I have a feeling this one will turn long, but I think that's kinda needed.

This is gonna be fun :)

This part is always fun :)

It's also gonna have a little twist ;)

What kind of twist? Read and find out!

Enjoy! :)

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"They jacked up the price."

The tension and aggravation in the air is palpable.

Jack pushes his tongue around in mouth, still just dealing with processing the information.

Kid Blink continues angrily, arms making exagerated gestures as he continues, Mush in silent contemplation with a frown beside him. "They jacked up the price. Sixty cents a hundred." A pause before continuing his rant. "I mean, it's bad enough that we have to eat what we don't sell." He's seething. "And now they jacked up the price." He throws his arms out wide. "Can you believe that?"

"This'll bust me, I'm barely makin' a living as it is," Skittery frets, cigar in his fingers near the side of his head, eyes sad and troubled.

"I'll be back sleepin' on the streets," Boots sighs.

"It just don't make no sense," Mush speaks softly. "I mean, all the money Pulitzer's making ... why would he gouge us?"

"Because he's a tight wad, that's why," Race huffs, pacing back and forth pivoting after the second step sharply, one, two, one, two, one, two, cigar between his teeth, needing something to chew on, fingers snapping and other things, muttering things under his breath in three languages. Anyone can see he's riled up.

There's more clamour arising as people agree with him. And it's not like anyone can't understand what he's saying--everyone knows the English, Blink and Itey know the Italian, and many others in the crowd understand the Irish. Normally when Race curses in Italian, Blink tries to reason him out of being angry at whatever it is, but now he's right there with him.

David doesn't know what to do. This is only his second day of being a newsie. But this? This doesn't seem right. Nor does it seem fair.

Jack sits down on the steps, ready to shut the world out, to just think for a moment.

"Hey! World employees on this side of the gate only!" Weasel shouts at them, prompting them all to shout back in various languages, some words easily heard, some words way too mumbled to be understood. "Put a lid on it!" one of the last voices drawls as all the newsies trail off and then come to a stop.

Boots sits down beside Jack. "It ain't fair," he complains. "We got no rights at all."

The thing is, it's true. They really don't have any rights. The people they work for can say and do anything they want, and the newsies don't have a say and can't do anything about it.

"Come on, it's a rigged deck!" Race snaps. "They got all the marbles!" He goes back to pacing, trying to get his mind to stop racing so fast. It's just that he can't stop thinking about what this means. 60 cents per hundred? Bad headlines? Where does Sheepshead fit into all this?

"Jack, what are we goin' to do?" Kid Blink asks, downhearted.

"There ain't much we can do, is there?" Mush asks, tired. "Let's just get our lousy papes while we still can, right?"

That starts a clamor, some newsies agreeing with him, some not.

"Hey! Hey!" Jack stands up and shouts. "No one's goin' anywhere." He sits down again, hands by his head. Quietly to himself, he says "I just need to think about this."

Luckily, Les heard him. Les stands up. "Give 'im some room, give 'im some room! Let him think!"

Because Les understands. He understands what it's like when he just needs to have a moment to think when everything else is crazy around him. He taps his fingers against his leg as Jack fidgets with his hands, face expressionless, deep in thought.

All the newsies look at him expectantly, eager to hear what he has to say.

Race, however, is impatient. "Jack, you done thinkin'?" 

Yes, he's aware that Jack's mind works like his, and asking for a quick answer is not something that's gonna go over well. But he's tired and mad, and just wants some escape from this nightmare.

Jack sighs when Race broke the silence. Now several newsies are throwing in their own ideas.

Jack waves his hands in the air, signifying quiet, and luckily it works.

His gaze fixes on one spot on the ground as he starts talking. "Well, we gotta show 'em where we stand. That they can't change the price whenever they want."

"What, you mean like a strike?" David asks, unaware of the consequences of his actions.

Jack brightens up. "Yeah, exactly like a strike!" Why does David have so many good ideas?

David jumps back. "Wait, what?" Clamor rises again.

"Are you out of your mind??" Race asks Jack incredulously.

"It's a good idea!" Jack defends himself, trying not to feel offended or hurt that no one is with him on this. He thinks it's a good idea. The wheels in his brain are turning. If they do this-

"No, no, Jack, I didn't mean it," David tries to put in quickly, knowing full well that it's too late, that the spark has already started. "We can't go on strike."

