Author's Note: Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I FINALLY managed to write a
story with NO slash content and NO Travis songs!!! (Bows deeply) I LIVE
ON REVIEWS, please R&R but no flames, s'il vous plaît. (Sorry. . .Just
took my French unit exam and I can't get the language friggin' outta my
head.) And by the way, I know Max Casella is probably NOT left-handed,
but. . .yeah, it's all good.
Disclaimer: I barely own anything. I don't own any of the Newsies (but I'd sure as hell like to) or even Famous- actually, Famous is one of my dad's friends from college (don't worry, it's just a nickname). He's really cool and I realized a while back "Hey! That's an awesome name, I'm using it in my fanfic!" So I am. . .but I don't own him. And in my story, she's a girl. Just in case you can't tell.
*****
Chapter One - Don't believe in magic, eh, Davey?
*****
Spot Conlon is a very very very very VERY mean guy.
I just figured that out last night. Racetrack said he's proud of me for coming to my senses. He says I've been an idiot for going out with Spot for so long.
I'm beginning to think he's right, which is a terrifying prospect. Race is hardly every right. He's even left-handed, for God's sake. (Aww, bad pun! I'm sorry, I won't do it again. . .)
It was Friday night and Race, Jack, David, and I were standing outside Irving Hall, waiting for David's signal that the guards weren't looking. When he finally nodded, we slipped in through the back entrance to say hello to Medda and avoid paying. I went in last, right after Jack.
You couldn't let me down easy, could you, Spot? Nah, I had to walk in on you almost HAVING SEX with some bitch from Staten Island. Shows just how damn considerate you are.
Asshole.
Medda looked up. "Kelly! Great to see you, kid!" She came over to us, planted a kiss on Jack's cheek, and proceeded to wrap her arms around Race.
"We've missed ya, Medda," he said, his voice rather muffled.
"Aw, I've missed you too!" she cried, giving him an extra squeeze before letting him go. She looked extremely pretty tonight, in a pale blue dress with a matching parasol. She caught my eye. "Famous Williams, I haven't seen you in the LONGEST time!"
"Hard to get down here from Queens," I said, smiling.
She tapped my shoulder with her parasol. "Well you should put in more effort," she laughed. "I miss seeing you with that Conlon boy up in your mezzanine seats."
Race coughed. I stiffened slightly at the mention of Spot's name, but managed a half-hearted smile. The whole world didn't have to know how pissed off I was at him.
I don't get angry easily, but do you know what he said to me after I came in and saw him half-naked with some other girl? I damn near knocked him out. He said, "Oh hey, Famous, how's it rollin'?"
HOW'S IT ROLLIN'?
Well then, as I'm sure you can imagine, I really did knock him out. It was extremely enjoyable, I must say.
Medda seemed to sense something was wrong. She bit her lip for a second. "Well, I'm going to be on in a few minutes, so I'm going to have to kick you gentlemen- and lady- back into the audience," she told us, smiling. "See you later."
"Bye, Medda!" Race called as we left. Man, he couldn't be any more obvious if he were drooling a puddle on the floor.
We took seats in the mezzanine as usual, Race and I sitting on the railing and swinging our legs back and fourth. "Guys- Isn't that kind of dangerous?" said David in a parental tone of voice.
"Aw shaddup, Davey," Race replied nonchalantly, lighting his cigar. He turned to me. "I heard there's a new act comin' on t'day. Should be fun, eh?"
"Yep."
I didn't just knock him out. Spot, I mean. I took his cane and would have brought it all the way back to Manhattan as a trophy, had I not realized Spot would eventually WAKE UP. (Yeah, I'm a little slow. . .) I think he would have come to our Lodging House in the middle of the night and strangled me with his bare hands if he woke up to find I took his beloved cane.
Ah, the little things I used to find so sexy about him that now drive me insane. It's funny, really, how much can change over the course of 24 hours.
