A/N- oops, sorry i haven't updated in a while or it feels like forever to me. life andschool's been hectic as anything. ah, the woes of a high school freshman. lol. but anyway, thank you for stopping by on your browsing of these stories and taking time out of your life to read this. hope you enjoy it.
Disclaimer- again, not like anybody reads these. why do we bother with them? but to make this site happy the newsies belong to the creative works of disney and i own any character that is a stranger to the movie.
Fallen heroes hit the earth one by one as truth degrades into suicide. The breath of the innocent pales the face of the guiltily troubled, guilty and troubled and troubled for feeling guilty, and there's no where left to run when the saddest song has already been sung. We try to find our way after the light has been stolen by father time when we know we're crawling through a prison where the friends of the friendless are the masks we've painted so one size fits all. Here is where we've staked our flag and shed our blood. Here is where we fall to our knees screaming when everybody hears just a whisper. Here is where I'm making ultimate mistakes for no reason other than pride that is just as abstract and unpredictable as the flip of a coin. Here is where I now lie in this cluttered room of just me and the prescence I know is Jack.
"Yer having quite the hard time adjusting to our way of life, aren't ya?" he proposed to the inquiry I hadn't made. Cracks in eyelashes told me the sunset was pressing against the windowpane looking for somewhere warm in the night, but they had told me when it was late afternoon as well. Drunk in my thoughts I had been lying here possibly for hours, immobilized and listening to the rush of voices pass me by like a rock disturbing nature. Jack- the golden boy had been around. Too much. Or at least since he had heard Racetrack's account of our adventure today, and I knew from the moment he had tolerated breathing the same air I did he had been waiting till I woke up. Or at least, told the world he did. I was not a fool and neither was he- he knew I had been awake this entire time.
"You have no idea," I responded and felt the bed sag under his weight. His sigh did not sound aggravated or irate like I had predicted, but tired. He had dealt enough with me. I did not dare to think he didn't know my tricks because he saw more than any of these bums and patiently I waited for the placidness of the graying sky to disparate for the hurricane, for his face to turn blue from yelling himself hoarse. I deserved it and I knew it well. From his talk earlier I had nearly cost Racetrack and Kid Blink a day's selling when they almost refused to get back to selling their papers, and caused them needless worry when distractions could condemn them to death. The silence was bordering unbearable and the deadliness of it had me look hesitantly at Jack. The sun reflected in perfection when it illuminated him in gold and he appeared the epitome of a monumental statue of a great hero as he sat on my bed, staring out the window tangoing with hidden thoughts. Finally the silence was too uncomfortable and I tentatively said, "Jack?"
"Hmmm," he hummed back like I interrupted him on any regular circumstance, like any of us had. Mentally preparing that he was just building his berating I crawled to the end of the mattress and plopped beside him on my knees, waiting. He didn't even acknowledge me and then I began to panic- Jack not yelling at me was too much of a rarity. Placing a hesitant hand on his shoulder I shook gently, hoping to revive him of the deadly plague of calmness.
"I ain't gonna yell at ya," he answered to the unspoken question but didn't shake my arm off, and for some reason it was comforting to leave it there. "I don't know what's wrong wid me right now, but I can't yell at ya fer this no matter how stupid ya act. Fainting like dat. Ya could've gotten hoit," he continued and looked at me with a brotherly concern that made me uncomfortable. Nobody should get concerned over me and I shouldn't get concerned over anybody, that was how people got hurt.
"I know better den you do ya gotta let it go before ya get yerself killed," he said as he rose and when sharply I looked up at him he did not look back. He left me here with a larger hole than before, wondering just how much I could keep hidden when he left me alone for the first time in hours. Sighing, I stared at my hands trying to make some sense out of today and trying to keep Jack's farewell words away.
"Ya can't when it's a part of ya," I whispered. The tears that would never leave me gathered, trying to hide from anything that screamed my name.
"My, my, ya just keep getting more interesting," a voice purred that made my heart stop. For the seconds of breathlessness I took short rapid breaths and steadied the nausea I was feeling, trying to pick up the broken pieces of myself. I was a mess and the last thing I wanted to do right now was fight with the bastard.
