So, according to Spotify, it has been exactly one year since I discovered Newsies. What. The. Actual. Heck. It feels as if I've been a fan for way longer, but, I guess not. In honor of my own anniversary (yeah, I'm the type of person that mutters "treat yo'self" for every semblance of a holiday and buys herself chocolate...) I wrote this fic. It's not my best, but for the amount of time I wrote it, it's okay. Just something fun. And feelzy. You guys know me, by now.
Jack glanced up at the calendar he had pinned to the wall with a wad of chewing gum. Calendar was probably a stretch of the term. Really, all it was was some old sheets of paper that Jack had sketched boxes onto, carefully enumerating each day. When bored, Jack had also taken to doodling throughout the boxes and jungle cats pounced across the week, their prey scurrying from box to box, cowering behind numbers.
Today, July 22, was circled in bright red ink. It had been exactly a year and one day since Jack had organized the strike along with Davey Jacobs. He snorted slightly. Now Davey was off attending some fancy-schmancy college with giant books and chewed pencils and thick spectacles. It had been about eight months since Jack had seen Davey, but he would be there tonight. Jack looked forward to teasing the other boy about how much more his head was sure to be growing. He had missed the easy banter between the pair and looked forward to seeing his old friend once again.
It had been quickly decided that a reunion of sorts was in order for the newsies. They had won the strike nearly a year ago and that feat deserved a party, without a doubt. Race, who was now leading the Manhattan newsies, had contacted Jack about the idea and it had originally been scheduled to have the party on the 21st, the day the strike originally began. However, a quick consensus was made and it was agreed that Sundays were slower days and the party could be bumped back a day to take place on the Sunday following the anniversary of the strike. Jack had even offered to purchase some refreshments for the newsboys. All the newsboys had pooled together their extra change and Jack was pleased to note that enough money had been gathered to purchase two cakes.
Invites had been given out via word of mouth. Race had sent some representatives to Brooklyn and had reported that Spot and two of his boys would be attending the reunion. Davey and Les had been contacted by Specs and had confirmed their attendance. Jack would drop by the Lodging House every other weekend and had been in on the planning of the reunion, so his presence was assured since the start. The rest of the newsboys involved were still at the Manhattan Lodging House and all were excited about the party that would be had.
Jack shifted the ratty drape to peer outside. The sun was starting to lower, meaning that it was about time for him to head over to the Lodging House. Jack stacked the cake boxes atop each other and carefully made his way out the door. Slamming the door shut with his foot, Jack quickly exited the apartment building, ignoring the drifting cobwebs and the black mold that dripped down the walls. It wasn't exactly a nice place to live, but with his meager income from the newspaper, Jack couldn't afford to complain. He was honestly just thankful that he had a roof over his head.
The apartment Jack had found was only a couple blocks from the Manhattan Lodging House, which was convenient. "Especially today," Jack grunted, as his arms strained beneath the weight of the two cakes. Jack hadn't been completely excited to leave the newsboys, his family for the past eight years, but knew that it was necessary. He was too old to be out selling papes and, though Jack would never admit it, his final year out hawking headlines had been his least successful. Jack no longer had the youthful innocence that sold papes much quicker than creatively spun lies and exaggerations.
He had taken advantage of the short distance between his dingy apartment and the Lodging House and would visit his brothers, at the very least, every other week. Jack made sure to attend all the birthday celebrations and was always willing to spot a boy that hadn't been able to earn enough money to cover his rent or dinner.
Plus, Jack loved the feeling that he was wanted. Each time Jack dropped by the Lodging House, he was greeted with exclamations and hugs and hands grabbing his to show him an intense game of marbles. The newsboys were always quick to make sure Jack felt at home amongst them and Jack didn't think he could ever give up that feeling. It was why he had become the leader of the newsies in the first place: Jack wanted to help everyone he cared about. It made him feel useful.
After knocking sharply on the door, Jack only had to wait a moment before the door was swung open. "Jack!" Romeo shouted happily.
Elmer shoved Romeo out of the doorway. "Did you bring the cake?" he demanded, his bright eyes flicking to the boxes in Jack's hands.
Jack hefted the cake boxes up a bit. "Right here, Elm. Calm down."
With a sharp grin, Elmer stepped back to let Jack in. "Well, get in here, then."
"Oh, I'm only allowed in because I brought cake?" Jack asked, quirking his eyebrow in Elmer's direction.
"No, but it certainly is an incentive," Elmer quickly countered.
"Jack!" Les shouted, quickly dashing across the room and hugging the older boy. Jack hurriedly set the boxes of cake on the table to avoid dropping them as he was tightly gripped by the young boy. "I missed you! It's no fun having to go to school and not selling papes," Les complained.
