Disclaimer: This is a non-commercial work of fanfiction. Anything recognizable from Newsies belongs to Disney and not to me.
Chapter 86: A Missing Newsie
"David, is it true that you got my sister to agree to read with you?"
Davey, halfway down the second floor stairs, looked up to see Abby Becker peering over the railing at him from the flight above. "She told me that you're coming over to read with her sometime," the girl declared, sounding incredulous, "but I told her I wouldn't believe it until I heard it from you."
Davey smiled. "It's true, Abby," he confirmed. "I'll fill you in on the details if you want, but I'd rather you came down here - it's not safe to hang over the railing like that."
"You sound like Judith," the youngest Becker sister teased as she hurried down the stairs to join him. "It must be part of being the oldest."
"Most of us do have a built-in concern for safety," Davey agreed. "It's in our nature to watch out for our younger siblings whether they like it or not."
"Where's Les, by the way?" Abby wanted to know.
"Probably waiting at the bottom of the stairs," Davey answered as they made their way down. "He's been running ahead of me lately, despite the fact that he's usually not very eager to get to school. It probably has something to do with the fact that he and Sally are 'going together again' - whatever that means. He had to miss a week of school because he was sick, and he said he's 'dying' to see her."
"They've been sitting next to each other in class," Abby disclosed, wrinkling her nose a bit. "And they spend all recess together and share their lunches, too. It's disgusting."
"I thought that Sally had lost interest in Les and moved on to another boy."
"She's not the kind to stay fascinated with one person for long," Abby shrugged. "But back to my sister and reading...how did you get her to agree to it?"
"I'm honestly not sure," Davey admitted. "I almost couldn't believe it myself when she said yes."
"Well, I guess this makes you the winner of our agreement, then," Abby smiled. "I haven't really done my part in trying to get Les to read, but since you've succeeded with my sister, we get to go to McNally's to shop for books now, right?"
"That's right," Davey laughed. "We did agree on it."
"Agree on what?" Les demanded as they reached the bottom of the stairs and he trotted over to join them.
"It's none of your business." Abby turned up her nose at him. "You wouldn't find it interesting in the slightest, anyway."
"Probably not, if it's something you were discussing with my brother," Les concurred with a shrug. "Speaking of which, where's Sadie?"
"She'll be along in a minute," Abby answered. "She was talking with Mama when I stepped outside, but she shouldn't take long." Glancing up at Davey, she added, "You can head off, though, if you'd like. I know you have to get to the distribution center after you drop Les off at school, and Sadie and I walk a different way to meet Margaret anyhow."
"We can wait," Les said quickly, before Davey had a chance to answer. "It'd be a shame to miss out on your sister's company - right, David?"
"Absolutely," Davey answered stiffly, checking the impulse to cuff his little brother on the head.
No sooner had he said this than they heard the sound of someone descending the stairs, and Sadie appeared.
"I'm sorry to keep you waiting," she apologized. "Good morning Davey. Good morning, Les." The little group, now complete, set off in the direction of the schoolhouse after Les insisted once again that the Jacobs brothers didn't mind detouring a bit to go along with the Becker sisters as they went to their meeting spot to rendezvous with Margaret.
"I'm glad to see that you're feeling better, Les," Sadie remarked as they walked along, giving the younger boy a smile. "I take it that your parents are well?"
Les nodded. "And David's fine too," he added, "even though he's already complained to me about having to live at the newsboy lodging house last week. He said that it wasn't restful at all, and that Race and the newsies pranked him almost every day."
"That's right, I did hear something about that," Sadie remarked. She gave Davey a curious glance. "I ran into Race on my way home from work a few days ago, and he told me that he and the rest of the boys enjoyed having you as their guest."
Davey huffed. "I'm sure they did."
"But you're all in one piece, despite their rather...unconventional hospitality?"
"More or less." It wasn't an experience he'd want to repeat, but it wasn't as bad as it could have been, and he'd managed to get the last word in, anyhow, so that made things a bit more palatable.
"I'm glad you made it home safely," he added, almost immediately regretting the fervent disclosure when Sadie responded to it with a confused look. "I mean, I'm glad your walk home was safe," he amended, trying to generalize the statement so that it didn't sound quite so overprotective. "Because, you know, sometimes it's not the safest, walking home alone at night after dark."
