Tuck Forevermore

A Newsies/Tuck Everlasting crossover

1899

The Refuge. Such a dirty, terrible place. Luckily I got a good bunkmate-no, bedmate- Jack Kelly. I was feigning a bum leg for sympathy, so I said that they called me Crutchie. Why in the name of Treegap Woods did I say that? "So, what's the name your folks gave ya?" Jack asked.

"Jesse. Jesse Tuck. I'm 17. I was born in a place called Treegap, New Hampshire. It's a rural town, kinda like a smaller Santa Fe."

"Hey, Ise has always wanted to go to Santa Fe! I'm busting outta here tonight, howsabout youse come with me?"

"Anything to get outta this rat dump. Where ya goin?"

"Back to the Newsie Lodge. Ise sells for the Woyld. Whaddya do for a living?"
"I can never keep a job due to this sucker right here." I pointed at the leg I was feigning. "But back in Treegap, we had a farm. Me and Ma and Pa and Miles, my older brother who's 22."

"Why'd ya leave?"

"I wanted more opportunities. The leg sucks sometimes, and there's nothing I can do in New Hampshire. I hate the dumb crutch. It makes my life so much harder. But without it, Ise ain't goin nowhere. So, when we leavin?"
"Do you have anything to do right now?" I shook my head. "Then let's go!"

We tied the sheet to the bed, tossed the end out the window, climbed down and took off like gunshots. The chilled October air blew my curly locks around, and I was frigid in the thin clothing I had. The harbor gave the air a cooler temperature, along with the fact that it was nighttime. "God almighty, I'm frozen! How the heck are you not an icicle living out here? Treegap Woods is so much warmer in October!"

"Well, this ain't New Hampshire no more Crutchie. This is the stinkin streets of New York City. Ah, home sweet home!" He pointed to the building in front of us. "HEY RACETRACK! LET US IN! I KNOW YOUSE JUST GOT BACK FROM SHEEPSHEAD!"

"Racetrack? What's his real name?"
"Antonio Higgins. He spends way too much time down at the races and smokes way too many cigars."
The guy who I figured was Racetrack came and opened the window. "Who's old gimpleg over there? And good to see ya back, Jack!" The boy threw a cigar in his mouth. Note to self: Don't sleep near Racetrack Higgins. You might end up with bronchitis from inhaling too much smoke.

"Good to see you too, Race." Jack replied.

"The name's Jesse Tuck, but you can call me Crutchie. That's what everyone else calls me, at least." I added, answering his question.
"HEY EVERYONE! WE GOTTA NEW ONE! SPECS! ELMER! ALBERT! HENRY, KID, SKITTERY AND DUTCHY! ALL YOUSE GET UP AND MEET CRUTCHIE!" called Race to the boys in the bunks ahead.

Everyone came and greeted me. Specs, Kid Blink, who also had a disability(he was blind in his left eye) and Elmer seemed the nicest. It was those three boys who helped me get into the Lodge. I crawled into the nearest bed and moved my ankle around as soon as no one was looking. Wow, bum legs hurt when you fake them! I put my head on the pillow that might as well have been stuffed with rocks for how tired I was, seeing as I was out in 5 minutes.

The next morning, the boys filled me in on what to do, who to soak, and who to keep my distance from. They told me that we listen to the Brooklyn newsies. Those Brooklyn boys is big, they say. Specifically, we listen to Spot Conlon. He is the "King of Brooklyn", God of the Newsboys. He sounded more like the King of New York to me. We went down to the circulation gate where I had the, um, pleasure of meeting Oscar and Morris Delancey, the two biggest bullies on this side of the bridge. Of course, I had to pretend to fall down when they yanked my crutch right out from under my arm. Ouch, it hurt! If I wasn't immortal, that would have done some serious damage! If they took me to the doctor, then I would be screwed over completely. Oh right! They're poor! Phew! Crisis averted.

When we were buying our papers, I met Weasel, as the Manhattan Crew called him. He distributed the papers, if you could call him bullying the heck out of us until we slapped down the coins "distributing". I got 50, making sure that I could still have dinner money for tonight. I sold every last one, standing near a barbershop. Well, if you could call leaning on a crutch standing. I think the leg did the trick, plus I've got poisinality. All it takes is a smile that spreads like butter. The kind that turns a lady's head. Either way, each pape sold for at least a penny.

