A/N: Oh. My. God.
I am a horrible human being. And writer. I'm so, so, so, so, so, so, so sorry. I've been so busy lately, that everything that had to do with writing has been on the back burner. I hope you guys enjoy this little bit, though!
Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies. But you can be damn sure that I'll write about it.
Esther Jacobs bustled about the house in the early afternoon; soon, she would go out to her second job at a small shop a few blocks down. She rushed around, tidying up her family's small apartment as she did every day.
She sat down at the table with a small pile of lace, sighing as she sifted through it. Her nose scrunched up when her hand brushed something that definitely wasn't lace. She picked up the unfamiliar object, which was wrapped in paper. She unfolded it to find a day old hotdog. She turned to look at Les playfully.
"Les," she started, grabbing his attention. "What is this?" She held the hotdog up, laughing, but Les just shrugged and grabbed it from her.
"I was savin' it," he told her innocently.
Esther chuckled as he grabbed the food and shuffled away, and looked down at the paper it was wrapped in. Her eyes widened when she realized just what it was; David hadn't stopped talking about it after he'd come home from that rally: Denton's article. David had said it was going to change the whole strike, and that it would help them win for sure, and it would help them get Jackie back. He was so devastated after that night; he kept blaming himself that Jackie wasn't able to escape.
Esther looked over at David; he was sitting at the foot of his bed, hands balled into fists on his knees. He was glaring furiously at an old brown cap resting on the dresser a few feet away. She vaguely recognized it as Jackie's.
"David," she called softly. He didn't look away from the cap, nor did his expression change. "David, it's Denton's article." She held it out to him, but still refused to move. Esther sighed once more before reading it aloud.
"The Dark Truth: Why Our City Really Fears the Newsies Strike, by Bryan Denton. Last night I saw naked force exercised against mere boys, the newsies, who were—"
Esther's voice was interrupted by a sudden slam. She looked up to see that David had climbed out the window and onto the fire escape. He plopped down angrily and put his face in his hands. Esther sighed sadly; she hated seeing her son so upset. Her gaze rested on Jackie's cap for a moment.
Esther knew how he felt about the girl—a blind man could've seen it. If she were to be honest, she and Mayer were hoping that David might just settle down with her. They complimented each other, and it made both her and her husband proud to watch their feelings grow. Esther closed her eyes and silently prayed that God would help the newsies win the strike, for her boys to be safe, and for Jackie to be safe, too; she didn't know what her son would do without her now that he'd finally found someone like Jackie.
Jackie followed Weasel down the stairs and into the basement of the Distribution Center. She was emotionally exhausted after everything that had gone down that day, and on top of that, she only sold fifty papers. All she wanted to do was sleep for a hundred years.
She eyed the room, taking in the bed, shelves, and old printing press in the corner. Everything was covered in dust, but that didn't really bother her. What bothered her was that she couldn't hear the newsies laughing and shouting at each other while they played cards; she couldn't smell the tobacco and smoke in the air as her boys lit up and relaxed in the safety and warmth of the lodging house; she couldn't help but feel so alone.
"One trick, Cowboy," Weasel sneered, tearing Jackie from her thoughts. "One trick, an' it's back to the Refuge." She nodded at him, still feeling empty and alone.
"Uh-huh." Weasel picked up a dusty sheet, and looked back at the teenage girl, off in her own world again. "Ya gonna be requirin' anythin' this evenin'? No? Well, then, I oughtta be sayin' goodnight." He tossed her the sheet, and he was only half surprised when she caught it. He turned and started up the stairs before twisting around to call out a warning. "Remember: one trick an' I go straight to Mistah Pulitzah."
Jackie listened as his footsteps fade away at the top of the stairs, and flinched at the sound of the slamming door. She dropped the sheet in her hand to the floor and removed her cap, placing it on the bedside table. She felt numb as she shrugged out of her jacket and long skirt, and didn't even bother to fully undress before climbing under the covers and nestling in the old bed.
Jackie closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep, but the memories of that morning kept assaulting her thoughts. Her mind kept picturing Race's disgust, Spot's rage, Mush's confusion, Blink's desperation, and David's heartbreak. Jackie rolled onto her side and curled up into a tight ball and let the tears flood her eyes. She was alone now, for the first time in her life, truly alone.
And no one cared.
Jackie yawned and rubbed her eyes as she made her way to the front of the Distribution Center. She hardly slept the night before, and she didn't like not waking up to Kloppman's yelling and fussing. As she walked up to the counter to pay for her papers, she stepped on the hem of her skirt and nearly stumbled.
