Second to last chapter of the year, folks!

Review Responses:

AndrewKeenanBolgerFan: Oh, good. I do enjoy talking a lot. Jeremy Jordan is a god. (Also, he's the best Jack Kelly there is and I won't change my mind on that.) I'm so glad I can make you laugh! (Hopefully I don't make you cry at any point. You might see what I mean in the next chapter, not this one.) Thank you so much! I try to keep things light when I can, so I don't depress everyone.

Davey time!


Chapter 38- Davey

Saturday, September 18, 1999, 4:25 p.m.

Davey was so relieved to see Specs walk into the restaurant, he almost hugged him. After a lengthy rant covering how the newsies were going to "Run him outta business", Mr. Jacobi had agreed to let them take refuge in his restaurant, despite the customers their arrival had forced away from the business. Davey had suggested, timidly, that the newsies go somewhere else that wasn't going to affect the way a grown man made his living, but that idea had been quickly shot down by Albert, who told him the newsies were unofficially banned from any other businesses in the city. How they had accomplished that, Davey didn't want to know.

Now, seeing Specs walk in, Davey leaped out of his seat immediately, more than ready for there to be order among the group of teenagers he had tried- and failed- to take charge of in Jack's absence. "You're a lifesaver."

"Yeah," Specs said with little feeling, looking around at the newsie-filled dining room. Everyone present was battered, bruised, or at least severely shaken. That last description was what Specs appeared to be as he asked Davey, "Ya do a head count yet?"

"He tried," informed Sarah, who had followed her brother over to Specs. "Then he realized he didn't remember half of their names."

"There's a lot a' them!" Davey protested, "I don't understand how anyone can possibly keep track of them all."

"You'd be surprised," Specs replied at the same time as Sarah. Following that, they both stared at Davey with their eyebrows raised, as if to apply some hidden meaning to the phrase. Davey, however, didn't get the message.

"Um, anyway..." he scanned the injured occupants of the room. "Head count?"

"On it." Specs crossed to the counter at the back of the dining room, grabbed a pad of paper and a pencil from next to the register. He took a second to scribble down a list of names, then handed the list to Davey. Sarah had claimed that Specs sounded eager to help on the phone, but it seemed that eagerness had worn off somewhere between the school and Jacobi's.

Davey stared at the paper like it was his first time being given a list of anything. "Uh, I thought you were going to-"

Specs shook his head. "Nope. Yer the Captain fer right now."

"But I thought you came to help me out."

"This is me helpin' ya."

"Okay." Resigned to his position of power, Davey took a breath before reading off the first names. "Albert an' Race?"

"Here," Albert mumbled, raising his hand as best he could from his facedown position on one of the longer tables. The second he'd come into the restaurant, the redheaded boy had started complaining about the pain his double black eyes were causing him and flopped onto the table. He hadn't moved since. Race was in a chair at the same table, face smushed onto a pack of ice that rested on his arms, nursing an injury similar to Albert's predicament. Davey checked the pair off his list.

Also at Albert's table was a blonde guy- Les always called him "Mushy"- holding a glass of ice cubes to his nose. Earlier, he had been punched in the face by his boyfriend. It was somewhat funny to Davey that this boy's only major injury had occurred before the riot even began. This feeling must have shown on Davey's face, because Mush glared at the older boy when he came around with the list, silently saying What are you looking at? Quickly, Davey made a check mark on the paper next to the name "Mush" and moved on.

Mike, check. Ike, check. Sarah had already relayed the information that the twins had gone with Katherine to the hospital. In addition, Elmer and Romeo were the reasons they had needed to make a trip to the medical facility in the first place, so that was another two check marks.

"Henry?" Davey remembered seeing a boy he was fairly certain was named Henry walk in minutes before, looking like he was on the verge of crying. It being Davey's instinct to avoid displays of emotion whenever possible, as he never knew what to do in those situations, he had since lost track of that guy.

"Over here!" Another person- Jojo, their name was Jojo- waved Davey over to a corner table. This table had apparently become the unofficial medical station, for Henry was helping Jojo wrap a napkin around a line of forks resting on their forearm. Davey guessed that the goal of the fork thing was to make a splint. That, or these two people were incredibly bored. Or, the case could have been that they were messing around with forks to keep from thinking about the missing members of the group. Check and check.

Meanwhile, Buttons had gotten hold of a large stack of napkins; they were tying the pieces of cloth together to make... something, Davey couldn't tell what it was. Rather than ask, for Buttons didn't look like they were in the mood to talk, he made another check on his paper.

Les sat at the medical table too, sandwiched between Buttons and the guy who'd tried to bring a dog to school and messed up the first day of the strike. Davey couldn't think of his name. Luckily, Les was there to assist. "Tommy Boy," he told Davey, raising his left arm to point as he did so, only to immediately drop his arm back to the table afterwards.

