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Katherine’s head was spinning.
For the past several weeks, she had not had the time nor the energy to think about anything other than the strike. The moment she’d met Jack Kelly, her world had shifted from that of an upper-crust socialite to the weighty pressure of a teenage insurgent. She hadn’t gotten a good night’s rest since the day she promised to cover the Newsboys’ Strike, and her life seemed to have turned into the stories she was covering: every minute was occupied by the growing insistence to bring her father and his tyrannical associates down.
Now that the strike was over, she wasn’t quite sure what to do with herself.
She’d spent the day in Brooklyn with Spot and Race, a borough she hadn’t stepped foot on since she’d become involved with the Manhattan newsies. As apprehensive as she was of Spot and his gang, though, he seemed doubly nervous around her: she wasn’t sure if it was because of her heritage as the daughter of Pulitzer or her reputation of putting Jack in his place, but whatever the case was, Katherine caught Spot frantically looking away from her on several occasions.
Still, he’d been a wonderful host. After parting ways with Teddy Roosevelt -- from whom Katherine had been able to extract a wonderfully detailed statement on the defunding of juvenile detainment centers such as the Refuge -- Spot had given Katherine the grand tour of his turf, covering everything from the Lodging House to the Sheepshead Bay where Race sold. She was enchanted by the scenery, much of which she hadn’t gotten a good look at on her infrequent trips with her father, and promised to return after things had settled down back home.
Race was staying in the Brooklyn House that night, so Katherine parted ways with him and Spot and headed back into Manhattan. It was late, and uncharacteristically chilly for an August night, but she still preferred the open air to the stuffy carriages she was used to.
The walk also gave her some much needed time to think. She wasn’t even sure where to begin unravelling her thoughts -- she’d been pushing anything unrelated to the strike towards the back of her mind for so long that it now seemed impossible to sort through everything.
But as soon as Katherine gave herself permission to think, everything came rushing forward. She was almost instantly reminded that she had a meeting with her editor coming up in a few days -- one she realized, with a start, would now include Jack, The World’s newest political comic writer. Katherine found herself struggling to hold in a laugh. She truly was looking forward to working with Jack, if only for the hilarity that would ensue in the office.
Jack Kelly, she thought with a smile. She still couldn’t believe they’d won. Or, she wouldn’t have been able to believe it, if Jack hadn’t been her leader. Katherine legitimately couldn’t imagine anyone else who could have stood up to the giants of the printing industry and won. She counted her blessings every day that she and all the working-class kids of New York had been lucky enough to rally under his leadership.
These thoughts also reminded her of their kiss a few days earlier. She felt a little shudder -- she still couldn’t believe she’d allowed herself to get so worked up over him. In the moment, with Jack looking all sad and lonely up on the roof, she’d been able to convince herself that he needed her comfort, needed her to believe in. Now, of course, she realized what he probably could have used was that punch in the nose she’d been threatening a moment earlier.
No, she and Jack Kelly would have never worked out. They were too similar in too many destructive ways: equally stubborn, strong willed, and ambitious. But ending their romantic involvement had led to something even better -- a friendship stronger than she’d ever experienced in her life.
Her friendships had multiplied tenfold in the past few weeks, she realized -- whereas before the strike she’d only had Bill, Darcy, and a handful of other well-off young patricians to hang around with, she now needed more than just her ten fingers to count her allies on. Between the five boroughs, she must have formed a bond with half of the city’s kids by now.
She did have her favorites, though. Of course, her relationship with Jack was special, but she held a unique fondness for each of the newsies she’d become acquainted with. Race never failed to make her laugh. Romeo’s antics amused her like no other. And she could always count on David for a nice, civilized academic discussion -- well, unless they were talking about journalism. Those conversations were never civilized.
And with all these thoughts of newsboys and rebellions, Katherine’s mind turned, inevitably, towards her most treasured friend, the girl who made Katherine’s involvement in the strike seem worthwhile even in her most doubtful moments -- Sarah Jacobs.
Katherine met Sarah around the second week of the strike. At that point, going without work was taking its full toll on the newsboys -- Davey, in particular, she knew was struggling. His father was still without work, and without Davey and Les’s added income, the household was starting to drown.
So Katherine had gone to his apartment under the guise of an interview for her article, and had slipped an envelope filled with as many bills as she had been able to smuggle from her father’s top drawer unnoticed into her pocket.
She arrived at the tenement slightly sweaty but rejuvenated, excited to do her share for Davey’s family. Katherine tapped on the door, bouncing up and down on her heels and fingering the hidden envelope.
The door swung open, but it wasn’t Davey who had answered.
Standing before Katherine was a young woman, no older than she was, with her hair tied in a scarf and a basket of laundry stuffed under her arm. She seemed taken aback by Katherine’s appearance on her doorstep, but instead of greeting her warmly, her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “I already told the landlord we would have our rent in by next week.”
She pushed past Katherine, who practically fell backwards in surprise, and began heading downstairs.
