[The strike was over. The New York City newsies had been successful in making Joseph Pulitzer give into their demands and, for hardly the first time during the length of the strike, they felt like kings of the city. Spot and his crew had headed back to Brooklyn heroes, celebrating as they crossed the bridge from Manhattan and getting stares as
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It was those thoughts that clouded her mind, her ears barely registering a voice it didn't recognize. But when she realized that she wasn't alone anymore, she turned her head and blinked blue eyes in surprise.]
Joisey?
[Her voice stumbles slightly over the unfamiliar word and it's even stranger sound.]
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Yeah. Joisey. Ya know. Da Not-So-Garden State? Da armpit a-da United States a-America? New Joisey.
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[A pause]
Any of those, actually.
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Nevah hoid a-dem? Ya kiddin'. Great. [Turns, throws his hands up] Where da heck am I?
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