Chapter Six: Time for an Inspirational Speech, or Something Like That

I sold most of our papes that day.

It wasn't hard of course. Everyone had seen Jack's drawings from during the strike, so the idea that the man responsible for those atrocities would be back shocked people into buying.

Well, it's shocking enough for them to buy papers, not enough for them to actually do something about it…

/

After the initial moment of shock, Jack recovered quickly; his posture changed into that of the swaggering young man with the world at his feet. His eyes betrayed him. I could still see the haunting fear and sadness glistening like teardrops. I knew he had to be a leader for the other boys, the young ones, but the old ones too, the ones who had seen the inside of the Refuge and knew just how bad it was. Shivering a little, I moved over to Crutchie, replacing Jack as he went to go talk to the others. The smile had melted right away from his face. It hurt. It hurt to know it hurt him. I would go up to Snyder myself and stab him to protect my babies. But no, murder was wrong of course, and I talked big, but I didn't have the means or the guts, or even a real desire, just a dark-ish sense of humor and my mom's redhead temper.

Besides, the side of my brain that liked BBC Sherlock a little too much told me, if I get caught, I'll be arrested, and then my name and possibly other information can get on record. I can't risk that, I wasn't sure which laws of time governed my situation, but becoming too prominent and recognizable tended to result in devastating paradoxes.

Jack walked from boy to boy, bending down to hug and talk to each one. I debated putting an arm around Crutchie, but my stupid brain stopped me. We had just met after all. But none of the newsies seemed opposed to physical contact. Well, except Les, who was in the phase where he thought he was too big for hugs. The twinkle that earlier and always filled Crutchie's eye was dulled, and I saw a void that should never have to be there. Clearly, he needed the hug. Gently, tentatively, I swung my arm around his shoulders. They tensed, but soon relaxed, and I knew I made the right move.

"Alright," Jack called. He stood in the center of the group of newsies, everyone, including the Delanceys and Wiesel, watching him. He reached up as if to mess with his cap, but then lowered his hand. "I knowse this ain't the headline we wanted, but we'se got a job ta do. Our lives was fine before, 'long as we stayed clear of the Refuge, and we can do it again. Now Buttons?" Buttons, who had been fiddling with his namesakes on his shirt, looked up, "I know you'se took a spot near da place afta' it closed, you'll need ta move. And no one else go near there." He pointed a finger at Buttons, then swept it around to the whole group. Everyone nodded. We all knew what the Refuge reopening meant, "Watch each other's backs, and keep doin' what you're doin'. We'll…we'll be alright."

"We will?" One of the smaller boys asked, I didn't know his name, but he didn't look much bigger than Les. Race, who was standing next to him, grabbed him in a noogie.

"Yeah we will."

At this, some of the boys began to shift. Albert turned to Mush, and before long, I heard the snippets of an argument brewing. Elmer looked up from the paper he had been reading and ran over, though I couldn't tell if he was trying to help break it up joining in. Davey grabbed Les's hand and squeezed it, causing him to jerk away and run over to chat with the other boy near Race. Davey sighed and followed him, rolling his eyes, but I detected the glimmer of a smile at the corners of his mouth.

Jack turned back toward Crutchie and I, his expression now unreadable. I suddenly became aware of my arm, and its placement around Crutchie felt stiff, unnatural or unnecessary. I let it drop.

"Now what is all you'se standing 'round here for?" Jack said, putting his foot up on a crate and rising above the crowd, "Let's get ta work!"

I found myself nodding. In spite of myself, I thought this would be the perfect time for a sweet and uplifting musical number, but sadly, it seemed that whatever strange universe I had tumbled into included the characters, but not the choreography.

The newsies slowly trickled out of the distribution center, spreading out as they passed the gates and raising their papes to the sky. Some of their cries started soft, but soon they were hawking like it was any other day at work. The headline may stink for us, but it was certainly an easy sell. Maybe if I was lucky I could start my savings fund tonight. Still, Jack didn't help much. Sure, he was selling, but I could tell his heart wasn't in it, not after having watched him yesterday. I thought back to how he had comforted the other boys, how he had inspired him. My mind kept circling over the events, trying to piece them together. It was surreal, like a dream. I was in a dream where I was witnessing these musical bonus scenes but without any actual songs. And what in time and space had happened before that? Fighting? Delanceys? Oscar had seen my phone! I had almost forgotten, what with everything else. I guess I could only hope he wouldn't mention it, maybe I should talk to him, apologize to the both of them, explain the importance of not saying anything…well, not now, I had to focus, I had to sell these papers if I wanted to, you know, live and stuff.