"Ladies and gentlemen, heeeeeere's Miss Medda Larkson!" came the announcer's voice out of nowhere, jerking me out of my reverie and almost causing Racetrack to fall off the railing. I grabbed his forearm to steady him.
"Thanks, babe," he said jokingly. I grinned.
Medda did her thing on stage to "My Lovey-Dovey Baby" and I swear Race almost slipped on his own drool and fell off the mezzanine again. Jack and David leaned foreword on the railing, glazed expressions on their faces.
"Mmm, our life vas ducky-lucky," Medda sang through her fake Swedish accent, "So goody-good vere ve. . .Come back my lovey-dovey baby, and coochie-coo vis me." The song ended and she curtsied, her parasol resting over her shoulder.
Everyone applauded. "WOO HOO, MEDDA!" bellowed Race, waving his hat around like a madman. She caught his eye and winked before turning and waltzing off the stage.
"I'm seriously startin' to think Medda gets prettier every time I see her," I said through my cigarette.
"Oh I definitely agree," Jack laughed. I punched him playfully in the arm and he grabbed my cigarette.
Once again the lights dimmed and the announcer's voice boomed out, "Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome our newest act: Madame Skittana and her amazing magic powers!"
"Magic powers. Ha! I don't believe in magic!" David scoffed as we all clapped.
"Hmm," said Jack, shrugging.
The curtain opened and out stepped the most peculiar woman I have ever seen. She was wearing a fat purple coat that hung rather loosely over her shoulders, a gold turban, and scarlet spectacles. There was something strikingly familiar about her face, but I couldn't put my finger on it. "Good day to you all," she sang out mistily, nostrils flaring. "My name. . .is Madame Skittana. . .and I can see what is in. . .each and every one of your minds. . ."
She held out her words as thought it was all a bizarre chant. It ended up sounding more like, "Good daaaaaaaay to yoooouuuu aaaaaaaaaall. . .My naaaaaaaame. . .is Madame Skittaaaaaanaaa. . .and IIIIIII can see what is in eeeeeeeeeach and eeeeeeevery one of your miiiiiiiiiiinds. . ."
A collective gasp resounded from the audience at these words. Everyone was up for a little mind-reading- I mean, who doesn't like some magic every once in a while?
David doesn't, I can tell you that much right off the bat. He thinks he's too smart for magic tricks. "Ha!" he said loudly. "Magic? Yeah right, you couldn't read my mind if I paid you-"
"Dooooooooo I spyyyyyyy a volunteeeeeeeer?" Madame Skittana called out, peering beadily at David through her thick spectacles.
"You bet you do."
"Cooooooooould you be so kiiiiiiiind as to come dooooooown here so I may demonstraaaaaaaate my powers?" she said.
David grinned at us. "She's never going to guess what I'm thinking. Watch this."
"I wouldn't be so sure, Davey," Jack called after him as David climbed down from the mezzanine. "Them magic people know stuff, y'know?"
David ignored him and stepped onto the stage. "Hi, I'm D-"
"Dooooon't!" Madame Skittana cried. Her nostrils flared again, and she closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. "Your naaaaaaaame. . .is Daaaaaaaaaavid Jaaaaaaacobs. . ." she said finally. Her huge brown eyes opened and she gave him a dewy smile.
David tried not to look impressed. "Oh yeah?" he said scathingly. "Is that all you've got?"
"Coooooooome," said Madame Skittana. "Let us siiiiiiiit and I shall tell you aaaaall I knoooooooooow. . ."
A huge ornate table appeared out of nowhere with a milky crystal ball sitting in the center. She sat down on one of the stools and beckoned imperiously to David, but he looked reluctant. "Cooooooome!" she urged. "If we wait much loooonger, we may destroy the claaaaaaaairvoooooooooyaaaaaant vibraaaaations in the rooooooom. . ."
I had no doubt whatsoever that that was exactly what David was hoping for, but Madame Skittana arched an eyebrow dangerously and he quickly sat down. "Um. . .okay, what do you want me to do?"
