Disclaimer: I have no delusions about owning or holding rights over Newsies, you shouldn't either. Don't sue.
Also, any pop culture references...guess what? Don't own those either. Actually...anything that you may have heard of and/or recognized in this story is owned by someone who isn't me.
Warning: Updates may (and probably will be) slow.
This contains SLASH, in other words same sex couples. If this doesn't appeal to you, you shouldn't be here.
Summary of Chapter Nine:
-Dutchy starts his test in order to determine if Spot's gay or not
-Slingshot asks Spot for the day off in order to spend it with his cousin
-Swifty tries to talk to Bumlets and Skittery but gets insulted and ignored instead
-Bumlets tried to convince David to be more assertive
-Skittery finds out that Bumlets bottomed once
-Skittery is civil to Blink
-Itey asks Mush what is going on between Blink and Skittery
-Spot offers (in a rare moment of kindness) to drive Bumlets home
Getting Back Together Again
X
Slingshot's Cousin
Sean stepped out of the car as soon as it had parked in the mostly-empty car lot of his apartment building. He briefly thought about why it was that he had dropped Bumlets off before he just chalked it up to messing with Dutchy's head. The fact that the little idiot thought he was being secretive and doing a great job of hiding his crush really got on Spot's nerves.
"So what now, Boss?" Speed asked as he got out of the car as well.
Spot smirked, "Surely you can find something to do with yourself."
"I am at your beck and call, sir," Speed replied without any hesitation or sarcasm.
Spot smiled at that news. "Is there a reason you're talking to me right now?"
"Sir, yes, sir," Speed answered, snapping to attention. "Slingshot's off with his cousin and Hunter's wondering if that makes him the new second-in-command for today."
"Tell him I don't trust his incompetent, mother-fucking self around my men without Slingshot and that if he has any sort of a brain on him he'll take this chance to have a day off himself," Spot answered
"Yes, sir," Speed answered. "Also…Bam wants to know if you'll front him some money because he just ran out of tobacco this morning. Oh, and Stealth has some information for you. I don't know what kind of information, but he bet me ten dollars that you'd find it important."
"Tell Bam he's not getting his hands on my cash and that the only reason he's out of tobacco now is because he keeps betting with it," Spot responded. "Then find Stealth and tell him to go up to my room if he has 'important information' for me," he continued before heading towards the entrance of the apartment building.
"Wait! Wait, wait, wait," Speed demanded, running for less than two seconds to catch up to his boss. "Slingshot wanted to know if you wanted to meet his cousin or not. He also says to keep the sarcasm to a minimum and that he wouldn't allow any vulgar language around his relative."
"How old is the cousin?"
"No idea, sir."
"Gender?"
"No idea, sir."
Spot thought a minute. "Alright, tell Sling to call me whenever they've got a spare minute and I'll try to work it in."
"Yes sir," Speed answered obediently.
Spot looked suspiciously at Speed. "Is there a reason for all this 'sir' crap? Did you do something wrong?"
"Sir, no sir," Speed replied without hesitation.
"So you're mocking me then?" Spot asked, already knowing the answer was 'yes' even if Speed decided to say otherwise.
"Just a little, sir," Speed admitted. "You've never asked me to take anyone home before," he pointed out. "Did the big bad Brooklyn gang leader make himself a friend?"
"Too much, Speed," Spot warned, not really angry with him.
"Yes sir," Speed answered with no hint of mocking in his voice now.
"Get to work," Spot commanded.
"Yes sir," Speed agreed before getting into another car and driving off.
"What happened between you and Skittery?" Mush asked Blink just as he promised to, "Itey noticed that you two were really nice to each other after seventh period, but really angry at each other before."
"Oh, that," Blink smiled, "I don't know. He was an asshole to me until he found out Racetrack had a crush on Sean and then he just sat down next to me and was really nice."
"You told Skittery I have a crush on Sean?" Racetrack asked in shock and betrayal.
"No…well…he asked how I became friends with Sean and I just explained that we weren't really friends, per say, but that one of my friends had a crush on him," Blink answered honestly, "Your name wasn't really brought up."
"I still don't think you should be messing around with him, Race," Mush spoke up, "He's rude and callous and disrespectful and he's a downright bad person. I don't mean to tell you what to do, but…"
"Don't worry, Mush," Racetrack replied, knowing his friend meant well but becoming annoyed anyway, "I'll watch myself with him. I'll be careful."
"Racetrack," Blink spoke up, "He's the crew leader of the Brooklyn gang; I think you should be more than just careful."
