One day a girl was walking down the street. She lived in New York City, Queens to be exact. She loved it so much. All her friends and family lived in New York. Her brother and his friends lived in Manhattan; the rest of her friends lived in other boroughs around the city. Most of her close friends lived in Queens, but some lived in Brooklyn, and some lived Uptown, and some lived in the Bronx. Most of her guy friends were newsies; that is, they sold newspapers for the World or the Sun.

She wasn't not a newsie herself. She just basically hung out with them, and she worked in a business a few times a week. She really didn't do that much there. They gave her some well-paying job in some big office; she hated it. All she had to do was come up with new ways to do stuff and present it to her boss, or read other people's ideas and do the same. She was only 18, but they seemed to think she could do the job better than anyone else. Oddly enough, they actually thought that. Her brother and their friends thought it was really strange. First, she was a girl, second, she was 18. The office boys were all in their late 20s, so they were rather jealous. It didn't make a whole lot of sense, but she wasn't going to argue with her success. It was their money that she was being payed.

Anyway. She was walking down the street in Queens when some of her newsie friends came up to her.

"Heya, Boidie. How's it rollin'?" Mac asked. Mac had brown eyes and brown hair hidden under his hat. He was the leader of the Queens newsies. Birdie really ran the place, but Mac showed the guys how it went. She made the decisions for the place though. Like the strike, she had to make the ever-so-pleasant decision of whether or not to join. Mac wanted to hear what Spot had to say. Spot Conlon by the way, the head of Brooklyn. So did she, but she wasn't going to let Spot Conlon make up her mind. That was her job.

"Not much, Mac. How's 'bout you. Ya sold all yer papes taday?" Birdie asked him.

"I got most a 'em sold, but da news is a little slow taday. Some good ones ta really blow up, but mostly slow news," he replied.

"Heya, Boidie, yer lookin' real nice taday," Doogs said. He had real dark blond hair and hazel eyes. He was real sweet, and gentlemanly and all, but sometimes he got on your nerves a little. Just a little, sometimes.

"Thanks, Doogs. Yer lookin' right fine taday yerself," Birdie returned his compliment.

They talked for a little while. About a bunch of things- about the papers, the girl Mac was interested in, and about some other things that would be happening that evening.

The girl Mac was interested in was real pretty. She and Birdie weren't really good friends, but she knew her somewhat. She had blue eyes and long light brown hair. She was shorter than Birdie, but she wore these real tall boots. They must've added a foot to her height, but she's still shorter than Birdie.

Birdie looked at her pocket watch and realized that she had to be at work in twenty minutes. "Hey, Doogs, gimme a pape would'ja," she interrupted. Doogs handed her a paper, and she handed him a nickel. "Thanks, Doogs, I'll see you'se guys latah."

"See ya, Boidie," they both said as she walked away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Birdie walked along the streets to her office building. It was a nice building, too, real classy. It stood on Broadway, right down the street from the theatre. Sometimes the office went to the theatre to impress some clients. Birdie found it rather boring most of the time. The plays were real good, but the talk during intermission and after the play was so boring.

She walked into her office and greeted everyone on the way. A few of the office boys despised her for being so well-off. They did so mainly because she was a girl, and girls weren't supposed to be so well-in-doubt. Oh well, not her fault, she just worked there.

"Mornin'," Birdie said to her boss cheerily.

"Good morning, Miss Kelly. I see you're in a good mood today," he said.

"Yessir, I am, sir. I'm havin' a real nice day taday, Mista Iverson. Thanks fer sayin' so, sir," Birdie replied. She walked into her office and got to work. She didn't particularly do anything in there. Usually she just read over ideas from other people and revised them. If they were really good, she showed them to her boss. She just sat in there and read over the paper most of the time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Across the city in Manhattan, Jack and his boys were selling papers. Jack was selling with his good friend, Davey, and Davey's little brother, Les. Jack wore black slacks, a red hankercheif round his neck, a black and gray stripped vest, a white shirt, and a black cowboy hat. He had blond hair and brown eyes. Davey wore a blue shirt, brown slacks, and a newsie hat. He had dark brown curly hair and very blue eyes. Les was only about nine and had light brown hair tucked under his hat.

Jack was yelling headlines, and Davey was saying headlines a little ways behind him. Les was working the crowd in the back. He was using his buy-me-last-pape-lady routine. He was doing a real good job, too.

"Roosevelt ta run wit' McKinley," Jack yelled at the top of his lungs. At that, bunches of people came over and bought a paper. Jack was pleased, with that one headline he sold almost a third of his papers. Jack began yelling the headlines again and sold the rest of his papers within the hour. Davey and Les came up to him after they were finished with theirs.

"Heya, Cowboy. Ya done?" Les asked, looking up at Jack.

"Shoah am, kid. How's 'bout you two; ya done?" Jack said.

"Yeah, we are," Davey answered.

"Ya wanna go git more of da mornin' edition er just go ta Tibby's till da evenin' pape comes out?" Jack asked them as they walked down the street.

