Me? Sleep after a long day of travel? Nah.

Have chapter six, guys.

Chapter 6- David

Wednesday, September 15, 1999, 8:30 a.m.

David was missing first period. It was all Les and Sarah's fault. If they had only left the apartment earlier, he could have met with the principal before school started. Why couldn't they have just listened to his warnings about being punctual? Alas, his siblings didn't give a crap. Les had dawdled all the way to the subway, and Sarah had taken her sweet time getting him situated at the elementary school, which was only a few blocks down the street from Roosevelt High, but that didn't mean it didn't annoy every bone in David's body. After they finally got rid of Les, David had expected to actually get on track and have everything go smoothly. Instead, he was nearly pushed into the street when a hyper redheaded boy plowed past him. Luckily, David had righted himself and avoided face-planting on top of a passing taxi.

That was, until less than thirty seconds later, when another boy, this time with curly blonde hair, crashed right into him. The boy had not stopped to apologize; he'd kept on running, screaming the name "Albert" at the top of his lungs. David neither knew nor cared who Albert was. Sarah had helped him up from the sidewalk and they had managed to steer clear of any more running teenagers as they traversed the remaining blocks. But everything had gone downhill again after their initial arrival. Sarah had left David alone to fend for himself, which would have been fine if he had known where to go. Navigating the multiple hallways and floors with no prior knowledge of how the school was organized proved to be very difficult. David had been halfway to locating his first period classroom when he'd remembered that he didn't have his schedule yet and therefore did not actually know where that was. The nerves and stress brought on by being the new kid were messing with his head.

So, David had taken a deep breath, turned around, prepared to cut the corner in front of him, and ran smack into another boy coming around the corner at the same moment.

"'Hey, I'm walkin' here!'" Was this national run into David Jacobs day? These boys kept appearing out of nowhere.

Too annoyed to apologize for bumping into the other guy, David muttered, "Excuse me," and promptly tried to continue on his way.

The boy leaned on the wall, purposely blocking David's method of movement. A terrified thought hit David as he watched this. Could this be one of those bullies Sarah had shown him a picture of earlier? He couldn't remember what they looked like exactly; all he could come up with was at least one of them having dark hair, a characteristic the boy in front of him possessed. Of course he would immediately run into the very person he'd been instructed to watch out for.

"You new here?" The boy asked, continuing to lean on the wall. He didn't seem particularly threatening. Maybe that was how the Delanceys beat people up. One pretended he wasn't threatening, while the other came up from behind for a sneak attack.

Wait. No. That was ridiculous. Real people didn't act like characters in cheesy movies. Even so, David tried to discreetly glance over his shoulder before answering in a tone he hoped was an indicator of a couldn't-be-bothered personality. "Yes."

"Interestin' outfit ya got there." Was he looking David over or sizing him up?

David wasn't about to stand there while this boy prepared to attack him, if that was what was going on. He still wasn't sure if he was supposed to be threatened. "So I've been told," was his curt reply.

On an impulse, David slipped through the small space left between the wall and the boy's arm. He speed-walked down the hall, not looking back to see if the boy was coming after him. David only stopped moving once, to ask where the main office was located. By the time he found it and begrudgingly took a seat in one of the blue plastic chairs as instructed by the secretary, it was well after the first period bell had rung. David sighed, defeated. All he'd wanted was to get to school on time. Had that been too much to ask?

Apparently, yes. Half an hour had passed since his arrival to the office, and the principal was still occupied with something that wasn't him. The secretary, busy with her own first day of school tasks, had unhelpfully informed him that the principal "will see you when she sees you."

So David sat, wondering why providing a student with a class schedule wasn't something a secretary could do. She had not even asked why he was in the office, which was extremely rude in his opinion. Though to be fair, David hadn't exactly offered up any explanations. And he was not about to as he waited in the plastic chair, trying to ignore the growing feeling of anxiety that gnawed at his stomach. He hated arriving late. Hated feeling that he'd missed some important information, or that he was being judged by everyone who had showed up on time. A lump formed in his throat as he checked his watch again and observed that it was nearly half past the school's start time.

This was why he never tried new things of his own free will. It was a heck of a lot easier to simply stick with what one was used to. David wished his father had never lost his job. Wished he hadn't been forced to move to an entirely different part of the city, which seemed full of strange boys attempting to knock him over at every turn.

It's Sarah's fault, David thought. She left me alone.

Idiot, thought another part of him, you can't even miss one class without feeling bad about it. You're weak.

No I'm not. David responded to his own mental declaration. Great. Now he was talking to himself.

The door to the principal's office opened then. Out walked a tall, fair-skinned woman with curly red hair tied in a neat bun at the back of her head. She was wearing a pinstriped gray pantsuit, and a pair of reading glasses were perched on her nose. Standing, David shook his thoughts away, focusing instead on the woman's friendly face.