"Look guys," Racetrack said, "I know all that, I really do. And while I realize he's probably a hardened criminal it's not like he's going to kill me without a reason to, right? And he's been nice…kind of…I mean…he's been…at least a little civil to me…he hasn't been mean...well, he is, but not like gang-leader malicious."
Blink rolled his eyes. "Nice argument. I know my image of him has completely turned around," he replied with sarcasm exceedingly evident in the tone of his voice.
"Just be careful, okay Race?" Mush asked with concern lacing his expression. "I don't want to see you get hurt, in any way, shape, or form."
"I know," Racetrack said, trying to pacify his friends. "I promise I'll be careful around him and I'll watch my back. I know what I'm doing."
"Famous last words," Blink muttered to himself.
"Aren't you supposed to go home right after school?" Mush asked as soon as the idea hit him, "Neither of us want you getting into trouble with your mom again."
"It's no problem," Racetrack insisted, "I took care of it. My new curfew's six o-clock."
"How did you manage that?" Blink asked, intrigued in the prospect that someone could get Mrs. Higgins to change her mind.
Racetrack shrugged, not really wanting to tell his friends that he had hung out with Sean yesterday and he had taken care of everything for him. "I guess she just changed her mind."
"Wow," Mush replied, readily believing his friend, "That was really nice of her."
Blink was a little more suspicious.
"Hey Bumlets," Itey greeted as soon as his friend entered Skittery's garage, "So? How was the ride with Sean? Fun? Did anything interesting happen?"
"That's an opening to freak Dutchy out if I ever saw one," Bumlets replied, sitting down on one of the lawn chairs. "I'm going to pass just this once."
"No," Dutchy interrupted, "I want to know. What happened?"
Bumlets rolled his eyes, realizing that Dutchy just wouldn't let him help him. "He blew me so well I think he turned me gay," he sighed, knowing Dutchy would believe it no matter what tone of voice he used. "We're going out now."
Dutchy's eyes widen. "You…bastard! You absolute bastard! How could you? After I told you I liked him!"
"I'm kidding around Dutch," Bumlets sighed, "Sean didn't blow me, I'm not gay, and we aren't going out. The trip was uneventful at best. I said 'hi' to the driver, he greeted me back, and everyone was quiet until I got dropped off."
"Well…you are gay," Skittery burst in as soon as he saw the opening, "But other than that I believe you." He was sitting on the small, beaten up couch along with Itey as a large bowl of potato chips sat between them. Skittery helped himself to one.
"That was going to be mine," Itey scolded with a pseudo pout on his face.
"Sorry, babe," Skittery apologized, "You pick one."
Itey did as he was told.
"That was going to be my next one," Skittery told him, laughing. "Okay, my turn."
"That was mine," Itey smiled.
"So you didn't learn anything more about Sean while you were in the car with him?" Dutchy asked Bumlets in disappointed.
"Yes," Skittery said to Itey as his friend snagged the chip that he had already decided was going to be his next one.
"His driver glanced up at me and then smirked at Sean," Bumlets recalled to Dutchy, "Other than that he drove, Sean glanced out the window, and I sat there awkwardly."
"Yes," Itey said to Skittery as his friend did the same thing to him.
"So what do you think the smirk meant?" Dutchy asked.
"Yes."
"I don't know," Bumlets confessed in exasperation, "It's not like I'm best friends with the driver or anything. How do you expect me to know?"
"Obviously," Itey said to Skittery.
"I know, right?" Skittery admitted with a laugh. "Your turn."
"Well what kind of a smirk was it? Was it a this-is-probably-your-new-boyfriend smirk? …Or was it a nice-to-see-you-again smirk? …Or was it an inside-joke smirk? …Or was it a this-isn't-like-you smirk?" Dutchy asked with horribly concealed curiosity.
"Yep," Skittery nodded as Itey got his chip right.
"I don't know!" Bumlets easily confessed, already irritated with all of his friend's questions. "I never realized there were different kinds of smirks. I, stupidly, always thought of a smirk as just a smirk."
"Right," Itey said happily as Skittery stole the ship that was predestined to be his. "My turn."
"But you're positive it was a smirk, right? It wasn't a grin or a leer or a smile?" Dutchy asked to make sure. "You're definite about that fact, right?"
"Yeah," Skittery nodded to Itey again.
"I think," Bumlets answered with confusion written all over his face. "What's the difference between a smirk and a grin?"
"Right," Itey applauded as he reached for his own potato chip.
"You're hopeless," Dutchy declared, rubbing away a headache. "Not to mention absolutely no help at all."
