Summary: Skittery is having a tough time trying to keep his psycho mom away from his half-brother, Tumbler. How is he supposed to deal with girls as he counts the days until he can take Tumbler and run? Especially girls like Cori, who can't take a joke, and who all his friends are creeped out by anyway. When Oscar is there to witness their messy breakup suddenly he's the good guy, the shoulder to cry on. Which is funny, considering he's hated by all the kids at school, and more alone then ever, now that his big brother is moving out and Oscar is stuck picking between his uncle and his estranged father. Sometimes, life tosses you into the jello bowl and all you can do is eat, or swim.

Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies or any of the characters from that wonderful movie. Disney owns them all, though I do have an evil plot to steal the rights to Skittery....

Author's note: So I've been writing True and False, as my main priority, but when I fell in love with Oscar because of that story, I started writing this. If you guys like it enough, I'll work on it while I'm writing True and False, if not I'll post it anyway, just later. haha. So if you like it, let me know! Or if you think something is off, tone or pace or something, please let me know! Even if you don't read to the end :)

[a quick note] the story will switch between the perspective of Skittery, and Oscar.

SKITTERY:

I woke up to wailing.

I was on my feet, stumbling through the dark, blindly groping for the door before I had even opened my eyes all the way. The hallway was dark, but the overhead flickered in the kitchen. The light was harsh, it stabbed my slitted eyes as my bare feet slapped the cold tile. The digital clock over the stove read 3:33, an army of teeth. The stench of red wine, cigarettes, and my mother's perfume filled the stale air.

My mother paused to look at me. She had her stubby fingers wrapped tightly around my little brother's arm, squeezing it and making the t-shirt pucker. Her other hand was drawn back, hanging in the air above him, ready to slam into Tumbler's face. His cheek already glowed red, tears dribbling down his trembling chin. He stared up at me with his large brown eyes, begging me to help him.

"Leave the kid alone," I told my mother.

She blinked, then brought her hand hurdling down, slapping Tumbler's little face. I might as well have not been there. I was nothing to her. I was simply a nuisance. A bug.

"Duncan," She said to Tumbler, "You better learn to respect me. I've told you to stay in your room, you should have listened."

My brother's eyes stayed on me. He was shaking and tears were still pouring off his face, but he knew I'd get him free. I always saved him, he meant the world to me. My mother raised her hand again, this time, she backhanded him, and her ring cut into his cheek. A red bloom of blood popped up on Tumbler's skin.

She staggered back, her hand to her mouth, and started to cry. She loved him more than anything, she truly did. She just didn't seem capable of realizing that she was hurting him until she left a mark.

I took advantage of the opening.

I swooped past her, gathering the kid in my arms. I knocked my shoulder against the fridge and it shook and creaked, but I tore down the hallway. I staggered into my room and dumped Tumbler on the floor before slamming the door closed. I leaned against it with all I had in me and held my breath, listening.

Tumbler sat on the floor in front of me, illuminated by the strip of light that shone under the door. The dust and dirt on the wood cast long shadows across the surface. I saw Tumbler holding his hand to his freshly cut cheek, still crying. He was trying to be quiet, though. He was good about that.

I heard my mother crying for a while, heavy sobs that broke my heart and made me want to go comfort her. I heard her mumbling to herself and I heard the sink running as she scrubbed her hands of Tumbler's blood. When she calmed down enough, she suddenly wanted Duncan again. I braced myself against the door, pressing my bare shoulders into the thin wood.

She opened Duncan's door first, the one next to mine. There was a long silence as she looked inside. Of course, he wasn't in there, and that ticked her off. She threw herself at my door, pounding on the wood, shaking the knob, shouting frantically through it for Duncan.

She wouldn't have hurt him again, I knew that, but she scared him. There was no way of knowing what she would do with him.

Once she kept him up until 10 AM shoving Lucky Charms and 'love' down his throat. Another night, she held him against her like a shield and cried into his hair until she passed out on top of him. One of the most common things she did was explain that because she was a bad mother she would commit suicide, and then he would live with me, and life would be better for everyone. Tumbler hated her at times like that, and I wanted to protect the smudge of love for her still in his heart. I wouldn't let her get to him, not tonight.

