Disclaimer: This is a non-commercial work of fanfiction. Anything recognizable from Newsies belongs to Disney and not to me.
Chapter 82: The Skunk, the Shaving Cream, and the Shindig
"Watch your step, Dave - there's a loose board right there by the - " Race guffawed as Davey tripped over the very obstacle he'd just been warned about. "...stairs," the gambler finished, smirking at his friend.
"A little earlier of a warning would've been nice," Davey muttered, glancing over his shoulder at the offending floor board.
"You probably would've seen it yourself if that bag of yours weren't so big," Race returned, giving the satchel that Davey was carrying an amused look before he started up the stairs. "It ain't like you's movin' cross country or nothin'."
"I'm going to be staying here for a week, Race. That's a long time to be away from home."
"But we got all the necessities of life right here in our humble abode!" Race answered gregariously. "Everythin' a newsie could ever ask for!"
"Do you have clothes hangers?" Davey challenged.
"Hangers ain't a necessity, Dave."
"They are for me. And that's why I brought my own - because I knew you wouldn't have them."
"Well, ain't we the hoi polloi," Race sighed in mock consternation. "A thousand apologies that our lowly lodgin' house ain't fit for the likes of our high-falutin' guest."
"I never said that," Davey retorted as they made their way down the short hallway that led to the bunk room. "I was speaking from a purely practical standpoint, not trying to imply that - "
"Hey, Davey! Look fellas, Davey's here!" They had arrived, and all over the bunk room newsies were eagerly bouncing up from the beds where they'd been lounging or looking up from their card games to welcome the newcomer.
"What'cha got in the bag, Davey?" Elmer asked curiously. "You gonna do a puppet show for us or somethin'?"
"Nah, this bummer just brought his clothes hangers with him," Race interjected snidely.
Several of the newsies snickered.
"It's all right, we got all week to de-civilize him." Race hooked his arm around the bedpost of the nearest bunk, leaning casually against it while surreptitiously catching Albert's eye from across the room. The ginger-haired newsie gave a tiny nod, and Race said aloud, "Speakin' of which, why dont'cha show our guest to his bunk for the week, Jojo?"
"This way, Davey," the younger newsie beckoned. "We got some empty beds back here, and we fixed this bottom one up real nice for ya."
"Yeah, it's all ready to go!" Romeo added unnecessarily, and Race fought the urge to roll his eyes. As if one perfectly-made bed among the rest of the bunks in relative disarray didn't look suspicious enough! They should have at least made it appear a little less immaculate...
But he'd forgotten how naive Davey was. The older Jacobs boy didn't even question the remark, following Jojo over to the last bunk at the end of the row and setting his bag down on the floor where it wouldn't block the walkway.
"Ain't you gonna try it out?" Elmer asked eagerly (and this time, Race did roll his eyes).
"Maybe later," Davey responded, looking around the rest of the bunk room. "I'm not feeling tired yet, so I'd rather remind myself of where everything is first, and then see what the rest of you are up to."
"But - !" Romeo began before Race silenced him with a look.
"Might wanna just test it out, Dave," he suggested nonchalantly. "We thought the bottom bunk would be more convenient since you wouldn't have to do any climbin', but since you's so tall, it might actually end up bein' too cramped. If you try it now and find out it don't suit you, we can change it around now before it gets too late."
"That makes sense." Davey walked back over to the bed. "Thanks for thinking of - aaaaahhhh!" he let out a yell of surprise as the phony mattress collapsed under him, landing him on the floor in an undignified heap amidst a flurry of dust particles and straw.
The lodging house broke into a collective chortle, everything from Romeo's high-pitched squeaking to Buttons' nasally laugh resounding throughout the room, and Race wiped a tear from his eye as he walked over to offer Davey his hand.
"You sure fell for that one - lit'rally!" He pulled his friend to his feet, ignoring the scowl he received for his trouble.
"And here I thought you wanted me to stay at the lodging house because you were concerned about my health," Davey muttered, trying to brush himself off. "I should have known that it was only so you could prank me."
"Ah, lighten up, Dave," Race responded, clapping his friend on the back. "We's just happy you's here, that's all."
Davey gave him an unimpressed look. "Was Jack in on this too?" he asked, gesturing to the now-destroyed false mattress (which was really just a large gunny sack that Albert and the boys had lightly filled with straw before balancing it carefully over the bed frame (with the supporting boards removed) and covering it with a blanket).
