s why I was so upset when I saw y’ this mornin’. I thought you’d told him t’ do it."

"I’d never have any girl treated like that." David shot an angry, yet almost surprised, glare at Morris, who continued, "Well, OK, I have roughed ‘em up t’ get information when someone wanted it, but there’s a line there I’d never cross."

The newsies looked at each other, then at Morris. Midnight walked over to them and buried her head in Blink’s shoulder. David walked to the edge of the alley and leaned against the corner of the building, trying to sort everything out. Race and Skittery were keeping their distance from Morris, and Snoddy was keeping an eye on all of them. "Look, I’m sorry for all this," Morris said as he moved past them. "I really never meant for ‘im t’…" He knew they most likely didn’t believe him, and he knew that nothing he said would change that. Turning from them, he continued down the street and disappeared into the night that seemed to be as unforgiving as the group of newsies in the alley.

"Decided t’ come back, huh? What, th’ girls in th’ other towns throw y’ out?"

Morris spun around at the sound of his brother’s voice. "Just what’s that s’posed t’ mean?"

"When y’ came back t’ see Katie, it was right about th’ time I was jumped on for attackin’ some guy’s sister…"

"And y’ think she thought y’ was me, right? Well, I got news for ya, little brother," Morris continued, his soft, deep voice colder than usual, "I already been accused of bein’ involved in somethin’ like that once t’night, so I don’t wanna hear it from you!"

"I don’t think Sarah Jacobs would wanna see me back down," Oscar responded with a smirk.

Morris threw his younger brother up against a wall. "Don’t start on that. If I remember right, I wasn’t th’ one lookin’ ‘er up an’ down th’ whole time."

"Ooooh, touché, big brother," came the sarcastic reply.

Morris’ first instinct was to land a hard punch on Oscar’s jaw, but instead, he backed off. He was in no mood for a fight. Oscar looked at him, puzzled. "Y’ really didn’t do it, did ya?"

"No, I didn’t," Morris responded, still upset by his own brother’s lack of faith in him.

"It’s just that…well, y’ve always been so…" Seeing how upset Morris was, Oscar decided it would be best just to drop the matter. He went on, "Where y’ been stayin’?"

"Just got back t’day."

"Th’ Refuge’s been real nice since Roosevelt’s had it fixed up – I been stayin’ there since I got back. Y’ can stay there ‘til y’ find a job."

Morris accepted the offer, and they headed for the Refuge. Oscar quietly started laughing. "I guess I was kinda eyin’ ‘er, wasn’t I?"

Smiling, Morris replied, "Like a newsy eyes a good headline."

"Well gimme some slack – I’m a teenage guy! Whaddaya want me t’ do when y’ stick a gorgeous girl in fronta me?"

They both laughed and continued down the street. Morris just wished he could get Midnight to believe he would never let anyone hurt her.

All of the newsies crowded around when Skittery’s group returned with Midnight. While he explained what had happened, Midnight pushed past them and went up to the bunk room. She didn’t really want to talk about it – talking about tonight would bring questions about the past, a past no one needed to know about.

Midnight leaned against the windowpane in the girls’ room, staring into the summer night. Why was she so confused? He was a Delancey, for goodness’ sake, practically a newsy’s mortal enemy! And she had just been a child then -- she thought she had grown up. Well, maybe she had. Was that why she was confused? Was she starting to feel towards Morris the way he had said he had felt towards her then?

"C’n I come in?" A voice interrupted her thoughts, and she turned to see Bumlets standing in the doorway.

Putting on a smile, she responded, "Sure." Then, remembering the scene earlier that day, and seeing the concern on his face as he entered the room, she continued, "Heya, Bumlets, I’m sorry ‘bout runnin’ away from ya."

As she plopped down on Scribe’s bunk and crossed her legs, Bumlets pulled up a chair next to it. "I’m sure ya had your reasons," he responded quietly. He looked up and smiled as the moonlight shone in the window, softly lighting Midnight’s blond hair and illuminating her baby blue eyes. "Um, if y’ don’t mind tellin’ me, what did Morris mean when ‘e said that ‘e ‘didn’t know y’ had a new boyfriend’?"

Midnight took a deep breath. She hadn’t wanted to tell anyone about this, but she cared deeply for Bumlets – he was part of the reason she was so confused – and he needed to know about it. So she knew she had to tell him.

