Katherine sat in her chair in her office, today's events running through her already busy mind. "Damn it! Why the cops?" She slammed her fists down onto the table. When she had seen Davey and Les she had seen Sarah in their faces. Her best friend. How was she supposed watch them get beaten when all she saw were Sarah's eyes? Answer, she wasn't. She was supposed to write the freaking story. If she could figure out how.

Though she asked the question, Katherine knew the answer. She knew why. Why the cops.
To make a public spectacle, of course. One would think it would turn out horribly to set the police onto a bunch of orphan, homeless children but no. As it turns out, the rich and powerful and all the people who 'matter' in the world didn't care about the children. Every day, they turned their faces away and pretended to not see everything the children suffered through.

Katherine wanted that to change.

Could she make that change...?

Yes she could. She filled her typewriter with paper and started to write. If people read about what happened, what really happened, she could help her new friends change the game. But she was stuck. She had to write this well.

"Write it good Katherine, or you go back to wheezing your way through the flower show." She remembered the two weeks she spent in bed with a sinus infection and pneumonia. "No pressure." Her fingers flew across the keys. "Newsies Stop the World," she giggled, "a little hyperbole never hurt anyone."

Katherine took a deep breath and let her fingers hover over the keys as she tried to think of the next line. "Come on, Katherine... those boys are counting on you."

As she realized that, she couldn't help lifting her head. "...oh, you poor boys..."

But this was a big break for all of them. If she could write this, she could burst out of her back pages. If she could write this, the news of the strike would spread. People would know. They could help...

"Write what you know, so they say. All I know is I don't know what to write or the right way to write it..."

The whole freaking newsboy union depended on her not screwing this up and getting them press. "This is big, lady don't screw it up, this is not some little vaudeville I'm reviewing!" She slammed her head on the desk in frustration.

"Poor little kids versus rich, greedy sourpusses." She stood up and started pacing. "It's a cinch, it could practically write itself, and let's pray it does, cause as I may have mentioned I have no clue what I'm doing!"

"Am I insane?!" Katherine leaned her head back and rubbed her face. This wasn't good. No, not at all... "this is what I've been waiting for!! Well, that... plus the screaming of ten angry editors! A girl, it's a girl. How the hell is that even legal?"

To be the first successful female journalist, using it to save some boys, oh she couldn't wait.

But then she remembered just who her dad was. And that she still was in his city. He still could destroy her. But at this point she was way past caring. She just wanted to be recognized, and these boys to have a fighting chance. "Look just go and get her."

The kids in the streets, working every day just to get food on the table for their families, or the kids who don't even have families and we're giving themselves just to survive, while the powerful looked away. "Not only that... there's a story behind the story! Thousands of children, exploited, invisible!"

But Katherine was here and ready to take on whatever her father or the newsies through at her. "And there's someone to write about it that's how things get better!" She sat down and started typing, hopping, praying it would be good enough. "Give life little guys some ink and when it dries jus watch what happens." As her fingers flew, she knew this would be good. Knew it had to be.

"Those boys will live and breathe right on the page and once they're center stage, just watch what happens." Because that's how it would go. Once everyone knew, everyone became aware of what was happening while the rich shielded away in their homes and pretended not to notice... once that happened, things would change. Right?

"And who's there with her camera and pen as boys turn into men? They'll storm the gates and then just watch what happens when they do." She squealed and sat down in her chair. Jack Kelly wasn't hard to describe, a cocky, know it all, skirt chasing, heroically charismatic with enough guts, or stupidity, to take on the most feared man in the city. He was however the face of the strike, and that put him in the front of her mind. She made him out to be a god.

"That's how you turn a boy into a legend," she said as she finished her paragraph on him.

Katherine leaned back in her seat, staring at the type writer as she tried to think of how exactly to continue this. Write it good, write it good. God, this meant everything for so many people and it was all relying on her but-!

Breathe and type, breathe and type. It's all okay.

She sat upright once again and set her fingers back on the keys. She tapped them gently a few times in thought.

"Come on, Katherine..."

All she knew was that Sarah's brothers were Newsies now. That the leader of their group probably had some sorta trust issues. That the kid with the boys called Crutchie was in the refuge and that that wasn't a good place for a crippled boy. That those boys were crushed under the weight of those bastards that worked for her father. That she wasn't giving up. "All I know is that nothing happens if you just give in, it can't be any worse than how it's been!"

Thinking back on all the hard work the kids did, thinking about how they almost won, she had a feeling. "And it just so happens that we just might win!" She spun her chair around in excitement.

"So just watch what happens!" Katherine stood up in her excitement and let a grin spread across her face as the moment she had been waiting for finally came. Finally, everything was coming together. The words for the paper were coming so easily now and she couldn't help it.

"Let's begin!" She dropped back in her chair and let her fingers practically slam on the keys, flying over the typewriter to make everything happen.