He cringed. Could he have handled that any more awkwardly?
"It's kind of you to be concerned," Sadie said slowly, and he could tell that she was trying to choose her next words carefully. "Race gave me a similar warning when I ran into him on the street...but I've walked home countless times before, and I've never had a problem, so there's really no need to be apprehensive on my account."
"Right, of course," Davey agreed quickly. Her words had been polite but firm, and he was glad that she didn't know how close he'd been to hurrying all the way back to the tenement that night just to assure himself that no harm had befallen her. It had crossed his mind, even when he'd been lying in bed hours after his conversation with Race, but common sense had kept him from acting on the impulse, and now he was thankful now that it had. She was clearly more than capable of fending for herself.
"At any rate, it's good to have you back at the tenement again," Sadie said, her lighthearted tone returning. "I've been waiting for an opportunity to tell you that my appointment for next weekend was cancelled, so if you're still free, perhaps we might set aside some time that Sunday for reading?"
"You're going to read with my brother?" Les interjected, looking over his shoulder to stare at the landlord's daughter in disbelief. "What in the world made you want to do that?"
"An insatiable curiosity, I suppose," Sadie answered, smiling. "Your brother's far more interesting than you give him credit for, Les."
"That's because you don't have to live with him," the younger boy quipped. "You'd get bored of him soon enough if you had to listen to him go on and on about his random ideas day in and day out."
"Maybe you're just too dull to appreciate his conversation," Abby cut in scornfully. "My sister's right - David is interesting, much more interesting than you. All you ever talk about are your stupid jokes and your obsession with Sally and those useless facts about the newspaper business like where Horace Greeley died!"
"At least I don't spend all of lunch recess with my nose in a book," Les shot back, "and I've got friends who aren't fictional characters, unlike you!"
"Les, that was uncalled for," Davey said sternly.
"Abby, there's no need to be cruel," Sadie reprimanded at the same time. "Why can't you speak nicely to Les?"
"Because I loathe him," Abby answered.
"And the feeling's returned!" Les glared in her direction.
"Well, well, if this isn't quite an amiable entourage!" Margaret observed, drawing near from where she'd caught sight of them from across the street. "I can practically feel the mutual admiration and goodwill radiating off of all of you, and I'm sure I'd like to join in!"
Abby sniffed, pointedly situating herself on the opposite side of the older girl so that she could be as far away from Les as possible.
"Good morning, Megs," Sadie said, greeting her friend with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry for our squabbling. We've just had a slight disagreement."
"Well, don't curtail your debate on account of me!" the other girl insisted drolly. "Please proceed."
"It's nothing that requires further discussion," Sadie said firmly, giving first Abby, and then Les, a pointed look. "I think it would be best if we simply agree to disagree on the matter and commit to speaking more civilly to one another in the future should further differences of opinion arise."
"I concur," Davey affirmed. He nudged his brother. "Les?"
The younger boy scowled, but eventually he nodded his agreement.
"Abby?" Sadie glanced at the younger girl.
"Fine," Abby groused before marching to the front of the group and stalking down the street, clearly wishing to be left alone. Les followed, immediately regaining his plucky demeanor now that he was rid of her, then launching without preamble into a conversation with the indulgent Margaret about his latest plans for a date with Sally.
Sadie shook her head, exchanging a slightly-exasperated look with Davey as they brought up the rear. "It's unfortunate that our younger siblings seem to have such a difficult time getting along," she lamented. "I wish I knew how to convince Abby not to speak so harshly. She can be quite severe in expressing her opinions."
"Les is his own brand of tactless," Davey acknowledged. "It's not all Abby's fault - my brother has a way of rubbing people the wrong way sometimes. I would know."
"You're remarkably patient with his impudence," Sadie observed. "I don't think I would be quite so composed if my younger sibling insulted me as often as your brother does you!"
"Well, he is forced to put up with my rambling at home," Davey conceded. "We just have different personalities, I guess. Les is drawn to boys who are more bold and adventurous. I think that's why he gets along so well with the newsies - they're his kind of big brother."
