Chapter Nine: I Have a Brilliant Idea (If I Do Say So Myself)
I couldn't sleep. I thought my headache would fade when I lay down, but lumpy bandages prevented me from getting comfy. Everything ached. Some part of my face or head complained no matter which way I rolled. My mind, though foggy with weariness and swimming waves of pain, refused to stop whirling with the events of the day.
We have to do something. But what?
/
The rain lessened as Crutchie and I reached the lodging house. The sun peeked out below the clouds as it set, but try as I might, I couldn't find a rainbow in the sky. Of course, any time I tried to look up, a wave of dizziness nearly sent me to the ground.
A part of me knew we were lucky. We could have been hit a lot worse, or be in the Refuge by now.
But the rest of me wondered, if I couldn't handle a little fight like this, how would I be able to survive here? I thought I could take care of myself, and now I didn't know what to think.
Buttons kept watch outside the lodging house when we turned onto the street. His eyes widened when he saw us and his mouth dropped open. He ran inside, and soon Jack came bursting out the door, meeting us halfway down the sidewalk. He went straight for Crutchie, panting a little.
"What happened ta you'se?" Jack looked Crutchie over, checking him for injuries and noting them. Wanting to stay out of the way, but still incredibly dizzy, I slumped against the wall of whatever building we stood next to, fighting to keep my eyes open and be aware of the goings on around me, "I…we was worried sick."
"We're, we're fine," I said, eyes half closed. It hurt to talk, and my voice came out hoarse, but I couldn't seem to stop once I started, "we're fine. Just had a run in with…the Delanceys, that's all. The sun's being stupid, there should be a rainbow, why isn't there a stinkin' rainbow? I hate the wet, I miss my towels, do we have any nice, fluffy, towels? Of course we don't, cuz we're poor! Hey guys? I think I'm in shock. Do I sound like I'm in shock? I think I'm in shock…can someone get me a blanket?" I laughed a little to myself, because Sherlock reference, but that hurt so I stopped.
"You're bleedin'" Jack said, looking away from Crutchie, who was now leaning more heavily on Jack than his crutch.
"Am I?" I reached up and found a scrape on my temple, and a lump on my forehead that seemed to flare in pain when my hand so much as hovered near it, "Cool, that's good, wait, no its not, I need to stop talking."
"What you needs is ta lie down." Jack said.
"You right. Lemme just…" I straightened, and tried to take a step toward the lodging house. My legs buckled beneath me.
"Woah!" Jack caught me before I hit the ground. A part of my brain I tried to ignore informed me that this was the second time I had found myself in this position. I tried to get up, but well, that apparently wasn't happening, everything tilted sideways. Spots flashed in front of my eyes, the weird, fuzzy, colored kind, not the Brooklyn kind.
"I can make it. I can …ow …I'll be fine …I…"
"You ain't fine. I'se takin' you inside. Crutchie can you'se make it alright?"
"Yeah Jack. I'se made it this far."
"Now I needs you ta hold still."
"Jack wait…I can make it…Crutchie got hurt way worse….eeep!...ok…ok…"
Jack, ignoring any feeble protestations, scooped me up, which really didn't help my dizziness, and started carrying me inside.
"Mush stop peekin' out the door and tell da guys ta move off da sofas!"
My brain had ceased function. I closed my eyes, trying to blot out the pain that was my face and head. I tried to focus on something else, the texture of Jack's vest, the fact that he carried me into the main room of the lodging house. The actual, somehow impossibly existing Jack Kelly, had me in his arms right now….and the actual, somehow impossibly existing Crutchie was hurt…and the actual, somehow impossibly existing Romeo…
I felt myself lowering, and the poking springs of the couch felt far less comfortable than the arms that held me a few seconds before. I opened my eyes, a small groan escaped me in spite of myself.
"Jack, there's somethin' else…" Crutchie said.
Jack ignored him, "Specs, whaddya think?"
"Get some wet rags and some dry ones for bandages. One of 'em must've had some brass knuckles," Specs shook his head and Jack cursed.
