News on the Fly
By Aris Merquoni

Okay, this was my first attempt at a Newsies fanfic, and 
it shows. Now, the reason that I'm not labeling it as a 
strictly newsies fanfic is because it isn't- it's more 
like a Newsies/Gargoyles crossover. Well, I mean, it has 
a gargoyle in it. I mean- well, if I explained any more, 
it'd ruin the story. So, enjoy-

Oh, right. Copyrights. Well, all of the newsies are 
copyright of Disney and allathat '92 allathat all rights 
reserved don't sue me please yadda yadda yadda. I guess 
Melinda is technically Disney's too, but she's not 
really because I made her up so she's mine(did 
*anything* I just said make any sense?) Well, all I'm 
saying is that I warned you- if you use Mel, be prepared 
for flames unless you asked me first. :)

Extra introduction for Gargoyles fans who know nothing 
about Newsies: Newsies is a musical produced by Disney 
in 1992 based on the events of a group of newsboys, 
commonly referred to as newsies, in 1899- more 
importantly, their strike against the unfair increase in 
the price of the papers that they had to buy in order to 
live. I suggest newsies.org for more information. Oh, 
yeah, and the one gargoyle in this story *isn't* 
Demona. ;) Oh yeah- You Will Get The Plot Premise Before 
The Newsies Fans. Don't spoil it. ;)

Extra introduction for Newsies fans who know nothing 
about Gargoyles: You guys get off lucky- this isn't a 
direct crossover, and you all know the characters. For 
information on where I got the character for my 
gargoyle, you can check out gargoyles-fans.org. Oh, and 
to clarify, Demona is the only regular member of the 
Gargoyles cast who was alive and kicking in 1900... and 
she's not in the story anyway. :)

Extra Introduction for people like me who watch both 
Newsies and Gargoyles continuously and semi-religiously: 
Do *you* have any better ideas on how the newsies'd 
react to a gargoyle?

-=+#+=-

o/~ It's a fine life, carryin' the banner through 
it all! o/~

     - "Carrying the Banner," Newsies.

-=+#+=-

December 13, 1899

It was a cold winter morning that day at the Manhattan 
Newsboy's lodging house, and everyone was just waking 
up. Everyone, that is, except for one newsie who had 
been up for a while, chasing the noises outside the 
bunkhouse. He re-entered to the noises of the other 
newsies' morning routine of happily fighting over 
everything from shaving cream to pillows(for those still 
sleeping.)

"Dave!"

"Hey, it's David!"

"Hey, David, who's the goil?"

This last was the only greeting that David paid 
attention to. He looked up and gave a quick smile to the 
speaker. "Hey, Jack, and I don't know who it is. I heard 
'er banging around in the cold and didn't want 'er to 
die of hypothermia." He lay the girl carefully on the 
nearest bunk and spread a blanked over her tattered, but 
still whole, clothing. "Would you get my papers, Jack? I 
don't want her to spook when she wakes up."

Jack Kelly leaned over the bunk and surveyed David's 
find. The girl was pale, her black hair standing out on 
her almost white skin. He turned to grin at David. "You 
sweet on 'er already, an' she ain't even talked yet?" He 
asked jokingly, then warded off his friend's glare. 
"Hey, 'sallright. I'll getcher pape's."

David nodded and passed over the money. The others left, 
jeering and laughing at each other, as he put his hand 
over the girl's. Her skin was icy cold. "What on earth," 
he muttered, "could make someone like you wander around 
in front of a lodging house at six in the morning?"

-=+#+=-

Darkness. It was dark, but it was warm. *Like stone,* 
her mind suggested, but she shrugged that off. Where was 
she?

She wasn't outside, that was for sure, outside it was 
cold and dark. Winter. *Longer nights,* her subconcious 
cried in joy, and again she shoved the thought down.

Senses came back to her. Gravity, orientation; she was 
lying on her back. On a well-used but comfortable bed, 
too, with a thin blanket. Someone was holding her hand- 
she could feel the pressure, the extra warmth of another 
body. But she still didn't know where she was, and she 
wasn't about to move 'till then.