Race shook his head. "Jacky ain't the kind that likes prankin' inside the lodgin' house - he says it's too messy here, but he don't mind if we do it outside. He usually ain't down here much in the evenin's anyway - he and Crutchie sleep up on the rooftop most nights - so what he don't know won't hurt him." He grinned. "We probably oughta get this cleared away, though, and get your bed set up for real this time."
"If you wanna get cleaned up, there's a mirror in the washroom, Davey," Finch remarked as he walked over, broom in hand. "Looks like you got some hay in your hair."
"Yeah, go ahead, Dave; we'll take care of this," Race agreed, reaching for the dustpan and squatting down so that he could assist Finch.
As soon as Davey had left the room, Race straightened up. "Nice work, Finchy," he said quietly as he joined the rest of the boys who had crept closer to the washroom entrance, holding their breath as they listened.
"I almost feel bad doin' it," the other newsie confessed quietly. "Didn't think he'd be this green."
"We's just wisin' him up, that's all," Race whispered assuringly before Specs shushed them.
"He's at the sink."
No sooner had the words left his mouth than they heard another shout of surprise from Davey as he turned on the tap and the partially plugged-up sink began spraying water everywhere.
The newsies once again broke into fits of laughter, and Race shared a triumphant look with Henry, who'd been the brains behind the second prank.
Two for two.
It was already shaping up to be an excellent week, and they were only a quarter of an hour into it.
It wouldn't have been an understatement to say that Davey second-guessed his choice to bunk with the newsies more times than he could count in the days that followed. Theoretically, it had been a wise decision - Les was sick and likely contagious, and Davey couldn't afford to fall ill and be out of work, which probably would have happened if he'd continued staying in his family's small apartment, having to either share the bed with his sick brother or else sleep on the floor.
But his retreat to the lodging house had been far from restful.
True to the prediction that Race had made months before on the day of Davey's newsie "initiation," the good-natured pranking was in full swing, and Davey found himself picking up habits that he knew would look completely absurd under any other circumstances - checking his newsie cap before he put it on his head, looking behind him nervously whenever it got too quiet, and tentatively patting down his bed covers before he turned in for the night. If the pranks had been a bit more hazardous or mean-spirited, he probably would have started developing a low-grade paranoia, but as much as he disliked the newsies' antics, he knew that they were only doing it in fun, so he settled for simply rolling his eyes or occasionally snarking back if he had the energy to whenever he found himself on the receiving end of yet another practical joke.
It was unfortunate that he happened to possess the easily-exploitable qualities of being a sound sleeper and an occasional sleep talker, and the newsies readily used both of those traits to their advantage. It started out mildly enough the first few days - Albert woke him up with a cacophony of tin can drums, Specs hid his shoes on the rooftop, and Romeo and Elmer pretended that he'd divulged a highly personal secret while sleep-talking (that one had hit a little too close to home for Davey, and he'd responded rather bitingly to the two younger newsies when they'd revealed that it had all been an act).
They'd left him alone for a while after that.
But then, the very next morning after washing up, Davey had walked over to his bunk bed where he'd hung his clothes for the day and had taken his shirt off of its hanger, intending to put it on, only to find that it wouldn't open even after he'd undone all of the buttons. His vest was in similar shape, and if he hadn't been keeping a mental tally of who hadn't pulled a prank on him yet, it might have been a little harder to guess the culprit - but he correctly determined that it was Buttons who was behind the latest gag. The newsie confessed once Davey confronted him, then quickly and easily undid the stitching holding the shirt and vest closed, rendering them wearable once again. Davey had to admit to himself that it had been a clever trick, and Buttons was so cheerful and mild-mannered anyway that it was hard to be mad, so he'd taken the incident in stride.
The sewn-up clothes incident, however, was followed by a series of basically innocuous but slightly humiliating pranks involving shaving cream. Davey never managed to figure out who was behind them, and no one ever admitted guilt, but he was not a particularly happy camper on those mornings.
The most jarring wake-up call, however, was the one initiated by Bella II.
It was five days into the week, early in the morning, and Davey was in a deep sleep, recovering from yet another long day of hawking headlines by day and trying to survive the chaos of the lodging house by night.
