A/N: Hello! I am honestly so excited to be writing a story for the Newsie fandom! I have bee waiting for the chance to see Newsies the Musical for a long time, and was elated when it came to theatres. I am now certifiably obsessed, although I'll be the first to admit that I'm very new and not very knowledgeable. However, my obsession has manifested itself in a story idea, and I just want to share it here and see what you guys think!
Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies or anything affiliated with it, everything belongs to Disney and all other rightful owners. This is for mine and others enjoyment, nothing else.
"David Jacobs." The black-haired teen's head shot up from his desk at the sound of his name, not a hint of the weariness he felt showing on his face. "You may have been famous for a summer, but that gives you no right to sleep in my class. 10 extra questions for you."
The stern arithmetic teacher of the older boys glared down at Davey with watery blue eyes, and he nodded his head, hand scrambling across the desk for his pencil as he returned to the equations.
"Yes sir, I'm sorry sir." Satisfied, the teacher drifted away, and Davey blew out a breath, shoulders slumping in exhaustion. The math wasn't an issue, and he finished them quite fast, but his eyes kept sliding shut of their own accord. Finally, towards the end of class, when Davey had been sitting, staring at his finished paper for twenty minutes, the other boys began coming to life as they finished their work. A jarring kick to his chair once more brought him back to alertness, and he turned with a long-suffering sigh to the thick, sandy-haired boy behind him. "Matthew, can I help you?" His voice was civil, but Matthew just sneered.
"Yeah, Davey, you can." Davey straightened, the sound of the newsies' name for him coming from Matthew's mouth shocking him. Matthew saw it, and chuckled. "Yep, we know all about your little newsboy gig, don't we?" He glanced back to other boys, who were now watching eagerly. "After all, when perfect David Jacobs disappears from school for an entire year, even we take notice."
David turned back around, for some reason his back feeling strained just by the action of twisting in his seat. If the boys were going to be talking about the same thing everyone had been talking about since school started a month ago, then he didn't need to hear it. Of course, these particular boys hadn't had a chance to needle him yet, as Davey had just been moved up from the class he was supposed to take to this one for the older boys.
Matthew kept talking. "Think of little ol' David here, forced to wear the same clothes for weeks on end, dragging his baby brother after him as he scrambles for pennies." Matthew laughed darkly with the other boys, but Davey stared straight ahead. This talk didn't bother him so much, as long as they didn't insult Les. "Fighting with the street rats who probably couldn't even understand his smartass talk, probably afraid of catching some disease th-" Hot white anger stormed through Davey as Matthew was cut off abruptly by the bell signifying class ending. Simultaneously, he stood and spun, using his momentum to punch the boy hard enough to force him back to his seat. It was probably more surprise from Matthew than any real strength from Davey, but the effect was the same either way.
The other boys were shocked to silence, and as the bell had rung, the old professor didn't have to do anything about the fight. Davey knew this, and knew that if he was going to loose his temper in front of a teacher, it would be one who was too old to care. Spitting on Matthew's shoes, he could feel his face hot from anger and exertion.
"No one, and I mean no one, insults my boys. Do you hear me? If I hear one word out of your mouth again about them, you'll have worse coming to you than a punch." The mild-mannered Davey of before the strike was still here, but under him lurked a more unpredictable creature, and it had come out when the Newsies had been targeted. Matthew sneered weakly, but nodded, staying still as Davey spun on his heel, heavy bag on his back, and stalked out. Everyone cleared a path as the story raced ahead of Davey through the boys school like wildfire, watching with wide eyes as the model student stomped through the school, blue eyes dark and knuckles split.
It had only been a month, but Davey missed being with the Newsies more than anything. Les did too, but his ability to make friends at school combined with the fact that he usually always had some sort of work to make up, didn't let him visit the Newsies as often. Davey, on the other hand, just as two years ago, had found no true friends in school, and was always a bit more on top of his homework. This allowed him to work after school with the Newsies.
Being a Newsie was a full time job-usually. Yet Davey had worked out a way to still be a newsie and stay in school, providing the extra cushion needed to keep his mother and sister out of the factory after his father returned to work. Though his parents wouldn't admit it, times were hard and the scant change that Davey brought in late at night was keeping them afloat. Jack was his savior in this, and his business partner.