"Abby, on the other hand, adores you," Sadie declared. "She's always talking about the latest discussion you've had with her regarding books and wondering if you've read whatever new volume she's happened to acquire."
Davey smiled. "I would have liked to have her as a sister. It's been enjoyable to talk to her about what she's been reading. Les and I never had that in common."
They followed the rest of the group across the street, and the schoolhouse came into view.
"Speaking of reading," Davey continued, "I don't think I ever answered your question about next Sunday, but I am still free that day, so if it works for you, and your family doesn't mind me coming over, I'll stop by after lunch - at two o'clock, maybe?"
Sadie nodded. "That will be perfect. Lilly will still be up, then; she usually takes a nap around three."
"I'm looking forward to meeting her."
They arrived at the schoolyard gate, which Abby, Les, and Margaret had already passed through, and Davey held it open for Sadie, feeling a wistfulness wash over him as he prepared to part ways with the rest of the group. He'd made peace with his job as a newsie months ago, but the sight of the classroom always brought about a quiet longing for the academic part of his life that had been so abruptly and indefinitely set aside.
"Have a good day at school, Sadie," he said, closing the gate once she'd stepped through. "I hope that the lesson isn't completely unenjoyable for you." He mustered up a smile, then added, "If it ends up being too tedious, you have my full support to indulge in doing something ridiculous during lunch recess - climbing trees or anything dangerous excepted, of course."
"How generous of you to encourage my frivolous tendencies!" she exclaimed, giving him an amused look. "And how out of character, too."
Davey shrugged. "It's the least I can do when you've been kind enough to pay attention in class for the sake of tutoring me. I know you don't enjoy it, and I owe you at least an equal concession. Or maybe your impulsiveness is rubbing off on me." This time, the smile he gave her was genuine.
"Now that's a slightly concerning thought!" Sadie proclaimed, her eyes mirthful, "though I did promise myself that I'd make an adventurous and impulsive boy out of you, so I suppose I should congratulate myself on my success!"
"Don't rest on your laurels quite yet," he warned. "You can claim victory when you've gotten me to throw all caution to the winds and do something completely against my better judgment, but until then, consider me only half won over. And I didn't give you carte blanche where doing something ridiculous was concerned. I did stipulate no climbing anything dangerous - at least, not until I'm around to catch you."
Sadie laughed. "I'll hold you to that!" she teased.
"Please do. That way I can at least try to make sure that you're safe." As soon as the words left Davey's mouth, he realized that they were too close in tenor to his earlier expression of relief that she'd made it home to the tenement safely. Had he already forgotten her polite but firm brush off? This wasn't the place for his overprotective if well-meaning concerns.
"Anyway," he said quickly, anxious to cover his mistake, "I'd, uh - I'd better head along to the distribution center and let you get to class." He backed away, sticking his hands into his pockets. "It was nice talking to you, Chare. I'll see you tonight." And before she could say anything in reply, he turned around and began walking down the street.
Nitwit, he chided himself. What were you thinking?
His ability to go from completely composed to relatively inarticulate in a matter of seconds never ceased to amaze him, but it wasn't the first time (and probably wouldn't be the last) that he'd gotten himself into trouble by speaking first without thinking. He was normally much more careful with his words, but, as usual, Sadie had lulled him into a level of comfort where he wasn't regulating his responses as closely as he ought to. He'd become so used to their friendly exchanges and lighthearted banter that he'd slipped up, letting his earnestness bleed into their conversation even though she'd already made it clear that she didn't need or want his concerns regarding her safety.
He'd always been a bit of a worrier, and his family and friends alike had occasionally given him a hard time for that trait, so he supposed that it probably came across as untoward where the landlord's daughter was concerned. He really had no business overstepping like that.
Well, he would simply have to be careful not to repeat that mistake again. Shaking off his deprecating thoughts, Davey continued on towards the distribution center. The morning was shaping up to be a pleasant one where the weather was concerned - there was hardly a cloud in the sky, and the normally-chilly November air was only mildly crisp. It would be a good day for selling, provided the conditions held.
