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newsies-are-the-new-best-thing · 28 days

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A pair of shears, a gift of life

Part 1 of my trans Davey series, 'my courage, found'

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Dedicated to @orcaofmyheart99 thanks for getting me into newsies ☺️

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This is bad. Very bad. Hair lays scattered around Davey’s feet, long, dark, locks strewn on the dirty wooden planks. Davey’s heart beats loudly inside, an overwhelming pounding that drowns out the sound of the evening crowd rushing around. It’s dark in the cramped room Davey’s in, a small oil lamp casting a warm glow, enough for Davey to see a reflection in the small mirror. Davey swallows down the hysterical laugh that threatens to spill out, shaking hands grip the cold sewing shears, reaching up and snipping off another long strand of hair. An excitement that Davey has never felt before begins to stir inside, mixing with the lingering fear, growing with each cut. Davey finishes cropping the hair, short, shorter than it’s ever been, a few inches at most, roughly shaped into some sort of style, it doesn’t matter if it’s a mess, to Davey it’s perfect.

Looking up into the mirror Davey stares and it’s as if Davey’s underwater. Everything except the reflection in the mirror, is worlds away. Every noise except the hammering heartbeats and shallow, panicked breathing, fades. Carefully Davey reaches up and runs a hand through the hair. A smile creeps onto the reflection and the excitement, joy, the indescribable feeling that convinced Davey to partake in such an act bubbles up and overflows. So, the grin grows, giggles nearly jumping out, and Davey pushes the other hand through the hair, again and again. Each time the joy gets so much larger, spilling out in dizzying breaths as Davey frantically rakes through the hair. With a deep breath Davey looks directly into the mirror and whispers the words that have been locked inside.

“Hello, I’m David” He murmurs quietly “I am a man. I am a brother, a son.” His heartbeats wildly and he continues.

“Hello, this is David, he’s my friend, this is his sister and his brother. He lives with his parents and goes to school.” His grin has morphed into something near crazy and he lets loose a muffled giggle. The excitement inside is full force and he turns to the other items he gathered, held in a tight bundle of fabric. Unwrapping the contents with shaky hands, he carefully lays out each item, hands catching on the thick wool of the vest and smooth satin tie. Hastily Davey pulls off the skirts and shirt he was wearing, undoing the corset he so violently hated and reached for the shears once again. A quick idea spurring him to slice through his underskirt, thin fabric pooling into long ribbons which he wound tightly around his chest. He takes a sharp breath in when he glances in the mirror, hand jumping to his chest which is now flattened near completely. Heartbeat speeding up, he turns and pulls on the clothes, relieved that the boots he normally wore don’t standout against his outfit. Shoving the cap, he swiped from his father, onto his head he turns to the mirror and chokes back the lump in his throat. A pain sweet and aching fills his heart, and he quickly wipes the tears that have gathered in his eyes. Shoving the cut hair, shears, and his old clothes into the fabric, he bundles it together and stashes it inside a dresser drawer.

His heart is soaring as he climbs down the fire escape, finally grateful for his room having an easy access outside. He finds himself wandering down the street like a newborn foal. His limbs feel awkward and heavy, and he trips a few times before he turns and leans on the side of a building, catching his breath and mind. The night air has settled in around the city, stagnant and heavy, holding a heady sort of promise. People stroll up and down the street, talking loudly amongst themselves, rushing around in their own world. The excitement that had fueled him so far seems to have faded into a swirl of worry and Davey tries to rally himself. No one knows what he is, no one can tell. He looks like a boy, short hair and dressed as one. As long as he doesn’t speak, he’ll be fine, he will get to live the life he’s always wanted, even if only for this evening. So, he squares his shoulders and sets his jaw, imitating the other men that are milling around and prances out into the world as his true self.

Davey tries not to spend too much time in the same area he lives, paranoia eating at him as he hurries toward the bowery. His heartbeat is still frantic and his breathes still too shallow, but he feels lighter once he is far enough away. Everything is still busy, if not more so, and Davey finds himself wandering into a theater, intrigued by the lit sign above signaling that there was a free show being held tonight. Entering the theater turns out to get him into some sort of trouble as he is gruffly steered toward backstage the moment an old, balding man spies him. He thinks about protesting but snaps his mouth shut once he remembers the sound of his voice, reluctantly letting the man push him into a large back room. When he looks around, he sees that it’s full of different set pieces and theater props, paint cans are haphazardly stacked in the corners, and most surprisingly that the room is occupied. A few boys around his age are sitting grouped around a large canvas talking while another boy paints.

“Reminds ‘em ta enter through da alley, Jack. We don’t needa infestation a’ newsies in the theater” The man grunts out and then somehow disappears. Before Davey can even begin to try and escape, the boys look over and see him.

“He ain’t a newsie” One of the boys says around a cigar, that oddly looks unlit.