"Giiiiiiiiive me your haaaaaaands," she instructed. He obeyed. "Nooooooow, gaaaaze into my crystal ball and concentraaaaaaate on your liiiiiiiiife. . .aaaaaaand I shall reeeeeeaaaaaaad what I seeeeeeeeee. . ."
A look of concentration came over David's face as the two of them leaned over the crystal ball. Madame Skittana's nostrils flared. "Yoooooouuuu liiiiiive. . .wiiiiiiiiiith your faaaaaamily," she said slowly, brown furrowing delicately, "aaaaaaaalthough your close friends resiiiiiiiide in a Lodging House. . .Yooooooouuuuuu and your younger broooooother. . .Les, I believe. . .work as neeeeeeeewsboys in Maaaaaaaaanhattaaaaaaaan. . ."
David looked rather scared. She was getting everything right.
"Yoooooooouuuuuuu have maaaaaany friends in the Lodging House. . ." (David looked smug again at this statement) ". . .aaaaaaall of whiiiiiiiiiiich are much more haaaaaandsome than you. . ." (The smug look vanished) ". . .except Snipeshooter. . ." (Jack started to laugh) ". . .I dooooo belieeeeeve the leeeeeeeeader goes by the naaaaame of. . .Jack Kelly? Yeeeeeees, a smart young lad with greeeeeeaaaaaasy haaaaaair. . ."
Racetrack and I started laughing too, and a ghost of a smile flickered across Madame Skittana's face. Then it hit me; I knew where I had seen her before.
"Hey- you're supposed to be talking about ME here," said David, annoyed.
"Oh yeeeeees, dreeeeeeeaaaaaadfully sorry, my deeeeeeeaaaaaar," said Madame Skittana sincerely. Her enormous brown eyes flew back to the crystal ball, and she stared into its milky depths. "Yooooooooouuuuuuuu aaaaaand your frieeeeeeeends have goooooooone. . .on striiiiiiiike, in the paaaaaaaast. . ." she continued. "Yes. . .you conquered one of the most pooooooowerful men in Neeeeeeew Yooooooork Ciiiiity. . .and your beeeeeeaaaaaaauuuuuuutiful sister Sarah and the greeeeeaaaaasy- haaaaaaiiiiiiired Jack Kelly fell iiiiiiiin loooooooove."
"Awwwwwww!" went the crowd. (I'm starting to think holding out your words is contagious.)
"In order tooooooooooo win the striiiiiiiiike, yooooooou tried to get the aaaaaaid of the other boroughs. . .Queens was unable toooooo help, although your loud Itaaaaaalian friend aaaaaaalmost knocked the leader out. . ."
"Yeah, I still owe you a couple of punches, Race," I muttered.
David shifted in his seat. "Aaaaah, buuuuuut- Augh, now you've got me holding out my vowels, you crazy old hag- Ah, but what were the names of my loud Italian friend and the Queens leader?"
"Weeeeeeeell." Madame Skittana began, "The small Italian boy. . .aaaaah, but I must be mistaken. . .Racetrack Higgins? What an unusual name!"
"Nope, you're wrong," said David.
"Doooooo not liiiiiiiiie to meeeeee, David Jacobs!" she cried. "Aaaaaaaaaam I correct iiiin saaaying that his naaaaaaaame is Racetrack Higgiiiiiiins?"
"Yeah," said David meekly.
"Gooooooood," she answered, satisfied. She bent low over the crystal ball, rubbing her temples again. "Aaaaaaand the girl. . .Could it beeeeee Famous Willaims?"
"But what's her REAL name?" David challenged.
"Fianna."
"Really?"
"She's Irish."
"Oh." I could see David mouth the words "Fianna Williams", testing them out. He shrugged and turned back to Madame Skittana. "One last thing: what is Jack Kelly's real name and why did he change it?"