"Can't ya stay on da oddah side of da bridge?" I hissed, looking up and blinded by tears. Furiously I blinked them away and found him standing there reserved against the frame of the door, leaning against it with his arms crossed and his sleeves rolled to their elbows revealing his biceps. He was good looking, I couldn't deny that, but for some reason now I felt sick looking at him. Swearing beneath my breath I knew now he had heard me talk to myself, had seen my tears, and now with clear vision saw the pity he watched me with. My stomach turned over in disgust and he smirked at my revolved look, knowing exactly what he was doing. I didn't want his pity.
"Yer forgetting, Venice," he said dangerously, enunciating the nickname pointedly as he stepped forward menacingly. His eyes glinted as he said through clenched teeth, "Dis is me sister's room."
"Wrong. It's my room too now," I retorted smoothly, rising swiftly and crossing my arms in defiance.
"No. Yer wrong. Dis will never be yer room just like heah will never be yer home. And you'll never be a newsie," he said softly but the softness was the mask for the doubts he drilled into my confused mind. My heart plummeted. How much could he possibly know so soon? He tauntingly held the truth in his hands obliviously, his malicious glitter telling me his words were to sting without many pinches of truth.
"Hate to break yer heart honey but I already am," I said proudly and he raised his eyebrows disbelievingly, tauntingly. If there was one thing that had me see red it was when people didn't listen.
"Really?" he queried with a devilish look. "Cause I don't think a newsie would risk their partners not selling, not eating. I don't think a newsgoil would be stupid enough to faint in front of da harbor men."
"We all make mistakes, Spot," I said quietly ashamed, steadily looking at him so he felt the meaning. I needed him to feel my emotion like he had me feel every scarring word. Maybe then I wouldn't feel so helpless when facing down everything I had been warned to stay away from. Staring back the fading sun changed his expression into understanding, before just as quickly it changed back into the fury I had kindled, the danger that was him. A fiercely protective blade shot through me and instantaneously I felt a thousand words for that one look. A new revelation- Spot Conlon had known some of these boys since early childhood. They were his friends, his allies, besides his sister the only family he had and with a simply stupid action I jeopardized their safety. Their safety was never a guarantee but when the harbor men wanted something they got it- if they had seen me 'faint' we would stand no chance. I was becoming a threat to him not only in authority but to his family. To the lives nothing could repair and no price could be paid for. As melodramatic as it was there was no exaggeration in the fiery pits of his deranged anger. Shame and anger at myself clouded everything as I looked away from him; now more of a burden than I realized. Nothing I seemed to do was right. But it was the only escape I could think of.
Unconsciously he had shown me another side of him, another besides the dangerous egotist, a side of raw protectiveness for the only family he knew. Somehow it humanized him in my eyes and he became more than just the dog I saw him as. So the Brooklyn leader and I had something in common after all. Revealing to the world what we wanted them to see and showing nothing else, rejecting everybody and the world for our preferred fantasies where we are all we long to be.
"Starting ta feel bad now?" he demanded sharply, guessing everything running through my mind too closely but I wasn't sure if he was talking about fainting like I had or finding one commonality between us. The footsteps he left to his opened mind he had to cover and years of manipulation had trained him to maneuver any conversation to exactly what he wanted. He could measure me up and read me with one quick glance, no matter how little he knew of me and how little I revealed, and I felt a painful stab of hatred for him right then. For hurting others for his pride. "Now I don't give a damn wad happens to ya but it won't look good for Jack if ya get killed. I'm surprise ya weren't raped at da least, if Race and Blink didn't do it da harbor men would. And I wouldn't be surprise if they didn't lift a finger."
"Not everybody brags of their indecency," I snarled, struggling for an opening to escape from this prison, a pawn trapped by strategy by the king. That was the only genius in him to be able to manipulate a person so well- finding small grains of truth; he fed off self doubts and fear like a leech. But the bitter truth was I couldn't be sure if the newsboys would do a thing if I were attacked, and that blame could rest no where but my own slumped shoulders. I was too used to it though, handling my own with nobody caring if I lived or died, for it to have the desired effect and his glare darkened when he saw the current had only slightly shifted. I had foiled his plan and he did not like it when he was wrong.
"Dat's because dey have nothing ta brag about. I'se just da truth," he growled, backing me into a corner. I closed my eyes tight when the wall collided with my back, leaving me with no where left to run. Stalking like the majestic beauty and ferocity of a tiger he drew close to me, unreadable and emotionless but sparks shooting off him.
"No, ya ain't nothing but blind folly, Conlon," I retaliated, my voice quiet but with a steel that had his eyes flare and though I felt my knees buckling I would not succumb to fear. "People don't follow ya because dey respect ya or like ya, but they're scared of ya. And you, you don't even know wad yer doing. Ya shed blood. Nothing but blood. Yer just as worthless as I am."