“Yeah, who’se the hell are yea?” Another one asks.

Davey’s heart is beating much too fast, and he swallows down the shaky fear that’s starting to grow. He can figure a way out of this, he has to. So, he pulls himself up and stares directly at them, unafraid, unyielding, and gestures to his mouth in an attempt to show he can’t speak.

“Can you’se speak?” The painter questions. Davey shakes his head.

“Well, how’s the hells are we ‘sposed ta figa out who’se ya is?”

“Race shuddup!” the boy on the ground whispers harshly to the one with the cigar, Race. The painter steps around the others and approaches Davey where he is still standing, awkwardly.

“Sorry ‘bouts that guy, he can’t see nothin’ well and us newsies always endup meetin’ here. I’m Jack, that there is Crutchie” the blond boy gins and waves “an’ Race.” The other boy gestures a greeting with his cigar and sticks it back in his mouth.

Jack reaches out his hand and Davey takes it. His heart is tripping over itself, but a small sliver of satisfaction curls up inside when he shakes Jack’s hand as if he has been doing so his whole life.

“You’se welcome ‘ta stay with us, I’m just abouts to finish up the scene” Jack says gesturing toward the others and Davey feels himself nod before he can realize what he just agreed to.

“Are’s ya from the Bowery?” Crutchie asks when Davey settles himself on the cloth next to the other boys. He shakes his head. Jack has gone back to painting, but Davey can feel him stealing glances every so often.

“Whaddabouts Brooklyn?” says Race. Davey shakes his head again.

“Race here ‘ll do anythin’ ta go ta Brooklyn, won’t he Jack?” Davey sees Jack grin.

“How’s that goin’ for you’se, Race? Have ya heard back from Spot yet?” Jack inquires, Davey can feel a smile starting to grow on his own face and he looks at Race.

“Shuddup Jack! It ain’t like that, he’s gots his own life, unlike you’se” Race exclaims loudly, Crutchie and Jack laugh and Davey relaxes into the teasing, enjoying the casual, brotherly way they were treating each other.

“Ohs c’mon. You says it ain’t like that but who’se spents alls last Sataday with Spot instead a’ sellin’ papes?” Crutchie pesters and Race blushes and ducks his head, scowling around his cigar. Davey looks up and catches Jack looking at him. Jack grins and gestures in a way to imply something very lewd and Davey blushes and must force himself not to actually laugh at the action.

“I was sellin’ with Spot” comes Race’s meek reply

“Oh, so’s he lets you’se sell there but no one else?” Jack asks. Race gives up on his friends and turns to face Davey, ignoring the other boys’ laughter.

“Can you’se spell with ya fingers? I knows a bit but nothin’ good” he asks. Davey shakes his head, feeling a bit bad for lying about being mute but this evening is going so much better than he would have ever thought possible, so he bites his tongue.

“How’se come? Are you’se able to speak an’ just won’t?” Davey nods at that, twisting slightly to undo the pressure on his chest.

“Aw mans, I’d love ta here ‘bouts who you’se is” Jack says sitting down next to Davey, having finished whatever he was painting.

“It’s fine if ya don’t wanna, we don’ts care too much” Crutchie assures him. Davey shakes his head, and they leave it at that.

And so, for that evening Davey lets his whole life and other identity fade away. He grins wildly at the boys’ banter and teasing, letting himself be jostled and good-naturedly slapped. Finds himself playing some sort of game with the others that involves hand smacking and bets. The earlier excitement, the one that began with cutting his hair, wholly returns as he finds himself being backed by both Jack and Race when he attempts to play against Crutchie. And his heart leaps when he wins and they throw their arms around him, cheering and laughing as they parade him around the room. It’s everything he’s ever wanted and more.

Eventually he waves goodbye after being told that he can find the others there every Thursday, and he makes his way back home. Cursing how late it is, he carefully climbs back up the fire escape and rolls himself into bed, smile firmly affixed to his face. With a sigh he undresses and unbinds himself, fear rolling back into his gut, mixing with the happiness he’s feeling. He runs his hand through his hair, the thing that started this whole adventure, something he had wanted to cut, to change, for so long until he had finally broken and gave in. Wanting to be a boy at least for just one night, to live the world as one for just a moment, had lived in Davey’s mind for so long. And for so long he had run his mind around, wondering what name he would use and what he would look like. Nothing he imagined came close to tonight and dread sinks deep, deep, into his bones at the thought of returning to his old life.

