Disclaimer: Disney owns Newsies, I do not.
A/N: My late entry for Tumbler Week 2009. Sometimes the ideas just don't come out in a timely manner! :)
Tumbler stomped heavily up the stairs, making as much noise as he possibly could without breaking clear through the wooden planks. If Kloppman came up and yelled at him for being too loud, it would be the perfect end to another disappointing night. At this point he could care less what the old man said to him. He crossed the bunk room to his bed, threw himself down on it face first, and muffled his frustrations by screaming into the pillow.
He hated Saturday nights. He hated being left behind while the older boys went to Irving Hall. He hated being one of the youngest newsies. And above all, he hated being told that he was too little to do things and go to places--like Irving Hall.
Yup, it was another Saturday night and all the older newsboys had gone out to one of Medda's parties, leaving Tumbler behind with the other younger boys. He had been told to stay there and keep out of trouble. He was supposed to find something to do that was more suitable for his age, but what exactly that meant Tumbler could never figure out.
Usually on nights like this where he was left at the Lodging House, Tumbler would sneak over to Racetrack's bunk and steal his playing cards--this always seemed to wildly impress the smaller boys--then he would spend the evening teaching the others how to play. It wasn't much, but it did have an element of danger that gave him a thrill, because if Racetrack ever found out that Tumbler was using his cards, he would probably soak him.
Tonight, however, the novelty of these underground poker games was lost. He was sick and tired of being left with the little kids with their excessive whiny voices and their drippy snot-filled noses. He wanted to see where it was that the older boys escaped to every Saturday night. He had begged Skittery and Racetrack to let him go with them, but they refused, saying that he wasn't old enough for Medda's.
It wasn't fair; he was not too little. He felt that he was quite capable of doing the same things as the older boys. After all, he worked hard every day selling newspapers, same as them, didn't he? So why was it they always left him behind. Even Skittery, who Tumbler considered his best friend, wouldn't bring him along and told him he was too little to go to the theatre; Skittery always let Tumbler do other things with him, even when the other little kids were told they couldn't. But still Skittery wouldn't let Tumbler go to Irving Hall.
"Hey Tumbler!" chirped a voice, shoving him roughly in the shoulder.
Annoyed, Tumbler turned his face and glared at the small boy with flaming red hair. "What d'ya want Red?"
"Is we playin' cards tonight?"
"No!" Tumbler snapped, burying his face back in his arms. "If ya wanna play go get 'em yerself. Ya know where they are."
"Hey fellas! D'ya hear that? Tumbler says we gots to get 'em this time." Red's voice trailed off as he dashed to the other end of the room where a small group of boys sat.
Tumbler listened--half annoyed, half amused--while the little boys argued over who was going to have to touch Racetrack's stuff to get to the cards. After a few minutes, he couldn't take their bickering any longer and pushed himself from the bed. He crossed to Racetrack's bunk, grabbed the deck of cards, and tossed them at the others; then he walked from the room, ignoring the questions being thrown at him. Stomping back down the stairs, he threw the door open and walked out onto Duane Street.
Shoving his hands in his pockets, Tumbler trudged down the dimly lit street. For a while he just walked, no destination in mind--as long as he wasn't stuck at the Lodging House he felt a little happier. And then the idea struck him; he would head over to the theatre and check it out for himself. Who was going to stop him? All the boys were already over there. He would show them that he wasn't too little--that he could do anything they could.
It was loud and crowded inside the old theatre. There were a ton of unfamiliar faces towering over him as he picked his way between their legs, keeping a wary eye out for any of the Manhattan newsies--Racetrack and Skittery in particular. He inched his way further into the auditorium where people were dancing. His eyes widened and he felt his cheeks flush when he saw couples dancing so closely that they looked like one person with an abnormal number of arms and legs, some of them were even kissing. Tumbler pushed himself forward hurriedly, wanting to get away from all that lovey-dovey nonsense, but it wasn't only isolated in that area--it was everywhere. At one point it worked in his favor because had Jack not been trying to swallow some girl's face, he would have seen a very highly embarrassed Tumbler scoot passed him.
"Oh my goodness," squealed a voice suddenly. It belonged to a bouncy girl with golden ringlets of hair; she was standing with a group that Tumbler was trying to get by. She clasped her hands together delightedly when she spotted him; then suddenly she lurched forward and grabbed him. "Ain't ya just the cutest little thing, I ever saw!"
Tumbler scowled at the word 'little', but was otherwise pleased by the sudden attention. There was more squealing and fawning over him as more girls gathered around. He grinned, wishing the other boys could see him now; they had no idea how useful he could be in attracting the ladies. They certainly were missing out. There were some boys with these girls that Tumbler didn't know, who seemed to be enjoying all the attention as well. Soon they too were talking with the little newest, having a good time. One of the boys even handed Tumbler his drink, which he thought was awful nice of him; Tumbler couldn't believe how delicious it tasted and finished it off while his new friends laughed.
They kept giving him more drinks until his belly ached something terrible and the room started to spin. Tumbler stumbled slightly, trying to figure out what was wrong. This wasn't fun; he felt like he was going to be sick and there was no one to help him. The people he was with just kept laughing and saying things that he couldn't understand. Tumbler pushed away from them and toppled back through the crowd, banging off people as he went, this time hoping to find a familiar face.
He felt like he had been walking in circles, unable to find the way he had come in; the room just wouldn't stop spinning. At his wits end, Tumbler slumped against a wall and buried his face in his knees, partly in an attempt to stop the spinning and partly to keep anyone from seeing his tears. He cried, angry with himself for not listening and wishing that he was back at the Lodging House playing poker with Red and the other little kids, instead of here alone and feeling like he could puke his guts out. He just prayed that someone would find him.
His prayers were answered.
Suddenly, he was grabbed under his arms and lifted to his feet. Tumbler pressed his fingers into his eyes to wipe away the tears before he opened them. Sitting on his haunches, so that he was level with the little boy, was Skittery and he looked more grim than usual. Tumbler sniffed guiltily.
"What the hell are ya doin' here Tumbler?" Skittery demanded, holding him firmly by the arms.
Tumbler just looked up him, his big brown eyes swelling with tears. He didn't want Skittery to be upset with him. He didn't want any one to be upset with him.
"Oh, Skittery, don't be so hard on him. The kid don't look so good." Tumbler heard a girl's voice, but it sounded distant; she must have been standing nearby. And then without warning Skittery's nose closed in on him and he sniffed a few times.
"You been drinkin'?" he asked incredulously, looking angry. "Who gave it to ya? I'm gonna kill 'em."
Skittery jumped to his feet, looking around as if he could sense who had done it, and in the process let his grip on Tumbler go. The little newsie started to slide down the wall again; his legs seem to be made of jelly. Some grabbed him before he hit the ground.
"Whoa, steady, kid!" It was that girl voice again. She held him up with one hand and tugged at Skittery's arm with the other. "Skittery! Forget about it. Just get him out of here. This ain't no place for a kid."
Tumbler felt himself being lifted off the ground. He clasped his arms tightly around Skittery's neck and rested his head on his shoulder, glad to be with someone who would keep him safe.
"I'm sorry, Skitts," he whimpered, clinging to his friend. "I shoulda listened to ya. I didn't mean it, honest. I'm sorry."
"Just don't do it again, kid. Not til yer older."
Tumbler hated Saturday nights. He hated being left behind while the older boys went to Irving Hall. He hated being one of the youngest newsies. And above all, he hated being told that he was too little to do things and go to places, but Tumbler knew he wouldn't be little forever and he would have to wait to do all the things he wanted to do--for reasons that he finally understood.
A/N: Please, don't forget to review!