"Really?" Jack asked. "I woulda thought your brother woulda said the exact opposite."
"Ha. Ha," Davey commented dryly, approaching his best friend.
Jack grinned widely at the older Jacobs boy, before pulling him into a hug. "Come on, Davey. College ain't made you too stiff, now, has it?"
"I missed you," Davey admitted. "It's been too long."
"Yeah," Jack agreed. "You two had to go off to school and I'se gotta work."
"Well, we aren't going to let this long of a time go without us meeting up again," Davey suggested. "You're always welcome over for dinner. You know that, right?"
Jack shrugged. "I don't really wanta intrude or nothing."
"It's not intruding if you're invited, dimwit," Davey shot back.
With a smirk, Jack countered, "I don't really look forward to be insulted left and right, neither, Mouth. Maybe that's why I ain't been over."
Davey rolled his eyes. "And here I thought you had a thicker skin than that."
"Oh, shut up," Jack muttered, shoving Davey a little. "And I missed you, too," Jack added.
"Hey!" Race shouted, the sudden noise causing Jack to jump a little. "Back away from that cake," Race demanded, glaring at Buttons, who had lifted the lid of the box and whose fingers were inching towards the thick chocolate frosting. Buttons glanced at Race, then back at the cake, and Jack knew he was calculating just how quickly he could swipe his finger across the frosting and dash away before Race reached him. "Don't you dare," Race hissed. "I will snap every one of your fingers. You can wait with the rest of us to have the cake."
Buttons must have recognized the danger behind Race's threat—Jack knew that Race wouldn't follow through with the snapping of the fingers, but that the younger boy would not hesitate to deal out a swift beating to teach a lesson. Buttons backed up submissively. "I was just checkin' to see if it was there," the younger boy muttered. "I wasn't gonna eat it or nothing."
Race retained the glare for a long moment, before adding. "I sure hope you wasn't planning nothing stupid like that." Once Buttons had completely backed off, Race turned to Jack. "Heya, Cowboy. Welcome back."
"Good to see you'se got everything under control," Jack commented sarcastically.
"Hey, no one is eating that cake until—" Race cut himself off with a hoarse scream. As he had been talking with Jack, Race had turned back to the cake just in time to catch Buttons with his fingers dipped into the frosting. Buttons jolted at the sound, before immediately sticking his chocolatey fingers into his mouth and dashing away. "You liar!" Race shouted. "Get back here!" Race took off after the younger boy, who whooped cheerfully as he finished licking his fingers.
Jack grinned, turning back to Davey. "Can't say I completely missed all this chaos."
"How could you possibly grow sick of this?" Davey asked, gesturing to where Race had finally managed to catch Buttons and was shaking him by the collar of his shirt. Jack wasn't entirely sure, but he thought he heard Buttons desperately promising that he would never eat anything again. He rolled his eyes. Race was more talk than bite, he knew. The younger boy would threaten other boys with stupid punishments, but very rarely ever followed through.
"Can we have cake now?" Les begged.
"Yeah," Finch piped up. "We'se been waiting for-ev-er," he complained, dragging the final word out.
Jack nodded. "I suppose it's time for us to dish it up."
Cheers erupted among the newsies and a crowded, conglomerate mess of newsboys shoved and pushed forward. "Hold up, hold up!" Jack shouted. "Orderly fashion, boys!"
There were grumbles and a few more shoves, before the newsboys organized themselves into a mostly-straight line. There were eighteen newsboys in the Manhattan Lodging House currently, plus him, plus Davey and Les, plus Spot and his two boys that should be showing up shortly. Jack quickly began counting on his fingers, to figure out how many slices he needed to cut.
"Twenty-four," Davey quietly remarked beside him. "Twelve slices per cake."
"Oh, shut up," Jack muttered, but accepted the number as truth. He swiftly cut each cake into twelve mostly-equal slices. Elmer was the first in line and Jack started to hand him the slice that Buttons had dipped his fingers into, but Elmer quickly backed up, shaking his head.
"No, I ain't getting the messed up one. That one is Buttons'. He already ate part of it," Elmer complained.
Jack rolled his eyes, putting that plate to the side for Buttons. "Fine. Is this one good enough for His Majesty?" Jack asked sarcastically.
Elmer made a big show of leaning forward and inspecting the slice. Eventually, he took the plate into his hand. "Yes, that will do. Thank you, peasant."
"Next!" Jack called out, handing a slice of cake to the next boy. Each boy came up and took their slice of cake. Buttons guiltily grabbed the slice missing part of the frosting.