A burst of cold air, and a voice. "I gotcher pape's, 
Dave, just before they stopped sellin' 'em." The voice 
was thick with a New York accent, and harsh, and male.

Then another voice, nearby, from the person holding on 
to her hand. "Yeah, right, Jack. You were probably there 
first, like always." Not so much of an accent, but 
'Dave', if that's who he was, still had one. She heard 
the rustling of paper, and the pressure on her hand 
dissapeared. "She's still out. Didn't move an inch."

"Aw, wo'ied about da goil, Dave?" Asked Jack, laughing. 
"I'm going out, are you coming?"

This might be a good time to move... or she could let 
them leave, and sneak out... somehow she doubted that 
was a good idea. These people could be friends... she 
had been out in the cold and snow before this, and they 
had brought her in. She blinked and opened her eyes.

"She's awake!" Exclaimed Jack. She looked both of the 
men- boys, really- over, letting her eyes flick over the 
worn clothes and the streetwise expressions on their 
faces.

"Hey," said David warily. "My name's David Jacobs, and 
this is my friend, Jack Kelly. You're at the newsboys 
lodging house in Manhattan."

She nodded. "Melinda ... O'farrel," she finally said. 
"I'm from... not from around here."

Jack grinned. "C'n see dat," he said. "C'mon, we gotta 
sell, Dave. Gotta eat, ch'a know?"

David nodded and stood up. "You can stay here," he 
offered, "Or you can come with us..." he trailed off.

Melinda stood up shakily, brushing off her patched 
pants. "I'll go with you, if that's okay?" She made the 
last a question. Jack shrugged and led the way out the 
door, where he was caught by a young child who attached 
to him like a barnacle attaches to a ship. She had never 
seen a barnacle, but she figured it must be like that.

"Not many barnacles in Texas," she muttered, following 
the trio.

"So," David asked as they made their way along. "Do you 
have work here? What do you do?"

Mel grimaced. "I..." she trailed off and found herself 
blushing. "I'm..." she tried again, aware of the 
scrutiny of the newsies.

"What is it?" Jack asked, a note of... something 
creeping into his voice. Compassion? Pity?

She ducked her head. "I'm a whore," she admitted, and 
felt their shocked stares.

"What?" All three of the boys asked in harmony, if not 
unison, David's younger brother adding, "what's that?"

David shushed him, looking mildly sick. "You mean, 
you..." he made an abortive attempt at bringing up the 
subject while trying to say it in a way that Les 
wouldn't figure out.

"What are you talking about?" Les asked again.

Mel met the kid's eyes. "You wouldn't understand, 
kiddo." She looked into the older boys' eyes. "I don't 
think they understand, either." 

"Yeah, I understand," said Jack. "You had to survive. We 
all do."

She nodded, wondering. What had this kid done that could 
make her feel almost... kinship? Kinship with someone 
she had only known for less than five minutes. It scared 
her- she wasn't used to trusting people.

"I think we have to get you a new career," said David. 
"That... that isn't exactly healthy."

She glared at him. "What do you suggest? It's not like 
anyone would hire me. I'm the lowest of the low. I'm not 
even a local."

He shrugged. "You could be a newsie."

"Yeah," Jack said, snapping his fingers. "Getcha out of 
the gutter right enough, and you don't need t' know 
anything, 'cept how to shout headlines. Why don'tcha tag 
along, and maybe try it?"

She shrugged, but there was a glint of hope in her eyes. 
"I guess..."

"Ye'ave money?" Jack asked. She nodded. "Well then, we 
c'n getcha a stack of pape's t'morrow, and today you c'n 
watch us and loin how t' sell. Like this," and he raised 
his voice, "Extry, extry! Getcher paper roight 'ere!"

The rest of the day Melinda watched, seeing how Jack and 
David picked articles out and made them interesting("It's 
not lyin'," Jack explained, and David finished, "It's 
just improving the truth a little.") She didn't try to 
sell any papers, not yet, but she learned enough so she 
felt she could try the next day. She spent the day with 
them and, eventually, the other newsboys, before leaving 
shortly before sundown.