#newsies #trans davey jacobs #jack kelly #racetrack higgins #crutchie morris #race x spot #newsies fanfiction

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ghostslikemystories · 11 months

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Not to be a musical theatre freak or anything but hey newsies fans? Go listen to The Boxer, the Mumford and Sons version. It’s very sad and lonely newsies to me and at risk of being an even bigger nerd here’s which verse is which character (with lyrics):

Verse 1: Davey/crutchie

I am just a poor boy, though my story's seldom told

I have squandered my resistance for a pocketful of mumbles, Such are promises

All lies and jest, still a man hears what he wants to hear And disregards the rest

When I left my home and my family I was no more than a boy in the company of strangers

In the quiet of the railway stations running scared.

Laying low seeking out the poor quarters where the ragged people go, looking for the places only they would know.

Verse 2: Jack

Asking only workman’s wages I go looking for a job, but I get no offers, just a come on from the whores on 7th avenue

I do declare there were times when I was so lonesome I took some comfort there.

Then I’m laying out my winter clothes and wishing I was gone, going home

Where the New York City winters aren’t bleeding me.

Bleeding me, going home

Verse 3: Spot

In the clearing stands a boxer and a fighter by his trade

And he carried the reminder of every glove that layer him down and cut him till he cried out in his anger and his shame

I am leaving I am leaving

But the fighter still remains

#newsies broadway #newsies #livesies #newsies live #newsies 1992 #newsies 2012 #newsies musical #uk newsies #uksies #spot colon #trans jack kelly #jack kelly #trans davey jacobs #jack x davey #davey jacobs #david jacobs #crutchie morris #crutchie newsies #Spotify

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i-think-im-still-turning-out · 7 months

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my new newsies fic

gnc davey for yall

#newsies #gnc davey jacobs #trans davey jacobs #trans jack kelly

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2catsinaboat · 1 year

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken, Newsies - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: David Jacobs, Jack Kelly (Newsies), Crutchie (Newsies), Racetrack Higgins, Original Characters Additional Tags: Trans Male Character, Trans David Jacobs, Fluff and Humor, Gender Dysphoria, unsafe binding, Crutchie & Racetrack Higgins & Jack Kelly Are Siblings, Minor Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins, Teasing, Pre-Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Selectively Mute Character, Davey doesn't like the way his voice sounds guys, so he doesn't speak, this is really self-indulgent Series: Part 1 of find your courage Summary:

This was bad. Very bad. Hair lays scattered around Davey’s feet, long, dark, locks strewn on the dirty wooden planks. Davey’s heart beats loudly inside, an overwhelming pounding that drowns out the sound of the evening crowd rushing around outside. Davey swallows down the hysterical laugh that threatens to spill out, shaking hands grip the cold sewing shears, reaching up and snipping off another long strand of hair. An excitement that Davey has never felt before begins to stir inside, mixing with the lingering fear, growing with each cut.

Davey is a boy and he wants to explore the world as one, even for a night.

#newsies #davey jacobs #trans davey jacobs #newsie fanfic

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we-are-inevitable · 3 months

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Now… transmasc Davey… he’s tumbling around in my brain like a loose sock in the dryer… thoughts and feelings? 👀

transmasc davey who’s always known he feels Different because sarah is his twin sister and they are supposed to be the same and she loves dresses but why doesn’t he? transmasc davey who tries out for sports even though he doesn’t really like them because sarah is the girly sister, so he’ll pick up the tomboy act, and it’s a lot more acceptable for girls to be covered in dirt and grime when you soend hours practicing softball every day. transmasc davey who asks for a haircut going into freshman year of high school because he’s tired of looking exactly like his sister and being mistaken for her, so he gets a shoulder length cut, and then a chin length cut, and then a pixie, and suddenly he feels a lot more confident. transmasc davey who, by some stroke of luck, got his father’s genes and is 6’1 as a junior in high school and knows he’s queer now, but doesn’t know why shopping for prom dressed with sarah is making his chest ache or why he feels more comfortable in baggy jeans and hoodies or why he has a crush on jack yet doesn’t want to pursue or ask him to prom because it feels weird and wrong right now.

transmasc davey who buys a compression bra the summer before senior year and realizes Oh. Oh wait. There’s something here. transmasc davey who comes out to sarah first before anyone else and sarah is only upset because davey could have worn a matching suit to her prom dress if he had figured this out like three months sooner. transmasc davey who chooses his name because he’s not a jewelry person but he’s worn a Star of David necklace every day for the past six years because his parents wanted him to have it.

transmasc davey who wears a binder to the first day of school senior year and excitedly tells all of his friends. transmasc davey gets to pick a suit out for winter formal and actually gets to have it tailored using some of his savings from his summer job. transmasc davey who asks jack to prom and has his first kiss in a school gym and finally feels right.

transmasc davey who gets to explore himself in college, who starts T freshman year and gets involved with activist groups on campus, who shares an apartment with jack starting sophomore year, who is a cat dad to an awful little kitten, who gets top surgery after saving for years and years as a college graduation gift to himself, who wears a suit to his wedding and helps organize pride events every summer and works with queer youth and marginalized communities and spends his life using his voice to advocate and build community and stick up for the little guys.

transmasc davey.