"You'se lucky I'm a caring guy," Race growled as he allowed Buttons to eat his slice.
"Sure," Jack muttered sarcastically, handing Race his piece of cake.
Race chose to ignore the comment, and continued, "Spot and his boys should be here soon. They said they'd be a little late."
Jack nodded. "I'll leave their slices to the side." He handed Les and Davey their pieces of cake, before grabbing one for himself. "Ha," Jack muttered, nudging Davey and gesturing to the remaining cake. Four solitary pieces lay there. "Your mighty brain failed ya. We got an extra piece."
Davey's eyebrows scrunched up. "We shouldn't. There's three of us, three of Brooklyn, and eighteen newsies. That's twenty-four. I wasn't wrong."
"Well, then who didn't get their slice?" Jack asked, scanning the newsies. Everyone had cake in hand, excitedly talking between themselves. "Everyone's got one."
Davey sat his plate down, before making a quick head count. "Hm, that's strange," he muttered. "There's only seventeen boys here. We're missing one."
"What do you mean?" Jack asked, rescanning the room and checking that everyone was there. Finch was sitting with Elmer and Mush and Boots. "How could we possibly be missing someone?" Race, Romeo, Buttons. "They know the party was today, right? Where'd they be?" Specs, Albert, Jojo. Jack finished counting off the boys in his head, his stomach sinking as he realized exactly who wasn't present.
"Crutchie," Davey voiced, reaching the same conclusion as Jack.
"Yeah, but where is he? Did ya see him earlier?" Jack asked, wracking his brain. Had Crutchie even been there when he first showed up? He searched his memory, trying to catch a glimpse of the ever-grinning boy and his crutch, but Jack couldn't remember him even being present when all the boys welcomed him in.
"Now that I think about it, no. I had just assumed he was in the crowd somewhere, but he didn't come up and say hi or anything."
Jack growled, "If that kid managed to get himself into trouble…" He paused for a moment, before calling Race over. "Oi, Race! Get over here!"
Race scowled before heading over. "What, Jack?" he asked. "Can't ya see I'm trying to enjoy the party?"
"Where's Crutchie?" Jack demanded.
The question took Race by surprise and he quickly scanned the room. "He… ain't here?"
"No, clearly he is not."
"He was here this morning…" Race muttered.
"Did he say he was going to go anywhere?" Davey asked.
Race shook his head slowly, the skin around his eyes creased as he struggled to remember the morning. "No, but he wasn't… He didn't seem excited like the rest of the boys. He was more… quiet." Race glanced up at Jack. "I don't know, I guess I just lost track of the kid. I coulda sworn he was here with the rest of us."
"I'm gonna go find him," Jack announced, putting his half-eaten cake on the table. If he had still been leader of the newsies, he would have never lost one of the boys. Jack ground his teeth together. How could Race possibly have lost track of Crutchie, of all people? Jack first checked the room Crutchie shared with the other boys, but that was frighteningly empty. Where had the younger boy disappeared to?
Jack turned out of the room quickly and crossed the main room, not caring if he was causing a scene by nearly stepping on some of the newsboys' cakes. If Crutchie wasn't in the Lodging House, he could be anywhere. Jack pulled open the door to leave the building, ignoring the confused stares from the boys. Spot and his two boys looked up in surprise at the door being whipped open. "Oh, heya, Jack," Spot started, but Jack shouldered roughly past the boys. "Hey, what's got him all bothered?" Spot asked, making his way into the Lodging House and accepting the cake Race offered him.
Race shrugged. "Crutchie."
Spot nodded, knowingly. "Ah. Should've guessed."
Outside, Jack scanned the streets. Crutchie could be literally anywhere. Would he have headed to Medda's vaudeville theater? Jack shook his head. Why would Crutchie have gone there? Could he have gone to Jack's apartment, maybe to see when Jack would be coming to the party? But, surely, he would have been back by now, or Jack would have stumbled upon him as he made his way to the Lodging House. Did Crutchie not want to see Jack? They had just been talking last week and Crutchie had seemed fine, the same old Crutchie that Jack knew and loved. So, what had happened between that day and now?
Jack jerked his hands through his hair. There was no way he'd be able to find the other boy. Crutchie could have gone any number of places and Jack just had no clue how to find him. Jack had lost him. Somehow, he had managed to lose his brother. With a shaky sigh, Jack turned back to the Lodging House, but he couldn't go in there. He couldn't face all that cheer and joy when Crutchie could be anywhere in the city and it was probably Jack's fault that he had run off. Jack thumbed through each conversation he had had with the boy, struggling to figure out what he had done wrong.