"Whoamngggashit," she slurred sleepily; she had forgotten how hard it was to walk in skirts. Jackie decided she didn't like it, and that if she—once she—made it to Santa Fe, she'd wear pants all the time.
"Hundred papes," Jackie muttered as she dropped a coin on the counter. Weasel smirked from behind the bars.
"Sleep well?" he asked in fake sincerity. Jackie rolled her eyes as he turned to count the papers. Oscar and Morris slinked their way up next to Jackie, leaning against the bars and smirking at her.
"Hey," Oscar started. "Come with us, Cowboy," he cooed, stroking his thumb across Jackie's jaw. She smacked his hand away and threw him a glare, and he chuckled in response. "We're gonna go fix ya boyfriend, Davey…fix 'im so he can't walk." Jackie's glare deepened and her fist curled on the counter.
"Shut up!" Morris hissed, smacking the back of Oscar's head. Oscar just snickered once more before following his taller brother down the steps and away from the Distribution Center. Just before he rounded the corner, he turned back to face Jackie, waved at her, and blew her a kiss.
Furious, Jackie made to go after them, but not before Weasel grabbed her arm through the bars.
"Ah-ah-ah!" he sang. "Lift one fingah, an' it's right back to the Refuge." Jackie fleetingly wondered if Weasel ever stopped sneering. "Next!" The old geezer yelled out, dropping Jackie from his grasp.
Jackie closed her eyes and sighed as she picked up her papers and left.
Les strutted down the street, making small sound effects as he swung his wooden sword every which way. He wasn't paying particularly close attention when he bumped into a woman around his mother's age, carrying a basket of lace.
"Oops! Sorry, miss," he squeaked out at her. She smiled warmly at him in return, and he gave a small smile back. "Mornin'!"
"Good mornin', dear," she greeted, patting him on the head affectionately as she walked off. Just as Les started humming to himself as he turned around, he collided into a wall.
"Oof!" he grunted. He looked up slowly to meet the nasty face of Oscar Delancey.
"Oh, 'scuse me, kid," he laughed. Warily, Les walked around him, and noticed that Oscar's footsteps followed his own. Out of nowhere, Morris Delancey stepped out from an ally to stand in front of him, and suddenly, Les didn't feel very safe; in fact, she really wished Jackie were there with him.
"Where's ya brothah, street rat?" Morris cooed disgustingly. "Where's Davey at?"
Les, trying his best to stay calm, attempted to walk around the Delancey, only to be pushed back.
"Hey, leave me alone!" Les shouted, shoving Morris forward with surprising strength. Morris's face contorted in fury, and he shoved Les into a muddy puddle next to the sidewalk. Oscar laughed along with his brother, lifting Les from the ground as the young boy writhed and yelled.
"Stop it! Put me down! Put me down!" Les cried. Oscar let out a snarling "If that's what ya want, kid!" and threw him into a pile of broken crates. Les yelped as the planks of wood dug into his sides and his leg.
"Les!" His head snapped up at the sound of his name, and he saw David running toward him at full speed.
"No, no!" Les wheezed out. "I'm alright! Run!" Oscar stepped out in front of him, and David skidded to a halt.
"Yeah, run, Davey," the Delancey mocked. "We'll fix the kid so he matches Crutchie." With a furious roar, David tackled Oscar to the ground.
"David!" Les called out, and Morris pushed him back into the pile of wood. Les watched helplessly as Oscar and Morris took turns in punching his older brother; the poor kid was screaming himself hoarse for the beating to stop, but it only escalated. Morris pulled back to put on a pair of brass knuckles.
Just down the street, Jackie is selling her seventy third newspaper; for just over an hour, she was having a great selling day, not that it eased any bit of her guilt and shame. She was about to approach a wealthy looking couple when a familiar yell reached her ears.
"Stop! Stop hurting him! Leave my brother alone!"
Jackie's heart froze in realization when Oscar's words echoed in her mind. "We're gonna go fix ya boyfriend, Davey…fix 'im so he can't walk." Without a moment's hesitation, Jackie threw her unsold papers to the ground and sprinted to the sound of Les's voice, hiking her skirt up when it threatened to slow her down.
There was no way she was going to let David down again.
A/N: So, this update was actually supposed to be the beginning of the actual 14th chapter, but since I've been getting reviews and messages from people telling me to update, I thought I'd give you guys this for the time being.
It's just the end of the whole chapter that's screwing me up. I just can't really think. Hopefully I won't be in this slump for too long, though, and I want to have the rest of the chapter up within the next couple of weeks.