"Hmm. . ." She gazed into the crystal ball again. "His real naaaaaaame. . .iiiiiis Francis Sullivan. Heeeeeee used to be held in the refuuuuuuuge. . .buuuuuuuut he escaped. . . aaaaaand changed his naaaaaaaame to-"
"SKITTERY!" yelled David, standing up.
"Noooo, Jack Kelly."
"No- Skittery!" he repeated. "SKITTERY! It's you! I KNOW it's you, it HAS to be you! I don't believe- AUGH!"
Madame Skittana stared at him for a second, then smiled and removed her turban and glasses. Skittery was unmistakably sitting before us, smiling shyly. "Fooled ya," he said simply.
"I KNEW IT!" I yelled, almost falling off the mezzanine. "I KNEW IT- WHO ELSE WOULD SAY IN FRONT OF A WHOLE AUDIENCE THAT JACK HAS GREASY HAIR! I KNEW IT WAS YOU!"
"Glad to hear ya figured it out, Fianna," Skittery called out to me. "Ya always said I was a good actor. I'm just surprised our brilliant Davey didn't figure it out sooner." And with that he stood up, blew a kiss at me, patted David on the shoulder, and left the stage.
David stood there for a second, mouthing wordlessly like a fish out of water, and Race started to laugh uncontrollably. "Man, he gotchya good, Dave!" he bellowed. "WOO HOO, that was GREAT!"
David looked ready to kill.
It was the first time in the past day that I felt perfectly happy, and, considering how mad I was at Spot, that's saying something.
Hats off to Skittery.
*****
Author's Note: I know, this is the dumbest and most bizarre thing I have ever written in my life, but I've got a thing for Skittery and a thing against David. . .but I still love him in a hating sort of way. . .I just love the fact that he's such a loser. . .nevermind. But please review!!! I'll try to update sometime soon. And I'm warning you, it's going to get weirder. Not TOO MUCH weirder, but. . .augh, nevermind. And I know Famous was kind of obnoxious in this first chapter, but she gets a lot nicer as the story progresses. Augh, enough of me blabbing. Review!! Please! I'll love you forever (and I really will, I'm not exaggerating). lol ;-)
-Saturday
Disclaimer: I barely own anything. I don't own any of the Newsies (but I'd sure as hell like to) or even Famous- actually, Famous is one of my dad's friends from college (don't worry, it's just a nickname). He's really cool and I realized a while back "Hey! That's an awesome name, I'm using it in my fanfic!" So I am. . .but I don't own him. And in my story, she's a girl. Just in case you can't tell.
*****
Chapter One - Don't believe in magic, eh, Davey?
*****
Spot Conlon is a very very very very VERY mean guy.
I just figured that out last night. Racetrack said he's proud of me for coming to my senses. He says I've been an idiot for going out with Spot for so long.
I'm beginning to think he's right, which is a terrifying prospect. Race is hardly every right. He's even left-handed, for God's sake. (Aww, bad pun! I'm sorry, I won't do it again. . .)
It was Friday night and Race, Jack, David, and I were standing outside Irving Hall, waiting for David's signal that the guards weren't looking. When he finally nodded, we slipped in through the back entrance to say hello to Medda and avoid paying. I went in last, right after Jack.
You couldn't let me down easy, could you, Spot? Nah, I had to walk in on you almost HAVING SEX with some bitch from Staten Island. Shows just how damn considerate you are.
Asshole.
Medda looked up. "Kelly! Great to see you, kid!" She came over to us, planted a kiss on Jack's cheek, and proceeded to wrap her arms around Race.
"We've missed ya, Medda," he said, his voice rather muffled.
"Aw, I've missed you too!" she cried, giving him an extra squeeze before letting him go. She looked extremely pretty tonight, in a pale blue dress with a matching parasol. She caught my eye. "Famous Williams, I haven't seen you in the LONGEST time!"
"Hard to get down here from Queens," I said, smiling.
