We walk up to the theater and I can see how big it is. There's hundreds of newsboys who are holding up signs saying everything you could possibly imagine. The newsies come from every borough, even those who had once decided not to join and ended up doing so because me and Spot joined.

The boys all look at me, flabbergasted is a word that comes close to their expressions. I notice that some of the older boys, while being head over heels while looking at me, realize who I am and start spreading my identity to the other boys. A young boy, maybe 15, walks up to me and holds out his hand.

"He-hello, miss Undahand. Would you like tah- tah dance wit' me in da theater?" The boy asks me. I sigh and take his hand, then quickly twisting him around and holding him still so that both of our faces are towards the newsies.

"I ain't no princess, kid, I'm the fuckin' Queen of Queens," I say, then throw him to his friends. "Don't even tink of try dat again." The boy nods and runs to his friends. I spot Sweet Talk, the leader of the Richmond newsies, he sees me too and walks up to me. He spits in his hand as I do and we shake hands.

"'Sup, Unda, what's goin' on in Queens?" He asks. I pull my hand away and sigh.

"Not good. One of me boys' dead. You?" I ask, trying not to let my weakness show. He gains a sympathetic look and puts a hand on my shoulder.

"Ise sorry 'bout dat. One of me boys got so huit last month dat he can't woik anymore, everythin' got broke, sos I get ya pain. And wit' da how I'm doin' question, I'm bettah now dat youse 'ere. I was worried dat I joined dis whole thing fah no reason," he says. I know that he isn't flirting with me because he admitted to me in confidence that he has feelings for men, which is illegal for some reason.

"Yeah, these boys ovah 'ere had convinced me, mainly Spotty boy, though," I say. Spot, hearing his name, walks over and slings an arm around my shoulder, which is shrug off.

"Princess, why you gotta push me offa ya? Ain't we friends?" He asks, and I can hear the jealousy in his voice, which helps me understand what's going through his head. I punch him in the gut which makes him grip it in pain. "Why's ya gotta do that?"

"Why's ya gotta act like wes a couple all the time? And we ain't friends, the last time I've talked to ya was a year ago. Sweet Talk, on the otha hand I talk to almost twice every month, and not just 'bout business," I say, making him look sad, which I slightly regret.

"Youse right, Ise just tryna' make you uncomfortable, and I failed. Well, nice tah see ya again, Sweets," he says, dropping the charade. He spits into his hand then holds it out for Sweet Talk to shake, which he does.

"Yeah, nice tah see ya too. Now, shoulds we all get inside? We came to the theata for a reason," Sweet Talk say, and we both nod. I turn towards all the boys and start screaming at them to get inside. In a matter of seconds, everyone is inside.

I walk inside and see that the place is filled to the brim with boys. 

"Y/n!" I hear a familiar name call for me, I turn to see who it is and see my sister, Sarah, sitting right next to Jack Kelly, who's smirking.

"Fuck," I say and walk over. No one else seems to have heard my name be called, except Jack. I stand next to her and she stands up and pulls me into a hug. She's about a year older than me, so she's pretty tall, not to mention gorgeous. 

"Y/n! Where have you been?! And why are you wearing mom's dress?" Sarah asks me a million questions at once. I put up a hand to stop her.

"One, I don't go by dat name anymore, it's Undahand. Two, I've been living as the leada of the Queens' newsies. Three, Ise gotta dress fancy for a strike. Any more questions?" I ask, trying to hide my worry with bitterness.

"What? Why did you run away? Why didn't you come visit us? We've been worried sick!" She says, pulling me into a hug.

"I know, Davey said you guys was. I left 'cause dis is what I wanna do, not be a goil livin' in a house and then get married to a rich man one day, I wanna be a newsie, and that's what I am. If you have any questions, jus' ask Davey, Ise told him all ya need tah know. Now, Ise gotta go help lead da strike, Jack, dat mean you, too," I say. Jack nods and stands up. As we're walking onto the stage, Jack leans into my ear.

"Sos the name of the most well respected newsie in New York is 'Y/n'?" He says my name with a snicker. I grab him by his collar and pull his face to meet mine.

"If you say this to anyone, Kelly, you're as good as dead," I say with a growl. He gulps and nod, probably not expecting me to still be aggressive in a dress. 

We walk up in front of everyone, there are too many people talking at once, the band is playing loudly, the noise is killing me. I put my hand in the air and in a matter of seconds, it's quiet, even the band stopped playing. I decide to yell out to everyone as a sign that I'm a newsie, and not a princess.