"Don't. You. Dare," he breathed, voice shaking and enunciating every word through his panting, resurfacing a nerve I had reached. I leaned close to the wall from the venom in his voice but he drew closer until we were inches apart. "Don't ya ever, ever, compare yerself to me. If I ever hear ya saying we'se alike and ya lower me ta your place I swear yer life will become a living hell."
I moved my neck to avoid his repugnant breath, and the spitting of his deranged look, choking back no words. His hands slammed on either side of my head, trapping me and blocking any hopes of escape. I looked back at him desperately, knees shaking and a lonely bead of perspiration rolled down the side of my face. The daggers in those eyes had the emitting hatred stab me like a knife. His body pressed against mine, sinking me into the wall and I wished so bad I could live behind that wall.
"Spot…" I struggled, forgetting my pride but I would not beg. His smirk was dancing in his eyes since he knew he had dominance and complete control, he knew precisely what he was doing. His frame was pressing against my chest, and I had to struggle just to breathe. I saw his lips before I felt them. Fearful I jerked my head to the side to have those lips bruise my cheek. It was a punishment, not a pleasure and it was meant to be so. It was meant to have me back down to his feet wiping the mud off his boots where I belonged. It was meant to raise the bile of emotions always there and I fought to keep my eyes open but they fluttered when his lips made contact. A chill spread through my body fighting the raging heat, tears developing in desperation for a vulnerability I loathed and only could I regain my senses as his lips traveled towards mine. My knee shot out but he leapt back without surprise, always one step ahead.
"Who do you think you are?" he spat out, drawing closer to me again. Looking at him sadly I tried to find the words I could not feel until he took a step back, watching my hopeless look.
"I'm just me," I lamented. I couldn't look at his face before I stepped around him and did not look back. I felt his gaze of thorns when he looked at me with eyes full of questions. I couldn't turn back though; all I could do was put one foot in front of the other and silently ask myself over and over again 'what's wrong with you?'. Leaving my emotions spilled at his feet I shut the door behind me and sighed deeply, banging my head against the door and staring towards the sky in hopes for an answer. I could not handle the emotions surging inside me and contradicting themselves, throwing me so off balance I could fall. But I was scared, more than scared I was shaking…trembling. For every word he had said and for having control by a force I couldn't match. But what I didn't want to admit was that though that had intimidated me I had been in that situation plenty of times in my life. I was scared for the control he had by a force I couldn't fight- the emotions he roused, for the gooseflesh he created, for the vulnerability I had felt. He did that to every girl that crossed his path from sheer magnetism; that was why he had such a reputation with the ladies. He made us feel when we weren't supposed to feel anything at all. He allowed us to have a freedom with emotions we buried. He made us feel everything we tried so hard to hide- the anger, sadness, and joy we're always overwhelmed by. For a price. For our heart. That was his appeal. And with that appeal he could do and say anything he pleased, knowing very well just how badly it would hurt.
His words were meant to scar. His trap was meant to haunt and scare and shake. His kiss was meant to break.
Whispers flooded ears that didn't want to hear anything but the beating of my heart and helplessly I looked around me, fearfully, waiting for the next attack only to find a thousand eyes. Shocked I gasped and threw myself back against the door, tensed to pounce if I was threatened and only seeing the animal kingdom. Boisterous, rambunctious, and ill tempered but there was no animal kingdom in these four walls no matter how closely the newsies resembled savages, and only newsboys stared at me curiously and worriedly. I stared back at those who had caught my pathetic sight and I realized now I was sweating and the tears I had promised myself would never fall were coming dangerously close to spilling. Still shaking I looked a distraught mess and unwillingly became self-conscious; on other circumstances I would have flaunted my messiness but now it was extreme for a boy had done this to me. Gathering every emotion my face became emotionless as I pushed away from the door and stalked towards the staircase, feeling their eyes follow me.
Spot Conlon could break me like a twig and still sleep soundly. It was as if everything that had happened today was just leading into proving Jack's words true. Spot made me feel things I didn't want to ever feel and if I ever succumbed to those feelings I would be left broken and cold to the bone. His interest in me, the only reason he kept reappearing, was to set me in my place because I dared to fight him and the only way I would be safe from reaching a breaking point that would push me over the edge and into insanity was to stay far, far away from him. Now that seemed impossible when he was everywhere. Yet I had to because I would not break, I would not let myself. Whatever it took…
"Lani!" a familiar voice tumbled up the stairs and I closed my eyes, hoping that if I couldn't see them they couldn't see me. I wanted to scream for them to leave my alone because now I couldn't cope with anything but my own breathing, anything else and my mind would explode.