"Oh yeah? Why not?"

"Because we're not a union."

"Well, why can't we say we is a union?"

"Because we aren't a union. We're just a bunch of angry kids with no money."

"Well why don't we make a union?" Jack challenges. "The newsies' union."

Finally, something he says is met by a bunch of agreement.

"Crutchy," Jack says and he stands up, "You go take up a collection. Spread the word to all the boroughs. We're a union."

"Swell!" Crutchy exclaims, and turns to the closest newsies. "Come on, guys! We're a union now!"

"That's right!" Jack shouts. "No one's gonna come back here and put the price back where it was, unless we make 'em. Any newsie who don't join us, we bust their heads together."

"YEAH!" the newsies follow Jack into the street.

"Jack, this isn't a joke!" David shouts. "You can't just rush everyone into this."

Jack stops in front of the Horace Greely statue. "You're right." He turns around to face everyone. "Listen," he shouts. "We can do this, but it has to be your choice. What's it mean to a few rich folks what us street rats think? I mean, they own this city. And that ain't right." He takes a moment to let that resonate. "So are we going to take what we're given, or are we gonna strike?"

For a moment, no one says anything, everyone lost in thought, contemplating. Some have still completely shut out the situation, just trying to find a little corner in their mind to escape.

No matter what the reason for their hesitation, no one is saying anything yet.

Les won't stand for that. "Strike!" he declares, raising his hand above his head. David pulls him back, mortified. "You can't just say things like that!"

Too late. He tossed a rock into a pond, and now there's a ripple effect; more newsies start talking all at once, some in agreement, some in disagreement.

"Come on, Jack!" Boots urges. "Tell us what to do!"

Jack turns to David. "You  tell us what to do, Davey."

That startles David. "Me?"

"Well, this was your idea, ain't it? 'Sides, I know you know what you want to say, what's the right thing to say. So why don't you tell us what we should do?"

David had once promised himself to never let flattery work, but in this case, he'll let it slide.

He thinks on it.

"Tell them..." he starts. "Tell them that Pulitzer has to respect our rights."

"Did you hear that?" Jack shouts. "Pulitzer and Hearst have to respect the rights of the workin' boys of New York!"

"YEAH!"

Jack turns back to David. "Well that went well. So what else do we need to do?"

"Tell them ... that Pulitzer and Hearst can't treat us like we're nothing."

Jack turns back out to the crowd. "Pulitzer and Hearst, they think we're nothing. Are we nothing?"

"NO!"

Jack smiles at their enthusiasm. "Pulitzer and Hearst, they think they got us, do they got us?"

"NO!"

"We're a union now!" David shouts. "The newsies' union! Now we need to start acting like a union!"

Jack stands up on the statue. "Even though we ain't got hats or badges, we're a union just by saying so..." He shouts loud for everyone to hear. "And the World! Will! Know!"

But ... a lot of us have hats? David thinks.

Jack thinks for a second. Maybe even though we ain't got hats would have been better if it was just said in his head. Too late.

He crouches down as others clamor closer, eager to hear and share ideas.

"What's to stop anyone from sellin' our papes?" Boots asks.

"Well we'll talk to 'em," Jack answers.

"What if there's some of 'em don't hear so good?" Race asks.

"Well then we'll soak 'em!"

"YEAH!"

"NO!" David shouts back. "We can't go 'round beating people up in the streets! It'll give us a bad name!"

"Can't get any worse!" Crutchy responds.

"What's it gonna take to stop the wagons?" Jack continues, standing up. "Are we ready?"

"YEAH!"

"NO!" David shouts.

"What's it gonna take to stop the scabbers, can we do it?"

"YEAH!"

"We'll do what we gotta do until we break the will of mighty Bill and Joe..." Jack throws his fist in the air. "AND THE WORLD WILL KNOW!"

That time, he was accompanied by many other newsies. They continue on.

"And the Journal too. Mr. Hearst and Pulitzer, have we got news for you! Now the World will hear what we got to say."

We've been hawking headlines but we're making them today.

"And our ranks will grow..."

