Disclaimer- I don't own the newsies, blah blah blah, I own anything that isn't owned by disney. Ha!
Shadowy figures paraded past eyes that hardly saw them. The cruel whispers jabbed through me but I hardly felt their blades and an unguarded pair of eyes caught mine, danced in the light and invited me to join them. I was too heavy in guilt and damnation to be light and open, to be carefree enough to meet his eyes for any second. I recognized him but not by name and as him and his little gang past me he sighed at my refusal to look up. The sigh weighed me down like a drug. Reasons for him to care if I looked up and acknowledged any of them were nonexistent and ridiculous; it was a pointless movement I couldn't bring myself to do for the honesty in my dark eyes would attract attention. Growling under my breath from the madness I finally looked up as someone's unwavering stare bore into me. He was gone. Eyes that mirrored mine stared back drenched in color, eyes with as many ghosts and secrets, and such sadness tinted such euphoria I tried not to cry out at the symmetry between us. I wanted Spot but couldn't have him and he couldn't have me, he was the euphoria I despised. He was star-crossed and those haunting eyes were struggling too. Suddenly they became guarded again, closing, and before I could find who it was they were gone. Mysterious mysteries.
"Ya look afraid," a startling voice tickled my ear. I whirled on my heel only in the rush of surprise, staring dumbfounded at the open bluntness of the young woman.
"I do?" I said in wonder, nearly slapping myself. Where was any witty retort when I most needed it, where was silence when it was called for? Gone on their lunch breaks? They were resources of survival and here they were abandoning me, leaving me open and vulnerable to the strangeness of the crazy connections newsies had. Leaving me alone with this woman.
"It's all alright," she assured me, taking my hands in hers and squeezing gently in a comforting gesture. Remembering myself I pulled away quickly, scowling at her hideous openness. What right did she have to connect herself with strangers when I couldn't even connect with family? "It's good to be frightened. It keeps ya from getting too wild or too arrogant wid youth."
"Bull, I ain't scared of death," I retorted honestly, following her train of thought. Fear would spare me from it but I wasn't terrified of the outcome of not living in that fear. Now I just wanted my foul language to scare her off.
"I realize yer afraid," she continued as if she hadn't heard me, not even flinching at my cussing. "But you can't reject everyone. Leaving ya alone just makes ya more afraid. Ya don't want dat. Ya don't want ta escape."
"How do ya know wad I want?" I snapped automatically, those words tumbling like a reflex when there was so much I wanted to ask her.
"I see it, child," she said kindly, her brown eyes unguarded and honest as sympathetically she smiled. She offered nothing else and I had to look away to keep from screaming. Frustration pushed me to talking back.
"See wad?" I growled but she didn't answer, only raise an eyebrow at my vexation. "Yer insane."
"Aye, but sanity is an illusion. Nobody really is quite right in da head." Her cryptic reasons were becoming too color-coded and novella for my tastes. Especially when she was so strange but so right. "Yer carrying a secret, I see it in ya. Many ya don't want anybody ta heah. Nothing good ever comes out of it."
"Who are ya?" I demanded, crossing my arms and playing on that guard she was warning me about. Coolly I calculated her. She wasn't attired in gypsy clothes as expected, eerie warnings for a bit of coin, she was dressed…normal. Long brown skirt and plain white blouse, her long black hair tied up high. But it could be just an illusion. I'm sure many who relied on kind outward impressions had their heads hacked off in the night.
"Just a tired woman. Tired of grieving. Tired of watching oddahs throw dere lives away," she said sadly, her secret past reflecting openly in her warm eyes.
"I'm not," I muttered, although I knew she would only fight it.
"Ya are," she rebutted determinedly. "Listen, time is running shoit. I fear ya may not heah me. Da future will be hard on ya."
"How do you…"
"I see it, Lisolette. Yer path has been chosen. I can only hope ya listen now. Can only hope ya change it."
"Wad are ya tawkin bout?" I snapped, wanting to hide from that penetrating look at the panicked edge to my voice. My skin crawled when she didn't speak; just with those pitying eyes she studied me as I am now. "Wad do ya mean ya know da future? How can ya? It's impossible."
"No. Improbable but not impossible. Wid enough time and space nothing is impossible," she corrected softly, that damn understanding back at my anger. "I've angered ya."
I fell quiet, unsure how to respond when I was seething inside. She didn't mean it, unlike Spot. Poor thing, only in her twenties and as mad as a hatter. I decided to play along with her little game. "How can I change da future if it's already been chosen fer me?"
"I can not say," she said hesitantly, thought troubling her like she saw more than she wanted. "Everybody can change their futures. Nothing is ever a certainty. Those young girls wid dere lives set up before dey are born can change dere futures. It comes in time. Dose moments come in spades. You'll know dem when dey find ya."
"And if I don't," I said coldly, already knowing the answer.
"Den you'll have a tough journey, Let." The name finally stirred. It hinted at memory and I remembered she had called me that moments ago but it had slipped by undetected. Now it was honey to unfamiliar ears. I missed that name but my skin crawled.