Years of sharing a bed with Les had made him more or less unresponsive to the occasional jostling of another life form sharing the same space, and when he woke slightly to the sensation of something soft tickling his chin, he didn't think much about it and simply rolled over, already beginning to fall back asleep.
But then the tickling sensation came again, this time near his ear. And as Davey's foggy mind slowly began to clear, he realized that the gentle brush didn't feel like Les' hair, or his fuzzy blanket, or anything familiar. It felt more like…
...fur.
Davey opened his eyes and shot a panicked glance over his shoulder.
There, staring him in the face, was a skunk.
Davey yelped, shooting up in bed and banging his head on the bunk above in the process.
"Mornin' Dave!" Race said cheerfully, seeming to appear out of nowhere. The rest of the bunk room was mostly empty, the majority of the boys already jostling for space in the washroom as they prepared for the day. "Sleep well?"
Davey rubbed his head, shooting an anxious look at the skunk who stared back at him curiously. "There's - there's a skunk," he stammered, pointing. "In my bed."
Race glanced over at the animal as though he had only just noticed its presence. "Oh, her?" He held his hands out to the skunk, who obediently waddled over. "This ain't no ordinary skunk, Dave," Race said, cuddling the little animal close to his chest. "This here is Bella II, the unofficial mascot of the lodgin' house." He held her out to Davey. "Say 'hello.'"
Davey gave him a wary look. "Bella II?" he questioned. "Is this the same skunk that you found out back behind the - " he let out a squeak as Race unceremoniously dropped the bundle of black and white fur into his arms.
"Jack told you that story, huh?" Race said, clearly amused as he watched Davey squirm a little. "That skunk was Bella I - may she rest in peace. This here's her little one. She ain't as feisty as her ma was, but just as much of a beaut. And real smart, too," he added.
"You aren't worried about her...you know...spraying?" Davey asked gingerly as Bella II crawled out of his arms and began sniffing curiously at his blanket.
Race waved off his concern. "It's only happened a few times when she's gotten startled. You just gotta stay calm around her and she ain't gonna spray."
"Does she normally sleep in people's beds?" Davey questioned flatly, already suspecting the answer.
"Nah," Race shook his head. "Just thought you might want to make her acquaintance."
"Couldn't you have done that while I was awake?"
"Maybe," the gambler shrugged. "But it was a helluva lot more fun this way." He patted Davey's shoulder. "Hope that little bump on the head didn't bust up your brains, though."
Apparently, Bella II found Davey's mattress to be quite comfortable. She ambled around for a bit, then settled herself comfortably at the foot of the bed, curling up for a nap.
"Crepuscular," Davey muttered to himself.
"What?" Race shot him a look.
"Crepuscular - that's the kind of animal Bella II is," Davey explained. "It means she's more active during the twilight hours, which is why she sleeps during the day."
Race grinned in amusement. "Well ain't you just a walkin' encyclopedia."
"Animals are fascinating," Davey retorted.
"Well this one sure seems to like you. She ain't always this friendly to strangers, but she's already makin' herself at home," Race grinned. "You might have to get used to this, Dave."
"I don't intend to," Davey remarked cooly, getting up to head to the washroom. But after he'd gotten ready for the day, he stopped to check on Bella II before he left the bunk room, tugging the blanket with the sleeping skunk over just a bit so that she was situated more securely in the middle of the bed and would be in less danger of falling off. Race saw him and chuckled, but he didn't say anything and only clapped Davey on the back as the two of them made their way down the stairs to join the rest of the newsies for the walk to the distribution center.
By the time Davey returned that evening after selling all of his papers, Bella II was gone - likely out foraging for food. He was a little disappointed; he'd always secretly wanted to have a pet, but with all of the moving his family did and with living space and money being tight enough as it was between the four of them, he'd known better than to ask for one. He'd never considered the possibility of domesticating a skunk, but if the newsies felt comfortable letting her come and go as she pleased from the lodging house, they must have been fairly confident that she wouldn't spray or otherwise disturb things. He remembered reading somewhere that skunks startled easily and didn't see particularly well, so he was surprised that Bella II was unruffled by the jocular antics of the newsies, but then again, if she'd grown up around it, perhaps she was used to it by now.
The next morning, to his elation, the skunk was back, snuffling curiously at the satchel on the floor by his bed. He wasn't sure if Race had planted her or if she'd wandered in on her own accord, but in any case, he was happy to see her.