"And we'll kick their rear!" Crutchy adds enthusiastically.

"And the World will know that we've been here!"

"When the circulation bell starts ringin' will we hear it?" Jack shouts.

"NO!"

He jumps down from the statue, and the newsies continue walking/jumping/skipping/running through the streets. "What if the Delanceys come out swingin', will we hear it?"

"NO!"

"When you got a hundred voices, who can hear a lousy whistle blow?"

They're right in front of the World building, staring up at the closest thing they'll ever see to a castle defiantly.

"And the World will know! That this ain't no game!"

Blink, Race, and Boots jump up on the gate.

"That we got a ton of rotten fruit and perfect aim!"

They jump down again.

"So they keep their word? Well, it ain't worth beans! Now we're gonna see what stop the presses really means."

"And the day has come ... and the time is now! And the fear is gone!"

"And their name is mud!" Boots interjects.

"And the strike is on!"

"And I can't stand blood!" Boots adds with a foot stomp of affirmation.

"And the World know..."

"Pulitzer may own the World, but he don't own us," Jack says.

"Pulitzer may own the World but he don't own us..."

He puts his hands on David's shoulders. "Pulitzer may crack the whip, but he won't whip us."

"Pulitzer may crack the whip, but he won't whip us..."

Jack runs past David, suddenly getting an idea. David swivels around to watch Jack keep going, having so many emotions/thoughts looking at Jack.

The newsies continue on; but little do they know, they have an audience of two intrigued writers.

"And the World will know! And the World will learn. And the World will wonder how we made the tables turn."

Jack climbs up the ladder to the great big blackboard.

And the World will see that they had to choose.

And the things we do today will be tomorrow's news.

Jack picks up the chalk and starts writing.

The newsies down below him bunch together.

"And the old will fall ... and the young stand tall!"

"And the time is now..." "And our ranks will grow...""And our ranks will grow..."

"And our ranks will grow and grow and grow!"

The newsies look up at Jack as he finishes the last stroke of the last letter. "And the World will feel the fire and finally know!"

Jack turns around triumphantly, hands in the air. The word STRIKE stands out behind him. They all start cheering. "STRIKE! STRIKE! STRIKE! STRIKE!" They toss up their hats.

David grins. He's a part of something. Truly a part of something. 

And he helped spark it all.

Jack climbs down (but jumps down the last few steps) and makes his way over to David, beaming. "Do ya see it?"

"...What?"

Jack excitedly turns David around and points at the blackboard. STRIKE.

"Uh, yeah, I see it," David says, extremely aware of where Jack's hands are on him. Then hastily he adds, "It's great."

"Come on!" Jack suddenly starts pulling David by the hand.

"Where are we going?"

Jack doesn't answer, but instead pulls David in front of the World building, very excited. He addresses everyone. "Alright, everyone! Now it's time to spread the word! You guys gotta be ..." He turns back to David, hands flapping wildly, mind speeding too fast, forgetting the word he needs right now. "Whaddaya call 'em?"

"Call it whatever you want!" someone shouts as David stares at Jack, who is staring back expectantly, tongue slightly visible, relying on David for a certain word.

I have no idea what you want me to say right now.

"Uh ... ambassadors?" David tries after a few moments.

Jack lights up. "Yeah! That's it!" He turns out again. "You guys gotta be ambastards for the other boroughs!"

Some snicker at Jack's pronounciation of the word; David just averts his eyes and smiles and shakes his head slightly. He loves seeing Jack this excited. It reminds him of how he gets excited sometimes. But unlike him, Jack is shamelessly unafraid to show it.

"Say, Jack, we'll take Harlem!" Kid Blink shouts, arm around Mush's waist.

"I got the Bronx!" Crutchy adds.

"I got Midtown!" Race calls out.

"Wait-Midtow-? Wha-Brooklyn?" Jack shouts at Race, confused.

"Sheepshead would be too temptin'." Don't wanna deal with that right now.

"Ah. Alright."

And I don't want to talk to Spot about the strike, Race thinks to himself--not that he would say this out loud. Not that he knows how to voice how he feels when he's around Spot Conlon.

"Bumlets, Specs, Snipeshooter, you guys take Queens," Jack says. "Skittery, Itey, Tumbler, you guys take the Lower Eastside."