Next day she showed up at the collection stand and bought 
a stack of twenty papers. She travelled along with Dave, 
Les, and Jack again, and sold all but one which she kept 
to read herself. Melinda again spent the rest of the day 
learning about the city, from the newsies' POV.

The next few weeks fell into a pattern. Show up with the 
other newsies in the morning, sell 'till lunch, eat with 
the boys and then play poker or something until dark. 
David once asked her to come home and meet his folks, but 
she begged off, saying she had to be somewhere.

"Parents need you home by dark?" he asked, and knew it 
was a bad question at the shadowed look in her eyes.

"You think I was sellin' myself on the street because I 
needed to support my folks? Hell, no," she said bitterly. 
"My parents are dead. I just... there're some things I've 
gotta do. Y'know... girl stuff." She gave him a sad 
half-smile and shrugged.

"Oh." He shrugged. "Some... some other time then, maybe?"

She grinned. "Make it a lunch date and I'll join you any 
day." She turned away for a second. They were on the 
Brooklyn bridge, the Manhattan side, after a day meeting 
the Brooklyn newsies. The sun was sinking closer to the 
horizon, and they watched its reflection in the water. 
"Do you ever think about flying?" Melinda asked suddenly.

He blinked back surprise at the unexpected turn in the 
conversation and leaned on the railing next to her. 
"What?"

She looked him in the eyes with perfect seriousness. "Do 
you? Think about flying, ever? I mean," she gestured out 
over the water, "jumping out and sailing over the water 
on currents of air, totally free..." she trailed off and 
looked back at him.

In that one instant, David realized that she was the most 
beautiful person that he had ever seen. Head framed by 
the water lit by the last rays of the sun, pale face 
against raven-black hair, she was dazzling. "I... no, not 
really," he answered lamley.

"Oh," she said, a faint note of dissapointment in her 
voice. She looked back over the water. "I do."

She had to go, then, but he stayed looking over the water 
until the sun was almost gone. Then he walked home 
through the night, the dissolving sunlight giving just 
enough light to see by. Jack and Sarah were in Sarah's 
room, talking, as he slipped into his own bed. He 
wondered if he would ever have somebody like that. Then 
he wondered if that somebody was Melinda.

His dreams were of angels with Melinda's face delivering 
newspapers. When he woke up, he had to shake his head to 
clear it.

Then next day Melinda was quiet and reserved, not smiling 
as much as she had before. She still grabbed her papers 
and sold them well enough, voice loud enough to be heard 
over the street noise, but she stayed away from the 
groups and went off to somewhere by noon. Dejected, David 
walked home soon after.

Melinda was sitting on his fire escape. He walked up and 
sat beside her. "Hey," he said.

She started and looked over, and he could see that she'd 
been crying. Concerned, he asked, "what's wrong?"

She shook her head. "N-nothing," she stammered. "Just... 
bad memories."

He nodded and put his arm around her shoulders. "I'd 
expect you have plenty of those," he hazarded.

"More than you could ever imagine." She shook her head 
again and said softly, to herself, "bastards. Just 
because your parents are different..." she shuddered.

"Been though hell for being..." he trailed off.

She glanced at him askance. "Been through hell for people 
thinking I'm part of their hell," she replied 
cryptically.

Melinda then stood up. "Wondered if I could take a rain 
check on that dinner arrangemant and cash it in..."  She 
looked at him quizically.

"Sure," David said, standing as well. "Let's introduce 
you to my folks... and I'll keep out of your background."

The lunch was pleasant, if not overly fun, and Melinda 
didn't overstay her welcome. In fact, David was wishing 
she had stayed a little longer by the time she was gone.

The next day, she was accosted by a group of smug 
newsies. "Hey, Mel," said Racetrack. "We was just 
thinkin'..."

"That's a first," she said with a grin.

