This isn't exactly a sequel to Chilling, but it's something to make you all feel better after that not-exactly-happy ending :)
Standard disclaimers apply.
"You sure about this, Ace?" Jack asks, his eyes wide with concern and shining in the dark. His skin is soft where it touches hers. "We don't have to if you don't wanna."
"Of course I'm sure," she shoots back quickly, giving him a little shove and quirking her eyebrow almost threateningly. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."
He takes one more look deep into her eyes and shrugs. "Okay," he mutters finally, clearly giving up. He shifts his bare feet in the mud. "But don't say I didn't tell you so."
Davey growls faintly on Jack's other side, something that sounds faintly like words he'd never use in other circumstances, and Jack pats him on the shoulder with an amused expression on his face. Race has no sympathy, however.
"This is your own damn fault," he snaps, doing some sort of strange dance in place to keep warm. The string of words that follows are very in character for him, though.
Unaccustomed to being blamed for much of anything, Davey desperately scrambles to regain some of his dignity. "You were all there! You could have warned me!"
"Yeah, well you should know better than to bet against Spot Conlon by now, Davey!" Jack doesn't even bother to defend the rest of them, knowing it would be pointless to deny their unhelpfulness. The boys all know they were too busy laughing at the sight of Davey betting against anyone, let alone the most intimidating newsboy — hell, the most intimidating human — in New York, to do much warning of any kind.
Burying his face in his hands, Davey only shakes his head. "How was I supposed to know he actually did know every state capital?"
"Spot knows everything. That's part o' why he's so scary."
"I didn't know that." Davey looks miserable, and Katherine grimaces at him sympathetically.
The expression on Specs's face as he comes up behind them, dressed only in shorts, his glasses, and bright yellow socks, is less than sympathetic, however. "You'd at least think you'd know better than to drag all of Manhattan into this."
"That was Crutchie's fault," Davey and Jack say immediately in unison, both of them turning to glare at where the younger boy sits on the grass at a safe distance away from the water. "An' somehow he was smart enough to get himself outta it, too," Jack adds, shooting a mock-glare in the direction of his friend. Crutchie shrugs unapologetically, drawing his jacket tighter around his shoulders and smiling.
"But he did manage to trap Brooklyn into it as well," Davey notes. "Even though I don't think they can feel the cold."
"Of course they can't," Specs says, sighing morosely. "Let's just get this over with."
Jack eyes Katherine again, a doubtful look in his eyes. "Last chance to back out?"
"Shut the hell up, Kelly."
Of course, she's already starting to regret this, though she'd never admit it to Jack or any of the other boys. The cool autumn wind is relentless, causing the thin skirt of her chemise to whip against her legs and raising goose bumps on her arms. The rest of her layers — along with Jack's shirt and a pile of other assorted newsboy clothing — have been left further up the bank of the East River, beside where Crutchie is perched.
"Come on, ya bums," Spot Conlon yells from his post on a big rock further down the shore. He chose the spot where the Brooklyn Bridge would rise directly behind him, in a clear demonstration of his superiority here. He looks tiny without his shirt, and Katherine thinks briefly that he'll freeze. But she corrects herself immediately — she's sure he'll be the last one out of the water. "We ain't waiting on account of some goil who doesn't wanna get wet."
"Katherine ain't really a part of this bet anyway," Jack says immediately, earning a kick in the shin from her and an eye-roll from Davey. Katherine then mutters, "It's Jack who's holding us up," and he lets it go immediately. She and the boys move forward slowly as a group, and all too soon they're standing just at the edge of the river.
The sky is clear and the moon is full, reflecting off the calm water, but this is going to be anything but relaxing. Katherine dips a single toe into the water and immediately berates herself for the decision — now that she knows just how bone-chillingly frigid it is, it's going to be even harder to to force herself to jump in.
"Three."
Spot's voice is loud in the still night, and far too soon. Jack's fingers curl around hers.
"Two."
Katherine reaches out and links hands with Romeo as well, who's on the other side of her. He squeezes back gratefully.
"ONE!"
With a splash all of Brooklyn launches themselves into the water, and Katherine yanks the frozen Manhattan boys forward just seconds later. The effect is shocking and immediate, spreading a numb ache throughout her bones and giving rise to an immediate eruption of goosebumps across her entire body. It's a good thing her feet touch the bank beneath the water, because Jack and Romeo both latch onto her immediately, seeking any warmth from the thin fabric of her chemise.
She squirms free from their entangled limbs and crawls her way back up onto dry land. Fortunately there had been no stipulation as to the length that either party had to remain in the river, and she can see the rest of the Manhattan boys emerging from the water as well. When Spot sees them getting out, he leaps back onto his rock with a smile.
"We won!" he bellows, inspiring a roar of cheering from the rest of Brooklyn as they surge forward out of the river like a victorious army.
"It wasn't a competition, ya idiot!" Race shouts back, amid murmurs of agreement from the rest of the boys. Spot merely shrugs.
"Doesn't matter, really. We was in longest, so we won."
Race opens his mouth to argue, but Jack shoves him back into the water before he can. "It's over," he says to no one in particular, shaking his hair out of his eyes and wrapping himself around Katherine again. This time she lets him — out here, even his lean frame offers some protection from the wind. "I'm done with this whole dumb thing."
Davey thrusts his hand into the air in agreement from where he lays in the grass, wheezing. "That went well," he forces out when he's capable of speech, dragging himself further away from the river. "I'd say we pulled that off in a–"
"Whatever you say," Specs interrupts him quickly, removing his glasses to dry them on his pants. As those are wet too, it doesn't really help. He shudders violently, which makes him drop the glasses, and Davey passes them back up.
"Okay, boys," Katherine says, though it's a wonder they can understand her due to how loudly her teeth are chattering. "Showers at my place?" They all nod immediately and take off, only remembering their hats and shirts and darting back for them once they'd run halfway to the street. Katherine watches them for a moment, rolling her eyes. Then, more on principle that because she actually means it, she turns to the Brooklyn newsies. "Of course, you're all welcome too."
Spot stares down his nose at her through narrowed eyes for a solid minute, then shakes his head dramatically. "Nah. You babies go get all clean and warmed up," he says, crossing his arms. "We're good here."
Then he turns around and jumps back into the river, the rest of Brooklyn following suit.
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Much love,
KnightNight