In the Blink of an Eye

Summary: You're probably going to hate me for this…

Disclaimer: I do not own the newsies or any characters you recognize from the newsies, I do own characters that you don't recognize from the movie.

Chapter 2

"For God's sake Lia, suck in!" with the strain in Callie's voice you would have thought she was pulling it tighter herself. She was on the opposite side of the room gazing at herself in the full length mirror on her wall. I took a deep breath in and held onto the bedpost as tightly as I could, trying to make my stomach muscles tighter. I really hated this part, being alone with Callie made me absolutely sick. I closed my eyes trying to block out the squeaky voice as she prattled on about her "relationship" with Spot.

Her cluelessness aggravated me. I could never understand why it is that she has no sense of embarrassment or dignity when it comes to getting what she wants. Once she argued with Spot for about half an hour refusing to give into his needs until he told her he loved her. I guess he held out as long as he could before he decided it'd be worth it to give in, even if he didn't mean it. She then pranced around downstairs enlightening all of us to the fact that Spot had told her he loved her and that they were engaged now, as if we didn't hear the entire thing through the paper thin walls of the lodging house. If she wasn't embarrassed I was embarrassed for her.

Callie's mother entered her room followed by two of their servants carrying parcels and packages full of new clothing. Elaborate wrappings stuffed full of soft paper and fabric gave way to the beautiful colors and fabrics underneath. Finally laced, I stood running my fingers over the materials silk, cotton and wool blends, flannel, but my favorite was the velvet. I wished stronger than anything else that I could have the money to afford such fine things. I couldn't understand what made Callie deserve them more than I did. Then again, there was no valid reason for Callie to wear such elaborate clothing. She would wear evening gowns fit for a ball to the unclean lodging houses of Manhattan and Brooklyn and remove them within an hour. I suppose that's why all the newsies preferred Callie despite her horrible personality; she did trot around in silk while I wore my cotton walking skirt and jacket.

"I can't stand to watch you looking like a puppy dog when I buy clothes for my daughter. This one's for you". It wasn't the first time she'd bought me something, she knew who her daughter was. I don't think she could ever figure out just how I could stand Callie for as much time as I did. What else was I going to do though? If it weren't for Callie and the newsies I would have absolutely no social life, not that this would be considered proper socializing, but pariahs like me can't expect to do any better. My father had left my mother with no money to buy me a respectable place in the world. Upon his departure he'd also ensured that I'd never be accepted into any dignified society by leaving my mother pregnant and without a wedding ring. It was quite the scandal, growing up my mother had been engaged to the son of a senator, she herself being the daughter of a wealthy business owner. My father was not her betrothed, and when news of her condition got out, her father did the only thing he could do, disown her. She works as a seamstress to keep us in our apartment, which is nothing compared to the McElroy's brownstone.

Callie was cast out of society not for her lack of money, but for her behavior. The biggest scandal to strike Manhattan's elite in the summer of 1898 was when the younger sister to Callie's beau caught them alone, in his room, in various states of undress. Rather then keep this information to herself she sang like a canary to the parents of anyone who would listen. Catty as she was, she succeeded for no one could allow their sons to marry such a fast and improper wife. Without any suitable prospects for a husband she fell from her place in high society right down the newsboys lodging house. It has been my belief for some time now that Callie would have been useless as a wife anyway because she cannot bear children. All I can say is that she has certainly put herself in the position to become pregnant many times and at a certain point her luck would have run out She must know it too because she has no concerns about sleeping her way through the newsies of New York.

"Lia, please" That whine was so high-pitched you would've thought it was a tea kettle whistling "You have to let us use your house" As if it were my mission in life to please her.

"No" I did not even give a hint of a smile. I didn't want her to think there was any chance of me cracking.

"Please, I need to see Spot tonight" She was so desperate for attention she didn't mind clinging onto a boy who was completely uninterested. I would rather die than make such a fool out of myself. Callie, however, was not going to let a little thing like dignity get in the way of what she wanted.