Davey walked the next several blocks quickly, dodging the occasional passerby as he got to the busier part of town. Soon, the distribution center came into view, but instead of the usual sight of a loosely-organized queue of newsies waiting in line by the circulation gate, his eyes took in an unusual sight: the members of the Lower Manhattan lodging house all bunched together in a group, looking somber and silent as they listened to Jack speak.
Quickly, Davey hurried towards them, apprehension pooling in his stomach. Something was definitely wrong. He could tell already from the looks on the boys' faces.
"Heya, Davey," Elmer greeted him quietly as he reached the edge of the group. "You came just in time; Jack's fillin' us in on what we's gonna do about Racer."
"Race? What happened? What's wrong?"
"He disappeared," Elmer confided. "Last night. He went to bed like the rest of us, but when we woke up this mornin', he was gone."
Davey held back his exclamation of dismay and instead forced himself to listen to what Jack was saying, his thoughts already beginning to race.
"We gotta be extra cautious right now," Jack was saying sternly. "Snyder's goons are still haulin' boys into The Refuge right and left, just like they was before. Katherine's workin' on gettin' that article out so that the Gov'nor will remember what he promised and investigate, but until then, we gotta be careful."
"You think they got Racer when he snuck out last night?" Henry demanded.
"Maybe," Jack replied, and though the word was straightforward, Davey could see how much the admission distressed him. "And it could be any one of us next, so that's why we gotta keep our eyes open and our heads down. Watch out for each other, all right? And don't be goin' anywhere at night alone - you need to step out for a bit, you take someone else with you. That goes for your older ones, too."
"What are we gonna do about Race?" Romeo piped up. "We gonna head over to The Refuge to see if he got taken in?"
"No!" Jack said, almost harshly, and the younger newsie jumped back a little. "No one gets within a mile of The Refuge, you hear me?" His gaze swept around the group, locking eyes with each of the boys in turn. "If anyone's gonna go investigate, it's gonna be me," the newsie leader declared. The words were delivered in the same steely tone as before, but Davey heard the nearly-imperceptible waver in them, and he wondered if Jack himself was even in a place where he could bear to return to The Refuge without his own nightmarish experiences coming up to haunt him.
"What about checkin' out the Bronx?" Albert demanded from the back of the group. "I told'ja I had the strangest dream last night about Racer tellin' me he was goin' there. Could be a sign or somethin'!"
"And what would he be doin' down there in the middle of the night?" Jack queried. "He ain't got no one there, not anyone he'd just decide to up and see."
Albert shrugged. "I dunno. It was a really clear dream, though."
"You's always dreamin' the strangest things, Al."
"Well maybe this one's a sign, like I said!"
"Yeah," Jojo scoffed. "Like the leg of lamb was a sign." Albert took off his cap and cuffed the other newsie with it, but before Jojo could retaliate, the sound of the circulation bell rang through the morning air.
"All right, all right, line up, you bummers," Jack said, herding the newsies into a somewhat-orderly queue. "Get your papes and hit the streets, and watch out for each other like I said, all right? If Race ain't back at the lodgin' house by tonight, I'll do some searchin' tomorrow, but for now, just focus on lookin' out for yourselves." Having delivered this admonishment, Jack got in line at the end of the group, right behind Davey.
"Hey, don't look so nervous, all right?" He clapped Davey on the shoulder. "I know you's probably already thought up a hundred and one terrible things that could've happened to Racer, but it ain't likely any of 'em is true."
Davey gave him a humorless smile. "I'm not that much of a worrier, Jack," he asserted, even though he had to admit that the pronouncement was only partially accurate. "It is hard not to be concerned, though. Does Race normally just disappear out of nowhere?"
"It ain't exactly uncommon for him to skip out at night," Jack shrugged. "Sometimes he'll tell one of the other boys where he's goin', but most of the time he just heads off and comes back by mornin'. I've seen him leave a few times myself when I was up late. Thought about tailin' him, just to see what he was up to, but Racer's a real private fella. He don't like people buttin' into his personal life."
Davey nodded. He'd gotten the same sense from Race the few times they'd happened to stray too close to the subjects of family or the past.
"So, you're not worried about him?" he asked, as the line of newsies in front of him inched forward. "You don't think there's anything to be concerned about?"