Racetrack had laughed at both Jack and Davey for the idea, and at the Newsies for thinking it was genius material, but had to admit the plan worked wonderfully. Davey contributed half the money Jack used to pay for the newspapers, then raced to the Lodging House, dumped down his stuff, and relieved Jack of his remaining papers for the day. Davey would head to the rougher areas of Manhattan that Jack and Racetrack presided over, not letting the younger boys there. He would sell the rest of the evening editions, return any he could to Wiesl, then head back to the Lodging House. During this time Jack went hunting for food for the boys, checked up on them in their selling spots, cleaned up the house, or sold a few more papes. Usually, however, he used this time to draw his pictures for The World.
Any differences in money they handled at the end of the day, in the rowdy setting of the first floor of the Lodging House. Davey was usually the last one to return, and settled in for about 30 minutes with the Newsies, eagerly listening to their adventures, telling them about school, and soaking in the playful teasing and cameradie these boys provided. Sure, he might be a bit of an outsider, but they made him feel welcomed. Romeo especially made it known that Davey always has a place to go if his family was bothering him; the dark shadow in his eyes when he said this made his heart hurt, but then Race would lean over and knock off the charmer's hat, and everything would return to chaos. Davey wouldn't have his brothers any other way. But then he returned home to a quiet family meal, which usually involved him putting bites of his meal on his father or Sarah's plates when they weren't looking, making sure they had enough food to stay strong. And then he studied late in to the night for an exam, or finished extra credit work, or rounded off an essay before falling in to bed, content and secure in the next day.
Davey rubbed at his tired eyes in frustration as he made his way down the street, the Lodging House towering ahead of him. He couldn't understand why he felt this way, sore and exhausted, with a needling pain his head and unable to control his emotions. Given the fact that he didn't pack a hard punch, he didn't know why his knuckles hurt so bad, or why they were already bruising so awfully. He limply held his hand up to examine the purple skin for a moment before dropping with a sigh. He hoped the other Newsies wouldn't notice, as they would call him out for telling them not to fight and punching someone himself. Of course, Jack was bound to notice, Davey thought with a sigh as he approached the house. Jack's eyes were narrowed as he examined Davey, and even though his brown eyes were a warm change from his teachers, the black haired boy shifted uncomfortably under the scrutinizing gaze. He opened his mouth to explain his split knuckles, but was cut off as Jack jostled him with his shoulder, causing his sore muscles to ache.
"Davey, ya looks like a carriage hit ya." Davey chuckled, relieved that Jack hadn't noticed what he was afraid of.
"Thanks, nice to see you too, Jackie." He nudged him back, albeit more gently, forgetting about his exhaustion as a grin slowly spread across his face. Jack shrugged, slinging an arm around Davey despite the bag on his shoulders.
"It's jus an observation. How late did you stay up to write that essay?" In his addled mind, Davey hadn't even remembered that was the reason for his lack of sleep. But this felt different, and he would know, as he had gone through more than one sleepless night already this month. The revelation must have shown on his face, because Jack laughed as they made their way in to the lodging house. "I take it no sleep than."
"I know for a fact you've done it plenty of times, I don't need a lecture." Davey grumbled, swinging his heavy bag onto a chair with an audible thump.
"Nah, that's for your ma." Davey knew she didn't have the time or energy to notice at the moment, but didn't tell Jack otherwise. His shoulders slumped in relief as the weight was removed, and he absently reached up with his right hand to rub at his aching shoulders. Realizing what he had done, his eyes widened as he tried to hide his hand, but Jack was too fast.
"You punched someone!" Jack's hand snaked out and grabbed his, his thumb brush the bruising knuckles. He gazed at him, a strange mixture of shock and concern in his face. If they didn't know one another well, Davey would have been confused, but he knew that Jack was aware that Davey wouldn't punch anyone without good cause. "What happened?" The leader's voice was gentle, as if speaking to one of the frightened younger kids.
Davey shook his head, feeling cornered. He couldn't let the Newsies see his frustration, the nagging exhaustion that had been creeping up on him for days and was apparently reaching a climax. Davey had a family, a home, he had an education that he was already back at, he didn't have an excuse for lashing out or feeling like he had been run over with a cart, and he certainly didn't need to burden Jack of all people with his ridiculous problems. There were worse things happening in the world, he was fine.
"Ah... where are the papes at?" He waved his hand, hoping to distract the brown haired boy with his use of slang, but Jack crossed his arms, his jaw locking in that familiar stubbornness. But the tell-tale flick of his eyes towards the couch was all the perceptive boy needed, and he spun and grabbed the papers, ignoring the way his vision grayed a bit at the quick movement.
