Okay, so... There is school today, but it's online and being glitchy. Therefore, chapter time.
Review Responses:
JustVildaPotter: TOMMY BOOOOOOY! Makin' people get it together! (Great use of the newsie accent, by the way.) Blush = ALL THE CHEESE. I can imagine it too: The shock. The confusion. The drama! I do have school, unfortunately, but you're gonna get the chapter!
lucykeeven7: Thanks so much for reviewing! It made my day! I'm so glad to know there are still people discovering this story and getting interested in it. Yes, that makes absolute sense. Using the canon storyline but making it original is exactly what I was trying to do. Sarah and Kath both needed to be in it, because Sarah deserved better! And indeed, these newsies need to figure things out. Once again, thank you! I'm delighted you're enjoying this!
AndrewKeenanBolgerFan: Ooh, good guess, but nah. The spoiled coffee is from Jojo's chapter, and is simply a reference to Race's "curdled coffee" solo. The ITH references (or lyrics, rather) are hidden in Tommy Boy's lines. Perhaps you realized after going to relisten to the soundtrack. It would've been amazing if that's what had happened, but sadly, no tap dancing is going to happen. Thank you for the belated luck! (The musical is Little Women) Unfortunately, I was cast in precisely zero roles.
I'm at it again with the long review responses. But what better way to pass the time while I try to get into class?
Alright, now: "Let's make a resolution!"
Chapter 45- Sniper
Sunday, September 19, 1999, 9:55 a.m.
"Our turn?" Finch questioned, sitting up straighter. "No."
Tommy Boy shook his head. "You two've gotta have it out."
"Not in front a' everyone, we don't," Sniper told him.
"Yes, in front a' ev'ryone. Ya haven't exactly been gettin' ta any resolutions on yer own."
"Uh-uh. I ain't gettin' all mushy an' forgivin' 'im immediately just 'cause you guys're all tired a' us fighting."
Finch agreed, "Me neither."
This indifference to his plan was something Tommy Boy had apparently not anticipated. He closed his mouth, jaw set as he considered what to say next. Then he snapped, "You two deserve each otha', y'know that?"
"Uh... okay."
"The rest a' us ain't gonna stand ta watch youse glare at each otha' ev'ry second," Albert cut in, standing up next to Tommy Boy. "So suck it up an' start talkin'."
"No," said Sniper, not one to be pushed around. "We won't."
Race sprinted over to her. "Forget it, then. Will ya come help me with somethin'?"
"Sure, I guess." Without much purpose, Sniper got to her feet. "What, exact-" she was cut off by Race grabbing her wrist and pulling her all the way to the pantry in the kitchen. He led her into the food storage closet, but said nothing regarding what he was looking for. "Race, what-"
"Albert, let go of me!" yelled Finch, trying to wriggle out of his friend's grip as the redhead dragged him into the kitchen. "Hey, I'm injured here!" A second later, Albert did release Finch, when he pushed him into the pantry as well. Immediately after making his entrance, Finch fell to the ground, unable to continue standing on his sprained ankle.
It only took Sniper a second to catch on to what the other boys were forcing them into. "No way you're lockin' us in here!" She exclaimed, trying and failing to push through the barricade Albert and Race had created by filling the doorway with their bodies.
Tommy Boy appeared behind the other two. "Watch us. We's gonna make ya talk, one way or anotha'."
With that, Albert slammed the door, and Sniper heard a lock clicking shut as she leaned against it, trying to force it back open. "Come on!" She kicked the door. "This ain't gonna work!"
"It will!" Race sang from outside. "Sooner or lata', one a' you's gonna need the bathroom."
"Yer dead when I get outta here, Anthony Higgins!"
"If ya wanna kill Race, yer gonna need ta get in line." Although she couldn't see him, Sniper could hear the smirk in Albert's tone.
Finch hollered through the door, "Same goes fer you, Albert DaSilva!"
"Looks like it's workin' already," Tommy Boy observed. "You's got yerselves a collective vendetta."
"Shut up, Thomas!"
He did. Sniper could hear three sets of footsteps fading away, and she slumped against the shelves, defeated. They really were locked in.
Finch, on a section of floor opposite her, stretched out his legs. "So..."
"We don't hafta talk. They can't keep us here foreva'. An' even if they try, Jacobi'll come along eventually."
"Right," Finch pulled one of his knees to his chest. "Whateva' you say."
For a while, Sniper sat in silence, not looking at her best friend. Time stretched on for hours in the expanse of a few measly minutes. She was locked inside with nothing to do, nowhere else to go. The days could change and she wouldn't even notice. There was at least food inside the cupboard, it being a pantry and all, so there was no danger of starvation. And Sniper wasn't suffering for human contact either, because... there was Finch. Her partner in crime. Or at least, he had been such a person, once upon a time. But now the bridge between them was so vast Sniper saw burning it completely to be the better option when she lined it up against talking things through with him. There was simply no way speaking to him was going to mend what she'd broken. She didn't even know where to start.
