Welcome back to this, my readers who I threw into an unexpected but also expected hiatus. How ya been?

Review Responses:

JustVildaPotter: SOMEBODY GIVE THE POOR SUNSHINE CHILD A HUG! Ah, thank you! I suppose I'm happy I made you sad, which is weird, but anyway. I hope you did study for that history test.

lucykeeven7: Thank you! Once again, I'm happy I made people sad. What a weirdo I am. Sorry for nearly making you cry though.

Now, to cheer you all up with this newest chapter!

Chapter 51- Les

Monday, September 20, 1999, 7:50 a.m.

"Dad, you didn't hafta come along," Les repeated for the third time, watching his father exit the car with a fair amount of difficulty.

"Nonsense," Mr. Jacobs struggled to a standing position, bracing himself on the car door as he placed weight on his cast-covered leg. "Someone's gotta make sure you get ta school for real today."

"That's what I'm here for, Mayer," said Mrs. Jacobs, leaning against the car with her arms crossed. "I assure you, I have everything under control."

"I just think, with Les' recent attendance issues, it'd be good for the school to see he's got two upstandin', normal parents. I don't want no one gettin' the wrong idea."

Les' father most likely wasn't insulting all of the newsies on purpose, but it sure felt like he was. After all, the man seemed to think that having any more or less than two parents made someone a bad person. Because of this, Les had to ask, "What's the wrong idea?"

His mother waved the question away. "Never you mind, Lesley." She fell into step beside her husband and youngest son as they made their way through the elementary school's front doors and into the main office. After plainly stating what their business was, the three Jacobses waited in silence while the secretary went about checking Les into school.

The young boy knew, but would never admit aloud, that his parents were making a point of keeping quiet so as not to start arguing in public. At any other moment, Les would have said he preferred his parents' silence, but right now it was too awkward for his liking. It wasn't normal for family members to keep their mouths wired shut around each other. He missed the days before his parents had separated, when they would make stupid jokes with each other while waiting in line, to the point of Davey having to shush the rest of them when the ruckus grew loud enough to elicit stares from random passerby. Now there were no inside jokes, only yelling or forced silence. No in between. Les hated it, but there was nothing he could do. Two years was too late for him to try and force his parents back into marriage; not that that would have been at all possible. They were now nothing more than ships on separate journeys, with the unfortunate habit of occasionally colliding when they got dragged back into each other's paths.

"You're good to go, Lesley," announced the secretary, pressing a button to buzz him through the second set of doors. "You can head on in to your class."

Mrs. Jacobs stepped forward again as the young woman hinted that Les' parents should start on their way home. "If it's all right, I'd like to walk my son to his classroom."

"Yes, yes of course."

At the same time as the secretary bade them good day, Les protested, "Mom, I can go on my own." He almost added, "I'm not some little kid", but stopped himself when he remembered that he was a little kid in everybody else's eyes.

Mr. Jacobs told him, "We wanna be certain ya don't run away the second we leave."

Les actually had considered doing that very thing, but had concluded just as quickly that he would be caught if he tried. Even so, he didn't appreciate his father calling him out. "Fine. Mom can walk me."

"I'll come as well," his dad offered.

Mrs. Jacobs eyed her husband's injured leg. "I think it'll be quicker if I take him alone."

"Esther, I can make it down the hall just fine."

"I'm not concerned about your ability to make it anywhere. But efficiency-wise..."

"I ain't helpless."

"I know you aren't. All I ask-"

"Ain't, aren't, what does it matter how I say somethin', s'long as I'm speakin' English?"

"It matters when one of us is trying to teach correct grammar to our children, and the other stands by letting his accent worsen every day."

"Oh, I see, ya think I'm makin' 'em sound like ev'ry ruffian on the street."

"That's not what I-"

"I want the best fer our kids as much as you do."

"I know that. Don't you think I know that?"

"I ain't got a clue what ya know or don't know. But ya haven't done a very good job a' lookin' after 'em lately."

With a glance at the secretary, who was doing a bad job of pretending she wasn't eavesdropping by hiding her face behind a magazine, Mrs. Jacobs gritted her teeth. "If you don't mind, I'd like to refrain from this conversation until we can continue somewhere private."

Mr. Jacobs spat, "Oh, so now you care about how our family looks."

And so the argument continued. Bicker bicker bicker. Where was Tommy Boy when Les needed him?