"'Course I'm worried," Jack answered. "It ain't like him to not be back by mornin'. But there ain't anything we can do about it right now."
"Do you think he might have gone to the Bronx?" Davey hedged. He knew from Jack's earlier response to Albert's suggestion that the newsie leader didn't put much stock in the idea, but something about it was bothering Davey. "Is there any chance he might have...run into trouble there?"
Jack shrugged again. "Anything's possible. But Albert ain't exactly the most reliable fella."
"You think The Refuge is more likely where Race ended up?"
"I hope not." Jack sighed. He rubbed his face with his hands, as though he was suddenly tired, then added, almost as an afterthought, "We gotta get that place shut down for good."
The line moved forward again, and Davey decided to let the matter drop, not wanting to add to Jack's burden. For all of the newsie leader's apparent composure, the situation was clearly weighing on him, and questioning him further was unlikely to help...
But the idea of the Bronx lingered in Davey's mind.
He wasn't the kind to be overly-confident when it came to his intuition, but there were times where certain things just felt right, or wrong, or startlingly clear, and this was one of those times. The last occasion when he'd felt so sure of something that he couldn't put his finger on had been the day that Pulitzer had raised the price of papes for the newsies. Davey had woken up that morning with an unusually sharp focus and a firm (if inexplicable) conviction that something big was about to happen - though he'd had no idea at the time what that something would turn out to be.
It was the same kind of feeling now, that uncanny sense of being sure, even though there was no rational explanation as to why. Davey was sure that Race wasn't in The Refuge. He was equally sure that something unfortunate had prevented the gambler from returning to the lodging house, and that was what had Davey worried. He wasn't entirely certain that Race had gone to the Bronx, and logic seemed to suggest that the situation was unlikely...but still, something about it niggled at him.
Well, if Jack wasn't going to investigate the lead, Davey would just have to do it himself. It was the least he could do to help out. He knew it would be a long walk, but if he sold his papers along the way, he could make the most of the trip, and maybe some of the newsies there would know something about Race's whereabouts. The gambler had been friendly with several amongst the Bronx contingent when they'd shown up at the rally, so it was likely that they knew of him and perhaps would be able to give Davey a clue as to where the missing newsie had gone. If Davey could solve the mystery himself, he'd be able to make sure that Race was all right, and could save Jack the ordeal of having to sneak into The Refuge, too...
Quickly making up his mind, Davey waited until it was his turn to purchase his papers, then, after taking a larger allotment than usual (knowing he wouldn't be back in time to purchase the afternoon edition), he headed north in the direction of the Bronx.
The weather stayed mild throughout the three hour walk, and it was pleasant to be strolling along the East River for a part of the journey. Thankfully, the papers moved quickly as well (perhaps due in part to him covering such a wide area), and by the time Davey reached the Third Avenue Bridge that would take him across the Harlem River and out of Manhattan territory, he'd sold all but the last ten copies in his bag.
It was both thrilling and a little frightening to be walking across the newly-built bridge that spanned the watery divide between Harlem and the Bronx. Trolleys trundled by in both directions, and when Davey peered over the railing for just a moment, he could see a trio of small boats passing underneath, driven along by the same lively wind that was gusting through his hair and making the pages of his papers flutter.
When he arrived on the other side of the bridge, he walked for several blocks, trying to get his bearings. As luck would have it, he caught sight of a wagon rolling down the street and noticed that it was full of newspapers. He couldn't tell what publication was inside, but that didn't really matter - if he could find out where the distribution center was located, he could replenish his stock of papers and have something to sell on the return trip, and if he was able to repeat his success from the morning, he might end the day a little richer than usual, despite the fact that he'd taken a significant detour away from his usual selling grounds.
Enthused by the prospect, Davey followed the wagon. It wasn't moving very quickly, so he started calling out the headlines from one of his last few remaining copies of The World, thinking that he'd try to sell the rest of his quota as quickly as possible to make room for a new allotment. He also knew that he needed to locate a newsie or two to see if any of them had happened to catch sight of Race passing through, and he figured the easiest way to find a newsie would be to locate the distribution center where they congregated to purchase their wares.