Unless he spoke up first. "Y'know what," Finch announced, slapping one palm to the floor. "I wanna talk."
Still, Sniper refused to make eye contact. "I don't."
"I know ya don't, but Tommy Boy's right, we've gotta have it out."
Sniper sighed, trying to imply that she did not want a discussion, when in reality the idea was rapidly growing on her.
Forcing herself to actually look up at him, Sniper listened as Finch went on. "Jus' one conversation, Snipes, an' we'll put it away foreva'."
"Fine. Shoot."
"Okay, uh... first off..." Finch examined his fingernails to avoid meeting eyes with Sniper. Then he changed his mind, dropped his hands to his lap, and remet her gaze. "I'm sorry. For the kiss, an' everythin' else, but 'specially that. It was stupid, an' honestly, the worst mistake I've eva' made. Really, I'm sorry. I don't expect ya ta forgive me."
"I hope not." Sniper folded her arms on top of her stomach.
"But I got one question. An' I'm not tryin' ta place the blame on you or anythin', that ain't my goal here, but I gotta ask: why didn'tcha tell me ya liked Smalls?"
Unfolding her arms and shoving her hands into her jeans pockets, Sniper rose from the floor. She couldn't come up with anything more substantial than "Huh?" to say in response to Finch.
"It's just, if I'd known, if you'd just said somethin', then I wouldn't a' even tried ta do what I did. I mean, it ain't like I wasn't gonna be okay with ya likin' girls."
"But yer always mad at Smalls fer no reason." As a distraction, Sniper examined the canned vegetables on the shelves while she waited for her friend's next statement.
"Tha's 'cause I knew the girl she likes is you, an' well, I like you, as ya prob'ly figured out."
"What, really?" Sniper found herself joking. "Now, how could I 'ave learned that?"
"Again, I'm sorry." Finch rose, wincing as he put weight on his ankle. "I was bein' a jealous asshole."
Sniper huffed. That was an understatement.
"I didn't mean ta make ya think I would a' hated you fer likin' Smalls. If that's what happened, I swear I wasn't tryin' ta... ta act all judgy like yer father or nothin'."
At the mention of her father, Sniper reached up to her cheek, tenderly pressing one of the bruises she had received from him that morning, confirming that doing so still caused her pain as she thought over what to say next. So Finch was worried he'd been acting like her dad. Funny, Sniper had been questioning the same thing of herself since Tommy Boy had made everyone shut up earlier. During their last argument, she'd found herself shutting Finch down before he could get his words out, the same thing her father did to her. Every time Finch talked, she would make it worse. Because of this, their argument had dragged on longer than it should have. Sniper was at fault just as much as Finch was, that she now knew. But she had no idea how to admit it aloud.
While she went over the possibilities, her eyes fell on the crisscross of bandages on Finch's cheek. He hadn't had any injuries there the night before, but Sniper had a hunch regarding what had caused this one, for earlier that morning, for the first time, she had encountered her best friend's mother. Instantly, the woman had rubbed her the wrong way, and Sniper had been forced to leave Finch alone with her, as much as she'd wanted to prevent such a thing.
"Finchy." Her thoughts on the subject, so easy to discuss internally, were a monstrous hassle to put out into the world. "Your mom."
Visibly, Finch shrunk, hunching his shoulders as reference was made to his mother. "What about her?"
Sniper gestured to his cheek. "She did that ta you, didn't she?"
"So what?"
"Ya neva' told me, Mister hypocrite."
He swallowed. "Was I s'posed ta tell you?"
"Well, if ya expect me ta tell ya everythin' 'bout likin' Smalls..." Finch didn't have any response to that, so Sniper went on. "Ya mentioned once that ya hated livin' wit her, but ya neva' elaborated."
"My home life ain't yer business." The way he forced out the words, his voice rough and low, made it sound like Finch had something lodged in his throat.
"It is too my business," retorted Sniper. "If anyone's hurtin' my best friend, I'd like ta know about it."
Sharply, Finch drew in a breath. "She ain't da same as yer fatha'."
"I didn't say she was."
"But you's thinkin' yer gonna understand me jus' 'cause a' how he is, when it ain't da same thing." As he went on, Finch blinked rapidly. "I ain't stuck livin' wit her like you are wit him. I got away."
"Lucky you."
"She wouldn't a' found me again if it weren't fer Plumber's stupid headline."
"Wait," said Sniper, coming to a realization. "Do we hafta call 'er 'Pulitzer' now?"
"Don't think so," answered Finch, his mouth halfway to a smile. "That'd get confusin' real fast."
"True." Sniper hesitated before prompting him to continue. "So, now that yer mom's found ya..."
Finch shrugged, invisible weights resettling on his shoulders. "I told 'er I'd come back ta her. I ain't got no otha' choice."
"She'll findja again that easy?"