After a moment of processing, Katherine pursued her. “Wait! I’m not -- I don’t need your money --”
The girl whipped her head back to eye Katherine but continued moving down the stairs expertly. “Really? Because that’s not what your boss was saying a couple days ago.”
“I don’t work for the building!” Katherine shouted, pulling up her skirts in her attempt to catch up with Sarah. “I’m David’s friend. I was here to see him to talk about the strike!”
The girl scoffed, not turning around this time. “Even better. One of his workplace associates. ” She reached the landing and paused, eyeing Katherine. “Although you don’t seem like the type who needs to be hawking newspapers for a living.”
Katherine looked down at her outfit. She thought she’d chosen one of her less aggressively aristocratic dresses, but she supposed the bright dyes still gave her away. “I’m a reporter,” she explained, slightly out of breath from running down the stairs.
“Reporter?” At this, the girl’s eyes seemed to brighten. “I didn’t know there were female reporters.”
Katherine grinned. “I’m kind of the first.”
The girl stuck her chin up slightly, still looking wary, but her scowl had softened into something resembling a smile. “I’m Sarah,” she introduced. “David’s sister.”
“Katherine,” she replied brightly. “Pul-Plumber.”
Sarah’s eyebrows scrunched together. “You sure about that?”
Katherine laughed a little too loudly, trying to cover up her mistake. “Of course!” She fidgeted a bit, unsure of what to say next.
Sarah seemed to notice her uncertainty, and nodded back towards the staircase. “David’s in the apartment, if you’d still like to talk to him.” For the first time in their conversation, Sarah’s cheek twitched slightly with embarrassment. “And, um, sorry about before. You just look like the type who’d be trying to siphon money off us.”
“No!” Katherine clarified quickly. “Not at all. Actually, um, I came here to give David this.” She slipped the envelope out of her pocket. She crossed and handed it to Sarah, who judged its weight in her hands before ripping it open. Her eyes widened as she counted the contents.
“No way,” she said, and stuck it back out to Katherine.
“What?” Katherine asked, confused.
Sarah shook her head. “I can’t take this. We can’t take this.”
“It’s no problem,” Katherine assured. “Believe me, my father is fine without it.”
Sarah gave Katherine another once over. “I’m sure he is,” she said, “but I still can’t take it from you. It’s not the Jacobs’ way.” She shoved the envelope back in Katherine’s hands, and when Katherine tried to protest, she laid her hand over Katherine’s.
That shut her up.
“You’re very kind,” Sarah said, locking eyes with Katherine. Katherine was entranced: she didn’t think she’d ever seen eyes quite that color, as grey as a summer storm, or the moon behind a cloud. “I truly appreciate your generosity. I hope to see you again, soon.”
Sarah’s lips curved into a smile and she hoisted the laundry basket more securely under her arm before turning and walking away.
Katherine was left dumbstruck, the envelope between her fingers and her heart threatening to beat out of her chest.
Katherine and Sarah had crossed paths countless times after that first meeting, and each time left Katherine feeling more and more unbalanced. She recognized almost immediately that she admired Sarah: after all, it took quite a bit of guts to stand up to someone so obviously affluent as Katherine. Still, she was certain she felt more than respect. It wasn’t until several weeks later that Katherine was able to put a name to her emotion -- yearning.
It had given her quite the crisis. Katherine had felt that way about boys -- even had felt it towards Jack for a brief while -- but never had she pined after a girl. She wasn’t so deluded to believe such feelings were unique to her, or even unnatural, but she was aware that they were not encouraged or accepted. The knowledge that she was harboring another secret from her family and friends was nearly overwhelming, but Katherine was no stranger to deception, and after a while it got far easier to hide her affections for the beautiful girl in the headscarf.
That is, until Jack Kelly stuck his stupid, boorish mouth on hers.
Katherine had been celebrating the newsboys’ victory in the square with her friends, her arm around Mush’s neck and head rested against Sarah’s, savoring the perfection and harmony she felt in that moment. She watched as David bought his papers, as Jack returned in the carriage with the governor, and as he spun Les around gleefully.
Then, she’d watched as Sarah glided over to Jack and kissed him deeply.
Katherine froze . She wasn’t so naive as to believe that Sarah would have reciprocated any of her feelings -- Katherine’s confidence in her emotions wasn’t a universal trait, after all -- but she most certainly hadn’t expected Sarah to like someone as ridiculous as Jack Kelly. Katherine had pegged Sarah as competent, independent, and self-reliant -- characteristics that weren’t exactly compatible with Jack’s infuriating hero complex. The fact that Jack was technically Katherine’s ex-beau only added insult to injury.
Briefly, Katherine’s eyes passed over David, who looked completely devastated. She sympathized with him -- Katherine couldn’t imagine what she’d feel like if she caught her best friend locking lips with one of her brothers.
Katherine tore her eyes away. Turning towards Spot and Race -- the latter sprawled over the former’s back in an attempt to retrieve his cigar from Spot’s stubborn lips -- Katherine whistled through her fingers. The two stopped their horseplay and looked towards her, confused.
“We’re going to Brooklyn,” she announced, glancing over to the Governor’s Carriage, “and we’re riding in style.”