She tapped my shoulder with her parasol. "Well you should put in more effort," she laughed. "I miss seeing you with that Conlon boy up in your mezzanine seats."
Race coughed. I stiffened slightly at the mention of Spot's name, but managed a half-hearted smile. The whole world didn't have to know how pissed off I was at him.
I don't get angry easily, but do you know what he said to me after I came in and saw him half-naked with some other girl? I damn near knocked him out. He said, "Oh hey, Famous, how's it rollin'?"
HOW'S IT ROLLIN'?
Well then, as I'm sure you can imagine, I really did knock him out. It was extremely enjoyable, I must say.
Medda seemed to sense something was wrong. She bit her lip for a second. "Well, I'm going to be on in a few minutes, so I'm going to have to kick you gentlemen- and lady- back into the audience," she told us, smiling. "See you later."
"Bye, Medda!" Race called as we left. Man, he couldn't be any more obvious if he were drooling a puddle on the floor.
We took seats in the mezzanine as usual, Race and I sitting on the railing and swinging our legs back and fourth. "Guys- Isn't that kind of dangerous?" said David in a parental tone of voice.
"Aw shaddup, Davey," Race replied nonchalantly, lighting his cigar. He turned to me. "I heard there's a new act comin' on t'day. Should be fun, eh?"
"Yep."
I didn't just knock him out. Spot, I mean. I took his cane and would have brought it all the way back to Manhattan as a trophy, had I not realized Spot would eventually WAKE UP. (Yeah, I'm a little slow. . .) I think he would have come to our Lodging House in the middle of the night and strangled me with his bare hands if he woke up to find I took his beloved cane.
Ah, the little things I used to find so sexy about him that now drive me insane. It's funny, really, how much can change over the course of 24 hours.
"Ladies and gentlemen, heeeeeere's Miss Medda Larkson!" came the announcer's voice out of nowhere, jerking me out of my reverie and almost causing Racetrack to fall off the railing. I grabbed his forearm to steady him.
"Thanks, babe," he said jokingly. I grinned.
Medda did her thing on stage to "My Lovey-Dovey Baby" and I swear Race almost slipped on his own drool and fell off the mezzanine again. Jack and David leaned foreword on the railing, glazed expressions on their faces.
"Mmm, our life vas ducky-lucky," Medda sang through her fake Swedish accent, "So goody-good vere ve. . .Come back my lovey-dovey baby, and coochie-coo vis me." The song ended and she curtsied, her parasol resting over her shoulder.
Everyone applauded. "WOO HOO, MEDDA!" bellowed Race, waving his hat around like a madman. She caught his eye and winked before turning and waltzing off the stage.
"I'm seriously startin' to think Medda gets prettier every time I see her," I said through my cigarette.
"Oh I definitely agree," Jack laughed. I punched him playfully in the arm and he grabbed my cigarette.
Once again the lights dimmed and the announcer's voice boomed out, "Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome our newest act: Madame Skittana and her amazing magic powers!"
"Magic powers. Ha! I don't believe in magic!" David scoffed as we all clapped.
"Hmm," said Jack, shrugging.
The curtain opened and out stepped the most peculiar woman I have ever seen. She was wearing a fat purple coat that hung rather loosely over her shoulders, a gold turban, and scarlet spectacles. There was something strikingly familiar about her face, but I couldn't put my finger on it. "Good day to you all," she sang out mistily, nostrils flaring. "My name. . .is Madame Skittana. . .and I can see what is in. . .each and every one of your minds. . ."
She held out her words as thought it was all a bizarre chant. It ended up sounding more like, "Good daaaaaaaay to yoooouuuu aaaaaaaaaall. . .My naaaaaaaame. . .is Madame Skittaaaaaanaaa. . .and IIIIIII can see what is in eeeeeeeeeach and eeeeeeevery one of your miiiiiiiiiiinds. . ."
A collective gasp resounded from the audience at these words. Everyone was up for a little mind-reading- I mean, who doesn't like some magic every once in a while?