"How do ya…" She was gone.
"I'm surrounded by lunatics," I muttered angrily beneath my breath, ignoring the stares now I received but didn't spare me a glance before. "I'll have ta tell Jack, he'll want ta know he's not da only one."
Jack. The name rang in my ears and wearily I sighed, remembering. I knew his order and dared not to disobey him so soon, knew that if I was found without the others it wouldn't be fun time with Jack. I turned towards where Camelot and Racetrack had been dancing moments before. They were gone. Everybody was so good at disappearing as soon as I looked. My feathers were ruffled, desperation touching me like a man whose been lost in the desert, knowing how close to death he was. I wasn't alarmed though, I could easily blend in here. I just needed a friendly face. I didn't want that woman's voice ringing in my ears.
I was thinking about thinking as I stepped through a narrow arch and away from curious eyes. So unimpressed but so in awe my skin still crawled. She was off her trolley; the future is nonsense when the past isn't even concrete and a name is meant to be forgotten but it wasn't that which had me skittering somewhere inside myself I hadn't claimed yet. It was that she had smelt my fear like a bloodhound, fear of living. That she had seen the secrets that which burdened me without the bat of an eye. Her future, her guidelines of change, were accented gibberish- but she had guided me on a path she did not know. To watch my step when I was walking on shattering glass or soon the truth would be unveiled. Bet or no bet I wouldn't last after my name rang out. Life or death.
I felt her animosity like electricity in this stuffy air before I saw her. The ornately carven wooden banister bloomed a tragically beautiful gargoyle, petrifying in her unblinking gaze of promising eternal damnation and a gothic protective spirit, frightening horror away. With the dangerous charms promised to her in the Conlon name and the venomous strike of a street urchin she served as a warning more real than any hanging skeleton. Her eyes glowed in the hazy light, the lines of golden orange and violet shining more acutely on the backdrop in this soft golden glow. Regrets puppeteer had pulled the strings as I stiffened upon feeling that throbbing animosity, but as I watched her those unsettling eyes were staring through me and past me. My heart beat to hers at the complete loss of hope reflected in those orbs. The color was startlingly unforgotten and I tried to keep my breathing regulated as disbelief kidnapped it- she was the second pair of eyes I had seen, with such a sad euphoria. I didn't expect it of her, not now, not ever, but I knew that something haunted underneath the surface in every living creature.
"I'm watching you," I threw my voice to a psychotic clowns pitch and the color drained from her face as she stirred. Her eyes quickly went back and forth and the trouble she sought for was not there, but her predatory instincts kept her on alert. She found me and stiffened. I tried so hard to keep my face void of any emotion but a taunting smirk yet she was as good as her brother, maybe even better, and saw past all that to the predicament that she now faced. Her eyes narrowed dangerously when she knew that I had seen her in honesty and vulnerability.
"Hey," I began softly, not wanting to ruffle her feathers and darken her glare. I hadn't forgotten my not-in-writing promises about befriending Camelot, and now rose the chance to show her we weren't on enemy lines.
"Can I help you?" she said after seconds of silent deliberation. I had caught her off guard and now from her coldness I understood how bad this looked to her.
"Ya look like ya just chugged da whiskey," I laughed and tried to lighten up the mood but all she did was stiffen. I tried to ignore her one leg swinging to and fro like a pendulum, not wanting to fall into her pit. Gathering all my courage I boldly sat down beside her. She didn't say a word, didn't even look at me.
I couldn't read her well, but I could only figure that her frostiness was because I had seen her looking anything but in control- had seen the lost little girl she was and had wondered about that and her tinted euphoria. That was the Conlon in her, that was the street rat in her, how badly she cared about her masks and her reputation. Bluntness rarely worked for me but I couldn't think of anything else. "Ya look like hell."
"Runs in da family," she shrugged, her head snapping back towards me. A tiny smirk played on her face and I grinned, all too happy to agree. "Do ya know why me bruddah stormed in here earlier?"
"I haven't da faintest idea," I answered easily and as truthfully as I could. It wouldn't be good to say part of the reason was because of me and our kiss. "But why do you look like yer bout ready ta jump off dis banister? I'm telling ya now, you'll be lucky if ya get a sprained ankle."
"I would be. Spot and da oddah boys would be at my command," she snorted, knowing this was wishful thinking on the streets. Injuries were just a part of life and would only get her more pairs of watchful eyes.
"Unless ya want me ta go get Spot and have him drag it out of ya tawk ta me," I prodded gently, wanting to hit myself for my cliché 'female bonding'.
"Wad bout da times I see it in yer eyes?" she snapped, suddenly vicious.
"See wad?" I asked when I just didn't want to hear her.
"Yer hiding something, Ven. Something like dat bloody nightmare ya had," she accused, her eyes flashing and the internal warnings sounded. I had to be careful. "We've all got wounds. I see dem in ya."
"Dammit, yer just as stubborn as yer bruddah," I snarled, trying to gain the offense.