"Jack,"
"I'll kill 'em"
"Jack." Crutchie's voice grew more insistent.
Something cold and wet fell across my face. I was sick of cold and wet. I hissed. Specs continued to dab at various parts of my face, "can we get some blankets? They'll catch their death with all this wet."
See, you've heard of Davey the mom friend, but get ready for Specs the mom friend. Meh, who was I kidding, Davey was still the ultimate mom friend.
"Jack. We'se not 'da problem," I would have thought Jack would pay more attention to his friend/best friend/brother.
Specs stopped dabbing at my head, and I was able to turn a little until I could see Crutchie, lying in a similar position to me, but in a chair, with another chair propped up for his feet. Jack paced around him at a rate that made my head resume its spinning. Yep. Ha-ha. Someone came up with their arms full of blankets, and plopped them unceremoniously at my feet. Specs gave a heavy sigh. He was turning into Bones from Star Trek, I could feel it. He spread one of the blankets over me, while Jack took another and wrapped it around Crutchie's shoulders.
"They…they got Romeo…." The activity around us ceased. Specs paused in the middle of tearing some cloth for bandages, Jack with his arms still on Crutchie's shoulders.
"Whaddya mean they got Romeo?"
"When we'se got there, this bull was dere, and da Delanceys told him Romeo'd been soakin' 'em."
"Nah way he'd do that," Jack dropped his hands.
"That's what I said," I gasped when I sat up. Specs had to wrap some cloth around my head, and while I knew that was good for the bleeding parts, it didn't feel good in general. My side hurt too, from where Oscar had hit me, and I suspected a bruise was on its way. My left arm was scraped from where I tried to stop myself from hitting the building. Crutchie had several bruises blooming on his face, and I was sure there would be more around his stomach and chest, but I couldn't know for sure.
"…and then Vicky tries ta stop the bull, but he…"
"smacked me good in the face…and that's…"
"Dat's when da Delanceys decided ta teach us to 'respect authority'" Crutchie made air quotes, scowling.
"But they got Romeo sent to the Refuge…" I wanted to cry, but no tears fell around my swollen cheeks. I must have looked like a mess. Stupid walls.
"I think that's why they'se been lookin' so highfallutin every mornin' Jack. They'se been baitin' guys inta' fightin' 'em, and then they has the bulls 'dere ta..." he trailed off. I was overcome with the urge to go over and give him a hug. I tried to get up, but my whole head screamed at me. I fell back onto the sofa with a whimper.
"What are we gonna do?" I hadn't noticed Davey and Les were here until Les spoke up. His desperate tone made me want to run and hug him too, but I learned my lesson and stayed on the couch.
"I dunno kid." Jack said. The other boys were quiet as Specs finished his ministrations. Davey pulled Les into a hug, and though the younger brother usually resisted these forms of affection, he took this one, clinging to his brother like a rock in an ocean of uncertainty.
The boys helped me up to my bed that night, after I spent most of the evening dozing in and out on the sofa. Crutchie had been mostly ok. Don't get me wrong, he was probably beaten worse than I was, but he wasn't choked for one thing, and for another, though I hated to think about it, he was used to stuff like this. The Delanceys always picked on him more, and, well, he had been in the Refuge. I suspected that he was putting a brave face on. He was such a light to all of the newsies, he couldn't afford to go dark. Still, sometimes we needed to go dark to keep shining later.
I lay there, tossing and turning in the dark, wishing desperately for some Tylenol or Motrin for my head, worrying about all of these boys, especially Romeo. He was too young, too pure. His cheesy pick-up lines did him no good in there. He'd get hurt for even trying. I didn't want to think about him hurt, my mind kept returning to the same thoughts. An endless cycle, the click of the handcuffs, hitting the wall, that feeling of hopelessness as I couldn't breathe, watching Crutchie get hit, so much more real than in the show. What were we going to do?