He snaps his fingers rapidly. He's forgetting a borough...

Oh right.

"Brooklyn!" he shouts. "Who wants Brooklyn?"

Everyone averts their eyes.

Jack falters, annoyed, unsure of what's going on. "Come on, Spot Conlon's territory!"

Still, nothing.

"Come on, you guys ain't scared of Brooklyn, are ya?"

"We ain't scared of Brooklyn!" Boots steps up defiantly. Then backs down a little, hands fidgeting. "It's just that Spot Conlon ... makes us a little nervous."

Conlon. Another Irish last name. David is in way over his head.

"Yeah? Well, he don't make me nervous," Jack responds to Boots. "Say, you and me, Boots, we'll go to Brooklyn." Jack throws an arm around David. "And we'll have Davey to keep us company."

David looks into Jack's eyes, not impressed, while Jack beams down at him. David turns his head and sighs. 

Once Jack lets go, David tells him, "We're going after you take our demands to Pulitzer."

That stops Jack. He swallows. His heart beats faster. "Mmme? To ... to Pulitzer?"

"You're our leader."

Jack swallows. He wasn't prepared for this.

Where's the strike leader's manual that tells me all that I need to know?

Unfortunately, he doesn't have one.

He looks at the door. His anxiety heightens.

He needs to better his odds of this going well. Or it's shame and torture for him, disappoint for everyone else.

He looks around, everywhere but David's expectant gaze.

Aha.

He takes Les by the arm. "Maybe a kid'll soften him up."

Les jumps up, eager to be a part of Jack's great plan.

They go through the door.

The newsies cheer.

"STRIKE! STRIKE! STRIKE!" they all cheer.

"What strike?" a man behind David asks, startling him. "What's going on?"

David flinches. But this man wasn't asking harshly; he was asking curiously, wanting to know more.

David doesn't always do well talking to strangers. Still he turns around, stands his ground, and gives an answer, willing his hands to stay by his side and not start moving. "We're taking our demands to Pulitzer."

"What demands?" the girl beside the man asks, who David didn't really notice until now. She seems excited, pen and notepad at the ready, proud to contribute to this improv interview.

"The ... the newsies' demands," David answers her, trying to force himself to make eye contact. He ends up staring at her forehead anyway; close enough. Luckily, she doesn't seem too keen on eye contact either, so he drops it.

Probably sensing how quickly the conversation could possibly dry up, the man steps in. "I'm Bryan Denton," he holds out his hand for David to shake. "I work for The Sun."

Reluctantly, David shakes Denton's hand. He seems nice enough. David knows to keep his guard relatively up, but now he's not as wary.

"And I'm Katherine Plumber," the girl holds out her hand for David to shake next. "I'm Mr. Denton's assistant. I also work for The Sun."

"Nice to meet you both," David says, still not looking directly at either of them.

"You seem like the guy in charge," Denton tells David. "What's your name?"

David's hesitant, but maybe it's okay to trust this man. "David."

"David as in David and Goliath?" Katherine blurts.

David doesn't have anything to say to that, but the three of them chuckle a little. It helps dissolve David's tension and wariness.

"So, you really think old man Pulitzer is going to listen to you?" Denton asks.

David squares his shoulders. "Well, he has to. Because, I mean, well ... he has to!" He feels his face heat up. Nice one, David. For this exact reason, David should not be the one in charge in talking.

For some reason, though, Denton doesn't make fun of him, and so David relaxes a little.

This seems to be going well.

Suddenly, the doors open back up again. Jack and Les are literally being thrown out the building.

"So's your old lady!" Jack shouts angrily at the people within the building. "you tell Pulitzer that he needs to make an appointment with me!" 

"YEAH!" Les adds as the doors close.

David sighs.

This does not seem to be going well.

After introducing Jack and Les to Denton and Katherine, Denton takes them all to Tibby's to talk about the strike. Jack is telling them the whole story about how he got thrown out.

"...and then this secretary says to me-really hoity toity-"

"Really hoity toity," Les adds.

