Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies.

Well, I'm not sure if you remember this story or not. I took a little, uh, two year break from writing. It might even be more than two years, it might have been less. I just wasn't inspired enough, I was dealing with a lot of things, as is everyone else in the world. But I somehow got my interest back and decided to at least attempt to continue this story. I won't guarantee that I'll finish it or anything, but I did happen to write this today and I'll try my best to keep the chapters coming. If they don't, my apologies.

If you forget what happened, you didn't miss much. The first chapter was the prologue, basically stating that this story deals with the hell of having an eating disorder. The second chapter introduced Itey and Snitch as best friends. Snitch is a homosexual self-mutilator who keeps his life as much of a secret as he keeps his dark side. And Itey is your all around normal teenager, he has a good amount of friends, does decent in school, yet suffers from an eating disorder. The story isn't as dark as it might appear to be, but it's only the beginning, so who knows where I will decide to take it. I hope you enjoy this chapter and thanks for reading.

So first period came around and we all sat in our assigned seats and waited for class to begin. I honestly don't understand why they assign us seats like we're two years old or something. Everyone knows that the popular kids sat where they wanted to and the teacher wouldn't say anything. So that's exactly what I did. Snitch and I always sat together, throughout the years of school we always were beside each other. Whether it was because we were assigned there, or we just broke the rules and sat there. Actually, correction, I broke the rules and just sat there. Snitch never broke the rules, at least that anyone knew.

"So how do you think you'll do on the history test third period?" Snitch asked as he set his desk up for class. He had everything set up perfectly and conveniently. The same repetitive set up he's been doing for the ten years I've known him. The pencil always sat on the left, eraser and pencil sharpener on the right, notebook open on the center of his desk and his subject book to the side. He was a man of routine I would assume.

"How do I always do? C+ I would imagine. If I'm lucky, I can copy some of your answers and raise it to a B-." I smiled hopefully.

"I highly doubt that." He smiled.

"Thanks for the support, pal." I poked.

"Just because I'm your friend doesn't mean that I'm going to take an F for you." He said matter-of-factly.

"Well, just because I'm your friend doesn't mean that I'm going to…"

"Hey Itey, how's it going?" A familiar voice came ringing from behind me. It was Roxy Pinsiatti, a fine-looking girl with a killer athlete's body. The captain of the girl's soccer team and a junior! And evidently the word around the school is that she has a crush on yours truly, so that basically means that I might get some. Just kidding.

"It's going." I said as he gave her my cutest smile. I was never really one to get all the ladies. When it came to girls I was shyer then a clam. But, I was trying to bring sexy back. It's sort of hard when you're a tub of lard.

"Great. Hey, is it possible for one of you to help me after school today? I was sick for a week and have a major German test tomorrow and I am completely in the blue." She said.

Just before I began to open my mouth, Snitch stole my thunder. "I'll do it!" He said. I don't even know why he said anything, it's not like he likes girls anyway! God, that pissed me off.

"Okay great! And you are?" She asked. I told you he wasn't well known.

"I'm Snitch…you know, I've been in your class for the last three months." He smiled confidently.

"Right. Okay. Well, here's my number. Can you just call me when we can get together and study?"

"Sure. I'll do that." He smiled.

"Thanks. Okay, I'll see you later." She said as she headed back to her seat.

Snitch looked over at me with that quirky smile he had. "And that's how it's done."

I stared at him, my mouth wide open, eyes as wide as can be, disbelief and anger balling up inside my stomach. I was pissed. I was more than pissed. I was extremely pissed. I know it was just something little, but this was my thing. I heard two weeks ago that she had a crush on me. She came up and talked to me not him. ME! And he had to go and sing his little birdy song just as I was about to. I wanted to choke him, that was how I felt. The one girl that I almost had and I don't have her anymore. I know I'm being dramatic, but I'm just explaining how I felt. "I hate you!" I blurted out to him.

"What? I didn't do anything." He said back.

"She was supposed to give her number to me. Not you. ME! Em-ee. Me!"

"Woah, sorry there Sarge. I didn't mean to destroy the mission at hand. Why don't you send me to the guillotine." He laughed.

"Shut up, it's not funny. I'm being serious."

"Seriously dramatic. Who hates their best friend because a girl gave him her number. It's not my fault I'm just naturally attractive." He shrugged.

"No you're not you're an ugly fucker!" I shouted a little too loud.

"Mister Borgia!" Mrs. Cracker, our teacher, exclaimed. "Is there a problem here?" She asked with that not-happy teacher look on her face.

"Uh. Um. No. No problem here." I said, as my face started turning red as an apple. "Shit." I mumbled under my breath. How fucking embarrassing. I made a total fool of myself in front of my whole class over something stupid like that. And I called my best friend an ugly fucker, I know first hand he doesn't take insults well.