"Davey, get ya butt back in here and tell me what happened!" Jack shouted at him, but he let the blustery tone bounce off of his back as he darted out the door, tripping over the threshold on his way out. Groaning in frustration, Davey shouldered past a boy just getting in for the day, not even registering his face or saying hello.
What was wrong with him? Perhaps he was catching a cold... that would make sense, since he hadn't been sleeping very well, or at all some nights. Vowing to put off his school work for one night so he could rest, Davey stalked out towards the rougher end of Manhattan, paper bag swishing against his hip as he began hawking a headline about a politician's daughter drowned in the river. Even though the thought of his teacher's reprimands stressed him to no end, Davey knew that it was better to sleep and resist any sickness that might need medicine. Medicine cost money that they didn't have, and he would rather spend it on some extra salve for his dad's leg or school supplies for Les or a new dress for Sarah.
Later, Davey returned to the lodging house, a couple of unsold papers in his hand. He was more out of focus than before, eyes half lidded as he slipped in, trying to remain unnoticed. He didn't want Jack confronting him again, especially in front of the other Newsies. He had successfully placed the papers on the worn table in the kitchen and slung his bag over his shoulder before anyone noticed him.
"Davey!" Crutchie's cheerful voice brought a smile to his face despite his apprehension, and the other boys immediately started calling out greetings. Davey waved as he inched towards the door.
"Sorry boys, I can't stay tonight. I promise I'll be here tomorrow." The complaints and creative excuses for him to stay were suddenly broken by a harsh voice.
"Oi, Mouth, how comes youse didn't sell your papes back?" Race stood in the kitchen, hand on the papers Davey had left behind.
"What? Oh... they were already closed when I passed by." The lie leapt unbidden from his tongue, and then he was out the door with a hurried "Bye!" before anyone could stop him again. He slammed into someone just outside, but didn't bother to look up as he muttered an apology and headed home, head spinning. How could he forget? Shaking his head, he just sighed and looked forward to the sleep that would hopefully clear his muddled head.
Jack glanced over his shoulder in annoyance as Davey didn't so much as look up as he bumped into him. Furrowing his brows, he caught the door as it shut and entered the living room, immediately noting the confusion permeating the Newsies. Romeo, in all his charming energy, raced up to him, hat askew, and asked without any preamble,
"Why didn't Davey sell youse guys' papes back?" Jack, who had heard the tail end of the conversation, shrugged and nudged Romeo out of the way.
"He's probably just lazy and didn't want to walk by the center, I dunno. Ask him yourself tomorrow." Romeo rolled his eyes at Jack's obviously weak excuse and returned to his spot on a rickety old chair, jumping back into the speculation with the others. They all knew money was too tight to just be lazy, and Davey wasn't the type anyways.
Jack approached Race in the kitchen, peering at the papers under his hand in concern. The other boy was rolling his cigarette between his fingers, but nodded as Jack approached. "Somthin's wrong with Davey." He muttered, and Jack nodded in agreement.
"Do you want to help figure h'm out tomorrow?" Race looked confused, but nodded. Jack elaborated on what he had witnessed today. "He punched someone, his knuckles were all split and bruised, and we wouldn't tell me why. And he didn't even seem to notice Specs when he went out to sell his papes. I know the guy's been working himself hard, but this is a bit much. He was acting like he couldn't even think straight..." Jack trailed off, sighing as he thought of Davey practically running from him. "What is his issue?" Race shrugged again as Jack ran a hand through his hair in frustration.
"I'm sure he's fine, Davey'll tell us tomorrow." The second in command assured, and Jack nodded, letting himself get distracted by Crutchie's story of the day, Davey slipping to the back of his mind.
A/N: So there it is! The first chapter… I honestly want to hear what you all have to think. Obviously the accents need a little work, I'm not sure how to write those yet. My favorite character in the musical was Davey, and Ben Fankhauser just killed me (he's so amazing), so this fic will be focused on Davey. And because I like seeing my favs put through trials, this fic will definitely have lots of drama.
I've been around for quite a few years, but have yet to attempt to figure out the beta system. So all errors are mine, but I would be so happy if someone wanted to help me out here.
Please, drop a review if you have any criticism, liked it, or want to see this continued! What's wrong with Davey?