"Hey, Bella," he said, slowly reaching down to pet the skunk. If he hadn't seen Race cuddling the animal the day before, he wouldn't have dared to do such a thing, but Bella II took it in stride; she was more interested in Davey's newsie cap, anyway.
"Sorry, I can't let you have that," he said, reaching down to rescue the cap as Bella II attempted to drag it away. "It's the only one I've got." Settling it on his head, he wondered if the skunk was normally in the habit of pilfering people's things. He probably ought to make sure he closed his satchel, just in case.
Glancing over again, he saw that Bella II was nestling in the open luggage and looked as though she was about to take a nap.
"Whoops - sorry, can't let you do that, either," Davey said apologetically, bending down to pick up the fuzzy animal. "You can sleep in the bed again, though, if you want." He set Bella on the mattress, and she waddled over to where his blanket was, curling up in the same spot that she'd staked out the previous morning and then paying him no further mind.
Davey smiled to himself as he got ready for the day. He generally wasn't much of a morning person, but it was a little easier to get up when there was a furry friend to greet you. And today was going to be an exciting day - his reading group would be running its second-to-last rehearsal before the lodging house shindig the following evening, and he was looking forward to fine-tuning the last few details with the other boys before their performance.
Maybe it would turn out to be a decently good week after all.
"Hey Racer, you got the root beer?"
"Right here!" Race grinned, holding up two of the several bottles that Jack had purchased for the lodging house shindig that evening.
"Pass it around!" Romeo urged, beckoning impatiently. Race obliged, popping off the bottle cap and then handing the drink to the younger newsie who took a swig, sighing in contentment before passing the beverage to Jojo, the next boy on his right.
"Now that's a taste of pure heaven," Jojo declared, a blissful smile stretching across his face after he'd taken his draught.
"It's good," Henry agreed, taking a much more conservative sip, "but I still think Coca-Cola's more tasty."
"No way." Jojo shook his head. "Coke's for the folks who don't know better."
"It's all about ginger ale," Specs opined, swiping a hand across his mouth after taking his own sip of root beer. "Tastes like liquid candy, but it's good for you, too!"
"Yeah, that's what they say, but I ain't convinced," Jojo remarked skeptically, his eyes following the bottle of root beer which was now nearly empty. "Pretty sure it's nothin' but a scam to sell more soda."
Specs shrugged.
"Is Jacky comin'?" Mush asked, looking around the room. "Coulda sworn I saw him in here just an hour or two ago."
"He left to have dinner with Katherine, but he'll be comin' back soon," Crutchie answered. "This whole thing was his idea, and I know he's as excited about it as the rest of you fellas."
"And it only turned eight o'clock a minute or two ago," Race added, surprising himself with the unexpected expression of magnanimity. The old him would have defended Jack without blinking an eye, but this was the first time since the strike began that Race had found himself being spontaneously charitable (in thought or word) towards the newsie leader.
"Anyway, it's gonna be a night to remember," he declared jovially. "I can feel it already."
"You bet'cha," Mush agreed. "And we got some new blood here too, so that oughta liven things up a bit!" He gave Artie and Tucker a grin. "Glad you fellas is gonna have a chance to participate in your first shindig tonight. Oh - " he added quickly, " - and you too, Davey. Glad you could join us - though I haf'ta admit, I'm skeptical that you's gonna be very entertainin' - no offense."
"What'cha talkin' about?" Race interjected jokingly. "Davey's plenty entertain' - just think about how much fun we've had this week with him stayin' over!"
"Bein' entertainin' ain't the same thing as bein' the entertainment," Mush jibed back.
"Guess you got a point there," Race conceded, "but I'm willin' to bet that this bummer is both." He grinned at Davey. "Whaddya say, Dave?" he asked, giving his friend a good-natured shove in the arm. "You gonna prove to these doubters tonight that you ain't as much of a wet blanket as they think you is?"
Davey only smiled enigmatically. "I guess you'll just have to wait and see," he said, shrugging a little. But Race didn't miss the gleam in his eye, or the grins on Tucker, Jojo, and Elmer's faces.
Before anyone could say anything further, the sound of hurried footsteps was heard, and Jack strode in, a paper-wrapped package under his arm.
"Sorry to keep you waitin', fellas," he apologized, walking over to join the rest of the newsies. "Thanks for settin' everything up." The bunk room furniture had been re-arranged, all of the beds moved to one side to create a space for the performances.