Jojo had the bunk below me, and as I lay there, longing for the release of sleep, he started to snore. I bunched my limp pillow around my ears, groaning. Not only could I not sleep, but his snores guaranteed I never would. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why.
The idea hit me. It smacked me in the face like Race's pillow had a few days ago when I didn't wake up fast enough.
We can't sit around helpless, we have to try something or the boys will go mad… and I might join them.
Electric energy shot through my system, charging me like I had just been plugged in. We could do this. We could do this. I had to tell Jack. Wait. It was the middle of the night. But no, it couldn't wait for morning.
Ugh. I had to get up.
Getting to the roof was a challenge, but I managed to almost die only twice. When I finally scrambled into the "penthouse", I sat there for a moment, head to the ground, wishing I could make the ache stop, wishing the dizziness would leave, the fear, the feeling like I was out of breath though I had been able to breathe normally for hours. Steeling myself, I sat up and looked around.
Crutchie slept, curled up save for his leg, in the corner to my right. On the other side, Jack sat crouched with his back to me. I heard the scribble of charcoal on paper. His focus concentrated so completely in his drawing, he hadn't noticed me come up.
"Jack…" I whispered, not wanting to wake Crutchie, "hey Jack," no response, "Jack, Jackie boy, Jumpin' Jack Flash, Captain Jack, c'mon man seriously just turn around…no? Fine. Ignore me. Whatever…just had a great idea and all that…"
As I mumbled, more to myself than to him, I crept toward him, wondering how focused he could possibly be in his drawing, and in his own thoughts. A breeze blew by and I shivered, the days had grown colder as September ended, far faster than they ever did down at home. The storm today had probably been a cold front; we wouldn't have another warm night this year. I could barely handle the cold at home, where central heating existed. At least we had blankets, moth-eaten or no. I tapped Jack on the shoulder, "hey Jack?"
"GAH!" Paper and charcoal flew in the air as Jack jumped, standing and whirling around and nearly hitting me again, "Vicky?"
"Shhh! You'll wake up Crutchie," to prove my point, Crutchie shifted a little in his sleep, but didn't wake.
Jack ran a hand through his hair, "What're you doin' up here? Shouldn't you be sleepin'?"
I raised my eyebrows, dried blood above them crackling, "Shouldn't I be sleeping? Shouldn't you be sleeping?"
Jack sighed. He wore his striped sleeveless shirt for the night, his normal blue button-up draped over the railing, and his vest crumpled behind him. He sat down so we were at eye level. Scooping up his drawing, he crumpled it, and I winced at the sound of the crinkling paper.
"I was" he said, then scowled, "…hey you're tryin' ta turn dis on me, what about your head?"
"It's cuz of my stupid head that I can't sleep!" I threw my hands in the air, then let them plop back down again on my knees, shaking the floor.
"Shhh!" Jack smirked a little, "you'll wake up Crutchie."
I swiped my hand at him, but nearly burst out laughing. Ok. Time to do what I came for.
"I had an idea." I said.
"Oh, let me call the papes so it can make da headlines tomorrow." Jack leaned back against the rail, crossing his arms over his chest and looking entirely too pleased with himself. Even after seeing him in real life for over two weeks, unexpected sarcasm still proved a distraction… but no, focus.
"K, rude. But with any luck, well…." I took a deep breath, placing my fingers gently on either side of my head to try and clear the muck inside, "I wanna have a rally."
Jack raised an eyebrow, "A rally."
"Yeah, like the one y'all had during the strike that you went and ruined."
"Don' remind me," he looked away.
"Hey it wasn't your fault."
"Sure."
I rolled my eyes and sighed, someone was being difficult, "Anyways, we get all the newsies together, and maybe some representatives of other city kids. I mean, Pulitzer doesn't hate our guts anymore, so we can get press coverage. We can let everyone know that what's happening isn't ok and we aren't taking it lying down." I slammed my fist on the grating, which shook the whole balcony…again.
Jack sat up from where he was leaning, that unfortunately attractive eyebrow still higher than its twin, "An' what happens when the bulls come and we'se all arrested?"