#this is so much longer than i meant it to be but anon. i have brain worms now.#trans davey and his exploration of gender as an identical twin >>#trans davey and his relationship with his chaotic bisexual boyfriend >>>>#trans davey >>>>>>>>#davey jacobs #david jacobs #jack kelly #newsies #livesies #newsies musical #javid #javey

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athousandboxjumps · 11 months

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I love your trans jack headcanon!!!! i really would love to hear more about your thoughts on him!!!!

Thank you for the ask! I could talk forever about trans jack, so buckle up:

When Jack was little his Da took him to a Buffalo Bill show. That night he told his Da and Mama he was going to be a cowboy when he grew up. They laughed and patted him on the head, saying he’d be a great cowgirl. Jack shook his head and insisted he would be a cowboy.

He named himself Jack after the dime novel character Jack Wright.

Medda was the one to teach Jack how to bind. She’d learned when she was younger playing breeches roles in Shakespeare plays.

Jack would go on to teach Race to bind the same way.

One time Jack began to bleed through his trousers. Albert immediately pulled him into an alleyway and insisted they switch pants.

The boys always make sure to emphasize that they see Jack as their big brother.

The first time Jack kissed Davey, Davey called him the “most beautiful boy he’d ever seen.” Jack melted on the spot.

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paper-bag-arts · 9 days

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consider this post additional peer pressure GO READ @blurglesmurfklaine’s FIC ‼️🗣️‼️‼️🗣️💥💥

#your honour im obsessed #your honour im losing sleep over them #your honour davey is spider-man #actually obsessed with davey being spiderman btw i KNOW his snarky ass has some quips #also every spider-man is trans and davey being spider-man makes him trans in this essay i will-#newsies #newsies fanart #livesies #davey jacobs #jack kelly #javey #spiderman #gay

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loving-jack-kelly · 1 year

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javid as wildly codependent best friends who genuinely are not in love with each other until they get married for convenience's sake in their thirties. no romantic relationship has ever lasted this long so they figure why not. they keep accidentally chasing each other's partners away anyway because when it really comes down it it they've never been able to pick somebody else over each other. nobody really believes that there's no romance there, but they both insist no, we're best friends, we've always been best friends, that's all. when feelings start to change, now that they've comfortably admitted that they don't need anyone else, neither of them wants to be the one to admit no, actually, I do want more.

#that reddit post abt the trans guy who married a cis gay guy to beard both of them from being out to their parents #essentially that's the vibe. besties but eventually (very eventually) there's more there #also tho. can't stress enough. their codependent dynamic is extreme they can't function without each other #newsies #javid #jack kelly #davey jacobs

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frogmanfae · 1 year

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Okay so I have this fun little list of things that either I have said or my friends have said that I would name a song and anyway here are Newsies as my potential song titles

#these are really just quotes from my friends #but fall out boy showed me literally anything can be a song title #newsies #newsies live #david jacobs #gay #lgbtq #jack kelly #javid #spot conlon #trans spot conlon #racetrack higgins #race higgins #davey jacobs #jack x davey #this is so silly

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ethereal-bumble-bee · 7 months

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I’m Not Sorry- David Jacobs

(Note: I originally wrote + published this on ao3, so sorry if it uploads weirdly)

Davey’s hands shook slightly as he felt Spot’s eyes bore into the back of his head. The file he held in his hands felt heavier than it had been a few moments ago, like the contents were begging to be dropped into the churning river below them. “You want me to do what?” He asked, blinking in disbelief. “That’s idiotic, Spot.”

”Jesus, Jacobs,” the shorter newsie complained. “You’re actin’ like I want you to kill someone.”

“If my mom ever finds out about this, I’ll be the one getting killed,” Davey retorted. “You know how much she values all these little papers.”

“Sure, sure.” Spot snorted, pushing past Davey and climbing up onto the railing. “C’mon, I just spent a hundred-somethin’ dollars to get us on this boat- ain’t you gonna drop that crap in?” He spread out his arms like a bird’s wings, yelling in the wind, “That’s what we came here for, Dave, to let that bullshit go!”

Logically, there was no reason Davey should have held back from dropping those papers in the river and calling it a day. All of them were symbols of his life from middle school until graduation- spelling bee certificates, awards from competitions he could never remember competing in, letters from teachers praising how good of a student he was and how far they were sure he’d go, notes from counselors and psychiatrists congratulating him on how far he’d come in recovery. Mementos from class trips, old report cards that his mother had hung proudly on the fridge while Davey beamed behind them… everything.

He swallowed any words, the shake in his hands traveling to his legs, making him wobble on his feet. “I don’t think I can…” he answered, his voice choking involuntarily. “I’m sorry.”