"You're useless," Spot told Hunter, trying to rub away his oncoming headache. "Did you or did you not do it?"
"I think I did," Hunter answered for the fifth time, "but I can't be sure."
"How hard is it to remember if you've threatened someone or not?" Spot asked in irritation. "I don't even care if you did it or not…I just need to know if you did so I can fix things if you've somehow offended him."
"I don't know!" Hunter exclaimed, "I thought he was our enemy so I might have, but I never went out of my way to do it! I swear!"
"So you do remember doing it?" Spot asked to make sure.
"No! Yes!" Hunter shouted before bringing his hands to the back of his head and crouching down so he was looking at the floor. "I don't know!"
"We are not rivals with anyone from the Bronx, Hunter," Spot told him, speaking to him as one would to a five-year old. "Okay? Bronx good; Queens bad."
"What about Manhattan?" Hunter asked, bringing his head up but not getting up from his position on the floor.
"Gangs from Manhattan are pissants," Spot lectured. "None of them have enough control or power to do anything to us. Therefore, we remain neutral in Manhattan until one of them tries something with us."
"So I can be mean to people from Manhattan?" Hunter asked.
"No!" Spot shouted. "You treat them neutrally! Do you know what that means? Impartially, objectively, with detachment! You don't do or say anything to anyone from Manhattan. Are we clear?"
A knock came from Spot's closed door before it opened a crack and Slingshot's head came through. "I know this is probably a bad time with you yelling and everything, but… You want to meet my cousin now?"
"Sure," Spot answered with a sigh in order to release tension. "I could do with a break anyway."
"You won't kill me or anything, will you?" Hunter asked worriedly, getting up from the floor.
Spot smiled and forced out a laugh, knowing that he couldn't threaten Hunter with Slingshot's cousin within hearing distance since the cousin didn't know they were part of any type of gang. "Now, Hunter, we're not running that type of business here. But, I admit, if we did and I were you…well, I would be worried."
Hunter looked confused for a moment, now in a fully upright position. "I don't know what that means."
Spot sighed again, "Just get out of here, Hunter, before my head explodes and you have to clean up the mess."
"Yes sir," Hunter said before obeying and darting out the door.
"So let's see this cousin," Spot demanded, turning to Slingshot, "I want to know what's so great about 'em that you would ask me this morning to let you skip out on me this afternoon."
"It's not him personally, Sean," Slingshot tried to explain again, walking in and leaving the door open for his cousin. "It's the fact that he's family that made me want to abandon you today."
"New Kid?" Swifty asked with surprise as soon as he stepped into the room of the person his cousin had been going on about since he picked him up at school.
Spot stared Slingshot's cousin, trying to place him. He had called him "New Kid" meaning he was from school in Manhattan. Other than that he couldn't really decipher him from the other idiots crawling around that school. "Do I know you?"
"You sure as fuck should, you asshole," Swifty answered, "We got paired up for that stupid French project and two seconds into it you told me that you weren't going to do any of it."
"Right," Spot replied as it all clicked. He rounded to Slingshot and raised his eyebrows, waiting for some kind of an explanation.
"When I found out what school Kevin went to I wondered if you knew each other, but I couldn't ask you because you rarely remember anyone's name. Hell, you called me 'Abortion-Boy' a month before you decided I earned the name 'Slingshot'," Slingshot tried to clarify.
"I felt bad about that, actually," Spot admitted, "I would have called you 'Homeless-Boy' instead of 'Abortion-Boy', but it was already taken."
"Anyway," Slingshot continued, not really caring about the fact that he used to be called 'Abortion-Boy' any more, "I just decided that it'd be easier (and more fun) to just have you two meet each, stand by silently to watch, and see what gets brought up. Personally I think it went pretty well."
"So what was your name? Kevin? Weird…I thought it started with an 's'," Spot said in a moment of clarity.
"My real name's 'Kevin'," Swifty easily confessed, still slightly glaring at Spot, "But I'm more commonly known as 'Swifty'."
"Score one for you, Bo-Sp-Sean," Slingshot stumbled, forgetting Swifty knew the boss as only Sean until it was almost too late.
Swifty looked at his cousin in confusion but let it drop.
"Well," Slingshot quickly jumped right back in, "Now that you know each other through me maybe you can re-forge your relationship, eh? What's this French project anyway?"
"I wouldn't do it for anyone else but you, Sling," Spot admitted with a smirk, "And even then it's kind of a long shot."