A well-dressed man flagged Davey down, brusquely flipping him a nickel in exchange for a paper and then walking off before Davey could count out his change, and immediately after that, he made another sale, this time to a man whose bushy mustache could have rivaled even Roosevelt's himself.
Davey had just completed his third transaction - selling a paper to an elderly lady - and was about to hurry after the wagon of papers which by now was almost a block and a half away, when someone abruptly grabbed his arm.
"What do you think you're doin'?" a voice demanded, and Davey found himself roughly jerked around to face an irate-looking boy holding a short club. He looked to be around the same age (though he was easily a head shorter), and he was flanked by two well-built, unfriendly-looking companions. All of them were sporting the same kinds of caps that Davey had on his own head, and canvas bags full of papers hung at their sides.
It seemed that he wouldn't need to go looking for the newsies of the Bronx, after all - they'd found him, instead.
"I was just looking for a friend," Davey said quickly, trying to sound as non-threatening as possible. "He went missing last night. His name's Racetrack - Racetrack Higgins."
"Ah, so you's a Manhattan boy," the Bronx newsie replied, drawing the word out like the insult that he clearly intended it to be. "Figures." He gave a nearly-imperceptible nod of his head, and before Davey could react, he was suddenly seized by two strong pairs of arms.
"Do you know what we do to newsies who don't stay on their turf, 'Hattan boy?" the ringleader sneered.
Davey swallowed, his heart pounding as he internally berated himself for his lack of foresight. He'd heard bits and pieces about the turf wars and territory lines between the different newsie contingents, but because Manhattan was so big, he hadn't had an occasion before to wander out of the area over which Jack and his cronies held jurisdiction, and thus hadn't thought much about it…
...but now it looked like he was going to pay dearly for that mistake.
"Hey - he asked you a question!" one of the subordinate newsies growled, shoving Davey hard against the nearby wall. "What do we do to newsies who don't stay on their turf?"
"You, uh, send them back where they came from...with a warning?" Davey gasped, trying to gulp in the air that had been knocked out of him.
"No!" The newsie on his other side snapped. "We teach 'em a well-deserved lesson about trespassin'! This ain't no namby-pamby borough like Manhattan. This is the Bronx, and we don't like upstarts tryin' to sell papes on our territory!"
"It was an honest mistake!" Davey insisted. "And I'll leave. Right now. I promise!"
The leader shook his head. "It's too late for that, 'Hattan. You shoulda left before we found ya."
"I'm just looking for Race! I think he might have come here, and something might have happened to him. I just want to make sure he's okay!"
"Well, that's real sweet of you," the leader sneered, "but clearly Racetrack ain't as good of a friend to you as you is to him if he didn't bother warnin' you what would happen if you just came waltzin' onto the Bronx's turf tryin' to sell your papes. We don't take kindly to bummers tryin' to hustle us out of our customers."
"I wasn't trying to hustle anyone. Look, you can have the money if you want - "
"It ain't about the money!" the other newsie cut him off sharply, striking his club against the wall. "It's about respect. Somethin' maybe you Manhattan upstarts don't understand!" He turned away, shaking his head as if disgusted. But before he could say anything more, the faint chime of a bell was heard, cutting clearly through the noise of the street to reach the newsies' ears.
"There's the circulation bell, Gar," one of his henchmen said. "We'd better head over soon to get our afternoon papes."
"Yeah, they've been runnin' short the last few days," the other one added. "I don't wanna miss out again."
"We go when I say it's time to go," Gar snapped, giving his subordinates a pointed look. "Last I checked, you wasn't the one in charge, Knuckles." He jabbed the end of his club towards the burliest newsie. "And no one asked your opinion, Skeet." Both of the Bronx newsies quickly dropped their gaze, cowed by the reprimand.
"If you's both so impatient to get goin', then you'd best do your jobs quickly," Gar instructed them, stepping back a few feet and tucking his club under his arm. "You's free to go once it's done."
Knuckles glanced over at Skeet, and Davey felt his stomach drop as he caught sight of the maliciously gleeful look that passed between them.
"Well, go on," Gar ordered with an impatient wave of his hand. "You said it yourself - we got papes to buy. Don't just stand there like you ain't got half a brain between the two of you. Soak him."
A/N: Uh oh...