"Yeah. 'Course, maybe if I lie low 'til she goes back ta Brooklyn... 'cause she always does at some point, wit 'er job an' everythin'-"
"Hold on, you're from Brooklyn?"
"Have ya heard me say y'all? I ain't no Brookie."
He did have a fairly distinct Southern accent, though it wasn't always noticeable, being spliced with a New York dialect. Even so, the fact that Finch knew anyone who lived in Brooklyn was news to Sniper. "Oh, right."
"But I did live there fer a while, 'fore I got the sense ta run away beaten inta me."
"An' just how long 'ave ya been sittin' on this information?"
"How long 'ave we known each otha'?"
"More than three years, Finchy? C'mon! You thought me not tellin' you about Smalls was bad?"
Finch smirked. "Guess I figured I'd tell ya once you became my girlfriend, but since that ain't happenin'..."
"Shut it," Sniper ordered, though she was half-grinning as well. "But you had a point, earlier. I should a' said somethin' 'bout likin' Smalls, an' talked things through wit ya right away, 'stead a' makin' a big mess a' everythin'. However-" she made sure to say the word in full, to prove her point- "that does not make it acceptable for you ta randomly kiss me."
"Don' worry, that information's been drilled inta me at this point."
"I can slap ya wheneva' ya need ta be reminded."
"Sure thing..." Silence, and then Finch had a new question. "Uh, Snipes?"
"Yeah?"
"You... you ain't gonna tell the otha' guys 'bout my mom, are ya?"
"No, of course not. Why would I-"
"Ya ain't had the best reputation fer keepin' secrets lately, traitor."
With a good-natured smile, Sniper sighed. "I deserve that."
"So ya swear you'll keep quiet?"
"Yes, I swear."
"Alright, let's get outta here."
Sniper marched over to the pantry door. As loudly as possible, she pounded against it, yelling, "Let us out, ya bums!"
Instantly, someone on the outside pulled the door open. "It was unlocked," said Mr. Jacobi, looking quizzically at the two teenagers.
While Finch apologized, "Sorry... we forgot." Sniper cursed under her breath. The other boys, when locking the pair in the closet, must have locked the door for only a second before undoing it. Diabolical bastards.
"S'long as ya didn't leave a mess in there, I don't care." When they had assured him they hadn't left a mess, Jacobi retreated back to the apartment above his restaurant, while Sniper and Finch exited the kitchen.
Tommy Boy came at them the second the two newsies stepped back into the dining room. "I hope youse left yer whole mess back in da pantry."
"We did," Sniper assured him.
"Prove it."
Finch, who had just found a chair, complained, "Why?"
"Prove it, or I'm lockin' youse back in there."
"Ya didn't actually lock it las' time," he grumbled, but got to his feet.
Resigned to completing the task from Tommy Boy, Sniper came to stand in front of her best friend. "Asshole," she remarked, spitting into her hand.
"Traitor," Finch replied, copying the movement.
As they shook hands, Davey stepped forward. "Do any of you know how unsanitary that is?"
"Yes," Sniper dried off her palm.
"Then why-"
Finch interjected, "Price a' doin' business."
"Damn right," Tommy Boy punctuated this with a single nod. Facing the two redheads in the room, he instructed, "Albert?"
Albert answered this request with a long, overdramatic sigh. "I ain't gonna throw Kath outta here."
"Thank you," said Katherine. "Although, I wasn't going to leave even if you told me to."
"That's right," agreed Tommy Boy, staring Albert down. "You ain't got no authority ta make decisions on who stays an' who goes."
"But I do," Specs jumped up. "An' I say-"
"You gave up yer authority ev'ry time ya called Jack the leader instead a' you. Now siddown."
Glaring, Specs did, and Katherine piped up, "Hey, speakin' of Jack, does anyone know where he is?"
Albert offered, "Two best guesses are, he's locked up in da Refuge, or... he's on the lam ta stop 'imself gettin' locked up in da Refuge."
"Jack don't run from no fight!" exclaimed Les, clearly put out by Albert's suggestion.
"Take it down, Shortstop, I'm just reportin' the news."
Worried silence fell over the newsies, and in that fraction of a second when the mood began to fall, Race leapt up from from where he'd been sitting. "For jumping Jack's sake," he jogged across the room to Albert, then tossed an arm around the other boy's shoulder, "can ya stow the seriosity long enough to just drink-" Race released Albert, retrieved the folded newspaper he had been keeping in his back pocket- "in the moment!" He unfolded the paper and raised it to the heavens in triumph. "I'm famous!"
"Let's always stay friends! Though we may have our disputes, this family tree's got deep roots, friendship is thicker than blood..." -Rent (Isn't it perfect for Newsies?)
And now that I've got you all excited and hyped for KONY, I must bid you adieu, because I'm not going to post that chapter until the weekend. (Plan on seeing it Saturday, although I may post on Sunday instead. Depends on when I have time.)
Farewell, and do review, if you please!