Racetrack came home earlier than the designated time, feeling quite proud of himself for achieving such a goal. Really he was just being cautious around his mother; he didn't know when her newfound happiness would abate but he did know that it eventually would, so in all truth and honesty he was just protecting himself from future attack.
And as soon as he walked upstairs, opened the door to his room and saw his mom he knew the future had arrived.
She was on all fours, halfway under the bed. Now, Racetrack didn't hide his things under his bed (he was far from stupid; that's the first place they look), but it did occur to him that in order for his mother to be crawling around on his floor she had to have been looking for something. Furthermore, why would she be looking for something just out of the blue? No, that wasn't the case. She must have already found something and instead of calling him, getting angry, and demanding he came home she just decided to go through his stuff to see what else she could find.
Racetrack's fear was beyond words as the many things she could have found in his room went running across his mind. He had to take a few calming breaths before he could even think about moving or talking.
"Mom? What are you doing?" Racetrack asked, privately elated that his voice came out strong and curious instead of squeaky and suspicious. "Did you drop something?" he continued when she didn't reply, really hoping that to be the case.
"I'm looking for lottery tickets," Mrs. Higgins replied calmly, still searching under the bed even though the occupant of the room was home.
"Lottery tickets?" Racetrack asked, his worry growing just as much as his confusion; he had never bought lottery tickets or even thought about buying lottery tickets. …So why would his mom being looking for them in his room? "Why?"
"Well," his mom replied calmly, finally standing up and facing Racetrack. "I found a betting ticket for a horserace in your pants when I went to get your laundry. I looked through your room and found all of these," she continued, bringing her hand up and showing her son the dozens of betting tickets she had found. "I figured if you're spending so much time at the racetrack you're probably spending money on lottery tickets as well.
"I…I can explain those," Racetrack slightly stuttered, pulling on his poker-face as his brain went into overdrive searching for a reason he would have betting tickets if he wasn't betting. The only flying thought he could catch a hold of was 'Sean would find a way out of this'.
"Look at all of these, Anthony," Mrs. Higgins demanded, waving the betting tickets in front of his face. "You have a serious gambling problem. Do you realize that?"
"No, Mom, it's not like that," Racetrack tried to convince his mother, grasping onto any type of argument he could find. "It's not like I steal money or anything; it's all my own. And I'm responsible with it, I swear."
"Betting is not responsible, Tony," Mrs. Higgins lectured in a voice of forced calm, "There is nothing about it that even sligthly resembles responsibility. I'm going to have to talk to your father about this, but from now on no hanging out with Wink and Moshe."
"I can't hang out with Blink and Mush?" Racetrack asked, understanding her even though she had gotten their names wrong. "But why not? We've been friends forever. You can't just tell me to suddenly stop hanging out with them!"
"I know they're the reason you're gambling, Anthony; you can't try to hide it from me," Mrs. Higgins explained. "No, no more. I have put up with them far too much for far too long."
"What about Sean?" Racetrack asked hurriedly as soon as he recognized the idea as something coherent to him. "Can I still hang out with him? You like him right? Can I?"
Mrs. Higgins faltered for a few seconds. "Only if he comes over here and I need to know when you're planning on inviting him over at least two days in advance," she bargained.
"Can I hang out with him Friday?" Racetrack inquired, knowing it was probably a bad idea but wanting to ask before his mom changed her mind.
"No, Anthony," Mrs. Higgins sighed, organizing all the betting tickets by date in her hand. "Look at all of these. You go every weekend! Even last weekend…which is odd seeing as you were grounded."
"I'm sorry, Mom," Racetrack said, looking forlornly at the floor.
"If you want you can invite Sean over Saturday afternoon," Mrs. Higgins offered in a rare moment of kindness. "But we are going to have a serious talk when your father gets home."
"Yes Mom," Racetrack agreed, happy that he got a chance to have his mother meet Sean (maybe he could do something about convincing his mother to let him hang out with Blink and Mush) but far from showing it.
"David," Specs whined, "I don't even know what you're talking about any more. Are you gay? Or are you straight? How tough is it for you to answer just one simple question? First you hit on me and then you dash out all angry and shit. What the hell's going on?"
David tried to yell at him and point out that Specs had been the one not listening properly. He tried to explain that yes, he was gay, but no, he did not have any kind of a crush on Specs. Unfortunately, instead of all that, what came out was, "I'm sorry about that. I shouldn't have done that to you and put you in such an awkward position." Needless to say, by that point, David was slightly fuming at himself.
"So what does this mean? Yes, you're gay, and yes, you have a crush on me, but you'll try to control yourself around me?" Specs asked. "I appreciate that and all Dave, but you said it yourself that all the boys want me; I can't really expect you to completely control yourself. I guess it's my fault for being so irresistible," Specs sighed in resignation.