"Let's just go to Tibby's and wait for the evening pape," Davey said.

"Dat's a good idea," Jack said.

They walked to Tibby's and went inside. It wasn't really lunch time yet, but they went in anyway. They just sat down at a table and talked a bit for a while. A little later, some of the other newsies started coming in. Everyone ordered some lunch and talked for about an hour. Then they all started milling out into the street. Some still had papers to sell. Those who didn't, sat around the statue and talked some more. They had a fabulous time talking until the evening edition of The World came out, about two o'clock. They all lined up in the circulation office and bought their papers. Then they all went out and sold their new papers at their spots. All in all a pretty routine day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, back in Birdie's office, she was doing her ever-so-boring work. She was sitting at her desk reading a very lengthy stack of papers. She looked like she was about to fall asleep. Just then, her boss walked in the door. She set down the report on the corner of her desk.

"Miss Kelly, the office is ordering lunch. Would you care to join us?" Mr. Iverson asked.

"No, thank ya, sir. I ate an hour ago. I hope ya all have a good lunch dough," Birdie said.

"You sure? We're ordering from Denninger's Deli," Mr. Iverson said.

"Yessir, I'm shoa. Thanks fer askin', sir," Birdie said, trying to be as pleasant as possible.

"All right, Miss Kelly. I'll see you later then," he said leaving and closing the door.

Birdie shook her head and picked her lengthy paper back up. She really wasn't looking forward to reading the rest of it. It was so boring and so long. It was about some stupid idea some kid on the first floor had. The kid was sure good at writing the most boring thing she'd ever read. It was something about digging up some land down in Central America. Something about a canal or something like that. It sounded pretty boring; she wasn't really into stuff like that.

She would probably have to present the stupid thing to Mr. Iverson the next day or the next day she was in anyway. She set the paper back on her desk and walked to the window. She looked down from her fourth floor window; she could hear the newsies yelling in the streets. She loved fresh air and always had the window open, even if it was fifty below outside.

"I wonder what's in da pape taday," she said, still looking down to the street, watching the newsies. She grabbed it off the edge of her desk and leaned against the wall. She opened up the paper and looked at one of the stories. "Roosevelt's running wit' McKinley? Wow, who woulda seen dat?" she commented to herself. She stood at the window and read her paper most of the afternoon. She finally decided that she'd better finish that report on her desk. She went to sit back down and picked up the paper and started reading.

About an hour later, her boss came back in. He was really a people person; that was the only annoying thing about him. "Evening. You can leave now if you want," he said.

"Yessir. I was jist finishin' dis pape here, sir," she replied.

"Really? What's it about, Miss Kelly?" he asked. He always called Birdie that. He called everyone else in the office by their first names, but not Birdie. Mr. Iverson called her that because she was so much like his daughter. It got on Birdie's nerves once in a while, but most of the time she didn't care.

"It's about some canal dis guy wants ta dig in Central America. He writes it real well, sir, but it's a bit lengthy fer a hole in da ground." They both laughed at her remark. She could be very witty if she wanted to be.

Mr. Iverson turned to leave. At the door, he stopped and turned around. "Miss Kelly." She looked up. "You can have tomorrow off if you'd like." Then he left and went back to his office.

"Thank ya, sir," she called after him. She began to clean up her desk so she could leave for the day. When she had finished with that, she grabbed a few things and left the office. She went home and talked with her friends until it was late. Then she went up to her room and went to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, Birdie woke up at eight and dressed. She walked to the circulation office in Queens. She was going to visit some of her friends there. She was walking slowly and was in no real hurry. Just as she was getting to the circulation office, Doogs ran up to her.

"Ya hoid?" he said, out of breath.

"Hoid what?" Birdie said, confused.

"'Bout Spot," Doogs replied, still trying to catch his breath.

When Doogs said Spot, Birdie's eyes widened. "What 'bout Spot?" She pressed Doogs for the information.

"He was jumped by a bunch a scabbas dis mornin'. He was soaked real bad. He's in Manhattan, at da Lodgin' House," Doogs answered her inquiry.

"Thanks, Doogs. I'll see ya latah," she yelled, tuning towards Manhattan. She got through the crowds of people and started running full speed to Manhattan. She didn't stop for anything. She was really worried about Spot.

She ran into the square with Horace Greeley. Then into the Lodging House. She almost smacked right into Kloppman. Then she walked quickly up the stairs and stopped outside the bunk room. She had to catch her breath after her sprint across New York. The boys were all standing outside the room. The doctor was inside, evaluating Spot. Birdie walked up to Jack to ask what happened.

"Heya, Birdie" Jack said morosely. "I take it ya hoid." Birdie nodded. Just then, the doctor walked out of the bunk room.

"How is he, Doc?" Mush asked.

"He's lost a lot of blood. He's dead boys. I'm sorry," the doctor said. He tipped his hat to Birdie and left down the stairs.

Part 2

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