Spot’s face softened, and he hopped down to Davey. “Hey, Jacobs,” he said, placing a hand on Davey’s shoulder. “Don’t be sorry, ‘kay? It ain’t your fault that it’s hard to let go.” The tone of his voice told Davey that he meant it, that he understood, and a weak smile found its way to his face.

Spot smiled back, patting him on the shoulder and then gesturing to the water beside the boat, whose driver had slowed down to a crawl. “Plus, you’re not sorry- not really.”

Davey raised an eyebrow. “I’m not…” he paused, something clicking in his mind. “I’m not sorry,” he said, more definite this time. “No, I’m not. I’m not sorry.” His smile grew wider as he sorted through the papers, picking one from middle school that had A+ Student printed on it in bubble letters. He glanced at it one last time, cringing slightly for the smiling, cartoon-y characters on the page and what he was about to do.

Taking the paper in both hands, setting the file down on the deck, he ripped the paper in two. “I’m not sorry!” He cried, crumpling up the paper and throwing it into the river.

Spot stepped back and smiled kindly. “For what?” He asked, egging him on. “What’re you not sorry for?”

“I’m not sorry for getting the hell out of that town as soon as I could,” Davey replied. “I’m not sorry for… for changing my name. For cutting my hair.” He glared at the soggy pieces of paper left behind in the boat’s wake, the ones with Hana scrawled on them. He picked up another piece of paper- a participation award from the seventh grade spelling bee that his mother had never thrown away- and crumpled it up.

“I’m not sorry for kissing Lukas Fordman in tenth grade,” he yelled into the empty, laughing at Spot’s confused face, picking up another paper. “I’m not sorry for wearing that ugly-ass brown suit to prom, and I’m not sorry for spilling punch on Regan Allen when she called me that name.” Those last words were spit out, a mix of anger, relief, and excitement as memories spilled back to him. “I’m not fucking sorry!” He screamed. “I’ll never be sorry!”

Soon, with every confession and taken-back apology, all of the papers, all of the memories of his miserable life before, were gone. Davey stepped back, his hair messed up by the wind and his chest heaving with the effort of screaming. “Fuck you,” he said to the bits of paper sinking into the water, holding up his middle finger. Spot threw an arm around him, tousling his hair, the two of them laughing with joy and adrenaline coursing through their veins.

“See?” Spot grinned, patting Davey’s shoulder. “I told you it’d feel better once you let that shit go.”

“Thank you,” Davey said, pulling his friend into a hug. “I needed this.”

“I know,” Spot replied simply, as the boat pulled back onto the docks and the captain helped them ashore. “Don’t ever apologize for yourself ever again, alright?”

Davey nodded, staring off into the afternoon sky, sweating in the hot air yet feeling chills travel up his spine, like he’d just seen the final number of a heart-wrenching show. “I know.” He smiled again, placing a hand on his heart. “Never again.”

What’s there to apologize for when I’m finally free?

#newsies #fanfiction #musical theater #broadway #newsies musical #davey jacobs #spot conlon #david jacobs #transgender #Trans Davey

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newsies-are-the-new-best-thing · 28 days

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Why must everything be so confusing?

Part 8 of my trans Davey series, 'my courage, found'

<prev & next> masterlist

TW: accidental misgendering, brief mention of period typical sexism, brief mention of minor character injury

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(Sarah's POV)

When Davey was eight and Sarah barely seven, they had created a pact between themselves. The two of them had snuck out of bed late one-night, childish excitement forcing them out of their warm covers to watch the first snow of the season fall. They had been laying on the rug near the fireplace. Flickering embers from the dying fire had kept the worst of the biting cold away, casting slivers of gold onto their faces. Through the window, fat snowflakes lazily drifted past, dancing in a light breeze.

Sarah was the one who brought it up, always one to speak her mind. One to demand and act without hesitation. It had been almost silent, only the slight crackle of the fire to listen to, and her voice had been loud in comparison despite how she whispered her words.

“We should form a pact,” she had said, a serious look settling upon her round face.

“A pact?” Davey had been confused, frowning slightly and moving to sit up. Sarah copied her, so they were now sitting cross-legged and facing each other.

“It means a promise,” Sarah clarified.

“I know what it means,” Davey had scoffed, “I meant, what exactly would we promise?”

Sarah had huffed at her, annoyed by Davey’s reply, “I wanted us to promise that we would never hide stuff or lie to each other, but you don’t seem to want to make it.”

“No, no- Sarah,” Davey hurriedly said, starting to smile, “I do, c’mon let’s make it.”

“You really want to?”

“Really, c’mon,” Davey had grabbed her hands then, and solemnly said, “I promise to never lie or hide anything from you, Sarah.”