"That's why we'll be careful. We've gotta stay calm, and just say what needs to be said in a way that doesn't incite a riot."
"Like that'll work," he still sounded skeptical. This was going nowhere.
"Well, we've got to try! We've got to do something! We can't just let Snyder pick us…pick us off…" silence fell across the roof, and it seemed to spread to the whole city. Though my eye hurt when I blinked, a tear leaked out, "I can't let anything happen to y'all."
"How d'ya think I feel?" his voice broke, and I regretted my own tears; if anyone deserved to cry it was him.
"I know. I know I'm being stupid. I'm just…I'm tired…and I know it's not the same. I just can't i-ignore my feelings because they're lesser…I…they're still there and….and everything hurts and…"
Jack scooted over, pulling his arms around me. I leaned on his shoulder, somehow more comfortable than I had been in my bed, realizing how far I'd come in terms of physical contact in just two weeks.
"You ain't stupid." Jack said softly, "In fact… you may be right."
"Really? Ow." I popped up, but my head protested and I slumped back down again.
"For sure,"
Wait, did he just say the thing? Dude, you can't just reuse old lines like that.
Jack shifted his weight beneath me, getting in a more comfortable position for me to rest my head, "we'll tell da guys tomorrow, and go ta da other Burroughs…and…." He sat up suddenly, forgetting I had been leaning on him, "and I'll make a drawin' about it, ta put in da papes!" He smiled, a genuine, not snarky smile.
"That sounds great! Oh, Crutchie…" Jack drew in a breath, glancing hurriedly at the sleeping boy. No reaction. Poor thing was so sleepy. I got up, hurrying over to the ladder, now at last ready to go down and to bed. A wave of dizziness struck as I neared it. I slipped, barely catching myself on the railing, my stomach flipped as I saw the streets below, "I'm ok. I'm ok."
Jack was to me in an instant, helping me back up.
"How'd'ya even get up here pullin' stuff like dat?"
"Crutchie got up here," I muttered, closing my eyes as new spots appeared.
"Yeah and I carried him cuz he's stubborn," he tried to guide me away from the edge, but I shoved him off.
"Well so am I, 'now I'm going to bed before either of you come up with another clever idea to get us killed, or worse, expelled,'" the quote slipped out through my weakened filters, concerning Jack even more.
"Is you even thinkin' straight?"
"bold of you to assume I ever think straight."
Jack shook his head, "that's it, you're stayin' up here tonight."
"No! I can make it." Despite my protest, I allowed myself to be led away from the ladder, too worn out to shove him off again.
"Sure ya can, and I'm Governor Roosevelt."
"Jack," We stared at each other for a moment, each waiting for the other to cave, but the more I thought about it, the more my head protested, the more I wanted to stay up here. I relented, "where will you go?"
"Huh?"
"If I stay the rest of the night up here, where will you…you know? I'm tired," If I didn't lie down soon I would fall down. I just knew it.
"I'll be fine without da mattress, I can sleep next ta Crutchie, he don' mind."
"I guueeeess." I let the whininess I felt inside seep out into my tone.
Jack guided me over to the mattress, which didn't stink at all, and definitely wasn't damp from the wet ground, nope. Jack reached for the blanket, but I snatched it away, determined not to be completely helpless. I spread it out, it was long enough to cover my legs but nothing higher. Of course, Jack had taken the tiniest, most threadbare blanket of them all. My stomach twisted a little when I thought of my makeshift curtains downstairs, but at this point my tiredness outweighed any guilt.
Jack went over to Crutchie, several feet away on the opposite side of the penthouse, observing the sleeping boy's position. Crutchie, in his sleep, managed to form the most awkward and impossible-seeming body contortions, much like the other newsies when awake. Jack lay down next to Crutchie, careful not to touch and jar him. He took his shirt from the railing and spread it unbuttoned like a blanket. Only when I saw him settled did I turn over, hoping against hope that now, I last, I would sleep.