Her fists pounded on the door. Her feet kicked it. The hinges rattled from years of this abuse. I didn't have a lock on my door, but I was stronger than her. I held the door shut tight. Tumbler stared up at me from the floor, the shadows of her feet flicker across his face as he stared at me with fear in his eyes.

"It's okay," I told him.

He nodded as our mother hurdled her body against the door. She called out to him, begging him to come out. I told him to plug his ears and he did so faithfully. He squinched up his eyes and stuck his fingers into his ears and shut the world out.

It took twenty minutes for our mother to finally wear herself out and give up. She cussed me out once more for good measure, then rumbled back to the kitchen and her open bottle of wine.

I slid down the door and sighed with relief. Another battle won. Only 72 more days until I turned 18, took the kid, and bolted. I could have run sooner, Mom stopped caring where I was when I was 14. The thing was, I couldn't leave my kid brother to get pulverized by our mother. My only hope was that when I turned 18, the state would grant me custody of Tumbler when I explained how awful our mother was.

Tumbler crawled over to me and cried into my shoulder as we listened to Mom move around in the kitchen, every once in a while one of her gasping sobs echoed down the hall. I picked him up and stumbled to my bed.

My clock read 4:07.

I fell asleep with my brother's arms tight around me and his hot breath on my skin. He kept kicking my ribs in his sleep, but I didn't have the heart to move the kid. Every once in awhile I woke up to him muttering in his sleep, I could see pale outline as he twitched half awake then closed his eyes. He rubbed his nose sleepily and I couldn't help but love him more than the world itself.

The next morning Mom had herself locked inside her room, the air purifier purring through the door. I poured Tumbler some cereal and made myself coffee, leaving enough in the pot for my mother, for whenever she rolled out of bed.

Tumbler was quiet as he ate, the scratch on his cheek stood out red against his tan skin. I cringed when I looked at it. I hated my mother so much when I saw it.

"How you feel today, kid?" I asked, leaning back against the counter, my coffee mug in hand, my eyes on my little brother.

He only shrugged heavily.

"Are you excited for tonight?" I asked. His dad was going to pick him up and take him to the science center, which he loved. Not that you could tell judging by his grim expression.

"I've been before," He muttered.

"Not since they got that exhibit with all the bodies. The one where they show all the muscles and bones and shriveled lungs? That's supposed to be really cool." My eyes drifted to the scratch again.

"Costs extra," Tumbler said. "Daddy only does the stuff that doesn't cost. He won't even let my ride the high wire bike."

"Yeah, but didn't he take you to the movie last time? What was it something with the Titanic underwater footage? And then you guys got Dippin' Dots." I sipped my coffee, "If I offer to pay for you, do you think your dad will take you to the exhibit?"

"Don't bother," Tumbler mumbled.

"Hey kid?"

He glanced up, meeting my eyes.

"What's wrong?"

His lips started to tremble and tears glazed his big brown eyes. He dropped his spoon into his Fruit Loops, sending mushy cereal rings and multi-colored milk splattering across the kitchen table. His tears started to drip down his face and he reached out for me. I abandoned my mug on the counter and got to my knees next to him, wrapping him in my arms. His face jammed into the collar of my t-shirt and his little hands dug into the fabric on my back. His jagged fingernails poked into my skin beneath my shirt.

"I hate mommy!" Tumbler wailed. "I don't wanna live with her anymore!"

I swallowed a lump of salt in my throat, but it still burned. I felt tears choking my air supply and my vision dimmed. I'd always wondered when he'd finally want to be free.

"We could talk to your dad," I said. "Or maybe Aunt Amy. Or even the state. You could stay with a really nice foster family, huh? Like when you and I lived with the Foleys, remember? They were nice, right?"

I stroked his hair and kissed his forehead. He wasn't slowing down the tears at all.

"Or," I sucked in a deep breath. I didn't want to tell him yet, but he needed to hear it. "If you're really good, and patient," I had to pause, my voice was starting to crack, "If you can do that, you and I can get our own place."

Tumbler buried his head deeper into my shirt, snot and tears soaking through to my skin.

"I'll be good." He said, his voice muffled by my shirt. "When can we leave?"

"Soon." I said, "Real soon."

