The year's 1921, the beginning of Prohibition. The gang's still together, most of them live in Manhattan though. There's me, Spot, Dave, Blink, Abby, Race, Vix, Spice, Angel, Sarah, Skittery, Mush, and of course, my brother, Jack. Spot and I live in Brooklyn, everyone else lives in Manhattan. None of us is really married; it's too much trouble to do so. We've got plenty of money, but it's still too much trouble. Besides, we know who belongs to who. Spot's the head of the group, Jack and I are his advisers.

I guess you could call us the Newsie Mafia, the kids around nicknamed us that; we're the mob of New York. We got the guns, the motor cars, and the alcohol of course. We all wear the same ring, to show we're together. It's a band ring with markings on it. It says something like "all for one and one for all" in Latin I think, I don't know the exact translation or nothing . We're not as well-known as the mob in Chicago, but we come in a close second. We're tougher than they are, but we prefer to be modest, you know. Anyway, Spot and I live in this nice building in Brooklyn, we got some tenants, but they're not full fledged members of the mob. They just do little jobs for us and sometimes get benefits from it all. The others live in a nice building in Manhattan, they're all pretty much the tenants of that building.

Medda died a few years back. She left the Hall to Jack. Dave runs it for him, all the money stuff and everything. We all hang out there, and we run our extra business out of the back. Jack still calls it Irving Hall, he wouldn't have it any other way. Some of the newsies from years back learned how to play instruments. They play for Jack every night, they're pretty good too. We also still like to eat at Tibby's, old habits are hard to break I guess. Food's still as good as it ever was. Course old Tibby passed away too, but his son does a real good job with the restaurant.

We're not really bad people. We just gotta live, that's all. Besides, it's fun living like this. I guess you could say that we own New York. We like to walk round the city, taking in a play every once in a while. We get a pape every day too, it costs so much now. Almost a dime now, it was a penny twenty years ago! The news is pretty slow, but we always buy a pape from this one newsie, he lives in Queens. My old stomping grounds, well, I guess you could say that. The boy that sells us his papes, he's real smart with it. He doesn't lie too much bout the headlines either, just improves the truth. Besides, headlines don't sell papes, newsies sell papes.

!@#$%^&*()_!@#$%^&*()_!@#$%^&*()

"Hey, Spot, let's go git our pape this mornin," I said to Spot over breakfast.

"Shoa, from da usual guy?" Spot said.

"Of coise. Ya seen him lately? I haven't seen him in the last few days," I said, a little concerned.

"Naw, but he probably jist got a new sellin' spot," Spot said.

I nodded and we cleaned up the table. We then left the warehouse for Queens. We weren't walking real fast, we weren't in any hurry. Where'd we have to go? Well, were walking in Queens and we were walking down Broadway. There are some nice shops on that road. We ran into our newsie. We didn't know his name, so we just called him our newsie. We didn't just find him there, we literally ran into him. He was running from something, and he was running real fast.

"Hey, where ya goin' dat ya need ta be dere yestaday?" I asked with a slight laugh.

"Oh, um, I gots ta be goin'. Dese guys is chasin me," the newsie said and glanced over his shoulder nervously.

"What fer?" Spot asked.

"Um, I made a joke and dey thought it wasn't funny," the newsie explained.

"Ya need any help? We'd be glad ta help ya. No favas back," I said.

"Um, um, oh no, here dey come. I gots to be goin' now," he said. He was terrified. He he ran off as fast as he possibly could.

The boys ran after our newsie. They were just passing Spot and me when Spot grabbed each one by the collar. The boys jerked back towards us. Spot slung them up against the wall.

"What'cha doin' ta me friend dere?" Spot asked them, with a tough and angry voice.

"We were jist defendin' our honor," one of the boys retorted.

I raised an eyebrow. "Oh, come on boys. Ya can't fool us. We used ta be like you. Actually, we were far worse," I said with a sly smile. I looked to Spot; he was smiling too.

"Oh yeah, an who're you?" the second boy said smart-alecky.

"Boidie Kelly and dis here's Spot. Who're ya and why're ya chasin' me friend?" I said to the second boy.