"I got somethin' here that'll add to our festivity," the newsie leader continued, holding up the package as the rest of the boys eagerly gathered around. "It's from Kath - she said we oughta celebrate with a little somethin' sweet." He pulled off the paper and opened the lid of the box to reveal an assortment of brightly colored candy.
The jostling began almost instantly.
"Hey, I call the caramels!"
"I got the horehounds!"
"Gimme the butterscotch, will ya?"
"Not on your tintype! That's my favorite!"
"All right, all right, settle down!" Jack commanded, shutting the box with a scolding look. "Just 'cause we's dirt poor don't mean we gotta act uncivilized!" He set the box down on the table, off to the side. "We's gonna go about this nice and orderly," he continued. "Since everyone's gonna take turns providin' the entertainment for tonight, everyone's gonna have a chance at the candy, but you gotta perform first before you get to choose. First one up gets first pick and so on after that. You do the work, you get the pay. Got it?"
The newsies chorused their agreement, and Jack nodded.
"All right, let's get this thing kicked off right." His eyes scanned the room until they found Race, and he paused for just a second before saying, "You, ah, wanna do the honors, Racer?"
Nearly the entire group of newsies - Race included - stared at him in surprise. The opening welcome to any event - and the subsequent segue into the start of the festivities - was an honor always reserved for the leader of the lodging house. It had been that way even before Jack had taken over, and perhaps long before that. To offer the distinction to someone else was...well, completely unheard of. And totally unexpected.
Race found himself at a loss for words, something that didn't happen very often. He searched Jack's face, trying to figure out exactly what was going on, but the newsie leader's expression was open and candid and maybe even a little bit earnest. Race had known Jack long enough to pick up on when the other boy was hiding something or faking sincerity, but there was no duplicity in his face or bearing.
It had been a genuine offer. And Jack was clearly eager for him to take it.
"Sure...I, uh...I guess I could start us off," Race muttered, still a little dazed as he got to his feet. He'd become so used to the low grade (if persistent) tension between Jack and himself that this sudden act of camaraderie (respect? acknowledgement?) had caught him off guard. But if there was one thing that Race knew how to do, it was how to recover quickly, paste on a smile, and then accomplish what needed to be done.
So he composed a welcoming speech on the fly, bringing all of his wit to bear as he delivered an overture that quickly had the newsies in stitches. Then he whipped out his harmonica and breezed through the new number he'd learned for the shindig, filling the lodging house with the instrument's bright, punchy notes, which could still be heard above the sound of the newsies exuberant clapping.
When he finally took his seat amidst a swell of appreciative applause, and Henry stepped up to draw the crowd's attention away, Race looked over and caught Jack's eye. The newsie leader cracked a half-smile, and Race gave him a little nod in return, letting Jack know that the gesture of goodwill had not gone unappreciated. Jack visibly relaxed at the signal, and Race saw his grin widen, spreading fully across his face before he turned his attention back to Henry, who was performing an uncannily realistic impersonation of a popular vaudeville actor at the front of the room.
Race, too, turned to watch the act, but his thoughts were still on Jack's unprecedented move. For the newsies, rituals and traditions were important - they brought a sense of normalcy, closeness, and familial bonding - and any time a ritual was broken, it was a noteworthy occasion, because it wasn't just a rule being challenged or forgotten; it was a deliberate statement being made.
Giving up the opening number had been an act of humility on Jack's part. Maybe it was an acknowledgement of Race's role as de facto leader during the strike earlier that year. Or maybe it was just an attempt to make amends in a way that Jack knew Race would appreciate and understand. At any rate, it was a sign that the newsie leader was ready to bury the hatchet and make peace, a sentiment that Race had inwardly been in alignment with for weeks now, but hadn't had the mettle to act on.
He was thankful that Jack had, though. The rift between them was finally beginning to heal...and at that moment, Race was more than ready to close the remaining distance.
A/N: Reconciliation - it's coming! Race and Jack will eventually have a heart-to-heart and talk it out, but for now, they're moving in the right direction. Thanks for reading this chapter - if you can, please leave me a review let me know what you thought of it! Whether it's a long and detailed remark or just a quick word or two, feedback gives me the push to keep going and lets me know that you're still here and still enjoying this, and that means a lot to me. Thank you! :)