After lunch, Jack told me I'd have to sell with someone else that afternoon. "There's somethin' I gotta do…"

I raised my eyebrows, "Are you about to go do something stupid, reckless, or both?"

"Who, me?" he spread his arms, mocking, "Nah!"

I held my ground, crossing my arms, though I had to resist the temptation to smile.

"I'se just gotta drawin' I need ta do, to send over to the World."

"Wait, so you did get your own cartoon? Why are you still selling then?"

His brow furrowed, and his casual posture faded into something tenser.

"Turns out I'se just a 'freelance artist,'" he did air-quotes with his fingers, "I does the drawin's, but if the politics editor don't like 'em, he don't take 'em."

"That's dumb." I said.

"I knowse it is, but with any luck, what I've got in my head'll make tomorrow's papes."

I smiled in an attempt at supportiveness, "I'm sure it'll be great."

He didn't return the smile, and my "friend is feeling bad about themselves" alarm went off in my head. "Seriously, if the political doofus boy doesn't like your drawings then he's just an idiot with not enough brains to fill a teaspoon."

Jack chuckled. In an act of wild abandonment, I reached over and patted his shoulder. He looked up, and my hand shot back. Crap crap crap. I really needed to stop doing that. Well, actually I didn't even know which thing I needed to stop doing. I could probably continue physical contact, usually that was a good thing, but should I wish to, I needed to not retract said physical contact as soon as it was acknowledged.

I was a mess. Life was a mess. We made a great pair.

Jack ran off, back to the lodging house, and I was left to catch up with the other newsies. I latched onto Crutchie, he was always nice and I trusted him, and asked if I could sell with him for the afternoon. He agreed. We hit the distribution center, and for the first time since I started, which was only my third time total, I managed to get my papes without incident. I took less than before, because I noticed that most of the boys bought fewer afternoon papers, but I bought just as many as anyone. After this morning, I had a more confidence in my abilities. Maybe I could actually live like this for a while. The newsies made up for the other people, except for when they were making fart jokes. I should have known that a large quantity of boys all living in the same building would result in a surplus of boyish humor, but I hadn't thought of it until last night. It was horrible.

When the sun hid itself behind the buildings of the New York skyline, I sold my last pape. It physically pained me to call papers "papes," but here I was doing it. I would adjust some to the speech of the newsies, but I refused to lose my accent. No amount of time spent in NYC could make it my home. That stayed down south, far in the future.

Crutchie had finished around half an hour ago, but being him, insisted on waiting until I was done before leaving. Of course, he kind of had to, I didn't exactly know my way around the city, and both of us thought it was a bad idea for anyone to be selling on our own for a while, what with the news. Crutchie especially might be in danger, because he had been in the Refuge before, and I would bet Snyder would particularly target his former inmates first. I didn't like to think about that, but my mind kept circling back to it despite my best efforts. We walked back to the lodge in near silence, just the thump of wood and shoes on sidewalk. People hurried past us, shooting the occasional dirty glare or gaze of pity. I smiled at a few of them, but they only frowned back. I sighed. At home, everyone smiled and nodded when you passed. Cliche yes, but true. I had spent my life wanting to escape small towns I felt trapped in, but I never wanted to leave the intimate environment. People really did smile when I passed, they just didn't let me in their inner circles.

The sound of a million people tramping home from their day to day lives echoed off the buildings and the wagon-filled streets. I looked over at my companion, still in awe that he was really here. He kept turning his head from side to side, scanning the crowded streets, careful, oh so careful not to be caught again. This wasn't fair. It wasn't fair to him, or to anyone that that spider was going free.

I panicked for a moment when I realized Crutchie wasn't beside me. I turned and saw he had stopped about a yard behind.

"Hey, You alright?" I asked, going back.

He was quiet for a moment, and his voice came out in almost a whisper, "I just remembered why I don' like goin' this way."

"Why?" I said, oblivious.

He pointed up at a building ahead. I followed his hand. The bronze-looking letters were faded until they blended with the metal sign behind them, but I could still make out the words that showed the darkened building's purpose. The Refuge, evidently it haunted our steps in addition to our thoughts.

"We can go around a different way." I suggested, starting to walk back the way we came.

Crutchie set his jaw, his brow lowered. "Nah." He waved off the suggestion. "I has ta do it sometime."

I nodded, and rejoined him in our walk home.

"Hey," I said, grinning a little, "If anyone tries to attack us, I'll soak'em for you." I punched my fist into my hand and Crutchie laughed.

"Not if I soak'em first," he made a whacking gesture with his crutch. I giggled, giddy still with his adorableness.

We continued past the Refuge, not giving it a second glance. After we passed it, I turned to Crutchie again, "So what were you saying about the fake noodle this morning?"