"Sorry about that," she told him. "That call with the school board took longer than expected. The bus drivers are on strike, and this morning, some little delinquent decided to 'deface our school newspaper with his teenage passions'," the woman made air quotes as she said this, then leaned towards David as if sharing a secret. "If ya ask me, it was a sweet little article. Whoever wrote it clearly has the hots for that college girl." She straightened her back, returning to business. "That's assuming you've seen the article. Ha! You prob'ly have no idea what I'm talkin' about." The woman held out her hand. "David Jacobs, correct?"

David took a breath, still a bit shaky from his anxious spiral. He shook her hand, relieved to finally be getting somewhere. "Yes. Nice to meet you, Mrs..."

"Oh, I'm not 'Mrs.' anything. Please, call me Hannah. Everyone does." Hannah dropped David's hand to pull open her office door. "This shouldn't take long," she said as she ushered him in. "I try not to talk nearly as much as the head of the school board does. Honestly, he keeps going on an' on about the bus drivers and what an inconvenience it is. All we want to know is are the buses comin' or are we gonna hafta tell the students to walk? No one cares why."

As she continued her tirade, David settled himself into one the unusually fancy chairs in front of Hannah's desk. They were high-backed, with red velvet cushions set into neatly polished wooden frames. Not the type of chairs one would expect to see in a public school principal's office. And there were three of them.

"What he doesn't realize is the drivers are on strike because of budget cuts he forced the company to make," Hannah went on. "I try to tell him their working conditions aren't safe because of it, but does he listen? No. The man thinks he can solve salary problems by buyin' all the teachers fancy chairs. Well, ya can't!" She yelled at her chair before taking a seat. "So," she addressed David, shuffling around the numerous papers and folders atop her cluttered desk. "You need your schedule. I had it printed off for you... aha!" Selecting the paper she needed, she took one glance at it and frowned.

"What's wrong?"

"David," said Hannah, setting down the schedule and folding her fingers in a triangle as they hovered above the desk. "I understand things worked a bit differently at your old school." Yes, David thought, they held meetings on time. "What I mean is, it looks like they didn't care for you to take many elective classes. Other than the, um, boring ones."

David thought back to the electives he had been taking prior to his father's job loss. Off the top of his head, he could think of at least five business related classes. He hadn't found them boring. True, they had not contained the most interesting subject matter; however, David had never minded that. The school had offered plenty of art and music classes, but his father had always told him not to bother with those. He'd say, "I'm payin' for this school so's you can actually get somewhere in life. If schools had any sense, they wouldn't be tryin' ta get kids interested in careers that end with them sleepin' on the streets." David had always thought that opinion made sense.

"What kind of electives do I need?" He asked now.

"Well, you're welcome to take anything you please, of course," assured Hannah. "But I've got your schedule here, and it looks to me like you could use a bit of fun in your school day."

Fun? "I suppose..."

"I'm not the only one who thinks so. Your sister stopped by earlier to drop this off. Why don't you give a couple of these a try?" Hannah handed David a homemade list printed in Sarah's tidy handwriting. Arranged in bullet points were the names of a variety of arts classes. So that was why Sarah had disappeared.

It would've been nice of her to take her brother with her to the office, thought David bitterly. He doubted any of Sarah's recommendations would interest him at all, but the sooner he was done talking to this slightly unhinged principal, the better. He skimmed the list quickly, pointing to an item without really looking at it. "Sure. This sounds interesting."

Hannah peered over at where he was pointing. "Ah, Theatre. That's a popular choice. But don't worry. There's nearly unlimited room."

Theatre? As in, acting? In front of people? David wanted to scream at himself. He had never, in the sixteen years of his life, been interested in theatre. And what kind of class had unlimited room?

"Do you want to pick a second elective, or are you good with just Theatre?"

Determined to protect his dignity this time, David actually read through the list before making his second choice. His eyes landed on the word "Journalism" and he remembered the mystery writer Sarah had been so pleased about earlier. Hannah had referenced that article too, in her rant about the school board. A small piece of David, hidden deep down inside him, was incredibly curious. He wanted to find this person, solve this mystery. And why shouldn't he? That was what fresh starts were for, right? Trying new things?

"If I take the Journalism class, does that mean I get to write for the school newspaper?" Go big or go home.

"It does, yes. Does that class interest you?"

"Yeah, it sounds... fun."

Hannah looked pleased. "I knew you could use some. I'll get the counselor to put those classes on your schedule. For today, you can find Mr. Wiesel's room during fourth period, and report to the theater during seventh. Sound good?"

"Sounds great," David feigned enthusiasm as he was reminded of the cursed Theatre class. Of all the classes to pick, why had he picked that?

"You can be on your way to second period, then."

Second? Of course he'd missed a whole entire period. And on the first day, too. This was all Sarah's fault.

Davey's having such a good morning. Can't you tell?

So this chapter isn't the most exciting, but I needed an explanation as to how Davey, er, David, at the moment, ended up meeting the newsies. So that's that.

Please review to let me know you're reading!

And my gods, it's nearly three in the morning. Good night, everyone, I will see you next chapter.