"So go and see him" I suggested seriously. It wasn't beneath my companion to arrive unannounced to the lodging house assuming Spot would be happy to see her. She only wanted to pretend that she valued her integrity more than that, and naturally I was forced to play along.

"I can go if I'm inviting them to your house" I can only assume that the smile she gave me was meant to be convincing and sweet. Her teeth looked like bits of corn, and with the straw-like quality of her hair I had to actively hold back a giggle when I was immediately reminded of a scarecrow.

"But they're not coming to my house. I am not cleaning up after a bunch of boys I don't even want to see." It wasn't entirely true; I did enjoy the newsies company more than I would like to admit. It's not that I'm so far above them socially that I'm embarrassed to say they are entertaining human beings, it's just that I'd hate to give Callie the satisfaction of thinking that I enjoy being her alibi.

"I'll clean up after them. I promise. Please Lia; come on, your mom's not going to be home until at least midnight. We've got the house to ourselves all night." She meant I had the house to myself, but nothing really belonged to me as long as I was engaged in this friendship. My possessions as well as my time, emotions and self were all at Callie's disposal whenever she desired to use them. She made sure of this by paying for them constantly.

"Callie…" There were so many things I wanted to say. I wanted to be alone. I didn't want to listen to her coo all over Spot Conlon while he ignored her. I didn't want a group of unwashed boys making themselves comfortable in my house. She didn't care about any of this, and interrupted me before I could provide even one decent excuse.

"Lia, please" It sounded like an impression of a pig's squeal. "I'll come over early and help you get ready. We'll wear our new dresses tonight. It'll be fun. I promise" She turned herself back to pile of new clothing she had just purchased, scouring the bed for something to wear.

"Fine" It may have seemed like I had the power to say no and I'd simply changed my mind, but really I never had an opinion that mattered in the first place. She thanked me a hundred times, pretending that I'd given her permission. She thought it kept me happy to pretend I was actually in charge of my own decisions. I accepted my fate, looked forward to my alcohol, and prayed I would enjoy myself.

Callie really did get to my house early. I'd had a momentary lapse in judgment and believed that she was keeping her promise to help me dress. That notion only lasted until I saw the dress that she changed into. Cut far too low to be considered modest, I suspected she'd cut the neckline herself. It clung to her, the silk wrapped itself around her perfect S shaped body, and she admired her own form in the mirror. I was scandalized when she opened the bottle of rouge, and refused to allow her to smear that paint on my face. Her face was heavily painted; this was fairly common for Callie, but not usually under my own roof. She looked as though she were ready for a long night of work in a theater. Her mother would have locked her in the house if she'd suspected her daughter was roaming around New York City with a band of newsies dressed as a showgirl. My mother already disapproved of Callie; I couldn't imagine the guilt she'd lay on me for associating with such trash.

My "house" was a simple five room apartment. Entering through the front door one would find himself in my kitchen, facing a sink filled with dishes and no hot meal waiting on the stove. My mother did not have time for housekeeping after the twelve hour days she worked to pay the rent. Housekeeping was left to me, and I was less than dedicated to it. The three bedrooms were behind the kitchen all in a row, and a person had to walk through all three before reaching the living area. Furniture was scarce throughout the apartment, and the floor was decorated with unfinished sewing.

The only expensive thing I owned was given to me by a person I could not stand. It was my favorite piece of furniture and it hung in my room, next to my bed, my full length mirror. Callie had brought it over the first time she'd used my house to change into inappropriate clothing. When she finally pried herself away from it, I stepped in to examine myself for a moment. My plain brown hair fell around my shoulders, pin straight and unstyled. I longed for the hot rollers, and ornaments that turned Callie's hair into something to be noticed. I comforted myself with the thought that my hair did not resemble hay upon sight or touch.

"Who's coming tonight?" I asked, preceding my question with a sharp intake of breath. I arched my back, and did not release the air until I had successfully seen what I would look like in a tighter corset. Callie's petticoats rustled seductively as she stood next to me in the mirror, impatiently inching me out of the reflection so she could gaze at herself without distraction.