"S- S- Spot. As in Spot Conlon?" the first boy asked, a little scared.

"Yeah, now why were ya chasin our friend?" Spot asked, starting to lose his temper.

"None a yer business. Now, let us go," one of them said, still annoyed.

"No, we newsies stick tagedda, even with age. Now, ya leave our friend alone, ya hear," Spot said.

"Yeah, we hear. Are ya gonna let us go now?" the first boy said.

"Yeah, but ya leave our friend alone," Spot said as he let the two boys go. They ran off in the way they'd came, mumbling something about the newsie never learning to fight his own battles. Our newsie came up behind us.

"Thanks. I don't usually git much help from people, specially you'se guys. I mean, older den me type a people," he said looking at his feet.

"Yer welcome, kid. We'se always like to help one a us. What's yer name anyhow?" I asked.

"It's Jem. Whatta dey call you, uh, ma'am and, uh, sir?" he asked.

"Boidie Kelly, and dis here's Spot Conlon. Pleased to know yer name, Jem," I said.

"Yeah, pleased to meet'cha," Spot said pleasantly.

"Pleased ta finally know yer names. Since I'se been sellin' ya papes fer months now. Thanks fer yer help though. I really appreciate it," Jem said sincerely.

"Yer real welcome, Jem. D'ya think dose boys'll be givin' ya any more trouble?" I asked.

"I don't know. Dey's been messin' wit' me fer weeks now. I jist don't know," he said.

"Well, Jem, if ya ever need a place to stay, or hide, jist come to Brooklyn. Ta da warehouse on the 11th pier on da East Riva," I said.

"Yeah, you'se kin stay wit' us if ya want. Da door's always open fer ya if ya need it," Spot said.

"Thank you, really, I mean it. But, I can't impose on yer house," Jem said, still a little scared of us.

"Jem, we house lotsa folks in da warehouse and you'se kin stay if ya want," Spot said. "Now, you'se got any papes dis mornin'?" Spot asked, getting back to the real reason we had ventured to Queens.

"Shoa, I gots a few left. Dey took most of 'em," his eyes narrowed as he looked to where the boys had run. He riffled around in his back pocket and pulled out a pape. "Well, here's yer pape," he handed one to Spot and then Spot handed him a quarter. We bid farewell to Jem and we left.

On our walk to Manhattan, Spot and I talked about Jem and the pape. We talked bout Jem being so nervous about the boys who were chasing him. There wasn't really anything in the pape, so we just skimmed the headlines.

We were just crossing the bridge when the Delanceys came over to us. They were in their motor car and they drove by with their guns going. Spot and I ducked and dodged the bullets. Spot pulled his gun out of his pants. He shot a few shots at the Delanceys. I'd done the same. I'd pulled my gun and shot at them too. We all missed each other.

"Damn!" Spot swore. He really hated missing them. He'd been the best in all of New York with his sling shot. But he had a run of bad luck one day and it broke in two. Ever since then, his aim's been really off. I've tried to help him with it, but he's just too stubborn.

The Delanceys and us have never been too friendly with each other. In the last few years they've been getting increasingly powerful, since guns and motor cars were invented. We still beat them, but it's getting harder each time. Weisel's still around, he's getting real old though. He stays at his house, this little place Uptown, most of the time. Oscar and Morris do most of the dirty work, like trying to kill us. They really get on your nerves.

Anyway, Spot and I had ducked from their bullets and resumed walking to Manhattan. "I hate them. We gots ta soak dose guys one a dese days," Spot said, irritated about the Delanceys.

I stopped and stood facing him and put my hands on his shoulders. "Spot we gots ta grow up. We can't jist soak everbody dat we come across," I said.

"Oh yeah, I say dat I'll soak anybody I want to," Spot said looking me square in the eyes.

"Spot, listen to me, we're olda now. It's been twenty years since da strike. I wanna hurt 'em just as much as you, but we gotta find da right way ta do it. Now, grow up," I said, letting go a his shoulders and walking off. Spot stood there and soon caught up with me.

"Boidie, love, we gotta soak 'em? Dey're askin' fer it, dey really are," Spot tried to convince me. I shot him a no-and-grow-up look.

Part 2

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