"How soon?"

I smiled and it forced tears out of my eyes.

"So soon." I said, I kissed his forehead again, "When I turn 18. Only 72 more days, then we'll go."

"That feels like a long ways," Tumbler said, but he pulled his face from my chest and sniffed loudly. "You promise, Skittery? We'll leave for good?"

"I promise."

I had plans with my girlfriend Cori that night. She wanted to go see the movie Psycho. It was playing at this junked up old theater from the twenties that only had one screen, and the cheapest, stalest pop corn in town.

Our plans went down the toilet when I got a call from Tumbler's school telling me his dad had never shown up.

I knew it bothered Cori that I never held her hand or kissed her good-bye, but I couldn't let myself do it. I didn't want to get too close, too attached. I knew I was going to be leaving in 72 days, which tomorrow was 71, then 70, on and on until the day Tumbler and I left. If I had a girlfriend I loved, it would only be murder to leave.

But I didn't tell her that. Confiding in her would link me to her. So instead, when she complained about me being cold, the only choice I had, was to freeze her out even more.

This was killing me, too.

When I had called to cancel on her, she offered to come over. I didn't want her inside my house. If she were inside my house, then she'd be inside my world, closer to me. I didn't want to push her away, I just wanted things to freeze where they were, but she wouldn't let things stop. I could let her deeper, and she refused to stay still, so she only had one place to go: further away.

"I'm not really up that," I said, crooking my shoulder up to hold the phone to my ear while I worked on opening a can of Chef Boyardee. "I think Tumbler and I 'll have a nice quiet evening alone. He's bummed about missing the science center."

"I could bring soda over or something." Cori pushed. "Or a movie. Even both, I can multi-task."

I didn't reply.

"Haha?" She said, "It was a joke... Bringing two things isn't multi-tasking it's just..."

I swallowed.

"Cor," I dumped the contents of the can into a bowl. "Please stop."

I covered the bowl in paper towel.

"We don't need you help."

I put the bowl in the microwave.

"We're fine."

I started the microwave and watched the bowl spinning on the glass plate, around and around. Like my conversation with Cori.

"Skittery, I just want to help." She said, her voice tense. Hearing that strain of annoyance made it easier to push her away. She used to just sound hurt and confused, now she was getting over it. Our relationship was headed south quick, but I didn't want to end it over a phone call. That was just tacky.

"I know you want to help," I said with a sigh. "But we don't need it right now. We're just going to have a boy's night."

"You spend all your free time with him," Cori said quietly. "What about me? I need time with you too." Her voice was changing, hurt now, instead of angry. I had to bail. I couldn't stand clingy Cori.

"I can't deal with this right now, Cor." I said, "I'm cooking dinner. I'll call you tomorrow." The microwave beeped as I flipped my phone closed, leaving Cori in silence.

I stirred the canned pasta around then handed it to Tumbler who sat on the floor by our TV. I was too worked up to eat so I just lay on the couch as America's Funniest Videos played on the screen, making Tumbler react between giggles and squeals of delight.

I had finally started relaxing enough that I was laughing at the video of a baby trying to lick a Cheerio from its lips. I realized I was hungry after not eating all day. I had just gotten to up to dig in the fridge when our front door flew open. I couldn't see them, but I heard my mother's steps and a man's laugh.

"Duncan!" Mom cried, I could tell from her voice, she was drunk.

I abandoned the idea of food and slid into the living room. Mom was standing, or better described as leaning, in front of the couch. Tumbler had shot to his feet and stood with his fists at his sides. The man had followed Mom in, not bothering to close the door, his eyes were glued to her. He seemed young, maybe 30, tops.

"I was expecting I'd have the house to myself," Mom said. Sliding her gaze to me. When Tumbler was at his dad's, I didn't really come home. I stayed with Racetrack or Jack, or someone if I was lucky. If I wasn't, I stayed in the park or a bus stop for the weekend.

"We're about to leave," I said. "Just finished dinner." I scooped up Tumbler's bowl and touched his shoulder on my way up, motioning for him to follow me to the kitchen. "We'll put on our shoes and go."

"Okay," Mom said as she staggered deeper into the apartment. "If you guys are leaving already." It was bogus, she was practically dancing with joy to be rid of us.