"Jack told us ya just woke up. We had to go sell earlier…" Blink's voice was suppressed with silence as he caught sight of me, Racetrack and him just making it up the stairs.
"Wad in da hell happened to ya?" Racetrack demanded furiously, arms crossed as he glared down at me and I grinned cheekily back but my smile was feeble. I had to and could stop my feelings if I pretended they didn't exist, if I willed them all away.
"I fainted, remember?" I asked dryly, convincingly, but they spent their lives sifting lies and half-truths from the truth and saw straight through me. While their penetrating glares didn't have quite the fearful effect Spot's or Jack's did they were trained enough to have their own desired effect, like angry father's or older brother's knowing it was just a matter of time before their misbehaving girl admitted her fault. I diverted my eyes because if I did not see them I would not crack, until Racetrack forced my jaw back towards them.
"I fainted!" I cried, hoping their exhaustion would cover the gaps in the truth my fib left but when they exchanged looks I knew neither of them bought it for one second but were willing to let it go for now. weren't willing to let it go. I stomped my foot in frustration, tempted to push one of them down the stairs.
"Really, I'm fine," I supported through clenched teeth, attempting to freeze myself into stopping trembling and I smirked, cocking my head to the side daring them to protest now. I couldn't decide if they'd be more worried about the aftermath of 'fainting' or an encounter like I had with Spot Conlon. I didn't want to test them anymore though, at least not tonight. I could do nothing about the tears that were agonizingly slowly evaporating or the perspiration or the slight tremble, but I could convince my mind how little Spot mattered and all that he had done, could will myself to believe. My heart was trivial, could be buried deep like every emotion he evoked I kept locked away. I was doing just the opposite of all that Jack had warned me of but for now the only thing that mattered was to end this interrogation.
"Whatever ya say, doll," Racetrack mumbled still in a disbelief that I could do nothing to repair. Kid Blink opened his mouth to continue this but Racetrack nudged him and sent him a warning look I hoped they didn't mean for me not to see since they weren't exactly the slyest. "I think ya fainted cause you'se was cold…well, Blink helped suggest it but I thought of it foist."
"So we passed lover boy and Hope the flower and aftah we told dem wad happened she took us back to Coney since she had a spare shirt. It ain't a coat and it's a bit worn, but it's heavy and if ya throw it ovah wad ya have on now it has ta help at least some," Blink continued and held out the mysterious bundle he had been holding under his arm. I took it from him gratefully, studying the worn and faded purple material but my fingers caressed the thickness of it adoringly, because when the deeper winter came knocking upon New York's door it could help shield me from some of its hateful wrath. It was a rare luxury afforded on the streets, a novelty to be appreciated.
It had covered someone else's back though and had helped them survive through the winter, and through this winter it could aid those closer to them if it was not required. I had done nothing to earn this but pretend to faint because I could only keep running and lying to the people who accepted me into their domain. Reluctantly I held it back to Blink, saying proudly, "I don't take charity."
"It ain't charity," Blink argued, holding his arms away from the shirt I attempted to shove at him until I finally just tossed it in his face. "That was rude."
I snorted loudly and spun on my heel before I felt the shirt tossed upon my head, blinding me.
"I told ya I don't take charity!" I yelled, throwing it back at him, our previous argument forgotten in place for something more interesting.
"We didn't even ask her. She just got it on her own," Blink pointed out, completely missing my point before throwing it back at me and I clutched it, my knuckles turning white.
"So? It's still charity. I didn't do nothing to earn it, I don't even know this goil," I argued persuasively and was ready to fling it severely into Kid Blink's face but I felt a gently firm grip on my wrists and looked for the annoyance as pesky as a mosquito refraining me from ridding my hands of this hand out. Racetrack gave me a stern look, warning me away from fighting him, as he was able to control me without inflicting a pain he knew I wouldn't take.