"Y’ know that Saph an’ I worked in th’ factory before we came here. Anyways, Weasel had a girl...don’t ask, I dunno how ol’ Weas got one, either...who worked wit’ us, an’ sometimes when he’d come t’ see ‘er, Morris’d come with ‘im. Well soon, Morris started comin’ alone, an’ just t’ see me...me! A little 15 year old! I didn’t feel like a little girl anymore; when I was with Morris, he made me feel like a...a woman, y’know? He’d even take me out with ‘is friends, somethin’ even Oscar didn’t get t’ do," Midnight said with a smirk. She stood and propped herself against the bunks, twisting a blond strand around her fingers. "It started gettin’ real serious. Morris was ready for things I didn’t wanna do yet."

"Oh," Bumlets said, nodding understandingly. He’d been on the streets long enough to see plenty of girls turned away by guys who only wanted them until they got – or couldn’t get – what they wanted.

"Morris just walked away, but that night, Nate shoved me int’ that alley, th’ one where y’ tried t’ talk t’ me earlier t’day," Midnight explained, "and suddenly, after Nate left, I was a woman, and it wasn’t so great anymore."

Bumlets got up and put his arms around her as she began crying. "I’m so sorry. If I’d known..." She just shook her head, and he stopped talking, letting her cry. All the frustration that Midnight had felt in the past year was coming out. But now Bumlets had his own score to settle with Nate.

Morris followed quietly. His mind had never left Midnight. Or Nate. How could Nate have done something like that to any girl, especially a fifteen year old?

"...and I’d really rather spend my time workin’ on th’ roof or th’ windows or somthin’, but workin with th’ kids ain’t too bad," Oscar continued, not realizing that his brother wasn’t listening to a word he was saying.

Walking over to the window, Morris leaned against the wall. As he looked out at the stars, he suddenly realized that he was still in love with Melanie "Midnight" Caldwell.

At the distribution center, Midnight stood in line, staring off into space. "How many do ya think we should take t’day?" Miriam asked. Not getting a response, she snapped her fingers in Midnight’s face. "Hello?"

"Huh? Wha—? Oh, sorry," Midnight said with a smile. "What’d y’ say?"

Laughing, Miriam responded, "I asked how many papes y’ think we should take t’day."

"I dunno. You decide, Mesquite."

"Who?"

Midnight replied, "You. I just thought of it. You’re from th’ West, so y’ prob’ly like campin’ an’ stuff, an’ there’s all those mesquite trees…"

Kevin, who’d been listening to the conversation, interjected, "Hey, I like that!"

"Yeah! An’ it’s a lot better than ‘Miriam’," Mesquite said, wrinkling her nose.

The two girls bought their papes and headed out, Kevin and Bumlets moving to their sides. "Bums," Midnight, said, turning to him, "I don’t think all a us need t’ go t’ one spot."

"Fine," Bumlets replied as he continued on. "You an’ me can find a different spot."

Pointing at Mesquite, Midnight said, "But I was goin’ with.."

"Look, I’d just feel better if y’ was with me, OK?"

Swifty and Stargazer approached the group. "Hey, Mesquite, y’ wanna come with me t’day?" Stargazer asked.

Picking up immediately, Mesquite accepted. She waved to the others, and she and Kevin left with Swifty and Stargazer.

As soon as they had left, Midnight whipped around to face Bumlets. "How could y’ do that?! I was fine!"

"I just thought…"

"No y’ didn’t – that’s th’ problem!"

"I don’t want y’ out there while that Nate creep c’n get t’ ya."

A smile crossed Midnight’s face, and she kissed Bumlets on the cheek. "Y’re just lucky I’m still scared a him, ‘cuz I’d soak ya right now," she laughed.

He watched her walk out into the city streets, hawking the headline. "Y’ won’t hafta worry long," he said quietly.

Casey stood on the crates, looking over the block wall that separated the Refuge from the apartments behind. Although she was eighteen, she still loved watching the fish in the pond behind the apartments – it was one of the few things that she found relaxing in a normally stressful day of working at the Refuge. She decided to stretch the week’s vacation she had taken through lunch.

Hearing a door open, Casey looked around and saw Morris coming outside. He had gotten tired of dealing with his brother, and the girls were all uncomfortable around him. The truth was that Midnight was the only girl that didn’t make him nervous. He needed some time alone, to think. It wasn’t until after he sat down on a bench that he noticed Casey watching him from across the yard. ‘Great,’ he thought, ‘someone else to be suspicious of me.’ He started to get up and go back inside, but Casey was already calling him.