"Are you serious?" David burst out, "Do you hear yourself right now? You're so full of shit! Not everyone on Earth is infatuated with you! You aren't even that attractive! You're average at best!"
"Excuse me?" Specs asked in outrage. "I'm gorgeous, thank you very much! I'm the fucking Apollo god of the lowly humans! What's up with you? What? Is it the fact that since you've told me you're gay you have to prove your manliness by trying to pick a fight with me?"
"I'm…" sorry David was about to say before a voice in his head that sounded creepily like Bumlets called him a pussy. "No, you know what? I'm not sorry. You've been treating me like shit for as long as I can remember! I'm…I'm tired of it! I realize it might be my fault for not tell you how I feel…but…but…and you're just so irritating all the time and you push me around with no regard for what I have to say and you're rude to everyone…and…and…God! If I had even a little less self control I would punch you!"
"What the fuck, Dave?" Specs screamed back, "I push you around? I have no regard for your feelings? Who the hell do you think you're talking to? Remember that party we went to last Saturday? Remember how you wanted to leave? Remember how we did? I was having a wonderful time and I would have stayed there for hours if it hadn't been for you! But you wanted to leave, so we left."
"I didn't even want to go in the first place! And I told you that! But you just kept pushing and pushing until I finally agreed to give up on homework for the night. And then where did we go? To the party Sarah was at! Sarah, Specs! You should have realized what an awkward position you put me in, and when I told you what did you do? Kept pushing until I said yes!" David shouted. "Do these things not occur to you? Are you just that stupid?"
"It was your decision David! I left it up to you! If you just had the ability to make up your mind and maybe be assertive for once we wouldn't be having any problems!" Specs pointed out.
"But I can't be assertive around you because you're so fucking overbearing!" David loudly explained.
"No, David," Specs tried to correct with wild hand gestures and a deafening voice, "The reason you can't be assertive isn't because I'm overbearing; it's because you're afraid to have someone dislike you!"
"I can't do anything with you around!" David insisted, "…Homework on a Friday night? Lame. …A study session? Boring."
"You don't have to stick around," Specs pointed out, "We don't have to hang out."
"Fine then!" David's anger agreed. "I don't want to hang out with you!"
"Fine!" Specs repeated.
"Get the hell out of my house, Specs!" David screamed, pointing towards the door.
"Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!" Skittery and Itey chimed together before both picking the same choice for the twelfth time in a row.
"Try again," Skittery suggested; dropping his hand from the scissors formation it had been in.
"This isn't working," Dutchy pointed out with complete boredom. "You guys have been playing this game for the last fifteen minutes."
"Just let them," Bumlets proposed. "The more you oppose the more they're going to keep going."
They had all relocated to Bumlets' front porch after deciding that they didn't want to be in garage full of cobwebs and dust.
"Your patience level must be enormous," Dutchy marveled. "Don't you find that even a little bit irritating?"
Bumlets shrugged. "I guess I've just gotten used to it. They've been doing this since the first day they ever became friends. I think I'm more surprised you aren't used to it."
"What was annoying yesterday is still annoying today and what's annoying today will still be annoying tomorrow," Dutchy explained in a voice that sounded as if he was reciting something.
Bumlets simply rolled his eyes and retaliated with, "Only if you refuse to improve yourself."
"Hey, no fair," Dutchy replied, "You can't just out-smart me like that. You were supposed to be stumped for an answer."
"Anyone can out-smart you, Dutchy," Skittery pointed out as he made his hand into a rock.
"Hell, I'm pretty sure a box could out-smart you, Dutch," Itey added after he, too, formed his hand into a rock.
"So I want to hear more about how Bumlets bottomed," Skittery changed the subject with a smirk.
"Haven't I already told you about that?" Bumlets asked, not very happy at the prospect of reliving the occasion.
"Well yeah," Itey answered before mumbling, "Rock, paper, scissors. Shoot!"
Skittery grinned when they both picked paper. "But we were never informed you were the girl," he explained, "It changes everything. Not only that, but it also makes the story thousands of times better; which is quite an accomplishment given the fact that it was such a good story to begin with."
"I've already told you everything," Bumelts pointed out, "I thought he was a chick and I couldn't bring myself to tell him that."
"Yeah, yeah," Skittery brushed off, finally giving up on the rock, paper, scissors game. "But I want to know where the bottoming came into play. I just assumed that since he looked like a girl he was the girl. Now I want to know why I was wrong. What made you bottom?"