Sarah had followed her lead, voice very serious, repeating the promise and even using Davey’s real name. Her sister had wrinkled her nose at it and told Sarah to use Davey. But Sarah had reminded her that the pact had to be formal which just caused Davey to sigh and shove Sarah over. Then Sarah had kicked Davey and they had both begun trying to wrestle each other while being as quiet as possible.

Their parents had found them ten minutes later because of Sarah screeching at Davey to let go over her braid, while Davey demanded Sarah stop sitting on top of her and digging her knees into her stomach.

The rest of the memory is blurry, but it doesn’t matter. The important part is the fact that they had made a promise, swore to each other, a damn oath, not to lie nor hide things from each other.

The two of them were supposed to tell each other everything. And sure, Sarah may have kept a few secrets from Davey over the years such as who stole her last piece of chocolate or the real names of her crushes. However, Sarah had never acted so blatantly secretive as Davey had been doing for the past couple months. So obviously hiding something.

At first, Sarah had brushed it off as Davey being Davey, always seeming to be half a step out of her body. Occasions where Davey had been completely unaware of outside happenings seemed to become more frequent. And Sarah had become concerned that perhaps something terrible had happened to her sister to cause such a state. Because despite Davey having always suffered from such bouts of mindlessness, it had never been so bad.

Also, Davey had suddenly started being much more tired during the days. Normally, she was wide awake and eager to learn, but now she was barely keeping her eyes open. And Sarah had offered to trade rooms, so that Davey could sleep on a nicer mattress in case that was the problem, but her sister had hurriedly and resoundingly refused. Why Davey likes sleeping in that little closet she will never know. It is either freezing or roasting most of the time due to the windows, and full of spiders and occasional mice. Also, the worn furniture takes up so much room that the door cannot even open all the way. Whatever Davey is hiding, Sarah had thought, I am not going in there to find out.

Then Davey started disappearing after school a lot more than usual. Davey normally came home to study with her but claimed to now be meeting up with friends to study. Which Sarah knows is utter horse shit because Davey does not have friends. She knows every kid in their grade at school and none of them have mentioned studying with her sister. So, Sarah had jumped to the obvious conclusion that Davey was meeting up with a boy. And that just irked her. Why would she hide something like that? Did their pact mean nothing?

But then their father had been injured and Davey had stepped up to take care of them while their mother had been trying to keep herself together. It always seemed to be Sarah who was the one to take care of the three of them, or at least Davey, Les was good at taking care of himself.

But Davey always seemed to forget how to behave, how to properly act as a girl. Her sister had been in a war against skirts for practically her whole life, always tripping and yanking at them awkwardly. On multiple occasions she had to stop Davey from cutting her hair in some sort of fit of emotion, and then lie to their teacher about why Davey had decided to braid her hair up in such a way that it looked quite manly.

So, Sarah had never expected Davey to be the one in the kitchen cooking for them, nor the one to talk with all the relatives and friends that had stopped by. She hadn’t expected to find Davey pouring over the old newspapers about the trolley strike or find him reviewing the bills and bank statements, helping their mother stretch finances more than they already have been.

After those surprises, she has been almost unbothered about Davey going to find work while she has stayed back to help their mother. It had been easier, she realized, to stay near home, in case something happened to their parents. Plus, if she and Davey were both at home and taking care of the neighbors’ kids, their brother would be going to find work by himself. And Les definitely should not be sent alone to news gate, he had a habit of scurrying off into random adventures if left unattended.

The thing is, the first night of them working, Les returned with a sum that was definitely more than what Davey would be making as a laundress. And when she had invited Jack over for dinner, Davey had conveniently not arrived home even though her sister should have been as she’d been quite worried about their father. Strange that she had not been to dinner where Les, the well-known mischief maker, had agreed to host a boy, Jack, around their ages. Hmm…she thinks, strange.

Plus, he had kept mentioning Davey. For whatever reason though, he’d thought they had another brother named Davey as well which would just be confusing. Maybe Davey knew Jack and told him to try and throw off any suspicion that they were acquainted. Why Jack chose to make up a lie about their brother Davey selling with them…. Sarah doesn’t have an answer at that bothers her.

Les’s behavior was also telling. More silent than usual, practically shoveling food in his mouth at a speed only rivaled by a high-speed train. Then, it hit her, he knew something. Davey had told him something. Told him the reason behind the hiding and secretive nature. She had told Les the reason and not her. No, Sarah is not jealous of her kid brother, that would just be petty.

Alright, she admits she is a bit jealous that Davey decided to break their pact and then tell Les instead of her. They were each other’s best friends, basically twins despite the ten month age gap, always enjoying the same books and subjects in school, always fighting over who got the scrap of extra dough when their mother made rugelach.