"Skittery, Mush, Crutchy, Blink, Race, and of course, Spot" She responded showing her fangs at the mention of the last name. I longed for the feel of whiskey down my throat, even as it burned through my skin it was less irritating then the girl before me.

"Blink?" I exclaimed, more astonished at Callie's lack of concern for anyone other than herself than I should have been. "I don't want that kid in my house!"

"Why not?" She furrowed her eyebrows together, her facial expression accusing me of being the drama queen. I wanted to tell her that she'd missed the entire scene because she'd been too busy allowing Spot to use her like a prostitute.

"He hates me. He went crazy when I beat him at poker. It was ridiculous." I did not find it amusing to entertain boys who had been known to scream in my face on any occasion.

"Lia, when will you learn that if you want boys to like you, you have to let them win at things like poker" She smiled at me as though she were giving me the secret to happiness. I refrained from telling her that if losing a game of poker meant I'd have some dirt-covered newsie slobbering all over me like a Great Dane, I'd learn to cheat.

"I'll never be as good with boys as you are, Callie" This was because I wasn't willing to do anything necessary to obtain their attention. I conveniently left that out, and Callie was so thrilled with my praise I thought she was going to buy me a new corset. She became very attentive, declared us sisters at heart, and tried to give me a bit of encouragement.

"Don't worry, Lia, everything will be fine. I'm sure he won't even mention the poker game. It'll be like it never happened" She released a smile that was actually meant to calm my nerves. Unfortunately, only one thing had the ability to relax me, and it was not Callie's misshapen teeth.

"At least they'll be bringing whiskey" I responded, optimistically. They knew me well enough not to enter my home without providing me with some sort of alcohol.


"She only beat me one hand" Blink declared despite the fact that no one had brought the conversation around to this topic. He spread himself out over the foot of my bed. Crutchy, who had taken to lying exactly where I sleep, began poking him with his crutch for taking up his leg room.

"She was setting you up the entire time for it" Crutchy argued back, laying the crutch on the bed next to him so that he could reach the bottle from the floor and take a swig.

"She still only won one game" Our grudge-holding, one-eyed companion repeated, lifting himself onto one elbow.

"That's the whole point, Blink" I defended myself half-heartedly. I took the bottle Crutchy passed me and let as much fall down my throat as possible to quiet my nerves. I was uncomfortable that we had made my bedroom headquarters for the night. I was sitting next to the bed, my knees folded into my chest and my arms resting atop my knees comfortably. I continued to adjust the bottom of my dress to ensure my ankles were constantly covered. The sound of rustling petticoats beneath the crimson silk was worth every minute I'd had to endure Callie's obnoxious whine.

"You're all high fiving her, when she lost hands before that" Blink cast the blame to his newsie companions, in his broken, drunken speech.

"Right, but, she did that to make you think she couldn't play" Race tried to explain to his dim-witted fellow newsie. He shot me a wink where he was sprawled out across the room. I tipped the bottle toward him in acknowledgment before my next swig.

"She's not good, she only won one hand" This very simple boy obviously lacked the intelligence needed to understand that no matter how many times he repeated himself, it would not change what happened.

"But that hand had a huge pot, she was making you feel secure enough to put that much money up, and then took it from you." Race explained again, chewing at the end of his cigarette. "It really is genius" he praised me.

"Thank you, Race" I put the emphasis on his name to express that at least some people respected me. Race was the first of the newsies to date Callie. It is my opinion that he would have proposed to her, had she not cheated on him with Crutchy, when he failed to arrive at a party in Brooklyn due to a nasty head cold. His only option was to rest during the party so he would be well enough to earn money the next day. Callie could not comprehend this choice of selling newspapers over spending time with her. Race was the only one who held the slightest bit of dignity. Following Callie's display of faithfulness, he accepted her apology, but not in the form of resuming their relationship. Although, I believed he was half in love with her still, he would never again allow her the opportunity of hurting him. That I could respect.

