You’re an 11 year old newsgirl, being raised on the streets of Manhattan, New York in 1899. It ain’t easy, but it could be worse. Sell papes, struggle to get food and try to avoid Snyder, the owner of The Refuge. So instead of school, here you are working, yelling to the crowd as you try to sell newspapers.

Jack Kelly, the leader of the Newsies, was stationed not too far from you, just across the street. You watched as he charmed a group of young ladies into buying a newspaper from him, seeing how naturally and effortlessly he does it. You’ll get to his level. Someday. Davey was beside Jack, watching him and mentally taking notes. For his first week being a Newsie, he wasn’t doing too bad. Race and Crutchie were lounging on some boxes, watching you as they had a break, Crutchie resting his leg and Race smoking his cigar.

Even though you knew it didn’t matter how much you made since they’d give you some of their pay anyways, you still worked, wanting to at least earn something back for them.

As you stand on the curb of the street, two boys came up to you. They looked a little older, and you could tell they were rich based off their expensive attire. On the right, a blonde boy with freckles, snatched the pape out of your hand. The other one, who had black hair covered by a cap, got in your face, pushing you so you fell.

“Aye Tommy, you ever seen a girl bringing us the paper?” The brunette sneered, glaring down at you.

The blonde one, presumably Tommy, chuckled, stomping on the paper. There was no way you could sell it now from the dirty footprints smeared on it. “What’s next, a lady governor? Picture that, John.” The brunette, John, kicked you in the stomach, all the air leaving your lungs.

Your pained yelp got Jack’s attention as he shouted at the boys, running over, followed by Davey, who held Jack back. Race noticed the scene, getting in the boys faces and pushing them back. Crutchie got up, limping over and helping you up, looking you over briefly.