Tumbler and I were in my car putting distance between us and our mother in minutes.

"Where are we going?" Tumbler asked from the backseat.

"Where would like you like to go?" I asked, glancing at him in rearview.

Tumbler flopped back in the seat with a scowl. "Home, but it's not really here."

"I know," I sighed, turning on to 20th Avenue, no really thinking about where I was going. "How about Racetrack's?" I asked.

Tumbler shrugged. Racetrack's was good because I never had to call him, we could just show up. If he wasn't there, I could let myself in with key he hid in his porch light.

As we rounded the corner, I saw that Racetrack was sitting in the parking lot for his apartment complex. He was sitting on the parking stop smoking and he waved when he saw my car pulling up.

"I was wonderin' if I'd see you tonight." He said as I popped my door open.

"Yup, mom came home with a guy." I said.

"Fun." Race muttered. "How's it going, kid?" He said to Tumbler.

Tumbler shrugged. "Can I watch TV?"

Race rolled his eyes, "Go ahead. You know the way." He watched my brother take the stairs, two at a time to get to Race's apartment. "You know Skitts, that kid is pretty spoiled."

"Hey," I said plopping down next too him, "Watch it."

Race rose his eyes to mine, "Oh, sorry. I forgot, that kid is untouchable."

I set my jaw and shook my head. He was being a jerk.

"What's wrong with you man?" I asked, "He's a kid."

Race rolled his eyes.

"What!" I said.

"What's wrong with you?" He asked. "You're practically peeing yourself."

"Sorry." I said after a pause long enough to cool myself off, "I know it get's annoying, but he's my life."

"What about the rest of the world? Baseball, cars, girls? Cori. How's she doing?"

"I wouldn't know, I haven't hung out with her for a while." I said leaning back.

"When?" Race asked.

"Last Friday." I said.

"A week in a high school relationship, is like a month in any other." Race said with a mockingly philosophical voice. He grinned and slapped my shoulder. I rolled my eyes in return but I had to smile.

"Why aren't you hanging out with her now? Why'd you come here instead of her house?"

"We had a fight,"

"Last Friday?"

"Tonight," I said, "on the phone. I called to cancel our plans and she got all ticked about it."

Race gave me a look, "I would think so. Why'd you brake your plans?"

"I have Tumbler tonight, he was supposed to go with his dad, but he bailed."

"He bails, you bail? Is that, like, a rule?" He raised his thick eyebrows at me.

"No! It's just... Tumbler get jealous of Cori. He doesn't like having my attention divided away from him. But then if I pay attention to him, Cori gets annoyed with me for ignoring her. It's a lose, lose situation."

"You're spoiling the kid," Race said, "That kid thinks the world revolves around him. At least your world."

"Well, it does." I admitted, "It has to if I want both of us to make it."

"What, make it through your mom?" Race scoffed, "Yeah, I can tell she's tough, probably more goes on then I see, but you guys'll survive even if you have a girlfriend. And even if Tumbler occasionally feels you're leaving him out."

I shook my head.

"I'll keep Tumbler tonight," Race announced, "You go out with Cori."

I laughed, "What do you expect to do with a little kid?"

"We'll watch Dumbo or something, I don't know, man!"

"Dumbo? He's eight, he stopped watching Dumbo years ago." I pointed out with a smile. It was almost charming how little he knew about kids.

"Well, I watched Dumbo when I was eight, okay? But we'll watch something else. What does he like? Pirates? Spider Man? Iron Man? Transformers? We'll watch one of them. And after that, we'll get Oreo Mc Flurries and dip french fries in them."

"He only like the M&M Mc Flurries." I said.

"The M&M ones? What kind of jacked up kid likes the M&M ones? No one likes the M&M ones!"

"It's not like he likes spinach or something," I rolled my eyes, "M&Ms are still crap. Just multi colored crap." I laughed.

"Whatever, I'll get the kid whatever kind of nasty butt ice cream he likes, and we'll watch whatever violent PG-13 movie he wants, but you have to go out with Cori tonight. Make up with her for the fight."

"I have no idea what to say, or where to take her."