"It was only one hand" Blondie murmured under his breath, attempting to get the last word, even if no one else heard him. Because he was angled behind me, I could hear his mumbling and my pride wouldn't let it go. It was nice to have the newsies adoration placed on myself for once rather than Callie. The movement in my peripheral vision made me turn my head. Crutchy shook his head at me slowly from my bed. He may have been trying to warn me to let it go, however, I chose to chalk it up to a spasm and ignore it.

"Then why'd you get so mad, Blink" I challenged raising a single eyebrow at him, daring him to deny it.

"Yeah, you got pissed, Blink" Skittery inserted. I really didn't know what he was actually doing here. His almond eyes danced excitedly at including himself. I rolled my eyes, and received a soft nudge from Crutchy's crutch. Crutchy didn't have the looks that Jack or Spot did; it wasn't as easy for him to gain the affections of the opposite sex. Maybe that was why I got along with him the best, he was without the cockiness that knowing ones own attractiveness causes. His personality made him the most entertaining person any of us had ever met. Skittery was the exact opposite of Crutchy and I couldn't help noticing it. Putting my personal prejudices aside, Skittery was nice to look at before he opened his mouth. His jaw line was less chiseled than Jack's or Spot's giving him a boyish look that was offset by his height and build.

"Aren't there any girls coming?" Skittery changed the subject, his overly focused mind refused to be away from its obsession for long. In the sense of girls Skittery was the opposite of Spot. He was looking for a girlfriend who he could turn into a wife. I had no idea what he wanted to do with a wife when he was still living at the lodging house, but he was determined to prove that someone wanted to be with him forever.

"Lia and Callie are here" Blink responded, probably just looking for something to say, but sparking my anger. I angled my head so that he could see the icy glare I sent him threatening him not to throw me into Skittery's consideration. He shrugged at me innocently.

"I'm not going to marry Skittery" I announced to the room, just in case there was any confusion about it. I did hope that Skittery would find himself a girl quickly. Then we might be lucky enough for him to spend every free moment with her, and be absent from these gatherings, just as Jack and Sarah were. I would miss Skittery much less then I missed the two of them. I preferred even Sarah's boring nature to Skittery's annoying one.

"And Callie's only interested in Spot" Skittery whined, alluding to the fact that Callie and Spot were engaged in the spare bedroom. "Although" he continued his demeanor shifting to a more optimistic one, and I knew what was coming "We all know who she wanted to be with first."

The smile on Skittery's face made me want to slap Callie for her mistake. She had once told him that the first time they'd met she'd thought him the handsomest of the newsies, and until meeting Race, she'd decided on dating Skittery. Mush, although remaining absorbed in his personal bottle of whiskey, looked incredulously at Skittery. It wasn't that Mush hadn't heard this story as often as Skittery opted to tell it, but he considered himself Callie's favorite, and believed that being her closest friend would eventually lead him to the position of husband. These boys were sincerely diluted and I missed Spot's presence because he was free from Callie's spell.

"Yeah, but we know who she ended up with instead" Race could not allow the opportunity to injure Skittery's pride pass, and I smiled at him for the entertainment. Skittery looked as though he were about to fly into one of his rages in which he claims "everyone's against me. I have no real friends" and storms out like a five-year old child might, when my least favorite piped in.

"Everyone" Blink stated seriously, and I couldn't help but burst into hysterics over it. He had climbed his way into my good graces with that remark. Anyone who could even slightly see through Callie's veneer was an angel in my opinion.

"Don't talk about her like that" Crutchy said, not in an intimidating way, but softly as though it was a simply unnecessary thing to do. Mush looked as though her were ready to take the stereotypical male action against someone who insulted his girl, but a wave of Crutchy's hand sent him back to his bottle. The softness in Crutchy's voice unnerved us all; it was never anyone's intention to hurt Crutchy. I looked up at him silently apologizing for my laughter, my eyes begging him not to relay the incident to Callie. I liked to keep the dramatics in my life to a minimum.