He blushed, as he did a lot when she teased him. "Naah, 
look, Mel," he started again, "We were talkin', all of 
us, and we think you need a name."

"A newsie name," put in Kid Blink.

"Not that Melinda's a bad name, it's just..." continued 
Mush.

"Not a newsie name," she agreed. "Umm... how about Flyer? 
I mean," she said hurriedly, "what's a flyer but an ad? 
And what'm I doin' but advertisin' pape's?" She grinned, 
they nodded, and she was officially Flyer from that day 
forth.

The next few weeks went by mostly the same, except that 
after one fiasco where she missed the collection bell 
altogether, Melinda had David pick up her papers for the 
day and picked them up when she caught up with the other 
newsies.

One night, she was in a poker game that stretched longer 
than she thought. When they left, the sky was already 
darkening, but she allowed herself to be pulled along 
with the group. David's arm was around her waist, she had 
drank a glass of something alchoholic, and she was 
feeling pretty buzzed. She was feeling good all the way 
back to the lodging house, when she suddenly glanced up 
at the sky. "Oh, *no!*" She cried.

"What?" Asked David, turning to her with concern etched 
on his face. She was already turning and running, and 
after a startled pause he ran after her. Jack and the 
other newsies exchanged glances and then took off after 
them.

"Wait!" Called David, trying to catch up for her. For all 
her girlish figure, Flyer ran as fast or faster than any 
of the newsies at a full clip. She looked back and made 
desperate lunge full a side street. He finally caught up 
and grabbed her arm. "What's wrong, Mel?"

She looked up at him with fear in her eyes, and he was 
shocked. "No..."

"No, what?" Flyer's back was up against the wall, and she 
was shivering and glancing at the sky. David laid a hand 
on her shoulder and she flinched away, then turned and 
drove her fingers into the wall.

*Into* the wall. David jerked back, staring at her. In 
the darkness, her skin looked darker... red. And...

Flyer gasped in pain, and the back of her shirt ripped as 
wings unfurled from her back. She looked back at him, the 
pain of a lifetime in her eyes, and then started climbing 
the wall.

That drove David back to his senses. "Hey! Mel-" His 
breath caught short as Jack and the others ran into the 
alley. He glanced up in time to meet Flyer's gaze one 
last time, before she leaped off the side of the building 
and flew away, her wings making a swooshing noise as she 
dissapeared.

The newsies were speechless for a few seconds. "That... 
that was Melinda?" Asked Racetrack finally.

David nodded silently. Race whistled. "She's... she gots 
wings," Mush said in a whisper.

That seemed to wake Dave up. "Yeah, she's got wings, so 
we're gonna hafta run if we're gonna catch up with her."

"Catch up with her?" Kid Blink yelled, incredulous.

"Hell, yeah!" David took off, only to have Jack grab his 
arm.

"Why are you doing this, Dave? It looks like she can take 
care of herself."

David glared at his friend. "She may be able to take care 
of herself, yeah, but so could you and look where you 
nearly ended up." Jack flinched. "She needs someone, 
Jack, someone to talk to." Then he tore himself away and 
ran off in the direction Melinda had flown.

Jack and the other newsies exchanged glances, then Jack 
ran after his friend. The others slowly turned and 
followed.

Melinda finally flew towards the Brooklyn Bridge, landing 
on the top of one of the large suspension wires. She sat 
down, lay her head on her arms, and cried.

After a while, she heard footsteps below. She looked down 
to see David on the bridge, slowing down and panting as 
if he had just stopped running. He probably had- it was a 
ways from the lodging house to the bridge.

She blinked back tears agin. It was hopeless, now... he 
had seen her like... like this, and was going to react 
like they all did. She shuddered at the memories, at the 
hated words screamed at her. Demon. Monster. Succubus, 
which was probably the most accurate. It hurt, though... 
the words tore her like they had torn her wings, so long 
ago... She shuddered and grabbed onto the cable to keep 
from shaking herself off the bridge, and then focused her 
gaze back on David.