"Hi!" she yelled.

"Hey," Morris replied reservedly, wondering what this one was thinking.

"Y’ must be new," Casey continued, beckoning him over with a jerk of her bright blond hair. He walked over to her, his hands in his pockets, and leaned against the wall. "They call me Casey," she said, holding out her hand.

Morris nodded in acknowledgment, but he made no attempt to shake her hand, nor did he respond by telling her his own name. He wasn’t about to giver her any chance to say he’d made any moves.

Casey cocked her head, regarding him with curiosity. "You’re quiet. Y’ got a name or somethin’?"

"Morris."

"As in Delancey?"

"Yeah."

Laughing, Casey said, "Oscar can be a pest sometimes can’t he?"

"Sometimes?" Morris replied without thinking. Then, thinking back with surprise at Casey’s casual response, he continued, "You’re not worried?"

"Worried?"

"About bein’ out here alone, with me?"

"Should I be?" Narrowing her eyes, Casey joked, "You’re not some nutty killer, are ya?"

"Mosta th’ girls here seem t’ think I’m just waitin’ t’ get ‘em alone…"

"Ah."

"You don’t think so, huh?"

"I’d really be tempted t’ think so, if your older sister hadn’t died ‘cause someone raped her."

Looking up at Casey in shock, Morris asked her, "How’d you know about Meg?"

Casey’s eyes grew misty as she answered. "There was this group of young guys that hung around my father a lot. He wasn’t th’ greatest guy in th’ world, and he’d always tell ‘em what girls were there for."

Morris stiffened, but he didn’t interrupt her. She went on, "One day, one of th’ boys came back braggin’ about how he’d gotten th’ Delanceys’ sister. Like it was really somethin’ t’ be proud of. I just ran out th’ door, an’ ran t’ find Meg, but by th’ time I got t’ her apartment, it was too late. Just knowin’ she died there, alone…I just wanted t’ kill Nate…"

"Nate? Nate Johnston?"

"You know ‘im?"

"Yeah." He didn’t tell her that he was part of the group Nate hung out with, or that some girl’s father’s little talks were part of the reason Morris stopped hanging out with them. In any case, he’d found out in the course of a week that the same guy who’d attacked the first girl he’d been in love with had also killed his sister.

"You OK?" Casey asked with concern as the young man stared off into the distance.

Quickly changing the subject, Morris snapped back to reality and responded, "Sure, I’m fine. So, why do they call ya Casey?

"Caught that, huh?"

"Spent too long around th’ newsies not t’ recognize that phrase."

"Casey at the Bat. When the poem came out, I was about six. Mom liked the poem, Dad liked baseball, and they both wanted a boy," she explained with a laugh.

He was only half listening. A feeling of guilt began stirring. He had been the one who had chosen to hang out with that group, and his sister had died a horrible, lonely death because of it. Well, he would make up for it. There was no way Nate was going to get away. Not this time.

A young man of about twenty stood on the Brooklyn Bridge, watching the activity of the busy city below. As he crushed out his cigarette, he thought he heard footsteps behind him. Turning, yet seeing nothing, he turned back to watching the city.

Quite a distance from the bridge, Bumlets watched the young man. He had spent most of the previous day gathering as much information as he could until he found out exactly where Nate could be found at this time of the evening. He’d slipped out of the lodging house while the other newsies were busy with their own diversions; he wasn’t going to let any of them stop him. Nate had to pay for what he had done to Midnight.

Across town, Morris had slipped out of the Refuge. Now the two met as they headed for the bridge.

"What’re you doin’ here?" Bumlets asked, remembering the incident at the distribution center.

Glancing from Bumlets to Nate and back again, Morris simply replied, "Same thing you are. Look, what’s say we forget all th’ stupid newsy/Delancey stuff an’ go take care a Nate f’ Midnight, huh?"

Then, in a move that completely stunned Bumlets, Morris spit in his palm and held his hand out to him. Bumlets did the same, and the two shook, then walked across the bridge. Nate confidently began to move the other way when Spot’s entire group appeared from nowhere, moving towards him from that direction. In seconds, Nate was completely surrounded. Rather than face the situation, he leapt to his death in the icy waters of the Hudson.