Spot emerged from the bedroom, buttoning his shirt followed by the sound of a high pitch voice begging him to return. He sat down on the floor next to me, and offered my some of his whiskey. I heard the faint sound of sobbing from the room behind us and rolled my eyes without attracting attention from any of her loyal followers. I locked eyes with Mush, and was silently ecstatic at his volunteering to handle the situation.

"I need some fucking air. You guys got a fire escape?" Spot asked leaving his bottle on the floor between us. I grunted, annoyed at having to move from my position, but not about to let Spot roam about my home un-chaperoned. I grabbed his bottle from the floor, refusing to be without my precious alcohol for even a moment. I led him through my mother's room uncomfortably, and into the disheveled living area that I had too much whiskey running through my veins to be embarrassed of. I pulled on the window, but predictably enough it didn't budge.

"The window sticks" I explained taking a swig from my bottle, enjoying every moment I didn't need to be catering to Callie's over sensitive emotions. With a smirk plastered across his face he lifted the window with one hand, enough for both of us to slip through comfortably. As if my window knew who Spot Conlon was and refused to oppose his will. I climbed through the window first, the cool night air feeling heavenly on my bare arms and chest. The downside to wearing a dress originally bought for Callie was the constant feeling of exposure. I knew I didn't have long before I was missed, but it was so intoxicating being able to converse with someone about a topic not related to my best friend. Spot began telling me about what it was to be a leader of the newsies, and although this topic was a manifestation of his self-centeredness I didn't mind so long as he wasn't Callie.

"You don't actually hit your own newsies?" I was astonished. I could not imagine Jack hitting anyone let alone one of his own newsies, like Mush. Weren't they all supposed to be good friends?

"If one of them gets out of line I do" He justified his brutal behavior to himself, but I was unconvinced.

"You're supposed to fight other people not your own followers" I argued convinced that I was right. On the contrary I couldn't imagine Spot passing up an opportunity to show off his fighting ability on anyone, even his own newsies.

"I do what I have to" he responded, a variation on his overused catch-phrase "I do what I want". I raised my eyebrow mocking his dramatics and continued to drink my whiskey in peace. He had used the exact same line when I'd questioned his honesty because he'd told me he'd murdered before to keep order between boroughs of the newsies. I could never be sure whether Spot was telling the truth or trying to inflate his own reputation by beginning his own rumors.

"You should really go back in there and talk to Callie. I think she's crying" I told him, knowing that he would not care, but loving to hear him express it.

"Let her cry. I'm done with her" He told me this constantly and yet, somehow, he always ended up alone with her behind a locked door. I had ceased believing this phrase no matter how much he insisted it was true.

"I bet that'll last until tomorrow" I would have wagered a life's supply of alcohol that it would happen. He must've known I was right, I had been right in every other instance that this conversation had taken place.

"You think so?"

"I do"

"You know what I think?" He leaned closer to me, and it wasn't until I raise the bottle of whiskey to my lips that he put a bit of distance between us. I raised an eyebrow impelling him to answer his own question.

"I think you want me to kiss you" He told me this with a perfectly straight face, and I later regretted scoffing into my bottle of whiskey, because it could be seen as rude.

"I think not" It was an immediate response, not meant to be harsh. This was the exact reason that I despised boys. I was not interchangeable with Callie McElroy as playthings they could choose between. I was convinced that if I lacked the morals Callie did I would be a better choice because I was clearly less annoying and demanding then my companion. However, I could be that way because these boys were nothing more to me than friends. An interest in me would not result in the same benefits that an interest in Callie would result in. To be frank, if the boys wanted sex they'd have to deal with Callie's annoying qualities because they would get nothing of the kind from me.

"Why not?" He asked me, the amount of liquor in my own veins had prevented me from smelling the intensity of it on his breath.

"You were just in my spare bedroom with my best friend!" I was convinced that this was the most ridiculous conversation I'd ever participated in. I did like Spot because he was sarcastic and not in love with Callie, but this was slowly bringing him to the bottom of my list.