"Venice. Lani. Listen. It's not charity and it ain't outta pity she's giving it to ya, so forget it and forget yer pride for a minute. Charity is wad da rich gives ta da poor. Hope's a Coney newsgoil, as far away from rich as we are. It ain't charity between newsies. We gotta look out fer each oddah, ya heah? It's us against da woild and if we can survive street fights and starvation we ain't letting da winter get da best of us," Racetrack said severely and I stared longingly at the shirt drooping from my hands when he released me.
"Fine. But I ain't gonna like it," I said stubbornly and he chuckled before gesturing back towards the open door of the bunkroom, Kid Blink stepping around us and screaming empty threats to one of the younger boy's on his bunk. I moved to follow him but Racetrack caught my arm and I looked at him questioningly.
"If ya ever need ta tawk to somebody…" he trailed off in a whisper that was meant for my ears alone, his worry harder to dissuade than the others. Unsure whether to be annoyed or comforted by his concern I gave him a reassuring smile.
"I'll know weah ta find ya," I promised and he nodded, relieved for a promise I wasn't sure I could keep. "And I'm sorry about earlier. I kept waking up and once I heard Jack say I almost cost you and Blink a days selling."
"Don't worry bout it," Racetrack dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "Like I said, we'se newsies and we gotta watch out fer each oddah."
I grinned and nodded, Racetrack oblivious to the reasons of an apology I had to make. Nonetheless I had no other choice but to hold my tongue and follow him into the bunkroom, hoping that Spot Conlon was mourning in shame inside my room or had already left through the window. Racetrack paused and looked over his shoulder at me in concern and I closed my eyes, begging for a calm that would never fully engulf me. Even just the mere thought of him cast these shadows that coldly splattered for all to see. So I took their smiles and made them mine.
"Who's dat tawkin ta Jack?" that boy with the crutch asked curiously and my enthusiasm for their snoopiness wasn't what it usually was. Right now nothing mattered but keeping the reigns on my emotions. Though that wasn't enough to evade my curiosity and from the corner of my eye I saw my leader in a shaded corner of the room talking in a hushed voice to somebody I couldn't quite make out, Spot right beside them. I took a sharp breath, not ready to face him again, but fate's game of cards always tried to catch me in a spider's web of trouble. His back was turned towards us and Jack seemed too enveloped in his conversation to notice us watching. Big ears…Crutchy I think they called him…nudged Racetrack and he rolled his eyes, remaining firmly standing and a spectator.
"Jack's gonna soak us good if he catches us spying on him," Crutchy warned though that did not impress Racetrack. "You too, Venice, just cause yer a goil and he has honor don't mean…"
"Well he should move his conversation somewhere else," I said stubbornly and Racetrack snickered. Crutchy still appeared wary though, too pure hearted to eavesdrop on someone who was a hero in his eyes. "Crutchy, he has to expect us to spy on him if he's standing right in the bunkroom. He should know bettah den dat; I'm very disappointed in him."
The newsies of Manhattan fell short to my raised expectations for their curiosity, finding more interest in their games and tricks. Their eyes cast glances to the secrets of that corner but they were short lived, in a matter of seconds their rodent intention spans finding something new to gaggle at. Perhaps I was being too hard on them, on their abilities to eavesdrop, most probably aware their leader was not in the best of moods and Spot Conlon never was, all scared of Brooklyn. It seemed only Racetrack and I gave a shit until I saw Camelot and Boots crouching behind one of the bunks, cards in their hands but their eyes trained on the leaders and this newcomer. They felt me staring and Camelot caught my eye, her drained look warning me all they heard was not good.
"I have a feeling I'se being watched," Jack announced angrily, his voice traveling with expertise to only reach as far as Racetrack and I and as wide as Boots and Camelot. Pinpointed stirring trouble the four of us exchanged one quick look before smiling sheepishly; adorable innocence only usually works over parents but it was worth a shot. He turned his head to hide his smile, though in its sadness we turned to each other, confused. Jack was certainly the mystery maker.
Spot finally whirled around with a painful promise and his eyes swiveled to mine just as quickly as I sought him out. I could not meet his eyes; I'd rather be the coward then fall into their turbulence and forget everything that had just occurred. The energy from our minds connected and I knew he was thinking of everything I was- a quarter of an hour ago he had hurt me with his words of steel, that nobody would care if I were attacked, but I had sliced just as severely with mine and bruised his reputation. He had attacked me with the enchantment he wove, the threats of breaking and the gooseflesh of his punishing kiss but I had retaliated with the truth. When I finally looked up at him he was scared, scared of little ole' me. I couldn't put my finger on the why of it but I had left him with questions and my own self-damnation I knew was reflected in his soul…if he had one.