"Oh, I can be more stubborn," she threatened but I could see her breaking when she wanted so desperately to talk to someone. Yet she was too proud to admit it.
"Wad do ya think I'm gonna do, Camelot? Run off and tell everyone ya was feeling sad?" I asked quietly, avoiding the laughing lilt at the irony of it. She lowered her eyes, knowing it was nonsense. I would have no inspiration to do so and it'd be pointless when all that would come of it would be a few of the boys keeping a trained eye on her. And I didn't need her as an enemy. Hoping to cheer her up I added, "I saw ya dancing wid Racetrack earlier."
"Don't tell Spot," she said automatically shooting up and I quirked an eyebrow, just daring her to try to issue me an order when I had the leverage- I was dangling her below a pit of ravenous lions and overprotective big brothers and could drop her at a whim. The desperation in her open expression stopped me. She whispered, "Please."
I grinned mockingly and left her dangling for dear life, bemused at her quickly paling face. That was before I realized what lay between the lines. "Why are ya so concerned?"
"Ya know how Spot is," she dismissed it quickly, hoping to play on my open hostility for him. Her game of manipulation didn't go undetected and I refused to let my emotions blind me.
"So? Wad do ya care wad he does ta Racetrack?" I demanded, believing I for once had the upper hand.
"Don't be stupid," she admonished coldly. "Racetrack's one of me best friends and I don't want me deah bruddah ta harm a whisker dat really ain't on his chin."
"One of yer best friends?" I smirked, knowing her defenses had crumbled and now I saw a faint blush tint her cheeks. As she got warmer I got closer. "Not like yer bruddah?"
She shrugged innocently, struggling to connect with me, struggling to keep her eyes focused knowing if she lowered them the game would be over. Clenching her teeth she growled, "I don't know wad yer getting at Lani but I don't like it."
The Conlon in her was rearing its ugly head. The stronger it came out of her the more pressure burdened her tiny shoulders, the redder she became and the closer I got. "Ya two seemed awfully close. Awfully happy. Just friends dancing…"
"Loin yer place," she snapped, moving to rise but my steadying hand on her leg stayed her. I bristled, hearing that phrase often enough and didn't need to hear it from someone smaller than I but I was digging closer to breaking her for the truth and wasn't about to let petty matters change that. She ran a hand through her hair, a habit I've noticed at extreme points in her mood and exasperation and frustration.
"Camelot. I won't tell Spot," I avowed, honesty shining through my face pointedly as she carefully studied me. Her disbelief was nonexistent when she knew my resentment for her brother, that I'd be perfectly jolly keeping such a secret from him. Just to sway her the last bit I added, "Or Jack. Or anybody."
A feral grin burst like ignited fire and her smile was nearly as radiant as it had been with the hot tempered Italian, mischief shining in her eyes with the secret we now shared. She didn't have to say a word at her relief that what she so longed to say was lingering in the static air between us. I didn't have to say a word of relief that I knew that somehow her resentment at me for stirring the newsies badly was evaporating. She'd be a valuable ally in the life I had taken. In fights with Spot, in the secrets I harbored and when the time would come for them to be revealed, in surviving the lodging house, and whatever the future would hold. No bond could be as vital to girls as that with another female, and I had been starved of it since my sisters betrayal. By the looks of her she had been deprived of it all her life.
The details I didn't need from her glow when all I needed to know now was that her eye had been taken with someone as well as her heart. Only if Spot was distracted could any sparks fly between the two of them when somebody's eyes were always watching. Tonight he had been distracted. And as she would to me I'd be a valuable pawn to her in missione impossibile: distrazione del Spot.
Thinking along the same lines our conjoined thoughts involved masquerading as tree's, swinging off of balconies, setting clowns attacking Spot, all with perfect hair and great posture. I caught her eye and she bit hard on her lip, looking anywhere at me as I tried to cough delicately to hide my laughter, when suspicious eyes were amazed as we suddenly got along acting like girls. Her laughter seeped in bouts through her pursed lips, before she rolled her eyes, gave up, and giggled. Giggled. Her face fell in surprise at the spasmodic laughter and I brightened up at that, glad I wasn't the only who could giggle, and color flooded her cheeks at the girlish sound. She had been raised and lived around boys all her life, only the girls the boys bedded ever giggled. I pitied her internal struggle, attempting to let herself be a girl and giggle when she had been surrounded by the disgusting tramps that flowed through her life. A few wandering eyes were trading looks at the sound and her scowl scared them into looking the other way, before for their benefit she forced herself to giggle.
"So weah are da boys?" I asked adamantly, trying to get her to forget her embarrassment. "Liquor table?"
"If dey were I'd be wid dem," she smirked and I giggled, beginning to get frustrated that everything seemed to be funny. I was the drunkest sober teenager to walk these halls.
"I claim dis banister in da name of Cinderella!"
"Cinderella? Can't ya think of anything more stupid?" she stated, wrinkling her nose in disgust. "How bout Pantyhose."