"Carryin' the banner!" I yell. The entire hall is roaring with people repeating what I yelled. I look to Jack, encouraging him to talk.

"We come a long way but we ain't there yet, and maybe it's only gonna get tougha from now on! That means we get tougha too!" There's another roar from the audience. "It also means we get smarter! That's why we're gonna listen to my pal, David, and stop soakin' the scabs," Jack says.

There's arguing among the newsies, some agree, some think that we need to soak the scabs. I for one think that we can't soak them, they might be scabs, but they just need money.

"Whatta we s'pose to do, kiss 'em?" A small Italian boy asks from the audience.

"I personally wouldn't go that far, Race," Jack says.

"Any scab I see, I soak 'em, period!" Spot yells. I sigh, placing my head in my hands. 

"That's just what they want you to do, so they can say we're just thugs," Davey argues. I can see his point.

"I don't care what they say! Some of us ain't made to just take it!I say anybody hurts us, we hurts them worst! Who's with me?" Spot asks. Most of the boys in the audience screams in unison. Jack steps up in front of everyone.

"That's right, start fightin' eachudda! Prove what the bigshots say is true: we're street rats with no brains and no respect for nothin', includin' ourselves!" The audience quiets down at Jack's words. "Here's how it is: we don't stick together, we're nothin'. We don't trust each other, we're nothin'. We don't act together, we're nothin'. And we might as well go back to the streets where we belong. What's it gonna be?" Jack then turns to Spot. "Whattaya say, Spot?" He asks.

"I say..." Spot starts. I can see him looking to the audience in fear that they will judge him. I see this and place a hand on his shoulder for comfort. He turns back to Jack with more confidence. "I say what you say I say!"

Spot then spits into his hand an puts it out for Jack to return, Jack spits into his hand and spit-shakes him. We all cheer. A lady walks out from the wings in a very pretty dress and starts singing. The second she says the first word, I sing along.

"High times, Hard times
Sometimes the living is sweet
And sometimes there's nothing to eat
But I always land on my feet
So when there's dry times
I wait for high times and then
I put on my best and I stick out my chest
And I'm off to the races again!" Every newsie, including myself, sings.

I walk off to the side, watching over everyone. Spot decides to join me. 

"What'cha doin', Princess?" He asks, leaning against the wall.

"Watchin'," I answer plainly. Spot rolls his eyes.

"Watchin' what?" He turns to me.

"Watchin' the newsies. Makin' sure dat no one gets huit," I say, trying my best to keep a straight face.

"Ya know, you're sorta like da mudda to these boys," he says. I roll my eyes.

"Wow, did ya come up wit' dat by yourself?" I ask. He realizes that I already knew that. I feel him tapping my shoulder and I turn to look at him.

"Why did ya become the leada of 'em? I mean, ya said dat you always wanted tah be a newsie. But why did ya become deir leada?" He asks. I look down on the ground, then bring my attention to one of my younger boys.

"They... They need someone. Someone tah take care a' dem.
Before I was da leader, it was a guy, he was a self centered prick, not carin' 'bout da newsies. I got training done at a young age tah be the strongest, and ev'ryone knew dat. My friend, Paces, told me dat I should take 'im on, tah become a bettah leada.
Before dat, I always spent my extra bits on the otha boys, so dey all knew dat I was caring and strong. Sos I took 'im on, and beat 'im. It was hard, 'cause I was almost twelve, and he was nineteen. I took 'im down in front of almost every newsie in Queens, which meant dat he had to resign from his job. Durin' the fight, I got a black eye, sprained wrist, and tons a cuts and bruises.
That's what made me have a need to be stronga. Because before, I was strong, and that was all, but then, I had to be strong, for mah boys.
Then, more of da younga boys, from Brooklyn to Trenton, realized dat I would protect and take care a dem. They was less scared of me because Ise a goil, Ise a mudda figure to dem, and that's what I'll always be. It's just my job," I say.

"Bein' deir leader doesn't mean you can't enjoy youself. You should go in dere and have fun, trus me, it' wont evah happen again," he says with a smile. I sigh and shake my head.

"I don't do fun. I haven't had a day for myself in forevah," I say. I can see his flabbergasted face.

"Nevah?" He asks, I shrug my shoulders.

"At least that I can remember." I can hear his 'tsk' even over all this noise. I feel his arm hook mine, I blush as I get dragged down to where the boys are. I feel myself starting to panic, not knowing what to do. But then I look at Spot, who's dancing and cheering. Looking at him makes me feel safer, which is weird. But I grab my dress and start dancing, starting off slow and unsure, but growing to be fast and confident.