Her blood ran cold. There were two figures closing in on 
him, and she recognized them both. Oscar and Morris 
Delancey. The closed in on him like sharks circling a 
choice fish, grinning. She couldn't make out much of what 
they were saying, but then Oscar took a swing at David.

Her full protector instinct took over. *NO!* her blood 
screamed. *NO!* her mind screamed. She screamed out loud 
as well, a battle call as she dove on Oscar and drove him 
to the ground. After making sure that he wouldn't move 
for a long while, she rounded on Morris, who took the 
hint and ran away.

The adrenaline rush wore off, and Flyer slumped. She felt 
a hand on her shoulder and turned around, startled. David 
was standing there, an expression of concern on his face. 
*It's a lie,* her mind screamed. *Like the preacher in 
Texas, who lied to you to get you to trust him and then-*

She didn't need to think anymore. With a sob, she tore 
herself from his grasp and leaped off the bridge. David 
stood there, rubbing his fingers for a second, before 
running the way that she had flown. Into Brooklyn.

Jack came to the scene moments after, almost tripping 
over Oscar's prone body. "Hey, wait up!" he called to 
David. His friend stopped, and Jack caught up with him.

"Running after Mel too, Jack?" David asked.

Jack shook his head. "Naah, runnin' after you! You could 
get in trouble, running around in the dark!"

"I need to catch up with her!" David exclaimed.

Jack grabbed his shoulder, but David shook off the hand 
and tore off again. "Wait!" Yelled Jack.

"What?"

Jack sighed. "We don't know Brooklyn. Why don't we go to 
Spot's place and wait there tonight, and go chasing 
monsters in the morning, eh?"

That set off David's temper. "She's not a monster!"

"Yeah? Then what? She grew wings and flew off, and you 
still think she's just a normal person?"

David glared at his friend, but couldn't answer as 
Racetrack, Kid Blink, Mush, Boots, and Specs came running 
up. "Woah, we miss the fun?" asked Race as he tripped 
over Oscar.

Jack glanced at David again. "Did you soak him?"

Dave shook his head. "Naah... Mel did, just before he 
soaked *me.*"

Mush's eyebrows hit his hairline. "Flyer soaked Oscar?"

David nodded. "And Morris, but he ran off when he got a 
look at her." Race muttered something to the effect that 
he would too, if he were Morris, and then another 
something about the odds of a flying monster versus a 
bully. Nobody paid attention.

Jack sighed. "Let's get the details later. We're headed 
for the Brooklyn lodging house, and we're gonna look for 
Flyer in the morning. You guys wanna tag along, or head 
back?"

The others exchanged glances. "I'm wit' you, Jack," Race 
said finally.

Mush nodded. "I'll go."

The others were quick to follow. Jack nodded and led the 
way into Brooklyn.

Melinda flew, too tired and too scared to think about 
where she was going. She just flew, glid, really, at the 
mercy of the wind currents. She didn't notice when the 
wind died down and she glid lower and lower, and hardly 
felt it when she drove headfirst into a snowbank. The 
only indication that she had felt the impact was that she 
curled her legs up to her chest, huddling and shivering.

Spot Conlon was about to forget the poker game and go up 
to sleep when the thud came at the door of the lodging 
house. He jerked his head up with the others, and set his 
cards down. "Ahh, I fold," he told the guys. "Lemme see 
what that was."

The others shrugged and kept bidding, and Spot grabbed 
his cane and headed for the door. Greeted by a blast of 
freezing air, he stepped outside and looked around.

The dark person-sized spot in the snowbank caught his 
attention right away, especially when it groaned and 
shifted a bit. Spot walked over and kneeled by whoever it 
was, trying to make out details.

He blinked back surprise when he saw the face- it was 
Melinda, the goil who'd been taken in by Jack's group of 
newsies. He reached out a hand to her shoulder, and 
froze.

Her shoulder was covered by something warm and- as he 
kept his hand on it, it *twitched* and drew back, 
revealing it to be a wing.