"Well then I don't want to hear another word out of you without you raising your hand, do you understand that?" She stated angrily. She wasn't really impressed with my choice of lingo either. I was lucky that I wasn't written up for that. I'm a good kid and don't do many things wrong, besides she likes me any way. That's why I think I got off.

"Yes, ma'am." I said politely. The least I could do for being disrespectful is to be respectful.

Class went on as it always does on these terrible Wednesday mornings. At least it's the middle of the week and the weekend will be crawling right around the corner. I know I said I love being at school, but I hate how boring it is. I think I would much rather be working somewhere or partying somewhere or playing PS2 somewhere or something.

Snitch didn't talk to me at all that period. He was pissed off, and I think a little hurt that I would call him that in front of everyone. School was hard for him. I think it is for all who are stereotyped as 'nerds'. It wasn't all that easy for anyone else either, unless you rule the school, which I unfortunately didn't. I was probably in the halfway mark of chivalry in school, but Snitch was definitely under the twenty-five percent line. As much as I hated when people picked on him, deep down there is a selfish part of me that tingles with joy because it isn't me. I don't know if I would be able to handle the ridicule that he's put through sometimes. That's probably why he is the way he is, y'know. I remember this one time in eighth grade, it was lunch time and someone put a chocolate pudding cup on his chair when he wasn't looking and he sat in it and as soon as he did, the jerk screamed and pointed out that he had what appeared to be poop on his pants. He didn't sit there and cry and scream and throw a hissy fit like some people do. He stood up, put his food tray down and walked right out of there like nothing happened; I caught up with him in the bathroom and talked to him. He didn't cry, but you could tell he was depressed and shit. I hated that it wasn't me, but I hated even more that it was him they would pick on.

School was finally over and I headed to my locker. We still haven't said a word to each other, so before he got on the bus to leave I wanted to catch up and talk to him about it. At least apologize for my ignorance.

"Hey, dude, can I talk to you for a second?" I asked trying to sound okay and happy and not worried. Deep down I felt really bad for what I did. I felt like an asshole, to be honest.

"Depends." He tilted his head as if he were trying to judge my motive.

"On what?"

"If you can define the word 'phantasmagoria'." He questioned, and he was serious too.

"What? Where did you hear that word?"

"On the Origins of Words documentary on the National Geographic Channel."

"That's stupid." I blabbed.

"You're stupid!" He shot back.

"I know!" I spoke. "Look, dude, I'm sorry for getting mad at you earlier today and I'm sorry for saying what I did. It was stupid and wrong and I don't hate you and I'm sorry." I apologized. I hated being wrong, I think everyone does, but I really hated being wrong.

"Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity; and I'm not sure about the universe." I hated when he did that. When he's being defensive he has to bring everything he reads in the four thousand books he owns. His tactic of choice, making people scratch their heads with a cunning quote.

"What? Why do you do that?"

"Jesus, it's by Albert Einstein…you know, like the guy with the crazy hair!"

"I know who Einstein is! God, look it's me your talking to here. Not anyone else, you don't need to use those techniques on me."

"What, you nervous?"

"No I'm not nervous. I'm just trying to do something that's really hard to do, okay? And I said my piece and I let you say yours. So you can accept my apology and we can be cool, or you can continue spewing useless pieces of information and force me to walk away strictly because I don't have an IQ of forty-four billion." It was my last hope of holding up a white flag. I wasn't being taken alive, but I wasn't going to be put to death either.

"It's cool." He said.

"You serious? We're cool?"

"Would I lie?" He raised his eye brows. "Wait…" he stopped. "Don't answer that." He smiled. I gave him a crooked smile and put the remaining books in my locker in my bookbag.

"Hey, want to hang out tonight at my house?" He asked.

"Yeah, I guess that's cool." I nodded.

"What's your poison?"

I thought for a minute, it wasn't very usual that Snitch would ask me to drink anything. Nor, wait a minute, I don't think he ever asked me to come over and drink with him. But there's always a first for everything, right? "I'm thinking SoCo?"

"You're in luck, I think we have a bottle of that left."

"You're parents won't…like…notice?"

He burst out in exaggerated laughter. "My parents? Notice? No way, they're too busy spending their time in a confession booth to even notice that their son has a picture of Aston Kutcher on his wall." I had to laugh, that was sort of sad and funny at the same time.

"Okay, I'll see you then."

"See ya." We parted ways and left the school. And that's how the day went. Started off normal, turned a little dull, so happened to get embarrassing, became more boring, and ended even blander than it started. But at least Snitch isn't mad at me anymore. I knew he'd get over it. But would I get over the fact that a gay man stole my girl? I could try, but it's not like he really stole her in the first place. I think I just like getting angry. Life goes on, and sooner or later, I'll eventually forget.