David doesn't, I can tell you that much right off the bat. He thinks he's too smart for magic tricks. "Ha!" he said loudly. "Magic? Yeah right, you couldn't read my mind if I paid you-"
"Dooooooooo I spyyyyyyy a volunteeeeeeeer?" Madame Skittana called out, peering beadily at David through her thick spectacles.
"You bet you do."
"Cooooooooould you be so kiiiiiiiind as to come dooooooown here so I may demonstraaaaaaaate my powers?" she said.
David grinned at us. "She's never going to guess what I'm thinking. Watch this."
"I wouldn't be so sure, Davey," Jack called after him as David climbed down from the mezzanine. "Them magic people know stuff, y'know?"
David ignored him and stepped onto the stage. "Hi, I'm D-"
"Dooooon't!" Madame Skittana cried. Her nostrils flared again, and she closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. "Your naaaaaaaame. . .is Daaaaaaaaaavid Jaaaaaaacobs. . ." she said finally. Her huge brown eyes opened and she gave him a dewy smile.
David tried not to look impressed. "Oh yeah?" he said scathingly. "Is that all you've got?"
"Coooooooome," said Madame Skittana. "Let us siiiiiiiit and I shall tell you aaaaall I knoooooooooow. . ."
A huge ornate table appeared out of nowhere with a milky crystal ball sitting in the center. She sat down on one of the stools and beckoned imperiously to David, but he looked reluctant. "Cooooooome!" she urged. "If we wait much loooonger, we may destroy the claaaaaaaairvoooooooooyaaaaaant vibraaaaations in the rooooooom. . ."
I had no doubt whatsoever that that was exactly what David was hoping for, but Madame Skittana arched an eyebrow dangerously and he quickly sat down. "Um. . .okay, what do you want me to do?"
"Giiiiiiiiive me your haaaaaaands," she instructed. He obeyed. "Nooooooow, gaaaaze into my crystal ball and concentraaaaaaate on your liiiiiiiiife. . .aaaaaaand I shall reeeeeeaaaaaaad what I seeeeeeeeee. . ."
A look of concentration came over David's face as the two of them leaned over the crystal ball. Madame Skittana's nostrils flared. "Yoooooouuuu liiiiiive. . .wiiiiiiiiiith your faaaaaamily," she said slowly, brown furrowing delicately, "aaaaaaaalthough your close friends resiiiiiiiide in a Lodging House. . .Yooooooouuuuuu and your younger broooooother. . .Les, I believe. . .work as neeeeeeeewsboys in Maaaaaaaaanhattaaaaaaaan. . ."
David looked rather scared. She was getting everything right.
"Yoooooooouuuuuuu have maaaaaany friends in the Lodging House. . ." (David looked smug again at this statement) ". . .aaaaaaall of whiiiiiiiiiiich are much more haaaaaandsome than you. . ." (The smug look vanished) ". . .except Snipeshooter. . ." (Jack started to laugh) ". . .I dooooo belieeeeeve the leeeeeeeeader goes by the naaaaame of. . .Jack Kelly? Yeeeeeees, a smart young lad with greeeeeeaaaaaasy haaaaaair. . ."
Racetrack and I started laughing too, and a ghost of a smile flickered across Madame Skittana's face. Then it hit me; I knew where I had seen her before.
"Hey- you're supposed to be talking about ME here," said David, annoyed.
"Oh yeeeeees, dreeeeeeeaaaaaadfully sorry, my deeeeeeeaaaaaar," said Madame Skittana sincerely. Her enormous brown eyes flew back to the crystal ball, and she stared into its milky depths. "Yooooooooouuuuuuuu aaaaaand your frieeeeeeeends have goooooooone. . .on striiiiiiiike, in the paaaaaaaast. . ." she continued. "Yes. . .you conquered one of the most pooooooowerful men in Neeeeeeew Yooooooork Ciiiiity. . .and your beeeeeeaaaaaaauuuuuuutiful sister Sarah and the greeeeeaaaaasy- haaaaaaiiiiiiired Jack Kelly fell iiiiiiiin loooooooove."