"Cold death f’ cold feet. Fits a cowahd like him," Spot said with disdain as he looked over the edge of the bridge.

"How’d you know about…"

"Nate? Y’ mean ‘e got one a yoah goils too?"

Morris and Bumlets both nodded, and Spot shook his head both in anger and sadness.

"A few months ago ‘e got my goil, Jillian, an’ she just found out she’s gonna have a baby ‘cuz of it. It’s made ‘er real sick. I came up heah t’ take caah of things, but I guess ‘e did it foah me," Spot finished, laughing. "Well, I’m gonna go check on Jill an’ tell ‘er she ain’t gotta worry no moah."

"Yeah, I guess we better get back, too," Bumlets said. "See ya."

He and Morris headed back for Manhattan while Spot went back towards Brooklyn.

"Unknown Youth Found on Banks of Hudson"

The headline caught Midnight’s eye immediately – not for the story, but for the picture under it. She would recognize Nate anywhere, even in a second page, one inch picture. Looking over at Bumlets, she saw that he was scanning the same article.

"Heya, Bums!" she said cheerfully, walking over to him. "I could tell ‘em who that ‘unknown youth’ is." He laughed, but his normally bright smile seemed different when he looked at her. There was something holding it back. Sitting down beside him, she asked what was wrong.

Looking her straight in the eyes, he asked, "Y’ ever wonder if maybe y’ shoulda stayed with Morris?"

The question caught Midnight off-guard. "Huh?"

"He really cares about ya. He was there, yesterday," Bumlets replied, pointing to the article. He then went on to explain the entire thing to Midnight.

When he had finished, Midnight said, "You were gonna fight Nate alone, for me?"

"Didn’t y’ hear me? Morris went there all th’ way from th’ Refuge…"

"An’ you went all th’ way from th’ Lodgin’ House. Bums, I been real confused ‘bout this since Saturday, in th’ alley," she responded. "But y’ just helped me. Morris goin’ there just proves that…well, that he’s a Delancey an’ wanted t’ prove somethin’ t’ me, I dunno. But you goin’ there alone, just for me – that shows y’d do anything for me, an’ I guess I’ve been waitin’ for somethin’ like that."

Bumlets’ bright smile returned, and he kissed Midnight, right in the middle of the circulation yard. "Y’ bet I would," he told her.

It was just at this point that Morris entered the yard. He had come to talk to Midnight, but the scene before him made it clear that what he had come to talk about was now definitely a part of the past. When Midnight had left with Mesquite to begin selling for the day, Morris walked over to Bumlets.

"I guess we know which one of us is the luckier guy, huh?" he said.

"Y’re not gonna soak me, are ya?" Bumlets asked, laughing nervously.

Morris shook his head. "She belongs here now. I don’t think I was ever right for ‘er." He started walking away. Turning around, he added with a little smile, "But if you ever – and I mean ever – hurt ‘er, emotionally or physically, y’re dead, got it?"

"Got it," Bumlets replied, smiling.

Morris left, finally assured of Midnight’s safety and happiness. Bumlets went to work, the best day of his life having begun.

Scribe stood backstage at Irving Hall, phone in hand, looking at the other three members of the upcoming wedding. On the other end of the line was her grandmother, who wouldn’t be able to make it into Manhattan until Sunday. Having gotten the approval of the others, she told her grandmother, "Of course I understand, Grandmother…No, it’s not a bother at all. We’ll just move the wedding up one day, that’s all…Yes, thanks for calling…I love you, too. Good-bye."

She walked over to the group and apologized. "I’m really sorry about this."

"Hey, it ain’t your fault th’ wind took th’ roof off ‘er house," Skittery responded. "So a Sunday wedding’s a little unusual. They’ll survive," he concluded, gesturing towards the imaginary guests.

"Yeah, but will he?" Specs said, laughing, as he looked at the elderly minister who was waiting for them on the empty stage. The poor man was having a horrible time keeping anything straight – he was either getting the wrong names with the wrong people or the wrong girls with the wrong boys.

The couples smiled at each other and returned to the stage for another hour of planning and rehearsal. They took every possible opportunity to tell the minister of the change from Saturday to Sunday, but as he was leaving Irving Hall, he happily said, "I’ll be here bright and early on Friday to perform the service."

