He pulls himself onto the tiny brick wall that surrounds the roof. A safety measure, Kloppman had said. Silly old man. It helps. The higher you go, the longer you fall, the better chance you fly.

He wants to fly.

He holds his arms out and pulls his legs together. Beneath him, in the bunkroom, some of his friends are absently playing a game of blackjack, grumbling about Racetrack. Pie loudly accuses the Italian of cheating, and Race hotly denies it, but a guilty flush creeps up his cheeks, making the others continue the accusations.

The boy who wants to fly is completely unaware of this, as they are unaware of him. Life goes on, even when one is about to end.

Beneath the bunkroom is the front room, where other newsies are reading, talking, enjoying the simpler things. The flying boy is unaware of them too. The only things he is aware of are the sky above him, the ground below him, and the wind flapping his vest about. He sighs and buttons it before lifting his arms again. The scent of burning meat reaches his nose and he inhales it, enjoying it.

There's no real reason for him to jump, except that there's no reason for him not to jump either. He wants to fly.

Some might think he is drugged. No. He is not.

Some might think he is drunk. No. He is not.

Some might think he is depressed. No. He is not.

Some might think he is insane. No. He is not.

He is a misguided young man. He wants to fly, fly away, fly far away, far, far away from this strange place that has been both heaven and hell for him.

The wind picks up and he smiles to himself as it pushes him back and forth on the ledge.

Beneath him, Skittery lifts his head and asks the others where Snitch is. Itey shrugs and returns to searching Race's pockets.

The boy who wants to fly leans forward, and plummets. He is smiling, waiting to be snatched up and into the sky, to go off into the distance, maybe to find his mother and sister. He waits and waits, then opens his eyes and realizes he is not going to fly, he is going to fall, and he is going to die.

He shuts his eyes again, the smile fading from his face. If he's going to die, he's not going to watch himself do it.

It's a painless experience: the crown of his head hits the sidewalk and cracks. His neck bends the wrong way, and feeling flows from his body with the blood. He is unconscious; the dying occurs later, after his body goes unfound in the alleyway until dinnertime, when Jack goes out to look for him.

That night, safe under the cover of darkness, Skittery cries himself to sleep, angry with himself for never saying a word to Snitch of his feelings, feelings so deep that it feels as if he has fallen too. And now Snitch is dead, he has flown away, leaving his dreams and loved ones behind.

Skittery begins to wonder if, maybe, he can fly too.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

I have no idea what this was.

Probably just me continuing to insist that this song is a suicidal song. ;