I snorted, doubling over with laughter. "Dats poifect," I cried, tears coming into my eyes with laughter of the insane, perking up still as startled looks were hurtled our way. I winked at one such boy with his eyes narrowed and disgust on his face, the most bold in the ring of blushing and angrily flushing boys at our audacity. In their pathetic minds I was a girl who stumbled upon Manhattan's doorstep and was lucky enough they had taken me in; a girl who needed to be taught her place in the cruelest and most testosterone driven ways. Camelot they had probably known most of their lives, yet from their startled looks they hadn't seen her behaving in such a way. I was the bad influence; I was another girl she could talk like so with. With males as constant companions such jokes were off limits.
The rest did not dare to come forward when Camelot was one of the troublemakers, their holier than thou leader only had the right to scold her. It was in his twisted control, so desperate to be ordering someone about he wouldn't let someone tell off his own sister. He was always so desperate to have the upper-hand. I tried to banish thoughts away from that dangerous war zone but they only boomeranged back to me. Bits and pieces reflected of him so they were not whole, like looking at yourself in a cracked mirror.
"Mush's coming," Camelot nudged me, sending me a warning look. Lowering her voice she informed me quickly. "He ain't too happy wid ya running off like dat."
"I got it already from Jack," I sighed miserably, really not wanting to listen to him vent and rant.
"Well ya won't be hearing da end of it," she assured me. "I'm speaking from experience."
"Wad are dey, in some kinda cult?" I grumbled rhetorically and she pretended to contemplate it. The cult of trying to make our lives as hard as possible. Yet again they probably thought the same of us.
"Mush, weah's yer pearl?" Camelot asked slyly and he paled slightly in alarm.
"I don't know wad ya tawkin bout," he replied stubbornly but nevertheless looked around, making sure nobody else was listening. Once they had seen Mush coming, sure that he would keep us in line, the others had wandered off to finally mind their own business.
"Hope's got him calling her dat now. He's wrapped round her liddle fingah," Camelot kindly informed me and I tried to hide the grin as he blushed. That didn't take long at all.
"She does not," he protested heatedly. "I'm me own man. I just know how ta treat a lady."
"Da lady seems ta know how ta treat you'se," I returned, smirking at his naivety of his own downfall. Yes, woman could be the demons at the gates of hell and the temptress of all evil. I halted from thinking too badly of this girl, remembering she had loaned me her coat.
"Ya know how Hope got her name?" Camelot taunted, sending me a significant look. I thanked her with my eyes, picking up that she was distracting him from attacking me. "All da boys hope dat dey'll bed da tease. Den all da boys hope dey'll nevah see her again."
"Ya watch yer mouth," he said severely, his eyes flashing in a warning I hadn't seen. Men could be pretty possessive over what they see as theirs. A little part of me, part of me I wanted to poison, wondered if any man would ever do so for me. Camelot didn't break the silence, knowing just how far she could push Mush on the topic of his girls and knew she had reached her limits.
"And it'd do ya good ta listen ta Blink and me fer once instead of frolicking off, doing wadevah ya damn want without any thought ta anybody else," Mush snapped sharply at me, and inwardly my stomach flipped, basking in his acidic anger.
"I didn't…" I started, trailing off when I realized I could give nothing to quell his justified irritation. Remembering how well it had worked with Jack I kept my mouth closed, hoping I couldn't give him any fire to blaze off of.
"When we'se hoid Jack havin a conniption at ya disobeying him again we thought da woist. Ya go out in Brooklyn alone at night da odds are we won't see ya again. Same in 'Hattan."
"I'm sorry fer worrying ya," I said quietly and as convincingly as I could in this half-truth. He spluttered like a fish out of water, staring at me in shock that I had given in so easy. Well, I couldn't disappoint the audience so sharply I added, "But I ain't sorry fer going outside. I ain't a puppet on strings ta be played. I ain't ta be pulled back when ya get sick of playing, when ya decide to change da rules."
"Dats right," Camelot agreed whole-heartedly and Mush looked between the two of us surprised at the sudden alliance, on guard and ready to defend himself like a dog. "We don't need ta be led around by da hand. We got our own minds."
"Well ya don't use dem," Mush growled and Camelot flashed a warning look, both tempers broiling. Typical male mantra. Women were weak and helpless, intellectually inferior and incapable beyond selecting the menu and ensuring the children were taught propriety. I had lived this all my life and very few women seemed ready to protest the idea. "Were ya meeting up wid Spot?"
"What?" I demanded, giving him a warning look as Camelot restrained bristling and kept her mouth shut.
"Prince Charming seemed enthusiastic ta fetch ya," Mush grumbled, playing through cheap shots.
"So he could taunt me and harass me widout Jack stopping him. And knowing him, so I'd think I owed him something," I offered these logical explanations, longing to speak so much more ill of him, but I knew very well with one slip of the tongue I could back myself into a corner only the truth could force me out of. Already the lies were spinning in my mind while Mush lit a match to every emotion Spot evoked, everything I wanted so desperately to forget. "In case yer as hard of hearing at I am, I'se left cause I didn't want ta be round dat pompous, pig headed, son of a gun."