By this time, all of them had become a bit annoyed with his inability to remember the day of the wedding. Granted, it was a last minute change, but he had hardly ever remembered the Saturday date, and they had told him at least ten times in the last hour of the change to Sunday.

Specs, however, was more annoyed than the rest of them, and this statement was the last straw. He spun around to face the minister, his temper and impatience getting the best of him, and snapped, "No, y’ won’t be performin’ th’ weddin’ Friday! For th’ last time – th’ weddin’s Sunday, Sunday, SUNDAY!!!!!"

Scribe stood back, trying to keep from laughing; Skittery sighed, wishing he had just stuck a huge note in the minister’s Bible; and Elizabeth blushed furiously and turned towards the wall. The minister didn’t even seem to notice Specs’ irate tone. "I’ll have to make a note of that," he replied. "Thank you for reminding me, young man." With that, he turned and walked cheerfully out of the theater.

As it was, hardly anyone noticed the time that passed between that Tuesday and the following Sunday. Skittery was busy making arrangements with Medda for the food to be served at the reception, Specs was going with Dr. Bradshaw to speak to the administration of the New York Medical College about starting classes there in September, and the girls were working on the dresses. Scribe’s aunt had sent with her a dress when Scribe had first come out from Boston. A traditional colonial style dress – white linen with a salmon floral print, four tiers of gathered fabric trimmed in forest green velvet, full sleeves trimmed in the same green velvet and white lace, with white lace that went around the off-the-shoulder top – it was far too formal for Scribe to be comfortable in during her time with the newsies. However, Elizabeth had fallen in love with the dress the second she’d seen it, and Scribe had decided then that since Elizabeth didn’t have a wedding gown, that would be her present to her. So they had spent the past few days making the necessary alterations.

All Scribe knew about her dress was that it was being taken care of. That’s all she could get out of Skittery. Then, two days before the wedding, he pulled her up to the attic of the lodging house.

"Skit, I’ve gotta finish Liz’ dress," Scribe told him, giggling as he pulled her up the steps.

"Just shut up and close your eyes," he replied with a smile.

She did, knowing he wouldn’t give up. Scribe heard him open the door to the attic room, and he took her hand and pulled her towards it. "OK," he told her. "Open sesame!"

What she saw when she opened her eyes left her almost completely speechless. Hanging on an old dress-form was a beautiful new wedding gown, on top of which rested a hat trimmed in peach roses, white rosettes, and baby’s breath with a long veil of soft white lace.

"Like it?"

"It’s gorgeous!" Scribe exclaimed as she fingered the cream-colored satin.

Going over and putting his arms around her, Skittery said "When I saw what y’ did for Elizabeth, I thought you deserved your own present. Glad y’ like it."

"Thank you," she responded, kissing him.

For the first time in his life, Alexander McAfee had spent part of his personal fortune on someone other than himself – a rather considerable part, the dress being from Paris – and he would have a lifetime to be rewarded.

Irving Hall looked absolutely beautiful that Sunday morning. Peach roses and ivy decorated the balconies and the stage; the tables normally in place had been replaced by chairs for the guests, and the end chairs had been likewise decorated. Tables along the back wall were covered in white linen tablecloths, ready for the reception. Backstage, Skittery and Specs stood waiting for the minister.

"He forgot. I knew it."

"Maybe ‘e ‘ad a fam’ly emergency?"

Skittery looked at Specs and raised an eyebrow. Specs shrugged and said, "Well, it could…yeah."

Upstairs, in Medda’s apartment, the girls were putting the finishing touches on their outfits. Elizabeth had her hair pulled back in curls surrounded by a green-trimmed lace ribbon that cascaded down her back; Scribe’s curls framed her face under the hat and went just past her shoulders behind the puffed satin sleeves. A knock on the door sent Scribe’s stomach into a frenzy of butterflies. Medda walked over and answered the door, and Denton stuck his head in.

"If you girls are ready, the minister’s finally here," he told them, smiling.

The girls looked at each other; Scribe gave Elizabeth’s hand a squeeze – as much for her sake as for Elizabeth’s – and with a deep breath, headed for the door, Elizabeth close behind. Medda smiled, gave each one a hug, and handed them their bouquets as they exited.

"Well, Uncle Bryan, how do I look?"

"Definitely not like the unsure newsy I saw selling a few months ago," he replied as she took his arm.

She smiled, and they descended the steps to the stage, to the wedding, to a brand new life.