Chapter 3

                                    

                                          
A/N: this story is trash
                          
The next morning the boys and I were at the circulation gate. Spot's pimp stick was still at my waist. The Scabs were getting their papes from Mr. Weisel. 
                          
"We gotta soak em!" Race yelled, getting ready to punch someone. 
                          
"Calm the fuck down, Racer."I said, holding him back. I take the pimp stick out of my belt loop and rest it against my shoulder using one hand.
                          
A/N: y'all know what I mean, right?
                          
"So is you scabs really gonna kiss Mr. Pulitzer's ass?" I asked the Scabs, who were blocked from getting out of the gate. 
                          
"Are yous just gonna let big shots like Pulitzer and Hearst stomp all over ya?" I asked, stepping closer to them.
                          
"Yeah tell em Fox!" Blink yelled.
                          
"Join our strike to show Pulitzer that he don't own us!" I yelled.
                          
"YEAH!" The other strikers shouted.
                          
There was a moment of silence before one of the Scabs broke through the crowd and walked up to me.
                          
"Woah woah woah." My boys said quietly, backing up.
                          
Another moment of silence. 
                          
"I'm with ya!" The Scab in front of me yelled, throwing down his papes.
                          
"Yeah!" We all shouted.
                          
More and more Scabs started to throw down their papes and join us. One Scab, however tried to get past us, but ran into Jack. They stared at each other for a moment, then suddenly, Jack smacked the stack of papes out of the Scab's hands. 
                          
That was when all yell broke loose. Strikers started to rip up papes, Jack was climbing up the side of Mr. Weisel's office, and I was, well, beating scabs with the pimp stick. I saw Jack mocking Mr. Weisel and the Delancey brothers through the window at the top. Some of the younger kids were throwing tomatos at the windows. 
                          
Suddenly, the police could be heard in the distance.
                          
"Cheezits!" Jack yelled. "The cops!"
                          
We all started to scramble toward the gate, except for Crutchie, who was sitting atop a pile of papes and ripping them up.
                          
"Crutchie!" I yelled. "Let's go!" I ran out the gate with the other newsies. Then, the cops entered the gate with their horses. Crutchie didn't make it. 
                          
______________________________________
(Gotta love them time skips)
                          
The next day we were back at it again. We were standing outside the circulation gate this time, facing the Scabs, who had already gotten their papes. 
                          
"Okay." Davey said, "everybody remain calm." 
                          
"Let's soak em' for Crutchie!" Jack yelled. 
                          
The newsies rushed towards the Scabs and started attacking them. We were now inside the gate. I was beating boys left and right with Spot's pimp stick. Suddenly, the gates closed behind us and the wooden door on the opposite side of the enclosure opened to reveal a bunch of huge men with clubs and chains. 
                          
"Holy shit." Race said.
                          
They cane rushing at us. I knocked out a few with the pimp stick. We were getting beaten up pretty badly.
                          
"Never fear Brooklyn is here!" A voice shouted from above. I looked up to see Spot and his newsies shooting at the men with their slingshots. Spot grabbed onto a rope attached to a pulley and swung down, knocking over a few guys. I turned around and climbed up the wall of Mr. Weisel's office and sat on the roof. I looked down at the fight that seemed to be turning in our favor. I suddenly felt something touching the pimp stick. I whirled around to see Spot who had one finger on the end of his pimp stick.