"Venice," Racetrack's voice tickled my ear as he caught my elbow and I did not understand. "You're shaking."
"I just haven't eaten much today," I whispered back truthfully although he knew that wasn't the straight story. The straight story I couldn't figure out. My knees were buckling because I couldn't do anything but stare at Spot Conlon and the emotions from minutes ago were resurfaced; I still felt him pressed against me, completely and utterly at his mercy. I detested vulnerability and that was all I felt. Yet I'd have to work harder at hiding my feelings.
Spot was suspicious now, though Jack was too involved in scanning the room for anybody still else listening besides his 'favorite newsies'. I smiled a thanks to Racetrack before drawing away. The stranger was watching us intensely so I switched it and he was bombarded with stares, his profile only showing like the act of a coward until he slowly turned and we were faced with a stranger that wasn't so strange. My heart leaped in surprise before breaking into the goofiest of grins, but with one swift warning look I knew better. We couldn't know each other. Any lie could be traced back so it was safest. For now the stranger was just that and no more.
"Wad was dat all about, Cowboy?" Racetrack questioned calmly and Jack could only run a tired hand through the grease in his hair, giving his friend a helplessly desperate look. He was struggling to say anything at all when to him the leader breathed within the confinements of his own barricaded mind, confiding in anybody a forbidden sin that meant weakness. It meant he couldn't handle his leadership. I was beginning to find his position was what Jack lived for and I was beginning to feel pity for him. His reasons were absolute nonsense of course, but when he believed he had nobody left to save him from his mind he was chained to a dungeon I was all too familiar with.
"Nothing, Race. It was about nothing," Jack sighed before catching sight of me and his gaze darkened severely, warning me out of understanding him. I smirked innocently with my own narrowed eyes, issuing a challenge without a sword and he answered with a warning look I knew too well. What is more powerful- the sword, the pen, or a silent challenge?
"Who's da angel, Kelly?" Micah inquired with a smarmy little grin after seeing this exchange. If he believed that just because we were pretending not to know each other I wouldn't give him a hard time then he was sadly mistaken.
"Why don't ya go find her," I snapped and was delighted in his surprise. "Not that she'd stay for da likes of you."
"Venice…" Jack warned but Micah just laughed.
"Touché," he smiled, his eyes glittering in a way I had missed. "No wonder yer keeping dis one."
"She ain't so entertaining when she's challenging ya every chance she gets," Jack huffed, his feathers ruffled when Micah had taken my side over his. "She's a new one. Name as of today is Venice. Venice dis is a friend of ours, runs a local gang, so ya mind him, heah?"
"A name would be too much to ask, your right," I rolled my eyes, disregarding his last comment. That was one promise I wouldn't even attempt to make, especially since even now my blatant disregard for him was irking him and that gave me immense enjoyment. There was so far I knew I could push Jack and still remain safe and it was easier than confronting anything, especially Spot and all he evoked.
"Its Micah," he introduced, spitting in his hand and I did likewise, stepping forward to shake and stepping away from Jack. Smirking mischievously I drew closer to Micah, close enough our words could safely be said, but for a reason I didn't know our seemingly intimate 'introduction' would simultaneously aggravate Jack. It was like killing two birds with one stone.
"Hello stranger," I whispered. Sending him a sculpted look of questions I looked up into the face that was fading from familiarity. A nostalgic twinge settled in my stomach like hunger, surprising me. Micah had been here for as long as I had needed him, never asking for help and he had never given me any but more with a crude friendship I never acknowledged. I had needed him lately, just needed to know he was living the life and that the world's heart was still beating as mine fell apart. Now that he was here I realized like a cold slap in the face how badly I needed him here now, just because he has always been there. It was one of the few things I could rely on anymore, because Micah would never leave. His place was in this city. And after two days of change it was nice to know.
"Thought I'd check up on our wager," he replied in an act of ventriloquism, hardly moving his lips but I heard him easily. "And making sure da newsies haven't jumped off a bridge yet."
"Stop it," Jack ordered and I felt gravity's wrath work its magic as I staggered backwards, dropping the over shirt, and if it weren't for Jack sharply dragging me to my feet I would be sprawled in a humiliating position now. Maybe I would've been grateful if it weren't for him being the one to yank me backwards in the first place.
