Well , this is my first fanfic. I've read a lot of them in my time (including some crappy ones) and know what I do an don't like. However, I am a horrible judge of my own writing.
I used David as my main character. It's not slash and he's not a lame character. I'm trying to evolve the Walking Mouth into something a little better than his fan fic rep lets him be. So... on with the tale.
"We don't need you! 'Cause all those words you said? Those were mine!"
"But you didn't have the guts to put 'em across yourself, didja?"
"I do now."
Dave spun on his heel and walked toward the newsies gathered, all staring at Jack with a mixture of disbelief and anger on their faces. He was sure the same expression was reflected on his own face. Slowly, David turned back towards Jack and with abrupt vengeance threw himself at the scab. Weasel and the bulls held him back while David struggled to free himself and unleash his newfound hatred on Jack.
"Maybe, maybe you'd like a new suit of your own, huh?" Weasel bribed.
"Never!" David spat back.
"Get outta here! Off with him." Weasel ordered the bulls.
As Jack and the other scabs were escorted away, the newsies shouted angry taunts at Jack.
"We trusted you!"
"Seize the day, huh Jack?"
Little Les, unable to comprehend why his idol was being led away as a scab, cried pitifully, "He's foolin' 'em. So we can spy on 'em or something! Yeah, that's it! He's foolin' 'em!"
Racetrack took sympathy on the kid, and unconvincingly agreed with him. The rest of the newsies glared after Jack's retreating back while pretending to comfort Les.
One by one, the group separated. No one knew exactly what to do. Spot took charge of breaking up the minimal fistfights. David wandered aimlessly down nameless streets on his own, attempting to compose his thoughts. He moved along the back alleys, numb. A cold bitterness began to grow inside of him. His eyes grew hard and heart frozen. Jack. He'd betrayed them all. The newsies would never listen to David- no. He had the brains, true, but not the charisma that made the world fall at Jack's feet. Hatred silently worked its way into David's veins. Trust? Never. Never again. Wrapped up inside himself, David kept pushing forward, not knowing where his feet would lead him.
Forward. A young child dashed out in front of David and knelt down to pick up a stone. David glared at the creature that blocked his path. The youth glanced up happily to show off his prize, but saw the closed expression on David's face and ran away frightened. He kept walking. Horace Greeley rose up in front of him. David had walked in circles. Frustrated, he sank down by the base of the statue.
Exhaustion over took the boy. Head drooped in defeat, the Walking Mouth sank into a restless sleep. Hours past. The sun, which had been beating on his head when David first nodded of, now awoke him by its absence. The chill that had overtaken the air reminded David of his own mood. Rolling his head, he was slightly disconcerted by the fact that a pair of girls shoes were dangling above his head. Pulling himself away from the cement block, he saw legs and a body attached to the shoes. A girl with short brown hair peered at him curiously with blue eyes.
"Hello." She said softly. David looked at the girl with contempt. She looked about 16 years old and had an innocence that sickened him. He nodded sharply at her in reply. Her eyes narrowed. In a harder voice, she continued.
"You don't have to be rude you know. I mean, it's not like you just got betrayed by your best friend or anything…" She trailed off and studied him closer. Recognition dashed across her face. "I take that back. You're David Jacobs, aren't you?"
David looked at her carefully. No, she didn't seem familiar. Then how…
"No, you don't know me," she assured him cheerfully. "But I know you. I was at the rally the other night. You, Jack Kelly, and David Matthews were up there on the stage."
"David Matthews?" He asked, the contempt starting to fade from his face.
"Well… I guess most of the world knows him as Spot Collins or something like that, right?"
"Spot Conlon. What do you mean 'most of the world'?"
"David was my neighbor before he ran away. He gave me my first kiss." David looked bewildered.
"Ran… but… Spot?" He studied her again. "Who are you?"
"Alison. Alison Riley. Look, do you want to get away from here? 'Cause, in case you haven't noticed, it's a bit cold out. And the good Mr. Greeley sure isn't gonna offer much protection against the cribs or the Delancey's come nightfall." David smiled wryly at the peculiar girl before him.
"True, Alice. Very true." With that, David made an about face and set out at a steady pace away from the miserable statue.
"It's Alison…" she called out, and then faded to almost a whisper. "Not like you'd care, or anything."
The bitterness that had faded while David listened to the girl speak came back in full force as he approached his apartment. Jerking his body blindly up the dark, rickety fire escape, he paused outside of the window. Les was sitting on his mother's lap, face buried in her arms. David could tell the boy had been crying, if the shuddering breaths were any notion to go by. Esther Jacobs smoothed her youngest child's hair, and stared out at the blackening night. David stepped back to avoid being seen, and instead past the living room window, and stepping over the sill of the room he shared with his siblings.
Sarah sat by the mirror, completing her nightly ritual of brushing her hair and humming. David rolled his eyes at her girlish ways and moved to his mattress. Without bothering to change, he kicked off his shoes and lay on top of the covers, facing the wall away from his sister. Sarah glanced over at him.
"David…" she began. He glared over his shoulder at her contemptuously. She faltered, and then purged forward bravely, but quietly. "He hurt me, too." She stood up, darkened the room, and left. As Sarah walked out the doorway, David caught a glimpse of a tear rolling down her cheek. She was gone before he could say anything.