Unable to come to a satisfactory answer, Jack tore his hair even more. Angrily, Jack clambered up the fire escape, needing the solitary familiarity of his roof. Jack pulled himself up to the roof, but was startled to discover the boy in question staring back at him in surprise. "Jack? What are ya doin' here?" Crutchie asked. "Ain't the party still goin' on?"
Jack took a moment to observe his brother before answering. Crutchie's eyes were wide, but somewhat glazed. He had his good knee pulled up to chest and his chin rested there. Crutchie's bad leg was stretched out before him, his crutch to his side. "Yeah, it is. And I can ask all those same questions to you. What're ya doin' up here all by yourself?" Jack asked.
Crutchie shrugged. "Just wanted some time to myself," he explained.
Sitting down next to the younger boy, Jack nudged his brother with his shoulder. "Yeah? What for?"
"Nothing, really. I'se fine, Jack, I promise."
"Come on, kid. What's bugging ya?" Jack pressed.
Crutchie shrugged once more, before admitting. "I should be happy, y'know? I should be down there eating cake and joking with all the boys like you'se guys, but I just can't."
"Why not?" Jack asked. "We were successful. What ain't there to be happy about?"
With a slight shake of his head, Crutchie returned his chin to his knee, staring out at the city. When Jack made no move to break the silence, Crutchie sighed. "It's stupid, really, it is. I just… I just can't seem to forget and today's just so much worse."
"What are you talking about?" Jack asked gently.
Crutchie blew the air out of his nose loudly. He whispered, "Today's the day Snyder took me to the Refuge."
"Oh," was all Jack could manage. How could he have possibly forgotten? Today was the anniversary of his most crushing defeat, the day he had betrayed his brother just to save his own worthless skin. The few bites he had had of the cake thickened and hardened within his stomach, pressing and achingly cold. "I..." Jack started, unsure of where he was going with that sentence.
With a slight wave of his hand, Crutchie reassured, "Don't worry 'bout it. It honestly doesn't matter. Just, sometimes, it still bugs me, y'know?" Crutchie laughed bitterly. "Don't know why, though. It's been a year. A year, Jack, and I'm still—" he cut himself off with a shake of his head.
"You still havin' nightmares?" Jack asked, his stomach twisting uncomfortably.
"Jack, it really don't—"
"Are you still havin' nightmares?" Jack demanded, his voice hardening. This was his fault. His fault. Crutchie was still hurting and it was all. His. Fault.
Crutchie nodded weakly. "Sometimes," he admitted, lowering his voice. Jack swore, turning angrily away from his best friend. How could this still be happening and he hadn't realized? Crutchie winced, continuing, "I'm sorry, Jack. I'm sorry."
"No, you ain't got anything to be sorry about," Jack hissed. He wanted to pull Snyder out of jail just so that he could throttle the evil man. "If I'd'a—"
"Jack, it's fine," Crutchie interrupted, placing his hand on Jack's shoulder. "It really is. Usually, I'm fine. Just today…" The boy sighed once more. "But, hey, I'll be okay. I just wanted to be alone for a while."
Jack didn't know how to respond, didn't know what Crutchie needed to hear, or even if there was anything he could say that would help. "I'm sorry, Crutchie. I just wish that I'd've… I'm just so sorry."
"I know," Crutchie muttered weakly. "I know, but I just feel as if I should be able to, I don't know, move past it and I can't. I can still feel—" Crutchie cut himself off with a shudder.
Hardly thinking, Jack pulled Crutchie into a tight hug. "I'm so sorry," he ground out, his eyes screwed shut. "I'm so sorry, but Crutch, it ain't ever happening again. I swear it. I swear it so hard. I ain't ever letting anything like that happen to you ever again. Never. I just—It won't, Crutch, I swear it."
"I know," Crutchie whispered, leaning into Jack's hug. "Thank you. I'll…" Crutchie took a shuddering breath and Jack glanced up, quick to note the faint sheen in Crutchie's eyes. "I'll be okay. I will, Jack, I promise."
"You sure?" Jack asked, not releasing Crutchie from the hug.
Crutchie grinned, the motion more lopsided than usual. "Sure, Jack. I'se already helped bring the World to its knees, there's no stopping me now."
So, the ending is meh, but I really enjoyed writing the interactions with the rest of the newsboys. (Like, seriously, Jack. How many more times are you going to say sorry?)
Also, in other news, I did get a tumblr, if you want to check me out. Mostly Newsies posts, let's be honest. It's literally just ostrich-on-a-rampage. Nothing super creative.
Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome!