"Plain-Spoken Know-Nothing..."
...In Which Things Are Spoken Which Cannot Be Unsaid.
Manhattan, Early Winter, 1899
Jack had finally had enough, and decided this had gone on too long already. So, a few weeks after the strike, he finally managed to corner Squirt in the Lodge House one night. Quite the feat, considering she seemed to be actively avoiding him.
"Whaddaya want, Cowboy?" she asked, crossing her arms and clearly in a bad mood.
Jack was surprised to hear her use his less common nickname—one that'd been all but abandoned in the wake of the strike, but he didn't comment on it. "I wanna know what's goin' on wit' you, and why you look like you want to deck me every time you see me."
"You really don't want to know," Squirt mumbled, not meeting his eyes, but not trying to escape. For Crutchie's sake, she'd put off any kind of fight with Jack, but some things she just couldn't let go of. "After all, you wouldn't feel like much of a hero if I told you."
"Hero? When did I ever call myself—"
"Oh, you didn't—you jus' walked around actin' all triumphant and happy after the strike, and throwin' orders around like we should still trust you after you kept flip-floppin' when we most needed a strong leader!" Squirt half-shouted.
Jack frowned—not happy with remembering his less-than-consistent actions during the strike, or the reasons behind them. "Look, none of you realize what it's like to watch your friends get hurt because you led them into a fight dey weren't ready for. An' Pulitzer threatened to throw everyone into da Refuge if I didn't say what I did at da meeting. I was tryin' to protect you all."
"So you took da money and woulda hopped a train to Santa Fe and left us in da lurch with half a battle fought an' Crutchie, da one who trusted you most and who left a letter for you, in da Refuge waiting for you to come an' save him? Yeah, some friend, you are, Jack. You only cared about yourself and your own stupid dreams of Santa Fe—you never cared about us!"
That was going too far. "That's not true, that was never true!" Jack shouted back, growing truly angry. "An' I wasn't da only one who wanted to give up—or do you forget that all of youse were goin' ta throw in da towel when Spot didn't show that first day? It took Davey—a rookie, ta whip up you cowards again, an' he had less ridin' on it den we did!"
"Give up on da strike? Maybe," Squirt admitted, refusing to back down. "But I never gave up on helpin' Crutchie. An' it says somethin' dat da rookie was da one keepin' it goin when you ran off wit' your tail between your legs—twice! So who's da coward?"
When Jack got angry, like so many of us, he let his mouth run ahead of his mind. "Maybe da girl who claims to care so much about Crutchie but doesn't jus' ask him out already?"
As Squirt's face turned alternately purple and red with rage and embarrassment, Jack began to wonder if that last shot was a bit of a low blow, but was distracted from those thoughts by a surprised cough form the doorway behind him. Turning around, the two discovered they were not alone in the room, as they'd assumed. Apparently, Crutchie had come looking for them. How long he'd been there, they didn't know but it was clear he'd heard more than just that last comment.
As awkward silence fell, Jack felt like apologizing to Squirt, but couldn't bring himself to do it in that moment...
...Or any moment, as it turned out. He and Squirt never exploded at each other again after that, and the tension between the two was greatly lessened, but the cold distance that replaced it wasn't exactly an improvement. What had been said in the argument, and what had been implied, couldn't be unsaid or erased, even if the two newsies had been inclined to.
Yes, things were changing at the Lodge House, and not all changes could be for the better.
So, yeah. I said not all consequences of the strike would be good/happy ones. I feel like I should mention I'm more sympathetic to Jack's struggles in the show than this chapter lets on (though Squirt's got a bit of a point—she's just wrong in claiming he doesn't care), but Squirt's character, as I've set it up, wouldn't agree with me. Plus, remember that Crutchie is still struggling with nightmares/flashbacks, and Squirt overheard the rooftop conversation about Santa Fe. She's not going to be one of Jack's biggest fans. Oh, and this isn't the end of the story, by far—even more changes to come!
As always, if you saw something you liked, or something you think I can fix/improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!