Morning came. The sun shone brilliantly and the three Jacobs' siblings rose to greet the day. Les, seemingly forgetting the previous days events happily chatted with Mayer Jacobs about how "headlines don't sell papes, newsies sell papes" and how to "improve the truth". When his father raised his eyebrows, Les wisely piped that he was going to go and help Sarah.
She was sitting on the bed, going through the dresser drawers. David stood by the window, hunched over in anger. Sarah glanced back at her brother, and continued her sorting. Her hand touched a piece of paper, wrapped around…
"Les, what is this?" She asked, trying to hold back her laughter as she handed the child his hot dog.
"I was saving it," he replied sulkily. Sarah rolled her eyes as she looked at the paper that had held the treasure. Writing covered the sheet. It looked like a story. The byline read….
"David! It's Denton's article!" She said excitedly as she crossed to another bed. "'The Real Truth. Why our city really fears the Newsie strike. Last night I saw naked force exercised against mere boys…'" Sarah heard the window slam open behind her and turned just in time to see David climb out onto the fire escape. She sighed. Her brother wasn't stupid. Anyone who talked to him knew that. He loved knowledge, not school. But Sarah also knew that when David was angry, his judgment was clouded. Anything could happen to him. His anger would grow and simmer for weeks before he would find a release. In the meantime, all they could do was wait.
Idiot. Does she really think that I want to hear about what Denton wrote? He's just as big of a traitor as Jack. Mr. Big-Shot-Charge-Up-San-Juan-Hill. Mr. King-of-New-York. Mr. Big-Fancy-Writer. He sold us out! He'll loose his job, he says. So what? Isn't what we're doing important enough? Isn't fair treatment for the working class of America big enough for him? Jerk.
David was once again wrapped up in himself. He hated himself for it. Why did he actually have to be smart? Why couldn't he be a brainless follower like the rest of them? Why did his family have to already know about unions? Why did he go to the distribution office on that day? And why on earth did he have to bring Les?! If Les hadn't been so in awe of Jack, none of this would be happening. The strike wouldn't have happened- David was pretty sure of that much. Really. Who did Jack think he was? Sure, he'd gotten everybody pumped up, but wasn't it David who'd given him the words? Wasn't it David who'd given him the idea to talk to Pulitzer? Wasn't it David who was first approached by the traitor Denton for a story? Wasn't it David who'd talked down the famous Spot Conlon himself?
Heh. Or, David Matthews. Unbidden, a smirk climbed onto David's face. That girl from yesterday, what was her name? Riley something? She'd just given Mouth some blackmail material. After the first meeting on the pier, David had done some asking around. Nobody knew Spot Conlon's real name. And anybody who asked the Brooklyn king never asked twice. David could sympathize. His name wasn't exactly one to strike fear into many hearts. Just look at Goliath. But then again….
"Still in a bad mood, Grumpy?" A voice popped up beside him. The Walking Mouth glanced sideways and saw the same girl from the previous evening. In the morning sunlight, he now could see that while she wasn't gorgeous, she wasn't bad-looking, either.
"I'm not Skittery," he shot back at her. She smirked. David was impressed that she knew who the boy was. "Lemme guess," he intoned, "Skitts was your next-door neighbor as well and was your second kiss?" For this remark, David received a smack across the arm. A smile played on his lips. Once again, this stranger managed to make David forget his anger, his hatred, his hurt.
"Do you remember my name now?" The girl asked playfully, avoiding the question. David bit his lip. "Ri…ce?"
"Rice? That's worse than Alice! Where'd you get Rice?" she replied, offended.
"I think yesterday, you said something like Riley, but I don't think that's it. And I remembered Alice. Rice just kind of slipped out." He explained pitifully.
"It's Alison. Say it with me. Al-ih-son. Alison." David raised an eyebrow. "Fine," she conceded after a moment. "Walking Mouth, I'm Rice Riley. Ugh… that sounds horrible!"
"The nickname or the last name?" he asked curiously.
"Alone, they're fine, but together… ugh!"
"Well, Spot totally changed his name, why can't you change yours?" David asked seriously.
"To what?"
"How about Anbeans?"
"Rice Anbea… hey!" David was cracking up. The remaining stress left his shoulders and his heart. After glaring for a moment, Alison joined in.
"That's better. I wondered if you had any humor hidden in there." David cocked his head.
"Who are you?"
"You already asked that question. I'm Alison "Rice" Ri…"
"No. Not your name. I mean, who are you? To just come up and talk to me? Who knows Spot Conlon's real name? Who knows that Skittery was always in a bad mood? Who knows my name? Who was at the strike rally and wasn't arrested! Who are you?"
Rice peered at him. David found himself wanting to keep eye contact, just so he could see those blue sapphires hidden behind those long lashes.
"That…" she replied softly, "you are going to have to discover for yourself." It was her turn to make a slow about face. Rice began to walk off on the crowded street.
"Wait! Rice!" Her head turned back, and the rest of her body followed slowly. Her steps kept carrying her backward, even as she looked at David. Her eyes were open, inviting him to speak.
"When will I see you again?"
"I'll be around… just keep your eyes open. I'll be waiting just around the corner of your eye." With that, the newly dubbed Rice was swallowed up by the busy traffic.
The corner of my eye? What?
A scream echoed through the street. David's first impulse was to ignore it. But the panic in the voice sounded familiar. Almost like… "Sarah!"
Well. That's what I've got so far. So, Newsies fans. Is it worth it to continue? Totally lame? Never pick up my keyboard again? What do you think? Please R/R