"I don't know about what to say, but judging by how all over you she is, 'Sorry' is all you'll need." Race said. "There's a party at Spot's tonight, Jack was taking Sarah to it. Text Jack and he'll let you know the address and all. Spot won't care if you crash. He probably won't even notice. He doesn't even notice when the Delanceys crash there."

OSCAR:

"What do you wanna do?" I asked, leaning back on the hood of the car.

Morris groaned and shoved his palms to his eyes. I waited for him to talk, watching the moths flit around spastically above me.

"I wanna get a life." Morris said finally. "A new one. Mine expired. And it sucked even before that."

I rolled my eyes and laughed at him, but I had to agree. We were leaning on the hood of our ten year old Honda, sucking down the drinks we had pinched from the Kwick-Stop we worked at. I don't really know why gas stations always seem compelled to misspell words on their signs. Maybe to make the low life and illegal immigrants feel welcomed, but whatever the case they all seemed to do it.

I had once offered this theory to my uncle – Scott Wisel to the world, but Weasel to the rest of us– and had gotten smacked for being mouthy. But I wasn't being mouthy, I just think it's funny.

My brother and I had just finished our Friday evening shift and were still in the parking lot of that stupid Kwick-Stop, looking out at four lanes of traffic, watching the stop light flicker out color. We didn't really have friends other than each other, and we didn't always get along, but we were the only thing we had.

Our dad flaked when I was still in diapers. He moved out to Idaho where he got married to a tennis player with two kids, and he settled down nicely, forgetting the two kids he actually had a part in making. He would visit at random intervals, bearing gifts and pictures of our half siblings, I could never remember how many of the little brats there were. I didn't really want to know too much about the life he chose over us. Mostly his visits were just him sitting awkwardly on our broken down couch and telling us were turning into fine young men.

It was real bogus.

Our mom ran off a few years after Dad left. I was three, and Morris had just turned six, but she dumped us on her big brother and said she needed "time". Who knows what she had meant by that then, but she never came back. Three years after she fled, our uncle got a call from a hospital saying she had been found OD'd in a motel in Wisconsin (Who goes to Wisconsin to do drugs?). Mom hung on for a few weeks, and our uncle went and spent time with her in the hospital but Morris was too freaked and I was only six, too little to understand, so we didn't go.

We stayed with this creepy old lady next door who shoved nasty butterscotch candies and Jeopardy down our throats the whole time Weasel was gone. The only good thing she did, was make me fall in love with old movies. I've seen East of Eden like thirty times, but the first time was at her house.

Then one night, Weasel called and said if we wanted to see Mom again, we needed to leave right that second. Morris decided to do it, but I stayed back with the crazy lady, her candy, and Turner Classic Movies.

When Morris came back, he was wigged out and he never seemed to really recover. From what Weasel tells me I guess he was in the room when Mom had a seizure, vomited blood, then died. He's never said anything about it, but I wonder about it when he gets this freaky look in his eyes when someone starts seizing on House, or ER, or something.

But now, we lived with Weasel for good, and didn't complain much. He was a little freaky, and he'd hit us a few times when he was drunk, but I can't say they weren't deserved, and provoked. Mostly, he was a good guy. Mostly.

"We could go to the movies," I said, "Psycho is playing at Royal."

"No!" Morris said, "I am not sitting through Norman Bates cleaning that freaking bathroom again."

"Come on! That's cinematic genius!" I cried. We'd had this argument again and again. He always said that the scene of Norman Bates getting rid of the body in the shower and then cleaning the spattered blood, was boring. I say it's eerie, as does pretty much everyone else.

"No, it's boring as crap, that's what it is. I do not want to go to see it tonight." He shook his head, "Let's do something else, please."

"What?" I asked taking a gulp of my Rockstar.

Morris leaned back and let his leg bounce up and down, the car started the shake.

"What about crashing a party?" He asked, hopping off the hood. He knew it was pretty much our only option. We weren't really invited to any parties, but Morris always seemed to know where different ones were being held. I think he was a much better eavesdropper then I was.

"Sure," I shrugged, "Sounds good. Where's it at tonight?" I slid off the edge and went to the passenger side while Morris got behind the wheel.

Morris cranked the engine, "Conlon's."

A/N: Review?