The song changes to a couple's song. Many boys have to pair with each other. Most if not all of the boys try to ask me to dance, which I refuse. It grows so overbearing to keep being asked to dance, that I start searching for someone I trust. But of course, the first person I find is none other than Spot Conlon.

"Heya, Spots. Sos this is a couple's song and youse the foist person that I saw who I know, so..." I begin, not really knowing what to say.

"So ya wanna dance wit' the king of Brooklyn?" He asks, a smirk appearing on his face. I blush but try to hide it.

"Yeah. You got a problem wit'  dat?" I ask him. He shakes his head.

"Not at all, princess," he says and holds out his two hands for me to take. "Shall we dance?" He says in a sly manor. I sigh and take his hands in mine.

As the music plays, we start dancing together. It's not slow and delicate, it's fast and fun, like how you'd expect the most infamous borough leaders to be. He begins to dip me, but as soon as he does so, Davey walks over and says something to him that I can't hear over the loud music.

I don't know what Davey said, but it sure shocks Spot. He quickly pulls me up and starts running while holding my hand. I stop him and stay back.

"Why's we runnin'?" I ask him. He opens his mouth to answer, but before he can, there's the screeching of a loud whistle. The exit we were going to take now has two bulls coming in from it. One goes straight to me, thinking that I'm weak, but I take him down in an instant.

Spot guards me as I quickly unzip my dress, shedding it off to reveal that I had a slimmer and more masculine outfit underneath. As soon as more bulls charge in, I try to protect the other boys here, young or old.

I then look up to the stands and see the last person I wanted to see, Snyder the Spider. I think back to the blackboard I have in my room for how many fights I've won and lost, and the only fight I've ever lost to, was Snyder. Back when I lived in Manhattan, I got into trouble and he caught me, but I ran away. The next time I was outside, I realized that he sent a ton of goons to keep watch outside of my house. There was over ten men there, ready to beat me up. And they did. They were about to bring me to the Refuge, until Jack Kelly and his friends, who were all around 13 at the time, came and fought them off. That's how we became friends, and he taught me how to fight, but I ended up stronger than him. And when he got sent to The Refuge, I was the one who helped him out, we both ended up riding away on Teddy Roosevelt's carriage.

I feel a sense of anger and fear build up, as I know that I could defeat him, but I'd end up in jail for a long time, and then my boys will have to have a new leader. I see Snyder look up at me, recognition in his face is clear. He sends three men after me, which sends me running.

"Get her!" He yells to the men. Dozens of my boys try to block the men's path, immediately getting stomped on. One man catches up to me and tries to grab me, but I elbow strike him in the side, which sends him to the ground. Another man comes up behind me, but I hoist myself over his shoulders and kick him in the back of his legs. I can see Snyder has moved on to Jack, the person who beat up his men.

I try to charge after him to help, but Davey, Sarah and Spot hold me back, pulling me out of the building. I try my best to charge back in to help, but I fail. If I wanted to go back in there, I could, but the back of my head, the one that knows best, is holding me back. I can feel my tears oncoming and don't bother to stop them.

I cover up my eyes as I'm pulled into a hug and am lifted over Davey's shoulder. I feel him running, but I don't care as to where we're going, as long as it's away from here. And after about 10 minutes of running, I feel Davey stop running and hear a door open and shut.

I realize that I'm inside, and just by the smell, I know where I am. Home. I open my eyes and see Les standing in the doorway to his and Davey's room. His mouth is wide open and I can see the gears turning in his head. Davey sets me down and Les runs over and hugs my waist. I immediately pull him tighter, missing the small boy who was only 5 when I left.

"Y/n! Where have you been?!" Les says into my stomach. I feel my heart break at how much everyone cares.

"Queens. I'm... The leada of the Flushing newsies," I say, trying to explain but failing.

"But why didn't you come home? Why didn't you at least visit us? You know that we would let you be their leada, we just wanted to see you," he says. I know that he's right, and I know that I can't argue.

"I know. I'm so sorry. You have no idea how much I regret not seeing you guys," I say, not caring who's watching. I hear footsteps walk in, I look up and see my mom standing in her doorway. Her eyes are wide, and she leans back into her room.

"Mayer... You gotta come see this," mom says. I can hear the shakiness in her voice. I watch as dad walks out and stands right next to her, soon gaining the same reaction as mom. I gulp down my anxiety and speak.

