Jack made his way down the ladder and back into the lodging house, helping Crutchie down along with him. The rest of the newsies sat clustered in the room, sitting alone or in pairs on the bunk beds. Jack's resolve nearly broke in half at the sight of them-his ragtag group of rebels, a force to be reckonded with, known for seizing the day. His brave batallion, finally defeated.
Some of them still wore looks of utter outrage on their features, especially Race, who sat smoldering with the government recuitment letter balled up in tightly clenched fists. Others seemed stunned-Finch's eyes scanned the letter repeatedly, as though he was stuggling to comprehend what it was asking of him, and Henry's eyebrows seemed permenantly draw together in confusion.
And then there were the scattered few that looked scared out of their minds. Jojo's eyes were as wide as saucers as he stared down at the ground in front of him, unresponsive as Buttons tried to coax words out of him, and Jack could see Specs blinking away traces of tears from his eyes as quickly as he was pretending to clean his glasses.
At the back of the room was Romeo, who sat with his head in his hands, shaking so badly that Jack could see it from where he stood. And then it hit him-Romeo was thirteen years old. There wasn't a boy in the room who was older than sventeen. And the government was ready to ship them off to war without a thought as to what would become of them. So much for the land of the free.
"Hey, guys, uh...listen up," Jack finally ventured, clearing his throat as heads slowly turned in his direction. Crutchie stood next to him, standing tall with a kind of resolution, as though he was determined to keep it together for Jack's sake. Of course, judging from the conversation they'd just had on the rooftop, it was safe to say that this was most likely the case. Jack's eyes swept the gathering of newsboys, and he took a deep breath before continuing. "I...I know this looks bad, And it is, believe me, but...we're gonna get through it."
"'Ow can ya say somethin' stupid like that, Jack?" a voice shouted as soon as Jack had finished speaking, and he tuned to see Race rounding on him with an anger he was certain they all had in common at the moment. "We'se all know that ain't true! It's war, Jack, ya don't just get though somethin' like that!"
"Race..." Crutchie murmured, his eyes wide as he took a labored step towards the other boy. Race merely glared at him as well, stopping Crutchie in his tracks,
"Shut up, Crutchie, you ain't got no room ta talk!"
"Hey, you can shut your mouth, too, it ain't his fault!"
A tense moment passed between the two eldest newsies, the rest of the boys not daring to even move, lest the wrath of either Jack or Race be turned on them. Finally, their leader sighed, taking off his cap and running a hand through his hair, a gesture that he knew probaly depicted him as a man much older than his own seventeen years.
"It's the dang government's fault, they'se the ones that's doin' this ta us. We can't go fighting each other now, not where we'se goin'," he said, voice sounding weary even to himself. Race met eyes briefly before glancing away again.
"Yeah. You're right," His words were clipped, but Jack accepted them, giving Race a nod before facing the others again. If he thought they'd seemed grim during the strikes, it was nothing compared to them now-at least the strike had given them a cuase, something real and tangible to fight for. What did they have now?
Each other, he suddenly thought, the realization rushing at him like a freight train. They couldn't fight for their country, the country that had turned its' back on them. None of the others had girls to come home to (of course, maybe Romeo did, Jack never knew with him). So the only thing left for them to fight for was their fellow newsies. Their brothers. Their family. It was all they had.
"We gotta do this for each other. We can't get out of it, those suits won't let us, not when they'se down on manpower. So we gotta be steong for each other so we can...try ta get home," Jack faultered on the word try, wincing internally and hoping the boys wouldn't catch his mistake. But they were smart, and the looks on their faces proved that the underlying meaning of his words hadn't escaped them.
"We'se gonna die, ain't we, Jack?"
Romeo had lifted his head from his hands, looking at Jack with such a resignment that it almost hurt to meet his eyes. He's not even fourteen yet, Jack reminded himself. The kid's not even fourteen yet and he's gotta worry about whether or not he's gonna die in a war he don't even wanna be a part of. Sure, the life of a newsie was hard and uncertain enough, but Jack had no doubts that this was considered cruelty.
Romeo's eyes were still trained on him, waiting for an answer to his grim question. The other newsies had turned to look at him again as well, as though Romeo had voiced what they all had been thinking-which was probably true. But Jack wasn't entirely sure how to answer a question like that, or even if he could answer it.
After all, the very possibility of their death was something he didn't have the strength to consider himself. His newsies-his brothers-laying facedown in the dirt, or staring blankly at an exploding sky. How could he answer Romeo with those images flashing through his mind?
He didn't see the point in lying to them, but why should he scare them even more than they already were? There didn't seem to be a clear approach this time.
"'Course you're not! You'se all gotta come back so I won't be by my lonesome, don'tcha?" A voice piped up from beside him, and Jack looked up to see Crutchie grinning slightly at Romeo. The young kid blinked a few times, as though he was trying to find reassurance in the crippled boy's words.
"Y-Yeah, I...I guess dat's true enough..." he mumbled, faintly returning Crutchie's smile. Jack couldn't help but feel a certain awe for his disabled friend, wondering how after that had happened-and everything that was about to happen-he could still find some form of optimism, or at least fake it if he couldn't actually feel it himself. Either way, it certainly worked.
"It's plenty true! We ain't gonna leave Crutchie by 'imself, are we, boys?" Jack took the lead, hoping he still had it in him to rally the newsies together like he had during the strike.
"No..." came the scattered reply, and Jack managed a grin.
"Exactly! We promised him, and do we ever go back on a promise?" He could feel the confidence returning to his voice, traces of the strong Jack Kelly everyone was used to.
"No," The newsies words were less tentative, as though they were more sure of themselves. Jack's grin grew wider at the sound of it as he threw an arm around Crutchie's shoulder.
"Right! So don't any of you'se go quittin' on us now, alright? We's gonna need every one of ya if we're gonna make this work," He worked ebery ounce of conviction he had into his voice, for he knew nothing less would suffice. He needed to convince them-but more importantly, he had to convince himself. Because he was leading them into this battle, and he was making sure they all came out.