Camelot's eyes closed in self-restraint and I would be eternally grateful she harbored enough resentment towards Spot and sympathized with our tumultuous relationship enough to stay her loyalty. I didn't want her anger too, but the words flowed too freely to be stopped. Mush, like every other man, remained oblivious to her.
"And dats wad has me worrying. If he didn't get undah yer skin so much I wouldn't be thinking yer his challenge, da game Spot nevah looses. I warned ya before, Venice, he's dangerous. He's smooth and has a mouth on him as big as yers, he ain't above lying ta get a goil in bed."
"I know…" I started, raw anger bubbling as I struggled to compress my screams of frustration, fought the words that wanted to flow. I despised being spoken to like I was naïve, was not capable of seeing past a man's charms to the treachery behind his sexy smirk. But common sense blew the trumpet, warning me away. This was trickier than I'd ever think, all these half-truths and explanations, and I couldn't risk admitting my knowledge, furthering their suspicions Spot was trying to work his charms on me. "I know, Mush, I know wad type of guy he is. Don't worry bout me, I know bad news when I see it."
"So do I," Camelot coolly retorted, glaring feircly at Mush who now remembered her blood lineage. The winds of her rage had not turned upon me and I hoped the winds would remain steady or die. "Ya ain't above playing wid goils hearts, ya filthy hypocrite. Ya know wad ya did ta Ranger."
"It ain't da same," he said quietly but he wouldn't use my weaponry against me and beneath his calm expression her words stung like a blunt knife. The words were color-coded and whirled above my head, but the demons in his eyes paid their tribute. My imagination wouldn't stretch to absorb him as a womanizer but her open and desperate look illustrated what I didn't want to believe. Ranger was a friend of Camelot's, that was written all over her, and her loyalty was not only to her brother.
Both fell silent struggling for an anchor, lost and sinking and her expression iced over as his melted. I stood outside luckily, and my empathy was for the both of them.
"I left Blink wid da goils," he excused himself when nothing was left to be said and slipped away moodily as she brooded and stewed.
"Wad do ya wanna do? I could introduce ya ta Gip if I can find her again, or some of da boys…"
"Jack ordahed me ta stay round da boneheads," I said uneasily, looking away shiftily and realizing the boys were already away from us. She did not say a word, her mind somewhere else. It gave me time to admit to myself the only reason I wasn't absolutely enthusiastic to wander away from the former prying eyes was because I didn't want to run into that crazy woman again. Didn't want to admit to myself that I really did. Wanted to hear how she knew me, how she knew what road I'd embark upon.
"I don't know weah Race is…" she mused, shooting me a warning look as a knowing smirk played upon my lips. "Dere ain't nodin going on right now, Ven, and ya tell him anything and I swear you'll be wearing yer face inside out."
"Is dat physically possible?"
"Ya wanna find out?" she threatened and I responded with a challenging smirk…but I really didn't want to give her that opportunity. "Come on, I'se bored, let's go torture Specs or something. See if we can get him into a skirt again."
The empty canvas bloomed before us, waiting for the life we feared to be painted into something we wouldn't revisit in nightmares. Comfortably I sailed down the stairs breathing in a mixture of cheap cologne and beer, racking nerves, sweat, forlorn romance and predatory vexation of a fight brewing- the smell of a party. It was easier to be lost than found, to hide than to be sought, when in whirling colors and glimpses of flawless skin smooth words and movement were all that anybody knew. The philosophy of a party- a place to let loose yet have more problems on your shoulders when you left than when you came.
"Hey Camelot, havin fun?" a voice piped out of those we didn't connect with, grinning down at us contently. His face was familiar in unfamiliarity and as I did a once over on this good looking boy his eyes danced in the light, taking me back to the silence that had invited me to join them. Same boy that had for questionable reasons tried to pull me away from my shell and my shadows to the light they all basked in.
"But you can't reject everyone. Leaving ya alone just makes ya more afraid. Ya don't want dat. Ya don't want ta escape."
Perhaps the cryptic mysteries of the crazy bat were unraveling into not so harmless warnings of a woman who couldn't mind her own business. She had been there when he nodded towards me in invitation and had seen herself in my denial. She was just a woman who was too shy, self-conscious, and afraid to join others before and now had regret as her burdening companion, trying to prevent others from making her mistakes. Who was she to presume I was wasting my life being afraid? To be joining others and leaving myself open and vulnerable would be foolish; I wouldn't play that part for any others. I wasn't in the mood for companions. Escape was…what was it?
Something charged my nerves in her words as harmless as they could be dangerous, and the hair on the back of my neck began to prickle. Those other words would not have spilled, the name was not just what she chose to call me as her pet, and she knew more than she was letting on. "She saw it all." She knew it all more like it. Who I was, what I was doing with the heathens, the ghosts of the soul I wanted to get tired and go back to their graves. Finding this woman again no longer became a matter of curiosity. It became a matter of life.