A wing? Startled, he looked over Mel again. By this time, 
his eyes were dark-adjusted, and he could see that her 
skin was a *lot* darker than it had been last time he had 
seen her. Either she had somehow managed to get really 
suntanned in the dead of winter, or something strange was 
going on.

Pushing up his resolve, he sheathed his cane, then looped 
an arm around her knees and another around her waist, 
underneath where her... wings joined her back. 
Straightening up, he carried her to the door and knocked.

Bullseye answered the door, annoyed at first and then 
startled. "Woah, where'd you- Christ! She has-"

"Shaddup and help me get 'er inside, Bullseye. She's 
freezing out 'ere." The other newsie nodded and grabbed 
Mel's shoulders, and together they carried the unconcious 
girl inside and upstairs, and laid her on a bunk. The 
rest of the newsies crowded around, staring.

Her skin *was* darker- a dark red, in fact, contrasting 
with her raven-black hair. Her wings were wrapped around 
her, and she shivered. Spot shooed the others away and 
spread a blanket over her.

She didn't move- he thought she might be dead already, 
but she still had a pulse. Her skin was freezing.

Some time later someone knocked on the door. Motioning 
Bullseye to watch over Mel, Spot tramped downstairs to 
see who it was.

Spikey had let the small group in, and Spot easily 
recognized the Manhattan newsies and their leader. "Hey, 
Jackie boy," he said to the cowboy, spit-shaking with his 
friend. "What brings you over here? No, wait, I think I 
know." He looked over the group. "You were chasing the 
goil, right?"

"She's here?" Asked David, jumping forward. "Where? 
Where?!"

"Woah, hold your horses," Spot said, holding up his 
hands. "She's fine. Upstairs. Follow me." He turned and 
led the other newsies back to the cot.

When they got there, David went immediatley to Melinda's 
side, checking her pulse and grabbing her hand. "She's 
got hypothermia," he said. "Again."

"Again?" Asked Spot. "And what's with the wings?"

David glanced up. "I don't know what's going on," he 
admitted. "I was hoping that she could tell us." He 
glanced back down at Mel and shook her shoulder gently.

She whimpered and pulled away from the contact, and David 
pulled back. "Mel, are you okay?" He asked.

Her eyes opened, and she pulled back to the other edge of 
the bed in fear, only to be stopped there by Bullseye.

"Why are you running, Mel?" He asked, reaching out to put 
a hand on her shoulder. She flinched away again, but 
there was nowhere to go. "That's the second time you've 
almost died of hypothermia."

She glanced down at her hands. "More like the twentieth," 
she admitted. "Trying to run cross-country with a pack of 
bible-swinging idiots on your tail isn't exactly 
healthy."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Woah, Flyer, you get yourself in 
trouble?"

She stared at him, the hurt in her eyes making him draw 
back. "The bastards... you don't know what they did to 
me," she said. "They tried to *exorcise* me, burning me 
and whipping me and freezing me and all sorts of other 
things to try an make me normal..." her voice quivered. 
"They tried to cut off my wings..."

Mutters were circulating through the gathered newsies. 
"Sounds like hell, kid," Racetrack said.

Flyer pulled her knees to her chest. "They thought that I 
was some sort of demon, that my mom and I were going 
around at night stealing souls and practicing witchcraft, 
that my father was seduced by a demon and that I was the 
product of some unholy alliance... damnit, my mom *loved* 
my father, more than anyone, and they loved me before 
those bastards burned my house down tied me up and beat 
me and that bastard preacher raped me said it was good 
for me that he was trying to take out the evil in my 
soul..." she was sobbing openly now, not noticing David's 
arm around her shoulders, Jack's hand on her back, the 
friendly contact that the other newsies were trying to 
share.

"That doesn't make any sense," said Mush. "I mean, that 
guy was ... was raping you, and he was a preacher?"

She nodded. "That's stupid," said Blink.

"Yeah, crazy," agreed Boots. Spot, Specs and Race nodded 
as well.

Mel sobbed. "What was I supposed to do? I was trapped, 
parents dead, nobody cared about the poor half-human 
kid..."