"But I like talking to you more than I like talking to Callie" I wondered how drunk he was at this point, and if he would even remember saying this tomorrow. Spot was famous in our group for needing his antics to be told to him the next morning, and laughing obnoxiously at the ridiculous things he'd said and done. He never was embarrassed by his actions, merely claiming that he did what he wanted to.

"You like being alone with Callie more than you like talking to me" I said this as delicately as I could, and he laughed which put me back at ease.

"That's true" He conceded and I was relieved to know that we could cease this conversation, and it would never be repeated to Callie. I couldn't help but bask in the knowledge that Callie's "fiancé" had just propositioned me. It was addicting to be called superior to Callie in any light; I almost wished that she could have heard it just to watch her vanity dim a bit.

When we finally returned to my bedroom I was ushered out immediately by a distraught Mush. He grabbed my arm and pushed me into my mother's bedroom before he began accusing me of Callie's sins.

"What were doing alone on the fire escape with Spot?" He asked me, his voice serious and angry. His dark eyes were overflowing with protectiveness for Callie, and that much emotion toward someone who paid him so little attention was disgusting.

"Talking and drinking" I told him, waving my bottle in his face so he could see what my main priority of the night was. "What do you think" I was angry at the accusation, not because it inflected that I would hurt Callie, but because it put on the same moral level as her.

"Well, it looks fucking bad to have you out there by yourself with him" He screamed in my face, and I prayed Callie couldn't hear this argument. Mush had a habit, despite his soft demeanor, to fly into a rage when drinking at the slightest provocation. It made him almost unbearable when he started one of these fits and despite how I wanted to yell back, I knew from experience it would only make it worse.

"Stop yelling at me" I instructed him as firmly as I could without resorting to yelling back into his face. I sniffed, deeply taking breath into my body, and in his drunken state he mistook this for a sob. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and held me tightly against his chest.

"I'm sorry, Lia. I didn't mean to make you cry" I wasn't about to refute this so I repeated the sound and whined about how it hurt me for him to think I could ever disrespect Callie or myself by being inappropriate with Spot. He stroked my hair like a puppy, and I allowed it because it was much more pleasant than the yelling had been.

"I know you wouldn't, Lia. I'm sorry. You know how I get about Callie." He continued these apologies in slow, slurred speech until I finally consented to forgive him, so long as he promised not to relate this incident to Callie. I hadn't don't anything wrong, and didn't deserve an argument with my friend over something Mush had invented in his own head. Finally, I was able to return to my seat on the floor, and sip a bottle of whiskey in peace.

"Come on out, Callie" Spot called through the locked door on the opposite side of my room, leading to the spare bedroom. Crutchy nudged me again with his crutch drawing my attention to the entertainment of an argument between our friends. I smiled at him, knowing that he was secretly hoping this fight would end the "relationship" for good, and give him an opportunity to win her for himself.

"Why should I?" She called back to him, her voice once again making me wish I could detach the ears from my body so I would never be forced to hear it again.

"I want to give you a kiss" He had the ability to inject sincerity into his voice that made him both seductive and irresistible. I could feel her smile on the other side of the door, and as it opened slowly. He turned and winked at me, indicating with this gesture that his line was far from honesty. I could honestly say I was happy when they kissed and reconciled, it meant that I could continue sipping my whiskey.

Callie looked as though the words that had come out of his mouth were "will you marry me", and proceeded to be perfectly charming for the remainder of the night, for the benefit of the boys, of course. Her high pitched laughter, and teasing made me sick, and I chimed in with rude sarcasm whenever I could get away with it. Unfortunately for me Crutchy was absolutely tame at my apartment. This was a major disappointment because he was my main source of entertainment for the night. Through the pointless drama and random boringness of the night, I could remember one thing of significance. That Kid Blink had been able to judge Callie as I did, and I was impressed enough with this ability to lift my prejudice against him, and decided that he would no longer be labeled as my least favorite