"Ya know Snoddy, right Ven?" Camelot lilted and the name foreign but so aligned with me nudged me away from my circulating thoughts. Her suspicion became conspicuous at my dazed look as I scrambled to recover.
"Its safer ta agree wid you," I shrugged and he snorted in agreement as she blazed up like the beginnings of wildfire, bordering on smoldering or raging out of control. Taking the light jab unlike somebody she's related to she smirked, agreeing heatedly it'd be best for my health.
"Snoddy. And yer Venice," he introduced and the name chimed the collection of names, familiar enough to recall as one of the Manhattan beasts.
"Thanks, I almost forgot," I jested, vibrant warnings shouting when this was so close to the truth. He chuckled, spitting in his hand and I did likewise without hesitation to prove I wasn't disgusted. He was easily pleased by this.
"Its hard ta forget his ugly face," Camelot teased and he feigned a heartbroken look, my eyes automatically rolling. Oh wonderful, we have a comedian I couldn't help thinking bitterly as he tried to pull his face off. Truth be told, this immature comedic relief was welcomed and in greedy gulps I took it in, when such disaster danced around me I needed the high of a party to pump through my veins.
"Ya know, I didn't want to come ovah heah fer yer abuse," Snoddy sniffled, sweat gleaming on his forehead. "Ya ladies wanna join us in abusing dose who had a bit too much liquor."
Camelot's grin spread like wildfire and I caught the affliction as quickly we traded looks, the delights of mischief finally soaring our spirits. No dangerous romances or lectures and no mutterings from prying insane women, just good fun. Our decision was easy and Snoddy already knew it, turning and leaving knowing we would follow. Jollily we stepped on his footsteps, maneuvering through thick throngs of people until he pulled us out into one corner where our mayhem makers were assembled.
"Pie Eater, Dutchy, Specs, Gip is Coney, and Racetrack and Specs I think ya know," Specs introduced pointing to each and they nodded, Dutchy respectfully removing his hat and smiling kindly. I liked him instantly, relieved he wasn't the pompous dickheads I was growing used to.
"Unfortunately," I responded, winking at the two boys who pretended to look mortally offended. Racetrack was most interesting now, boldly staring at Camelot who suddenly became shy. She looked everywhere but at him, the tiny hints of a blush darkening her cheeks. I'd be leading the parade when blushes went to hell. Before a few blinks of the eye she recovered from being a ninny, and stared boldly back and then sticking her tongue out. His farting noise was dead on.
"Silent but deadly, loud and perfumy," the girl, Gip, recited and I finally matched the name with the face. Dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, tall, pretty, and she seemed to represent anything but that.
"Unless its Race," Camelot snickered, gagging herself and everybody shared a good laugh at his expense. He only smiled, the three of us knowing his fart was fake but a brilliant sound effect, sure to be used next time Jack delivered one of his long winded speeches.
"Look," Snoddy addressed, diverting our attention to some poor unsuspecting soul tangoing with himself, scattered around him the shards of glass of the gin bottle reflecting what once was. His light feet avoided these sharp obstacles, his grin shining for the audience of boys with their backs turned. There's loyalty for you. There he stood, oblivious and enjoying the beauty of his partner that his friends could never deem ugly. Unless they had too much to drink too. My conscious gnawed at me because we were preying on the vulnerable, yet I yearned for the acceptance of the others like I promised myself I never would. This is why I never joined the others before; you were no longer your own mind. But right now I'd do whatever it took, even keep my mouth shut around Spot, for their approval.
"Don't worry, dey nevah membah in da moinin," Camelot reassured me and my expression closed up. She smirked towards the others and threw her hair over her shoulder determinedly, becoming seduction as she slinked towards him. She melted into his arms and his smile was sultry as he brought her close and twirled her around the floor. He wasn't a bad dancer and she was enjoying herself, before winking towards Gip and she cautiously crept beside them. In a blending of seconds they became each other, Gip safely enclosed in his arms as Camelot swayed alone. His glorified expression didn't change as he swung Gip around.
"He doesn't even notice," Specs pointed out, snickering and Dutchy shushed him and the others. Their titters touched a nerve; a cruelty I didn't like. I needed to get a grip. Though he'd done nothing to them, as far as I knew, there was no harm being done. He was dancing with girls and saving himself from humiliation and wouldn't even remember it, it was all in good fun. But it was their mockery. A mockery I struggled through and strived to turn my back day by day, which had fueled Snitch's attack and had given me restless sleep and restless hours of consciousness. Their laughter was a mockery of him and unintentionally they were humiliating him when tomorrow the others would remember and he'd be the subject of teasing. The real life girls had caught some boys' attention as their drunken friend danced when he didn't even realize it, bemused smiles and good natured shakes of their head befalling him harmlessly. Yet it was in the maliciousness of some, and the jealousy of others that was so foreboding and had me turn my head.