"Woah, woah. What do you mean, half-human?" David asked, 
emphasis on 'half.'

She glared at him. "You mean this," she gestured at 
herself, "didn't clue you in? I'm half _gargoyle_, or at 
least that's what mom called herself."

"Gargoyle?" Asked Race.

She nodded. "Gargoyle. And... I'd really rather you call 
me that instead of... of 'monster,' or 'demon,' or 
whatever." Flyer shuddered again. "I'd had enough when I 
ran away from... them."

David hugged her. "You don't have to run anymore," he 
assured her.

Mel looked into his eyes, his piercing blue eyes. "You 
mean that?" She whispered. He nodded, and then leaned 
forward and kissed her.

Jack whistled, Spot's eyebrows hit his hairline, Specs 
suddenly noticed a smudge on his glasses and started 
polishing them industriously, Boots patted his pockets as 
if looking for something, Mush laughed slightly, and Race 
relit his cigar. Blink just grinned and patted David on 
the back, and Bullseye wandered off, muttering something 
about crazy Manhattan newsies.

Melinda started, then collapsed in David's arms, crying.

The others exchanged glances, and then started adding 
their own consolations. "Hey, Flyer, it's okay. I mean, 
we ain't gonna toss you out or something, you're still 
one of us!" Racetrack said emphatically.

"Yeah," continued Mush. "I mean, just 'cause you grew 
wings 'n stuff doesn't mean you're not the same person."

"You sell bettern' most, anyway."

"An', hey, you've been through hell tryin' just to 
survive, and I ain't tossin' someone out just because 
they're different." That last comment was Jack's, and he 
was so adamant that Mel looked up in surprise.

"Yeah, you didn't do nothin' you didn't hafta do," Blink 
said.

Flyer nodded, then, hesitantly, reached under her shirt 
and pulled out a small folded piece of cloth and tossed 
it on the bed. To the quizzical looks directed at her, 
she said, "I've been saving up for years, and I don't 
know what else to do..." she trailed off as Jack picked 
up the square of cloth and pried it open.

For a few seconds, everyone watched Jack's eyes get wider 
and wider. When he had almost matched Spot's 
eyebrows-to-hairline expression, he looked up at Flyer. 
"Mel," he said, voice shaking slightly, "you've got over 
four hundred bucks in here."

"WHAT?!" Race exclaimed, clambering over next to Jack and 
looking into the makeshaft wallet as well. "Where'd you 
get this, Mel? Make a lucky bet at the races or 
something?"

She shuddered. "I... I made some money on the way to New 
York, and... I never really spent it." She shrugged. "I 
never really counted it, either."

Jack held up the thick handful of twenties and fives. 
"And you're doing... what?"

Mel shruged. "Giving it to you guys."

The newsies exchanged more glances. "To... to us?" David 
finally asked.

She nodded. "You can divvy it up... I never realy needed 
the money."

Jack stared at her in shock for a moment, then began 
passing out twenties like they were plain pieces of 
paper. He gave one to everyone there, then laid the rest 
at Mel's feet. When she looked up, he said, "Keep it."

She shook her head. "No... I, I really don't want it. 
Take it back and split it between the people who didn't 
come."

Jack shrugged and picked up the stack of bills. Obvoiusly 
uncomfortable with that large of a sum of money, he 
shoved the billfold in his pocket and stood up. "So... 
you want to go back across the bridge, or stay here?"

Mel looked up. "Let's go home."

-=+#+=-

In five minutes, Jack and the others looked up while 
crossing the bridge in time to see Mel flying over with 
David on her back. They grinned and waved, and Mel waved 
back.

David did *not* wave back; he was trying very hard to 
not fall off of Melinda's back. "Are you sure this is 
safe?" he called. At the high windspeed, his words were 
almost lost.

Flyer turned her head and called over her shoulder, "This 
was your idea, remember?"

"Hah," he laughed without humor. "Smack me next time I 
have any more ideas, please!"

She laughed and they flew onward, down to the lodging 
house to catch up with the rest.

-=+# The End #+=-