Bumlets grinned at Dutchy in an I-told-you-so manner concerning the stopping of the game before answering. "It's not like I knew what to do," he admitted. "I'm not as well versed in gay sex like some other people. So I told him I was a virgin and he said I should probably bottom. I didn't know what else to do but agree."
"Wait," Itey interrupted, "So he thinks he took your virginity and he never even called you again? That miserable little bastard."
"No, he called," Bumlets confessed, "It was the next day and everything. He…uh…wanted another go."
"And?" Skittery asked, leaning forward in his lawn chair, "What'd you say? Did you say 'yes'? Did you bottom again? Try to give a blow job?"
"I told him I had a serious boyfriend that I had no desire to leave," Bumlets answered. "He never called back after that."
Skittery laughed so hard he tumbled onto the cement of the porch. "Oh god…Bumlets…our little gay-whore," he said as soon as he had enough air to do so.
"So you did all that just so you wouldn't have to admit you got his gender wrong?" Dutchy asked in amazement. "Why? How can you hate being wrong that much?"
"It wasn't just that," Bumlets explained, "I was horny and everything seemed like too much of a pain in the ass to deal with when the idea of sex was going through my head. Then when he called me the next day it seemed like it was too late to confess that it had all been a mistake."
"But you were turned on, right? You just said so yourself," Skittery jumped in. "You got turned on by a guy, consequently, you are a gay man."
"I got turned on by a guy I thought was a girl," Bumlets corrected, "The fact that he was in all actuality a guy just made things awkward."
"So you're a gay man that has been poisoned by society to think that homosexuality is wrong," Skittery amended, not letting go of the idea. "It still makes you a gay man."
"Who's a gay man?" Jack asked, walking up the front steps to Bumlets' porch.
"Jack? Out in daylight with us?" Itey asked in a mockingly confused voice.
"Quick!" Skittery said quietly, doing a wonderful job of faking worry, "Get in the house before someone sees you! Who knows what danger you'll be in if that happens!"
Jack rolled his eyes, "Right. I can't believe it slipped my mind that you guys can't just be normal and treat me civilly. Go ahead; make fun. I guess I kind of deserve it anyway; it's my fault for forgetting what assholes you all are."
"Says the guy who sleeps over at one of our houses every night," Bumlets narrated.
"Seriously…why are you here? The sun hasn't even set yet," Dutchy pointed out.
"Did your friends finally decide you were too much of a douche bag for them?" Skittery guessed. "If that's the case and you're looking for new friends…we aren't hiring."
"I would tell you to scurry home," Itey added, "But I realize you don't have one so that would be kind of pointless."
"Don't you think that's kind of a low blow?" Jack asked, trying to hide how his stomach had sunk at that comment. He knew the guys were blunt and offensive but he was just now realizing that he hadn't talked to them enough to become used to it.
"Oh, waa…poor Jack," Skittery mocked, "It must be so horrible to not have anyone love you."
"Lay off, Skitts," Jack demanded, quite taken aback at how little they cared about his feelings.
"Hey!" Itey shouted, suddenly standing, "What are you? Friends now? I don't ever recall giving you the right to call Skittery 'Skitts'. If you do it again I'm going to have to reach into your throat to rip out your large intestines and then precede to hang you with them."
"Calm down," Bumlets' composed voice commanded. He was the only one who had any semblance of tranquility about them. Everyone else was wide-eyed, starring at a clearly irate Itey.
Fortunately, rather immediately, everyone followed Bumlets' order. Itey sat back down (though still looking annoyed) as everyone else tried to turn away and put up an indifferent front (though failing as everyone kept throwing looks over to Itey).
Suddenly Skittery laughed. "Oh, Jesus…anger issues, Itey?"
Itey grinned back. "I was trying to make Jack go away."
"Yeah, and it would have gone perfectly, too, if Bumlets hadn't gone and ruined it.
Bumlets just shrugged, not really caring either way.
"Could you tell me next time you decide to do something like that?" Dutchy asked, still trying to regulate his breathing. "Fuck, I almost pissed myself."
"Not on my lawn chair, Dutch," Bumlets ordered, "If you do I'll have to reach into your throat to rip out your large intestine and then precede to strangle you with them."
"Stop joking about that!" Dutchy ordered. "It's not funny. That shit seriously happened to my uncle last year."
"You're full of crap," Bumlets declared, not believing his friend for even one second. "Didn't you say your uncle was in jail all last year?"
"Well, yeah, that's where it happened," Dutchy insisted.