Laughing good-naturedly at his wink Camelot pulled me towards him and Gip slipped away as I slipped in. His hand fell to my waist before I could pull away, our hands entwined as I was dragged closer than I'd want to be, a distance that had rarely been crossed until I could smell his sweat, could smell the alcohol on his lips. I did not want to be lead across the floor in a whirl of color, the newsies encouraging faces, strangers bemused and threatening looks, heat tearing through me as I longed to be as light on my feet as he was. He twirled me and I obliged, used to this when I used to dance with my sisters when mother played her piano. His dusty brown hair grew and his features femininely softened until they were hers, his blue eyes glowing into hers as she laughed and we twirled with the April sunshine floating through the open window and warming our backs. Laughter danced behind my lips before it soared out free at last and she giggled musically at our giddiness, our hand me down dresses flying around us as we got dizzier and dizzier. Dizzy until she became four Essie's and I became just a flash of color and time. The scents of the roses that mother had borrowed without permission from our neighbor's garden wafted by with the oil from burned lamps and the dog's pungent odor after the bath we attempted to give him.
Essie's laughter rose as high as mother's highest key and in our matching green pinafores we twirled and danced. Something sticky and warm drizzled beneath my fingers. Blood stained my hands, blood that wouldn't go away as I wiped it upon my green dress. Confused, I looked up at my sister. She was there, her eyes hardened and her laughter as eerily absent as the baby's crying, as present as mother's screaming. Gina was there, sobbing like she had done when she had given me the blame, cradling pale Lily. Poor pale Lily with lips as blue as ice water. Open, forgiving eyes staring back at me as the blood stained her white dress. Trusted me that no harm would befall her as long as I was her sister. A baby's forgiveness, a bay's naivety. She wouldn't make it and I never would again. The blood soaked the floor and mingled with our tears, with the screams, with the truth, with the lies. The day that would begin the rest of my life.
Essie pulled away and desperately I reached out to her, but she jerked away like I was a leper. "Please," I begged, my voice trembling as the first tears fell. She continued to back away; fear lining her eyes she began to fade. "No! Don't leave me! Essie please, I swear I didn't. Don't leave me!"
The shrill shriek dripped into nothing as the blood dripped from my hands and it wouldn't go away as I scrubbed so hard at them, darkening it, burning crevices in my hand. It burned so bad! Stinging a hole into my hand! A scream worked its way through me as I felt torrents of rain that wouldn't cleanse me, and I opened my mouth as the downpour hit. My scream was lost in the rain, lost to the souls of the damned.
"Venice…Lani…" Racetrack called, and I felt his grip draw me away from the suffocating embrace I was falling into, his happy oblivious face mocking me as he continued to twirl around the floor with nobody again. My legs were shaking and I fell back into him, his strong arms my only support. Gasping for breath I clutched him like a child, tears burning my eyes, the burning of my hands fading. I couldn't look at them but found my eyes were stronger than my will, seeing the color of my hand. Turning them over and over again looking for the blood that caught me red-handed. Clean hands, clean hands, and I wrung them again and again, desperate to find what linked me to them, to that horror. To Essie. To my mother. To that wench!
"Venice?" he stated again, shaking me when I drew back from him like he might strangle me.
"Sorry…" I mumbled, begging for forgiveness. I saw him as he was with no blood lining him, no blood on my hands, and I whirled towards the boy I had danced with that I didn't even know the name of. He was still dancing and as I looked back towards my other companions I found they were not watching me, far too involved and amused with this mystery of a drunk.
"Fer wad?" he demanded, pulling my chin up so I'd look at him when I looked away. The words bubbled but I bade them stay as they were, because I wasn't even sure what I was sorry for. For acting so stupid, seeing things that weren't there. Growing insane. Tricking them into thinking I was someone that I wasn't, fooling them into thinking I was human enough to befriend them. For manipulating them, and raising hell and causing them trouble. For being a fucking murderer! I was sorry for all of it, and I wanted to fall to my knees and beg him for forgiveness. So desperately I wanted to be forgiven, wanted to be held and told that I was not as wretched as I was. But I stayed the tears, knowing they couldn't spill. Wanting to know what was real and what wasn't.
"Ya completely zoned out when ya was dancing," he said worriedly, searching my eyes, trying to see my stained soul and the secrets I kept. "Ya started shaking all ovah, tearing up? Wad da hell is wrong?"
The words boiled at my tongue, scratching my throat. I only had to say it and it'd be free. Maybe he wouldn't completely hate me. Maybe I'd be forgiven. And maybe I would start acting like a real lady, go around singing and cleaning, and wearing a bonnet. When hell freezes over. I begged the tears to go away. "Nothing, nothings wrong."
He shook me slightly, not believing me as I tried to get control. My masks froze my face as coldly I stared at him, with a look warning him to remove his arms from me before they were stuffed up his ass. "Are ya all right?"
"Yes I am all right." I could laugh. It was such a lie. I was anything but all right. But none of that mattered now in a world of illusion, if any of it ever did.