Oh, right. He, along with the rest of the newsies, had told the boy stop coming around the high school. They didn't want Les in their group anymore. But that was fine. Les was fine.

Unnoticed by his feuding guardians, he slipped through the door and into the empty halls. Clearly it was going to be quicker if he found his class on his own. Now, where the hell was his classroom? Les had spent his most recent school days learning the ins and outs of Roosevelt High, and in doing so had completely neglected all knowledge of his elementary school. He did vaguely remember learning on his first day that the hallways were divided by grade, and he was ninety percent sure the hall he was wandering now would take him to the fifth grade classrooms, but those rooms easily outnumbered him ten to one, and it was going to take some serious brainpower to select the right one without enduring the embarrassment that would inevitably come from choosing wrong.

Or at least it would have taken him that much effort, because at that moment, Sally- the girl who had called him "weird" on his first day- emerged from a door to his right. As luck would have it, her eyes immediately fell on Les. Feeling relieved, he gave her a small wave with his free hand. He was saved.

As Sally strode up to him, a half-smirk, half-grin spread across her face. "Extra Ordinary," she greeted, and Les couldn't help but beam at the fact that she had given him a nickname. "You're back."

"Back on track," Les rhymed, for no real reason. He began trailing Sally as she started on her way to what he hoped was their collective classroom.

"So," she said, letting him fall into step beside her, "was high school as excitin' as you thought it'd be?"

Hmm. How was he to answer that? It was possible, Les supposed, that Sally didn't know about the strike. He was unsure whether or not she would be interested in the subject if he started to tell her about it. As a result, he decided upon saying plainly, "It's excitin' enough, but nothin' special."

"Uh-huh." Did he detect disbelief in her tone? "You make any friends?"

Well, I thought I did, but apparently not. "Kinda. I mean, as much as a kid our age can make friends with highschoolers."

"Sure." They had arrived at the correct classroom, and Sally became preoccupied with holding the door open for Les and his broken arm. She welcomed him back as he passed through, then began to ask a new question, but Les barely heard the words, for they were overshadowed by a pair of high-pitched squeals.

Two nearly identical girls came barreling toward him, flowy skirts billowing all over the place. The first of the pair held up a newspaper clipping and screeched, "You're famous!" the moment Les stopped in front of her.

"Can we have your autograph?" the second one pressed, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet."

Les, taken aback, could only say "Um..." while trying to back away from his twin classmates.

"I want an autograph too!" announced a different girl, shoving the twins away so that she could stand in front of the new arrival.

"Me too!" cried five other voices, and in an instant, Les was surrounded by skirts.

He attempted to calm them down, if only to keep his eardrums from bursting at the high frequencies he was being subjected to. "Ladies, please," he said nonchalantly, forced to swat his way through the crowd of girls in dresses in order to give himself some breathing room. This was rather difficult to do with one arm in a sling. "I really didn't do anything."

"But you made the front page!" another girl waving another newspaper clipping insisted.

Yet another added, "Yeah, and you must've done something really brave since ya ended up breakin' your arm!"

No girl on her own had ever paid him this much attention, let alone eight. It was a bold-faced lie for Les to claim he wasn't enjoying the admiration, although it was a tad overwhelming. Privately, he wished he'd had time to ask Jack for tips on how to deal with the opposite sex. That guy had it down.

"Um, yeah." Les agreed with the last girl's point. "Yep, I was really brave."

"'Sthat so?" came Sally's voice from somewhere on the outskirts of the crowd; Les couldn't see her through all the other girls. "And jus' what didja do that was so brave?"

I hid in a trash can, thought Les, remembering his less than remarkable hiding place during the riot. Of course, he couldn't tell this to his classmates. Hiding wasn't heroic. "Oh, y'know, just helped lead a strike," he answered Sally's inquiry. To sound more impressive still, he tacked on, "An' my high school friends and I had ta fight of a bunch a' goons."

"Goons?" gasped the girls, their voices shooting up an octave in distress.

Sally questioned, "Goons?" as she pushed far enough into the crowd that Les could see her skeptical expression.

"Uh-huh. There must've been dozens of them." Les wiggled the fingers on his sling-wrapped arm to bring everyone's attention to his injury. "An' that's how I broke my arm."

"Are you gonna get a cast on that?" the second twin wanted to know. "I'd love to sign it!"

"Me too!" chorused the rest of the girls, crowding around Les again.