Seeing his brother wince from that simple movement, Davey's eyes widened with concern. "Les, what happened to you?"

"I broke my arm. I think."

Buttons shook out their string of napkins and presented it to Les. "Have a sling, kid."

"How did this happen?" Davey inquired, watching Tommy Boy help Les arrange the sling so it would hold up the broken arm for the time being.

"Funny story," the older boy grunted, allowing Davey's brother to tell it.

"I was hiding in a trash can," explained Les, "mindin' my own business, stayin' outta trouble the way Jack wanted me to, an' then some bast-" Tommy Boy coughed before the little boy could finish his curse word- "I mean, some idiot comes along an' decides to roll the trash can across the entire schoolyard."

Davey's jaw dropped. As if the afternoon's events hadn't been wild enough already, now he discovered that he'd-

"I was used as a freaking weapon!" Les exclaimed in an offended tone.

At that, Davey doubled over laughing. To him, the story was hilarious, but nobody else could understand why.

"I'm glad a child in pain is funny ta you," remarked Mush's boyfriend, who was bandaging his own wrist. His name was either Wink or Blink, Davey couldn't remember which.

All Davey could choke out in response was "Sorry, Les." He was still laughing more than he ever had before. Part of this outburst, he was beginning to realize, was a delayed reaction to the nervousness he had been feeling during the riot.

Looking concerned for Davey's mental state, Tommy Boy drew a conclusion as to why the other boy was laughing so hard. "My god. Ya broke yer brotha', didn'tcha."

When Davey nodded, Les shook his head. "Of course it was you."

"Sorry," repeated Davey, forcing himself to regain his composure. He made a few more marks on the list he had temporarily forgotten. "Okay, moving on. Sniper?"

"She's in the closet," offered Sparrow Boy, otherwise known as Finch, from his place in the back corner of the room. He was sitting in a chair with his right leg propped up on a second chair.

Sure enough, at that moment, Sniper exited the kitchen. A door that looked remarkably like a closet door swung shut behind her. "Shuddup," she told Finch, lobbing a large rectangular ice pack into his stomach.

"Um, ow," was Finch's response. Giving Sniper an annoyed glare, he moved the ice pack onto his injured ankle.

"Quit bein' an asshole."

"You quit bein' a traitor, then."

"I ain't a traitor."

"An' I ain't an asshole."

Davey sighed loudly to announce his presence. "Are you two done?"

Finch rolled his eyes. "Yeah yeah, we'll get along. As y'all requested." Sniper nodded her agreement, though she was still staring daggers at her best friend.

"Great," said Davey dryly, looking at the next names on his list. "Have either of you seen Smalls?" The last time he recalled seeing the short girl was when she'd overheard his phone conversation with Specs. At that moment in time, Smalls had been ridiculously worried about Jack's whereabouts, and now she was suspiciously absent from the other corners of the restaurant.

Sniper furrowed her brow at Davey. "She left. A while ago."

"Where'd she go?"

"Lookin' fer Jack, where else would she go?"

"And none of you went with her?"

Shrugging, Finch said, "Smalls does 'er own thing. She don't need no one takin' care of her."

"What if she gets herself into trouble?" Sarah questioned, appearing next to Davey.

"I think she'll be fine." Sniper's mouth said this phrase, but her face suggested the opposite. "She knows how ta watch 'er own back."

Sarah glanced at her brother, concern in her eyes. "We need to find her."

"Aw, relax," Finch instructed. "She ain't some helpless lil' thing. Don't go callin' the FBI, now."

"Worst comes to worst, she gets arrested," added Sniper, still faking nonchalance. "But if Jack's arrested too, then they can escape together."

"Or they get sent to the Refuge," Davey reasoned.

Finch hissed at him. "Quiet down! Are ya tryin' ta make ev'ryone panic?"

"I'm only stating the facts."

"No one wants ta hear 'the facts', Mouth."

"The Refuge is outta the question until it has ta be," Sniper told Davey. "No use in worryin' everybody fer no reason."

Agreeing with half of these statements, Sarah decided, "I'm gonna go look for Smalls. Davey, you get back to that list."

When she had left, Finch snatched the pad of paper from the other boy's hands. "Looks the only person we got left is Crutchie."

Davey scanned the room, even though he already knew the smiling blonde boy was nowhere in the restaurant, because he would've noticed right away. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen Crutchie since before the riot began. "Guys," he whispered to Sniper and Finch, "we got a small problem."

Knowingly, Finch sighed. "Time ta get ev'ryone worried."

Sniper stood up to break the news to the group. "Crutchie ain't here. Did anyone see where 'e went?"

This question was answered with numerous head shakes and various forms of "no".

"Okay," said Specs, coming forward. "Then where the hell is he?"


DUN DUN DUNNNNN!

We all know where Crutchie is. Boy do we know where he is. Our poor sunshine child.

Please review with any questions, comments, or concerns! Buh-bye!