That night, I had a nickel left for dinner, since I had to buy papes the next morning. I decided to skip dinner. I did skip meals sometimes. I can't die, so it's okay.

That night, Jack invited me to the roof, where he sleeps year-round. There was a canopy over our heads in case of rain or snow, and a short ladder down to the ground. I slept on the other side of the slab of metal Jack called home. It was better than the beds down in the Lodge. Those things were stuffed with rocks, I swear! I closed my eyes as soon as I laid down, and next thing I know, I was asleep on the on the cold criss-crossed bars of steel.

The good Lord let me wake up the next morning and make the leg go limp before Jack saw that I was awake. "Morning, sleepyhead! The bell will-" he was cut off by the morning bell. "Nevermind! HEY ALBERT, ELMER, RACETRACK, SPECS! HENRY, KID, MUSH, AND SKITTERY! GETTA MOVE ON! THOSE PAPES AIN'T GONNA SELL THEMSELVES!"

"Wow. You could get a room of dead folks to have a dance party with how commanding you are!" I replied whilst pulling on my vest. I threw my cap on my head as Jack helped me down the ladder and got me over to the gate. The Delancey's tried to kill me again. Ha ha, I can't die! That was funny. I bought 50 papes, sold 50 papes, and actually ate dinner. Jack and I went over to the Deli. We each got sausages. It was pretty good, but better since I hadn't eaten in 2 days. I may be immortal, but I still get hungry! Jacobi shooed us later, saying he had to close up for the night.

The cast of characters in the Lodge stayed similar, with the same main characters, but the ensemble changed almost weekly, thanks to Snyder the Spider, the head of the Refuge. We lost Ten-Pin the next week after I came. Good riddance to him. I swear that kid was out to get me. Two weeks later, we lost Jack for 2 days. He escaped on the back of Teddy Roosevelt's carriage, and it made all the papes.Now that was a good headline.

After I'd been there a few months and we got a set of new kids named Davey and Les, Pulitzer decided to hike up his prices to sixty cents per hundred, instead of fifty. Just my luck. Of course we have a big problem when I'm faking a gimp leg, barely surviving through my immortal life. We decided to go on strike. God, if this dragged on too long, I'd have to go. I need to leave soon before people get suspicious that I wasn't aging. What if people were already suspecting something was up with me? Did the leg fool people? It seemed to work, but what if people had phony sympathy?

The strike's first battle got me taken. Of course. Just my luck. You might be wondering where I was taken to. I'll give you three guesses, and the first two don't count. Give up? It was the great and wonderful block of brick known to New York as the Refuge. Huzzah. Of course, I wrote a letter to Jack, and gave it to Specs. Jack wanted to see me, and I had to pretend when Jack climbed up the fire escape that they busted me up so bad I couldn't come to the window. It was believable, since Snyder soaked me real good with my crutch. He ran away, not letting me see him cry. The man was my brother, and I was lying like a rug to him. If he knew, he'd never be able to trust me again. Even if he did forgive me, I'd have to go soon. I didn't know how long it would be until someone was curious that I looked the same from the moment that we met.

One week, and then two weeks passed in the Refuge, day after day of little to no food and the only company being the rats. But next thing I know, the place is being shut down. Spider was arrested, I threw him in cuffs and I was back to selling papes. Good God, I hated that place. I was ecstatic that the Refuge was closing. The place was living heck, with its unsanitary outhouse and 3 kids to a bed. The agreement of the strike was 55 cents a hundred, but Pulitzer ate our losses. We kept on going back for papes, buying more and more and selling more and more and making more and more until we were able to eat dinner every night. A week passed, and then two, with no hike up.

Another month passed, and then two, and then I knew I had to go. It had been almost a year since I had arrived. "Jack?" I whispered one night. "I have to go back home. I can't stay here anymore. See, I'm immortal, and I'm no less than 109 years old. I might be 110 by now, but I lost track. No, wait, my 110th birthday is next week." He looked doubtful. I needed a way to prove that I couldn't be hurt. "See, look!" I jumped off the edge of the roof and landed smack-dab on my head. I jumped up, no limp needed. It stung a little, but I was obviously fine. "See? I can't get hurt. I can't die. The leg was for sympathy. I need to go back to Treegap before anyone gets suspicious that I'm not getting any older."
"What? Okay. It's for your own safety. How..?"
"The spring. We drank from a spring. It was in Treegap woods, near a girl named Winnie Foster's cottage. Who knew that the spring would change everything? That's our secret. Only you, my family, and Winnie know. Anyway, Ma and I agreed when I left that we would meet at the Bridge tonight. I've been keeping track of the days."