"Wad's da big idea?" I demanded, glaring up at him and he still clenched my arm and scowled at me as if I was completely at fault here.
"Don't manhandle him," he said shortly and I looked at him incredulously before looking back at Micah, ordering him with a glare to help me here. Jack didn't seem to be in the mood to be convinced though and I fought the blush for him thinking such a thing of me, no matter how bad it looked.
"Jack, relax, she wasn't flirting wid me. She's probably seen me around and wanted to get a closer look, dat or I'se just real good looking," he grinned cockily and I gagged. His eyes narrowed suspiciously as he studied Jack. "Ya jealous? Cause yer acting like ya have da hots fer her."
"Don't disgust me," Jack said, revolted and though I was relieved even if before I knew the answer there was a twinge of hurt I would have to be careful to never show. It was not as if I was ever interested in Jack, but its ego bruising to know how unattractive you might be to someone. "I just don't want me newsie acting like a ninny."
"Well, she wasn't," Racetrack defended me as he rejoined the conversation and I heard Spots audible snort. I groaned with the frustration this minor conflict was creating.
"Thank you, Race. At least somebody will defend my honor," I scowled, sending a withering look to Micah before realizing anxiously how suspicious that was and reversing my look to Jack and Spot.
"You should go flirt with Micah to confuse everybody," Camelot suggested with a sly smirk and I grinned back, the idea sounding very appealing.
"Don't give her any ideas," Spot warned his sister, though he was more infuriated with her encouragement than he was letting on. My misdemeanor was inappropriate, too radical for him to already handle and he didn't seem eager for another helping. At least not so soon.
"Don't worry, Spotty," I laughed, winking suggestively. It was the only way I could counter the control he has over my emotions, trying a different way of fighting that wouldn't bring him back. "There's plenty of me to go round."
"I don't go for sluts," he answered proudly and I sighed with a restraint that was breaking. Micah tensed at that and Racetrack as well seemed ready to strike but Jack stood there predictably, an expression that clearly said 'you deserved that'.
"Funny, Conlon, because it seems sluts are da only thing ya do go for. Takes one to know one," I said breezily, leaping out of line blindly and carelessly. I was going back on every promise I had just made to myself. I didn't know why I was provoking him but everything I tightly harbored converted into a dry anger and Spot's presence was the wood that fed that fire. Spot took a step towards me with practiced danger and Camelot twisted his shirt in her hand, restraining him but with a warning look telling me there was only so far she would let me attack her brother. His glare deepened when he looked back at his sister, ordering her icily to let go of him but she stood her ground, scowling back and they silently communicated until she finally released him.
"Why don't ya come see fer yerself how much of a dirty whore ya are. I'm having a little shindig at Medda's tomorrow. I'd have it at Brooklyn but Medda wants ta see all of us again. I'd be honored by you coming," he bowed extravagantly but his eyes never left mine, reading for the emotions I'd never let him see. I was sure I was emotionless as I mulled it over but really I had no choice. It was a challenge and I was no coward.
"You would," I replied cockily, but my arrogance was just to dig under his skin and combat with his own weapons. "How bout it, Race? Is their get together enough fun to make me forget Spot Conlon is there too?"
"Trust me," Spot began but I cut him off.
"Excuse me, is your name Race?" I said primly without even turning to face him.
"Nothing can make ya forget me," he whispered huskily as he wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me towards him. I let out a contaminated breath as I collided with his chest, feeling his chiseled abdomen from years of these streets. His free arm snaked around my arm, caressing it, and the heat flash scorched me. Wincing, I remembered the cause for this. He heard my words in a way they were not said. He knew of the effect he had on me earlier and was only too eager to have the upper hand again, and for whatever fear he had of me he had to fight and the only way he knew how was to gain this control. For whatever fear I had of him the only thing I could do was fight but not like this; part of my fear was because of this. It was cycle that would never end.
"Conlon, get yer greasy fingers off me," I snapped, struggling from him but his grip only tightened until his fingers were painfully digging into my skin, sure to leave marks. I had taught myself how to end pain if I willed it away and now a new lesson was formed; how to stop any attraction I had for Spot Conlon right now. My brain screamed at every fiber to forget this, forget him, that I could be free of the gooseflesh where his fingers touched. Yet pain and whatever initial attraction I have for Spot Conlon were not the same thing and I could not will this away.
A/N- thanks to anybody who read this. c'mon, please review? reviews are what keeps me writing this. and i would love critiques.