"Bullshit," Bumlets muttered loud enough for everyone to hear it.
"So if you're going to insist on staying you have to at least tell us why you've decided to torture us with your presence," Skittery bargained, bring everyone's attention back to Jack.
Swifty's hanging out with his uncle or something," Jack shrugged.
"I see," Itey interrupted. "So you got lonely without him and decided we could entertain you just as well," he guessed. "If that's the case I think you need to go have your brain checked."
"I am not a clown!" Skittery shouted, pretending to be upset, "And we are not here to act stupid for your amusement!"
"Well, Dutchy is…maybe…but that's only sometimes," Itey added as an after thought. "And it's only for his actual friends."
"If you guys are my friends I'd hate to see who my enemies are," Dutchy joked.
"Stupid!" Skittery shot down almost immediately.
"That's such a clichéd, overused, pile-of-shit phrase," Itey explained. "You should be ashamed of yourself for even thinking of using it."
"I was hoping you were better than that, Dutch," Bumlets admitted, shaking his head back and forth while starring at the ground. "I don't even know how to describe what I'm feeling right now; it's so much more than just mere disappointment."
Jack sighed, "Don't tell me that this is what you do all day. …Sit around and insult each other? How can you not get bored?"
"As opposed to you, who…what? Plays sports every single second of the day? I think I'll stick to my insults, thank you," Itey replied, "At least then I can call myself clever."
"Right, right," Jack mock-agreed, "Because how awful would it be to be another dumb jock? Lord knows the world is in need of more smart-ass, offensive potheads."
"Not it!" Skittery called out, touching his finger to his nose.
"Not it!" Bumlets and Itey quickly followed, touching their own fingers to their noses before turning to Dutchy.
"Ha!" Skittery said to Dutchy, "That means that Jack is staying at your house tonight."
"What? No, he can't!" Dutchy immediately started arguing, "My parents are going to be home! Do you know how difficult it will be to sneak a football player passed them? It's practically impossible! I'm not risking my bed for Jack."
"Ow," Skittery mock-scolded, "That was a little hurtful, eh Jack?"
"If you guys don't want to give me a place to stay that's fine with me," Jack responded. "After all, there's always somewhere else I can sleep; I don't need you."
Bumlets rolled his eyes. "You can sleep at my house," he gave in. "but only because I feel sorry for you. And, for the record, you'd be sleeping on the streets without us around so don't you dare for one instant act like a stuck up little prick and try to take advantage of us."
Jack just glared.
"Well," Dutchy announced, wanting to leave now that the conversations had turned tense, "If Jack's staying here I'm going to go before anyone changes their mind and he gets pawned off on me."
"Yeah," Itey agree, checking his cell phone for the time. "We should probably get going to," he explained, jerking his head towards Skittery before reaching out in order to hold his hand.
"We haven't made out nearly as much today as we both planned on," Skittery explained before walking hand-in-hand with Itey back to his house.
"I'm going to watch television," Bumlets stated (not really wanting to be left alone with Jack either) before standing up and going inside. He let the door slam shut behind him, not really caring if Jack followed or not.
Dutchy didn't really want to go home; he just didn't want to be dragged into any overly awkward time with Jack. He had figured that anything (even dealing with his parents continually trying to scare him into being straight) was better than sitting around with Jack and Bumlets. Not only did Bumlets never talk (thus forcing all conversation to fall onto his shoulders), but he also didn't know how to act around Jack (were they friends? Allies? Were they enemies? Strangers?).
Unfortunately, upon arriving at his destination he felt an incredible pull back towards Bumlets' house. He really didn't want to go home just yet. He had a late curfew and he had decided early on to use it to his advantage as much as he possibly could.
Turning away from his house he made the split decision to not go back to Bumlets' either. After going through the places he could go and not get kicked out of his mind settled on going to the nearest café (he could afford some alone time anyway) in an attempt to try and at least start on his homework.
His plans were dashed as soon as he saw Specs in the café he was planning on doing homework in.
"Hey Specs," Dutchy greeted, sitting down next to him even though he wasn't invited.
"Uh? Oh…yeah…hi and shit," Specs mumbled, glancing down at his coffee and refusing to look Dutchy in the eyes.
"Are you here with someone?" Dutchy asked, immediately noticing Specs' shiftiness. "Because I don't care if you are. I can leave if you want me to. Hell, I can even pretend not to know you if you think that'll help."