Currently, Sarah is waiting for Davey to return from her job which is keeping her awfully late. Maybe she could tag along with Davey tomorrow and ask her boss to assign something shorter. Tiredly, she swipes at her drooping eyes, attempting to force herself more awake. Les had gone to bed a few hours ago after telling her that Davey was probably going to be home much later and that she should not wait up.

Well, she had thought, if Les doesn’t want me to stay up, it’s probably because whatever he knows. So, here she is, sitting on her thin mattress in her creepy room, trying not to fall asleep before she comes back. But even if she does, Davey will have to wake her up to sleep which is why she chose this spot. Yawning Sarah slides backwards until her back hits the wall, letting her eyes rest for a moment.

Light slides in onto her face annoyingly bright. Confused, Sarah drags herself upright, squinting at the room around her. Even in the horrifyingly sharp orange light, everything has remained the same as last night. The door still shut; the dresser drawers undisturbed.

Davey hadn’t come home.

A jolt of fear slices through her gut. Sarah sucks in a breath trying to keep calm. There must be an answer to this. Maybe she had realized Sarah was in there and slept in the other room instead. Joints aching, Sarah quickly rises from the bed, and rushes towards her room, hoping that it is early enough that Davey is still sleeping.

When she yanks open the door however, all she finds is Les tying his boots. He looks up startled by her sudden appearance,

“Where is Davey?”

“Um….h-she left early.” Sarah narrows her eyes at him in doubt and Les pretends not to notice. Davey hadn’t even come in to change clothes…probably. Alright, Sarah is a decently deep sleeper so that could be the case. Even if it is, Davey has been acting incredibly suspicious about this whole job.

Maybe she doesn’t even have a laundress job.

Les brushes past her in the doorway as Sarah turns this idea over in her mind. It would explain the weird or weirder behavior that Davey has been exhibiting. And the strange amount of money that Les brought home. Maybe she…maybe Davey decided to become a newsie with Les?

But then why wouldn’t she have said so?

It’s not as if there aren’t any girl newsies. That newsboy, Jack, must have something to do with whatever this is. He and Les must be part of this conspiracy that Davey has developed. A frown settles onto her face, hurt rising at the thought that her sister would rather trust a random boy that she’d only known for as little as a day or at most a few months, with this secret.

Sarah gets for the day, with a muddled mind, swarming with confusion and more and more wild ideas of what exactly Davey is hiding. Finishing buttoning her shirt, Sarah goes to the kitchen where Les is sure to be nibbling on something before, he heads out. Davey couldn’t even bother to accompany Les to the news gate, Sarah thinks with a sigh, even though Les had been excitedly chattering on about them going on strike! Which, from her knowledge of the recent headlines, is bound to be dangerous, even if it’s just a bunch of kids.

“I’m going with you to the gate today,” Sarah says as she walks into the cramped kitchen, glancing over at small table where Les is chewing on a piece of bread with jelly.

“No!” Les shouts around a mouthful of food, “I’m fine goin’ on my own.”

“I’m sure,” Sarah lies, “but you said a strike is organized for today. I wanted to see what exactly occurs at one.”

Les tries to convince her not to go, which only serves to encourage her to. When their mother greets them, she too agrees that Sarah should accompany Les for a bit. As there is not much that she needs Sarah’s help with today, only asking she run a few errands afterwards. Still, Les continues to argue with her as they get ready to leave and wave farewell to their mother.

“You don’t hafta come with me, its goin’ to be really boring.” Les slumps down the street next to her, face pulled into a frown. A jolt of guilt stabs her gut, and Sarah wonders if she should just give up on going with him. It might not be worth it if its actually upsetting Les this much.

“Yesterday you said it is going to be ‘incredible’.” Sarah points out mildly, ignoring how the feeling of jealousy and guilt warring inside has her gut twisted up in knots. The heat is already picking up, sticky and thick even though the sun is barely over the horizon. Only the labor workers are present, hurrying to work on some grand project.

Les huffs at her.

“Are you worried that Davey is going to be there?” Sarah finally asks, because the feeling of confusion and hurt is currently overwhelming the guilt, and she needs to know if any of her ideas are at all correct.

Her brother freezes, eyes wide. Ha, Sarah thinks as she turns to fully face Les, she is correct that Davey has been around the news gate and probably knows Jack. But then Les is shouting at her,

“Why would Davey be there?”

“I don’t know! That’s why I’m asking you.” Les’s face has turned angry, and he takes a step back. And then another as Sarah paces forwards hands spread in front of her, trying to calm her brother down.

“Stop being so nosy,” he snaps at her, then twists around and bolts. A wave of irritation and guilt rushes up and Sarah gives chase.

“Les, stop, please! I’m sorry-” but Les continues to run, ducking and swerving around corners, well acquainted with the backstreets and shortcuts unlike Sarah. By the time Sarah is turning onto the next street, Les has disappeared from view and she is breathing hard. Nothing makes sense right now and a few tears begin to fall. Embarrssed, Sarah moves to the side of the nearest building, so she is obscured from most of the passersbys.