"Hey, ma, hey, dad," I say. As soon as I speak, they come running towards me as well, pulling me into an embrace. I can hear them sobbing.

"Y/n! Where have you been?! We thought you were dead! We had no idea if you were alive! Where have you been all these years?!" Mom sobs out, which makes me cry more.

"It's a really long story. But Ise been in Queens for the last four years," I say, making them hug tighter.

"Queens?! What gave you the idea to run so far away?!" Dad asks, putting on his dad voice.

"I... Have no honest idea. I was being followed and was beaten up every time I left da house, and the bulls would just wolk by like nuttin' evah happened. So I left to become a newsie in Queens, and now I'm their leada," I say. Mom pulls away and looks at me in confusion.

"You became a Queens newsie? Actually, I'm not surprised," she says with a laugh. I return the laugh and hug her again.

"What made you decide to come back?" Dad asks, as they both pull away.

"Well... I joined the newsies strike. Ya hoid of it?" I ask, and they nod. "And we had the rally, but the man who was chasin' me, and apparently Jack Kelly, showed up with the bulls. Davey, Sarah and Spot helped me outta dere aftah I tried tah beat 'em up and help me boys." 

Mom and dad both look at Spot, who's standing there confidently.

"I'm sorry, sir, who are you?" Dad asks. Spot holds out his hand without spitting in it.

"Name's Spot Conlon, king and leada of the Brooklyn newsies," Spot says. Mom and dad smile and shake his hand.

"Well, it's an honor to meet such royalty," mom says with humor in her voice. Spot scoffs in surprise.

"'Meet'? Miss, your daughta is the most well known royalty next tah Queen Victoria, the Queen of England. I mean, she is the Queens of Queens afta'all. It's got a nice ring to it," Spot brags. I smile and look away.

"'Queen of Queens'? My lord, you are famous," mom says. I smile and turn to Davey.

"Well, so is Davey. I mean, he started a strike that's affecting all of our generation. Ise just 'Undahand', the foist goil newie leada," I say. Mom and dad both repeat my, while Shot sputters and steps up.

"Please. You ain't just da foist goil newsie leada. Youse also the toughest, smartest, and most well respected newsie in New York City," he says. I laugh at mom and dad's reaction, which is that of shock.

"I can explain... Okay, no I can't," I admit.

"I've seen and fought 'er. She's so strong, she took down a nineteen year old when she was only twelve. I've challenged 'er tah terf wars against myself, me boys, and sometimes even adults, and she's taken 'em down wit'out even gettin' a finger laid on her. She is so damn charismatic, Ise seen 'er once steal a two dolla bill from a man who was beatin' up one of 'er boys by pretendin' dat she was a kind innocent goil. I've nevah seen 'er back down from a fight, because she nevah loses," Spot brags on and on about me.

Mom and dad look at me, and I look away out of disappointment. Mom and dad have always taught me to never steal or lie, and now I'm known for that.

"Y/n, you've been stealing and cheating people out of their money for a living?" Dad asks.

"It sounds woise when you put it like that... But yes. Ise sorry fa doin' that. I just do it tah take care of the little kids who woik as newsies, boys who ah younga then Les. It doesn't excuse what I do, but that's my reason," I say. I know that they're judging me.

"Y/n, you know that we don't like you being deceitful," dad says. I know where this is going: He's going to try and make me stop being a newsie. "But as long as you're happy, it's okay with us. I'm just glad to see that my daughter is safe and alive."

I look up at him in confusion. I never thought he'd say that. I look at mom and she nods in agreement. This makes me smile, and I hug them again.

"Thanks, you guys. I'm so luck I have you two as me parents," I say. I feel dad pat my back and they both pull away.

"You are," mom says. "Now. It's ten o' clock, so all of you'd better go to bed. Y/n, your bed has been made for four years, Davey, please go make the couch into a bed for mister 'King of Brooklyn'."

Davey nods and walks over to our closet to grab a blanket, while I walk into mine and Sarah's room. It's the same as how it was when I left. I take a seat on my old bed and lie down under the covers. It's dark and Sarah's just gotten into bed, which I hear.

"Y/n?" I hear Sarah ask in the dark.

"Yeah?" I ask.

"Will you come back to visit when you head back to Queens?" She asks.

"Well, of course. I don't know why I didn't visit before, but I will start doin' so now."

"Good. Well then, goodnight. I love you, sis," Sarah says. I smile to myself.

"I love you too, Sarah."