"Sit," Specs demanded, kicking the chair across from him out with his foot. "Please," he corrected, still mumbling, "I mean…yes, I want you to…uh…I would appreciate it…no…uh…uh…I'm not here with anyone and…uh…"
"Message received…I think anyway," Dutchy replied with a smile before sitting down. "So I take it something bad happened…or at the very least something shocking. So what was it? I can't believe it'd be any kind of good news."
"Do you think I'm a mean person? …Or that I'm too pushy? …Or that I don't take others' feelings into account before I act?" Specs asked, seemingly ignoring Dutchy's questions.
"Well…I mean…" Dutchy faltered. "Which one is it you want me to answer first?"
"Doesn't matter," Specs answered flippantly, "Just answer them in order."
"No, you aren't mean," Dutchy answered, "Yes, you can be a little pushy. Yes, most of the time you don't really think about how others will react to what you're doing."
Specs let his head drop lower to the table. "Seriously? Ah man, I can't believe this. David was right and I was completely oblivious to everything. What am I going to say to him now? I was so sure he was wrong."
"It's not entirely a bad thing," Dutchy tried to insist, leaning forward a little more. "Look, so you can be pushy…some people like that. And I kind of admire the fact that you don't consider anyone else before you do things; it shows that what you do is entirely and utterly for yourself."
"So I'm selfish?" Specs asked, making sure he had grasp the concept of what his ex-friend was going for. "Thanks," he said with obvious sarcasm, "I feel so much better now."
"I didn't mean it in a bad way," Dutchy tried to explain, "You don't let other people effect your actions. There's no guilt, no stepping on other people just to make them feel bad, no lessening of your actions just because you think someone might find it wrong; it's like you're completely your own person. I mean, isn't that a good thing? Isn't that what people should be striving for?"
"Not when it makes said people's friends feel like they're being pushed around and ignored," Specs pointed out, not even a little bit closer to getting rid of his bad mood. "I actually drove David to scream at me. Can you believe that? Davy's patience level could wrap around the entire world multiple times before it even came close to ending. You think no one would be able to make him snap…but me? Mission accomplished."
"So it's something you can work on improving…for David's sake. I mean, everyone needs a little improvement from time to time, right? It's not like you're the only person who has ever gotten on their friend's nerves," Dutchy pointed out.
"David's gay…I think…" Specs said, bringing up another problem. "And I think he might like me…or something. I don't know…everything was so confusing while he was screaming."
"So…? David likes you? Seriously?" Dutchy asked, not only surprised by the fact that David was gay but also…well…who would have ever thought David would want to hook up with Specs, of all people?
"It's bad, Dutchy. …Terrible, even. I mean, I'm not gay and I really don't know how to deal with another dude crushing on me," Specs confessed. "No offense."
"Don't worry about it," Dutchy replied, "I'm not crushing on you."
"Yeah, but you are…uh…you know…" Specs stuttered before finally whispering, "gay."
"It's not that much of a secret, Specs," Dutchy said, slightly amused but at the same time stunned his old childhood friend would have such a problem with it. Oddly enough, though he hadn't given it a lot of conscious thought he realized that in the back of his mind he had just assumed that everyone in the old group would be okay with it. "But, it is a secret, nonetheless, so don't spread it around too much."
"This is a serious problem," Specs scolded. "I mean, I can't…I can't do this…this gay thing. I know I probably sound like the worst person on the earth or something, but I can't. …And to have to talk to him tomorrow? There's no way!"
"So? Just don't," Dutchy suggested, "Tell him you need some time and that you'll tell him when you think you can deal with it better. Even if he did have an outburst…he's still David; I'm sure he'll understand."
"I sit next to the guy in second period," Specs pointed out, "I sit with him at lunch. Who am I supposed to sit with at lunch now? Huh?"
"Hey!" Dutchy exclaimed as if he had just struck upon a brilliant idea. "You can probably sit with me and my friends at lunch. You might have to put up with Skittery and Itey insulting you, but other than that I'm sure no one will care."
A/N:
So this chapter was about 7000 words (which means it's just a little less than the length of the last chapter)...definitely not something I was expecting to happen. Usually the chapters after school are short...well...guess I changed that, didn't I?
Now, this would normally be the point where I beg people to review, but instead (since by this point I expect you to know I want a review from you) I'm going to gloat about the reviews I already have.
Thank you so much for the reviews! During the start of this story I never thought I'd be getting over twenty-five reviews this early, and now look. Yippee! Thank you all for following my story even through all the shaky updates.
But we're not anywhere close to being done yet (for I have neither Sprace nor Blush at this point...don't worry...I'm getting there...eventually) so keep checking up on me, my wonderful readers, and I'll try my hardest not to disappoint you.