"You can't see Mr Pulitzer, no one sees Mr Pulitzer," Jack says in a nasally voice. "Which is when I says, 'look, I ain't in the business of transactin' with no office boys. Just tell Mr Pulitzer that Jack Kelly is here to see him now.'"

"That's when they threw us out," Les finishes.

David lets out a small laugh, then coughs, full of embarrassment. That wasn't the time to laugh.

"You're going up against the most powerful man in New York," Denton tells Jack. "Aren't you scared?"

"Oh look at me, I'm trembling," Jack responds sarcastically. But really, it is a little daunting.

"Well, Pulitzer is powerful," Katherine puts in, a little nervously, "And surely he's gotta be intimidating, at least a little, right?" 

"I mean, maybe a little bit," Jack amends. "But we ain't gonna let that stop us."

Katherine smiles down, satisfied with that answer, pen in hand. She has to write that down.

"So is the strike really an important enough story?" David asks Denton before he can stop himself.

"Well, last year, I covered the war in Cuba," Denton tells him. "So, is the newsies' strike really an important story? Well, that's up to you." 

"We're rooting for you, you know?" Katherine adds, same timid tone as before. "The little guys taking on the big World. Imagine what will happen if you win."

"Yeah." Jack nods, playing that back in his head. Imagine what happens if we win. A lot of things, probably. Including maybe more fairness and justice once and for all.

"So is my name really gonna be in the papes?" Jack asks, his mind already on to the next topic.

"Well, do you want it to be?"

"As long as you get it right. Kelly. Jack Kelly."

"We can do that," Katherine says, busy writing down his name, as well as David's.

"Katherine, it's time we should be going," Denton tells her.

"Alright!"

"Oh, us too!" Jack says. "We need to run to Brooklyn."

"Then this is where we bid you boys goodbye," Denton tells them. "Keep us updated, okay?"

"We will," David says.

Denton and Katherine begin to walk away.

Jack has one last thing. "Oh, and Denton?"

Denton turns around, listening.

Jack swallows. A slight shake of the head. Timidly, "No pictures."

Denton chuckles a little. "Sure."

And with that, he and Katherine are out the door.

Jack swallows. He knows there's going to be little to no chance of him escaping having his picture taken.

Instead of focusing on that dread, he wills himself to focus on something else, something more pressing and in the moment: Brooklyn.

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Okay, this time I called it when it was gonna be super long. Already over 3200 words.

I love the song World Will Know. I love the play on words, I love the message, the feeling, the lyrics, the hope and excitement and defiance and need for this to go right ... all of it together makes me feel goosebumps.

I love the interjection solos/lines haha (like Boots and Crutchy)

Okay, I just love Denton being understanding of all the neurodivergent people, because talking to anyone--especially strangers but pretty much anyone--is hard. And sometimes we don't always say what we want to say in the right way. But he still listens and understands.

Can you tell I need someone like this Denton in my life haha

If I point out every single little neurodivergent thing they do I'm gonna exhaust/overwork myself haha. Just assume that pretty much anything that anyone in this story who isn't an adult does is a neurodivergent thing. But if you have questions about anything specific, whether in this story or my experiences or just about anything, I'm happy to give answers.

So the thing is that a good percentage of newsies would realistically be Irish/of Irish decent, so theoretically a lot of newsies will know at least a little Irish. 
Also, Racetrack Higgins was probably/most likely Irish, but I still like the (sort of unrealistic) headcanons that Race is Italian, so I'm compromising, making him half Irish, half Italian; which could totally work--last name from his Irish father, features from his Italian mother. See? It all works out in the end. 
(Oh, also, Itey was a common name to give Italian newsies, and Kid Blink/Louis Baletti was actually Italian.)

Alright, now to explain Katherine! If you didn't pick up on it, Katherine's neurodivergent too. Also ... I just think that Katherine and Denton can exist in one place?? Like they can work together and you don't need to choose between Denton and Katherine or Katherine and Sarah. Also, this version of Katherine is neither cis nor straight. So yes, I am changing her whole character. Hope you all like the direction I take her.

HAPPY PRIDE MONTH EVERYONE!!!!!!!! :)
<33

Please, no homophobia or transphobia, profanities, hate etc in the comment section.

Best,

~Your Beloved Author (who (as mentioned earlier) loves the song World Will Know)