"Awwwwwww!" went the crowd. (I'm starting to think holding out your words is contagious.)
"In order tooooooooooo win the striiiiiiiiike, yooooooou tried to get the aaaaaaid of the other boroughs. . .Queens was unable toooooo help, although your loud Itaaaaaalian friend aaaaaaalmost knocked the leader out. . ."
"Yeah, I still owe you a couple of punches, Race," I muttered.
David shifted in his seat. "Aaaaah, buuuuuut- Augh, now you've got me holding out my vowels, you crazy old hag- Ah, but what were the names of my loud Italian friend and the Queens leader?"
"Weeeeeeeell." Madame Skittana began, "The small Italian boy. . .aaaaah, but I must be mistaken. . .Racetrack Higgins? What an unusual name!"
"Nope, you're wrong," said David.
"Doooooo not liiiiiiiiie to meeeeee, David Jacobs!" she cried. "Aaaaaaaaaam I correct iiiin saaaying that his naaaaaaaame is Racetrack Higgiiiiiiins?"
"Yeah," said David meekly.
"Gooooooood," she answered, satisfied. She bent low over the crystal ball, rubbing her temples again. "Aaaaaaand the girl. . .Could it beeeeee Famous Willaims?"
"But what's her REAL name?" David challenged.
"Fianna."
"Really?"
"She's Irish."
"Oh." I could see David mouth the words "Fianna Williams", testing them out. He shrugged and turned back to Madame Skittana. "One last thing: what is Jack Kelly's real name and why did he change it?"
"Hmm. . ." She gazed into the crystal ball again. "His real naaaaaaame. . .iiiiiis Francis Sullivan. Heeeeeee used to be held in the refuuuuuuuge. . .buuuuuuuut he escaped. . . aaaaaand changed his naaaaaaaame to-"
"SKITTERY!" yelled David, standing up.
"Noooo, Jack Kelly."
"No- Skittery!" he repeated. "SKITTERY! It's you! I KNOW it's you, it HAS to be you! I don't believe- AUGH!"
Madame Skittana stared at him for a second, then smiled and removed her turban and glasses. Skittery was unmistakably sitting before us, smiling shyly. "Fooled ya," he said simply.
"I KNEW IT!" I yelled, almost falling off the mezzanine. "I KNEW IT- WHO ELSE WOULD SAY IN FRONT OF A WHOLE AUDIENCE THAT JACK HAS GREASY HAIR! I KNEW IT WAS YOU!"
"Glad to hear ya figured it out, Fianna," Skittery called out to me. "Ya always said I was a good actor. I'm just surprised our brilliant Davey didn't figure it out sooner." And with that he stood up, blew a kiss at me, patted David on the shoulder, and left the stage.
David stood there for a second, mouthing wordlessly like a fish out of water, and Race started to laugh uncontrollably. "Man, he gotchya good, Dave!" he bellowed. "WOO HOO, that was GREAT!"
David looked ready to kill.
It was the first time in the past day that I felt perfectly happy, and, considering how mad I was at Spot, that's saying something.
Hats off to Skittery.
*****
Author's Note: I know, this is the dumbest and most bizarre thing I have ever written in my life, but I've got a thing for Skittery and a thing against David. . .but I still love him in a hating sort of way. . .I just love the fact that he's such a loser. . .nevermind. But please review!!! I'll try to update sometime soon. And I'm warning you, it's going to get weirder. Not TOO MUCH weirder, but. . .augh, nevermind. And I know Famous was kind of obnoxious in this first chapter, but she gets a lot nicer as the story progresses. Augh, enough of me blabbing. Review!! Please! I'll love you forever (and I really will, I'm not exaggerating). lol ;-)
-Saturday