"Race," Camelot ordered, flicking her head towards the drunk becoming a fool as he pleaded with himself not to leave him. Racetrack smirked, hearing her cue and addressed the both of us, "Get finished up, we'se leaving soon." With one last concerned look to me he bounded off. I wanted to banish that blood and I forced a smile as Racetrack slipped into his arms, parading them both around, dancing like a crazy drugged up fool. Her laughter burst me from my thoughts as she dragged me over to her.
"Dats wad livin is, a big illusion," she stated once she had pulled me into our private sanctum. Swaying alone at first I copied her, pretending I was involved with the music, becoming one with it so deep that I couldn't hear her. But I wanted to hear her. Wanting nothing more than that and I fought my surprise that I had found an ally with my thoughts.
"It's okay, Venice, ya don't have ta tawk bout wad spooked ya. Dey mean well, dey really do. But dey aren't da smartest headline in da pape," she laughed and I joined her smile, feeling far away and so far from myself. I was breaking away, shutting down. Closing off to myself and putting it away, putting that awful vision away. It was nothing new. Nothing to be disturbed about when I saw them always and forever, even since that awful day that changed everything. A stupid damper of my mood that could easily be recovered.
"Dey care," she said again, softly now, her own eyes glazing over. "Dey care bout ya. Dey wouldn't get so woiked up bout ya goin out, and don't forget. Sometimes knowing someone cares keeps ya going," she said suggestively and I tried so hard to look away but she held me in her look just like her brother once had. She wouldn't let me go, searching my soul, finding flaws and afflictions and softening as she finally let me go. Her voice was soft, pleading. "Please don't leave."
"Leave?" I scoffed, staring at her in surprise. I recognized the desperation in her voice; I felt it as if it were my own.
"Please don't," she repeated, quietly. She looked away like this honesty embarrassed her. As if feeling at all did.
I was caught off guard and unsure what words I should feed her. I didn't know what she wanted to hear, needed to hear. I wasn't sure why she'd say such a thing when I had not mentioned a word. I had made a bet to last two weeks. But she became doe-eyed and pleading, a look that took me back so far. A look that I couldn't betray again. "I'm not going anyweah," I assured her, sounding as sure as I suddenly felt. No, I was not going anywhere. At least not yet.
Smiling softly she offered me her hands and in the trust of a moment I took them, squeezing them in promise. I never made promises I couldn't break, but this one was taking me by surprise; a promise so fragile. That's what disturbed me the most, not Camelot's seeming need for somebody besides the other boys, but how delicate that promise was. How easily I could break it. And how much I didn't want to.
"Two-bits you'll fall down foist," she challenged, raising an eyebrow and I stared at her curiously, wondering what strange plot she had in store now. But she leaned back from our conjoined hands, beginning to move slowly, encouraging me to do the same. I fought gravity as I leaned back, feeling her weight and her pressure as I began to move around in circles. Faster and faster with time and tempo. Faster! Faster! We egged each other on with laughs and smiles, screams of delight and fear as we brushed past people too close, and the hard wall.
Time seemed to slow as a pair of icy blue eyes captivated me. He was back. He was across the room, watching us. I regarded him coolly as his charisma was gone for the place of a raw secret burdening him, bonding him to me. Bemusedly he was watching Racetrack dip the drunk, his eyes following to Camelot worriedly, before finally falling on me. Curiously I watched for once clean hands tremble as he balanced a cup, draining it before I knew he had brought it to his lips and tossing the cup aside. The bottle maneuvered in his hands and he gulped down more until his eyes moistened and his eyes shone provocatively, daring someone to challenge him. Proudly Spot swiveled his head back to me. So unimpressed but so full of awe I watched him as he raised the bottle ever so slightly to me, as if to say 'cheers'.
Time sped up again. Everything was just a whirl of color as our laughter rose higher and I felt more giddy, more relaxed than I had in a long time. We leaned back, defiance to gravity as we spun faster and leaned back harder. I challenged the impossible, my hair flying as cheers and laughter met us like we were in a fierce drinking contest. And I leaned back further because I needed to know how far I could go before I fell.
A/N- Thank you so much to all my loyal reviewers, so, so, sorry I haven't updated in a month. I've got about twenty other pages for this chapter in an "orphans" file, couldn't get this one right. But thank you for putting up with me and I hope you find this chapter good.
Shoutouts
Emba- the truth has a funny way of finding a way out, and for now she's beating it down with a frying pan. Thank you for your review, thank you for keeping up this story, I really appreciate it and I hope you continue to and this chapter was enjoyable.
RaincoatSammy- Wow, thanks, I'm ecstatic you find this interesting. I hope this chapter was enjoyable and I hope you continue to read this. Thanks again.
Morbidly Artistic- thank you so much, I'm terribly happy you are enjoying this so far. The summary took me forever and a decade and I'm glad you liked it. Thanks for reviewing, and I hope you continue to like this.
Conlonsgirl- woah, skoure, I'm really glad your continuing to review this and keep up with it. I love getting your reviews, you seem to pick up on everything and then some. Haha, don't worry about the he she thing, I'm sure Spot has a bit of woman inside him. Thank you so much for your awesome review, and I hope (really really) this chapter was okay.