For a second time, he was enveloped by frills and ruffles- man, these girls' parents liked to put them in poofy dresses- and before losing sight of her, he had to shoot Sally a frantic look, mouthing, Help me.

Sally smirked, answering verbally, "No can do, Extra Ordinary." Then she disappeared from view.

It ended up being the teacher, Mr. Heely, who rescued Les from the mob of excitable young ladies. "Girls, please find your seats," he instructed, and that was all it took for the crowd to disperse. "Mister Jacobs, you're over by Miss Plum." The man pointed to a pair of empty desks a few paces away, one of which Sally was sliding into. "Talk amongst yourselves for a few minutes," Mr. Heely directed, retreating behind his own desk.

Les filled the seat beside Sally, giving her the brightest and phoniest smile he could muster. "Hey, thanks for helping me out back there."

"Of course," she replied sarcastically to his sarcastic remark. "Any time, Dapper Dan." With that, she plucked his derby hat from his head and placed it on her own, covering her multi-braided bun.

"Hey! That's my-"

"You're a newsie."

"Well, you're a- a plum!" Les sputtered, mistakenly thinking he had been insulted. Then he truly considered what she had said. "Hold on, what?"

"You're a newsie. You were part a' that strike that made yesterday's front page."

How did she know what a newsie was? "I... well, yeah, that's why everyone else's so excited ta see me."

"No!" Sally teased. "An' here I thought ya were usin' yer own personal charms."

"Who needs charm?" Les stole his hat back, tipped it low over his forehead. "I got style."

"Ooh la la." Again, Sally swiped his hat. "I do like stylish newsies."

"What do you know about newsies?"

"My older sister Joey's one too. In Queens. She used ta write for her school newspaper in Brooklyn, but then we moved."

"Oh..."

"She was real impressed that you 'Hattan guys made headlines yesterday. So impressed, in fact, that she told me if I saw ya today I should pass on the message that her newsies in Flushing want in on your protest."

Les wasn't sure what to say to that. The information was helpful, and he knew his brother would be pleased to learn it, but as Davey had instructed him to stay at the elementary school all day, Les had no way of informing his older siblings of this newest development.

Seemingly flustered by the lack of feedback her words received, Sally went on, beginning to ramble. "Super random, I know, an' ya prob'ly don't care anyway, but there. I toldja what Joey wanted me ta tell ya."

"Ya got an older sister called Joey?" Les blurted, "That's kinda weird."

He grabbed for his hat again, but Sally batted his hand away. "Says the boy named Lesley."

Come on. The conversation had been sailing along smoothly without any embarrassment on Les' end. Why did Sally have to bring up his full name?

"How- how do you know that?"

"Because the teacher's been calling your name an' gettin' no response for the last three days, Extra Ordinary."

"Oh." Right, he'd missed three whole school days. Les had sort of been hoping that his teacher had been neglecting his existence entirely, but of course they must have called his name during attendance.

Sally inquired, "Do ya not like ta be called 'Lesley', Extra Ordinary?"

He shrugged. "Everyone I know calls me Les, most of the time." Except for Tommy Boy and a couple of the other newsies, who had dubbed him 'Shortstop'.

"Good to know, Extra Ordinary."

"Plum, why d'you keep calling me that?"

"You became a newsie when you aren't even in high school. If ya ask me, that's pretty extraordinary."

My, how the tables had turned. Les had done it. He was actually worthy of Sally's attention now, just as he'd hoped he could be during their introductory meeting. No longer was he the weird, boring boy he had been on his first day, and that was truly an accomplishment. But now that he'd captivated this girl, what was the next step?

Again, Les wished for Jack's assistance. As he did so, Sally popped another question. "Extra Ordinary, I mean, Les, do you like pizza?"

"Who doesn't?" So, the next step. Maybe he could... well, perhaps... he didn't have a clue. But there had to be some way to proceed from earning a girl's admiration and respect. If only he could figure it out.

"Would you want ta come get some after school with me? Some time this week?"

Wait. Was she asking Les what he thought she was asking him? Offhandedly, he commented, "You mean like a date?"

The wondering had only been in search of clarification, but it made Sally pause, as if the idea hadn't occurred to her. A moment later, she told Les decidedly, "Yeah. Like a date."

There was really no response he could give her but an enthusiastic yes.

Say it with me: Lesally. Is. Endgame.

This is the best ship in Newsies, fight me. (Seriously. They're the cutest.)

And now, fair readers, I bid you adieu, and ask you to leave me a review for next time. Farewell!