Frustration, worry, hurt, and guilt all mingle in one gigantic, aching, puddle of discomfort. With a sniff, Sarah presses her hands to her eyes, inhaling the smell of factory smoke and fresh bread. There must be a bakery nearby, she realizes idly as she wills her eyes to stop crying.

“Are you ok?” a woman asks nervously. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Sarah lowers her hands and tries to figure out whoever is questioning her, embarrassment heating her face. When her eyes clear, Sarah inhales sharply, mind going blank. The woman is more of girl about her age, with gorgeous auburn hair that frames her face perfectly, highlighting her beautifully green-brown eyes. Time is forgotten as Sarah becomes breathless from the beauty of the girl.

“Oh-” the girl glances away, and Sarah tries to figure out how to breathe again, “here.”

The girl clumsily hands here a handkerchief, and Sarah goes faint as their hands touch. Her face has grown hotter and as she attempts to thank the mysterious, beautiful stranger, her tongue refuses to work. Instead, Sarah ducks her head in a nod, and dabs the remaining wetness from her face.

“Thank you,” she finally forces past her lips after a few moments of awkward silence, “I am better now.”

“That’s good,” the girl nods, “I thought that perhaps you had been injured.”

“Oh, no, I just lost sight of my brother.” Goodness, why did she say that?

“Do you need help looking for him?” The girl wears a worried look, gorgeous eyes widening in concern. Shaking her head, Sarah absently replies,

“He knows where he’s going, my siblings can just be frustrating sometimes.”

The girl smiles and Sarah’s heart somersaults, “sometimes I feel the same way about my coworkers.”

“You work?” Sarah is suddenly eager to learn as much as she can about whoever this stranger is. The question brightens the girl’s expression even more and a giddy feeling bubbles up in Sarah’s stomach.

“Yes, well I’m part-time right now, but I’m hoping to become a journalist.”

“Really? That sounds quite intense,” Sarah has never heard about a woman journalist. But then again, she has never seen someone so breathtaking either.

“It often is,” the girl looks away wistfully, “but I can’t stop myself from doing it. No matter what others say, my mind won’t let me quit.” She laughs lightly, turning back to face Sarah who suddenly feels weak in the knees.

“What newspaper do you work for?” Sarah asks faintly, fiddling with the handkerchief still in her hands.

“The Sun, I mostly write vaudeville reviews.”

“That sounds…incredible,” everything about this girl is incredible.

“It is, though my bosses are not eager to let write anything else. But I’m the one who is going to be writing about the strike that is happening.” The girl’s face falls slightly, “That’s actually where I was headed to before.”

“Oh, no, I’m so sorry if I made you late.”

“No,” the girl waves her hand, “I was running early anyways. It’s been quite pleasant getting to converse with someone besides a forty-year-old man.”

“Would you like to meet some other time?” Sarah asks in a rush. When she realizes what she asked, her face heats even more and heart sinks to the dirty cobbles below.

“Yes,” the girl replies quickly, expression brightening, “yes, would you want to meet at the park on Pine this afternoon?”

Sarah nods, mirroring the girl’s dazzling smile, “yes, that sounds delightful.”

“It was quite enjoyable meeting you,” the girl steps away, turning halfway towards the street, hair rippling like copper in the early morning sun.

“You too,” Sarah steps forward unconsciously, “good luck on writing your article.”

“Thank you, I hope you find your brother.” And then the wonderful, unknown girl is waving goodbye and leaving.

Goodness, Sarah presses the back of her hand to her cheek realizing she’s still holding the handkerchief and that for some odd, terrible reason, she hadn’t even thought to ask for the girl’s name! What on earth just happened?

Biting at her bottom lip, Sarah tries to bring her reeling mind to a halt. The giddiness, sickly sweet, has persisted from when she laid eyes upon the stranger and her face is still hot and Sarah knows it must be embarrassingly red. Inside, most of the earlier emotions have been buried by whatever nauseating tumbling her heart is currently doing. After taking a few moments to calm her breathing, Sarah pockets the handkerchief and decides to let Les be. She owes him that much, she knows, by making him so upset earlier. With that decision made, Sarah goes to complete the errands her mother had requested she make, another confusing encounter piled onto her mind.

At least this one involved a pretty girl.

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Yesterday I told myself that I should finish writing my newsie fic and then sat down and wrote this. I'd been wanting to write Sarah's perspective on Davey being trans and sneaking around and this is what I came up with. I'm not sure if Sarah is OOC, I just sorta created her character from my own ideas and experiences with siblings. I hope you enjoyed reading it ☺️

#newsies #sarah jacobs #kathrine x sarah #trans davey jacobs #davey jacobs #les jacobs #newsies fanfiction

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