"Oh. I'll getchya down there. Who's this Winnie you keep mentioning? She your goil?"

"Maybe?? Unless she drank from the aforementioned spring this year, no, today, which I doubt she did, we aren't a couple. We met when I was 104 and she, 11. I loved her. She debated drinking from the vial of water from the spring I gave her when she was 17, so we could marry.Today is the day she'll decide if she wants to stay with me. It's her 17th birthday. I really love her. We climbed a tree,the Tuck tree, the day that we met. It was the best day of my life. It was before she knew that I'll never die. We were at the top of the world. My head and heart were pounding, and I heard my voice resounding. I was alive, I was free. For once, I felt normal. But of course, I'm not. I'm anything but normal. And now, I'll maybe never get to tell her how much I love her."
"No need for a sob story! And what does aforementioned mean?" joked Jack as he climbed down, some emotion creeping up into his brave voice.

"That I mentioned it before. It's like how you mentioned last week that you'd been in the Refuge 6 times, that would be aforementioned."

"Oh. I'm as bad as Oscar in math when it comes to grammar, and he can't count to twenty with his shoes on!" Jack chuckled. "Remember when Davey only got 19 papes on his first day? Oh, the look on Weasel's face was priceless!"

We wandered our way to the Brooklyn Bridge, recalling memories from the year that had passed. Thank goodness that Mae was there. I hopped in the carriage and we rode off. Looking out the back, I called "I'll write you, Jack Kelly. I'll miss ya!"

"See ya, Crutchie. No, see ya, brother." Then, he faded away into the distance. I turned and faced the right way.

"Why'd he call you Crutchie?" Ma asked.

"I faked a bum leg for sympathy and said that everyone called my Crutchie. From there, the nickname stuck. I'm gonna have to send him a letter, or visit him. I love him as a brother. I love like a brother like I love Winnie as my girl. I'm sure I'll never see her again though. I could write to him or something. I have to be able to see him again."

"You can do that, unless anyone knows your real name."
"Just Jack. He's the only one who knows that I'm immortal and that my name is Jesse Tuck. It's okay, Ma. Racetrack heard it at the beginning, but I'm sure he's forgotten." I saw a confused look on her face. "It's his nickname. All of the Newsies have nicknames, such as Specs."

"Does he have glasses?" Ma asked. We went back and forth like this for the entire trip back home. I mentioned how some of the Newsies still went by the name their folks gave them, such as Henry and Albert and others, monikers, counting off Buttons and Racetrack. "Hey, I hate to be a Debbie Downer,but do you know what today is?" Ma inquired.

"Of course I know. It's Winnie's 17th birthday, right? How could I forget that today the love of my life, although my life is eternal, will decide if she wants to live with me forever? It's Winnie's decision, but I think I'm never going to see the girl whom I love so much again." I started crying, and Mae tried to comfort me. Eventually, I just fell asleep. Images of Winnie's beautiful eyes and flowing hair filled my dreams, comforting me, yet still giving me an eerie sensation.

We made it home safely after a good 4 hours on the horse. Pa and Miles asked about New York City, and what my job was in Manhattan. I told them all about it. I told them how I was just another newsboy that Weasel was in charge of, and told stories of Crutchie selling papes. I told them about the Refuge, the leg, the strike, Jack, and all of the boys. I told them about Morris Delancey and Oscar Delancey, and how those two were the biggest bullies on this side of the asteroid belt by Jupiter. I recalled how Elmer and Race taught me how to tell which horse will win at Sheepshead. Of course, now I can't be Crutchie, selling newspapers on the corners of Manhattan, or laying on the rooftops near the Gate. I can't go and bet on the horses, or joke about how Albert can't sell a pape. I can't bug the heck out of Racetrack since he smokes way too many cigars. I can't do anything in New York anymore. It isn't safe for me to have stayed there any longer. I mean, Crutchie will always be a part of me. I'll never forget the adventures I had as him. But now, I guess I'm just Jesse Tuck forevermore.

The End