*folds hands, places them on table* Ahem. Alright, here's the thing: this story was just a tad too happy for my liking, and you know things aren't always sunshine and rainbows for our newsies all the time. So, it's time for a sad turn. (No one's dying or anything, well, not exactly.) Just, fair warning.

Review Responses:

AndrewKeenanBolgerFan: Not gonna lie, your distress has made me laugh. So he's not gonna get hurt, not really, just... read on and see. This certainly isn't a very happy chapter for him, I can tell you that much.

I'd like to apologize in advance to Crutchie/Charlie Morris. I'm so sorry, man.

Chapter 17- Charlie

Wednesday, September 15, 1999, 6:25 p.m.

Charlie hated cars. Even though this feeling was a recent development, he could barely remember a time when he hadn't been afraid of riding in them. A time before the accident. Most of the time, he blocked out the memories of that day. Of course, this was nearly impossible, as it had only happened a couple months ago.

What an insane concept that was; two months ago, his life had been fine. Normal. He hadn't been afraid of riding in cars. In fact, they had been his primary method of transportation. And then, it had happened. The accident. A would-be normal drive around the city turned into a tragedy. It took Charlie's parents, and more of his leg. While the appendage was already weakened from complications earlier in his life, Charlie's foot had been completely crushed in the collision. As a result, it was now mangled beyond repair and could barely stand to have weight put on it.

But a nonoperational foot wasn't the only fresh wound Charlie was left with. He was plagued with nightmares, and struck with terror if someone even suggested using a car or taxi to get someplace. A bus or the subway? Fine. Not a car. Never a car. It was too small, too enclosed. When asked, Charlie didn't connect his fear with the accident, despite that being its primary source. He would blame claustrophobia, or any other reason that wasn't the catastrophe that kept him awake at night.

If he hadn't lost his way on the journey home from school today, he never would have gotten into the taxi. And if Charlie had stayed at Roosevelt High, he would not have become lost in the first place. Following Miss Medda's class, he had waited for the other Duane Street boys outside the front entrance, like they had all planned to do that morning. One hour passed. Then another. Charlie had taken a seat on the concrete and resorted to doing homework to make time pass more quickly. Nearing three hours, and there was still no sign of the other boys. Until that point, Charlie had not considered the prospect of them having forgotten him.

So he had started walking. At first, he thought he knew the way. Turn a corner here, cross the street there, round the corner at such-and-such-a-place. it didn't take him long to mess up the route. The crowded sidewalks, so familiar that morning with others there to guide him, became foreign and horrifying. Charlie got stuck in his own head, having convinced himself that he would never find his way to the right building. At a young age, his parents had taught him the mantra of most average middle-class parents who feared losing their kids: "If you ever get lost, stay put until we come find you." But no one could find Charlie, for no one knew he was missing.

The taxi's previous passenger, a man in his thirties wearing a business suit, had noticed Charlie sitting on the curb. He had convinced the driver to pull over and given up his cab to the lost boy. On the inside, Charlie had panicked, but on the outside, his teeth gleamed, lighting up his face like sunbeams. It would have been rude of him not to accept the offer.

Business suit man paid for Charlie's ride, then disappeared. Climbing into the cab, Charlie had tried to ignore how terrified he felt as the cab drove a few blocks. He gripped the cushion of the backseat, his knuckles white. The silence inside the taxi was deafening. So his mind filled it, with jumbled lights and sounds. The squeal of brakes. The crumpling sound of metal on metal. His parents screaming. It was too much.

Frantically, Charlie begged the driver to pull over, which they did without hesitation, evidently aware of whatever was happening to their passenger.

Taking a moment to collect himself before exiting the cab, Charlie closed his eyes. He concentrated on breathing, as he had learned to do the first time riding in a car had caused him some form of a panic attack. Suddenly, the passenger door- Charlie had opened it, anticipating his departure- was slammed shut, someone was yelling "Drive!" and they were on the road again. Charlie clung to the backseat for dear life.

Luckily, the sudden new arrival hadn't taken long to notice him, and correctly identified how scared he was. The freckled, dark-haired boy asked where Charlie lived, then relayed the address to the driver. Ten minutes later, the car pulled to a stop in front of the building on Duane Street. Charlie put his crutches back on, but the other boy stopped him before letting him leave.

He stuck out a hand. "I'm Spot. Sorry 'bout hijackin' yer ride back dere."

Charlie grinned- an action that exhausted his face muscles at the moment, for he wanted to do nothing but frown- and shook Spot's hand. "Charlie."

"Prob'ly spooked ya, didn't I?"

"Uh-huh."

"But yer okay, right?"

"Sure."

"Good. See ya around."

"Yup." Charlie got out of the taxi, climbed the steps to the front door, and entered the building. He kept the smile on his his face throughout all of it: as he took the elevator to the top floor, as he knocked on the door of the apartment, as Mr. Kloppmann greeted him with a worried expression. The more Charlie smiled, the more he could feel everything inside of him breaking. He pushed past the other boys, ignoring the questions and worried remarks. Unfortunately, his path to the bedroom was blocked by Jack, who wasn't even supposed to be there. The older boy started to say something sympathetic, but Charlie shoved him out of the way as well. He could feel Jack allowing him to move forward. With everyone's eyes burning a hole in his neck, Charlie slammed the door to his shared bedroom.

Once inside, he collapsed to the floor, finally broken open, unable to pretend any longer. When he heard footsteps approaching the door, he locked it and moved to higher ground: the empty top bunk on his bed.

Charlie lay there, alternating between staring at the ceiling and watching the door for any potential intruders. He listened to the sound of Jack knocking on the door, calling his nickname. He didn't answer. The knocking stopped, replaced by muffled conversation. Then there was a different, quieter clicking sound, the lock on the doorknob turned, and Jack stepped into the room, pushing the door shut behind him. Charlie shifted his body away so he wouldn't have to look at his friend.

"Crutchie," Jack started, a bit awkward. "I'm so sorry. I got caught up with talkin' ta Medda afta' class, an' then Davey an' I were helpin' her out, an' I... I forgot about ya. So did the other guys. They's sorry too. When they realized ya was missin'..." he left the sentence hanging as Charlie didn't respond to anything he'd said. "You okay?"

"Mm-hmm." If Charlie had tried to say anything more, he would have started crying. And he couldn't do that, not in front of Jack. He kept laying on his side with his back to the older boy.

"I understand if you's mad at me. It makes sense, I mean, we all left ya alone. But I need ta know yer alright."

Charlie rolled over, porcelain smile fixed and at the ready. He saw Jack's eyes light up with relief. "I'm fine. Got a taxi home."

The relief vanished. "I thought ya didn't like cars."

"It was fine. Really. Everything's fine."

"It ain't fine you's sayin' fine that much."

Charlie kept up his smile, but he felt tears pricking his eyes. "I'm good, Jack. Really."

Jack crossed his arms. "I don't believe ya."

"Why not?" Charlie wondered, a lump constricting his throat as he fought back tears. His smile wavered.

Jack noticed. "Whateva' happened, Crutch, ya can tell me."

Charlie sat up and scooted toward the metal ladder he'd used to get on the top bunk. "I don't want the other guys-" his voice broke, but he blinked the tears away- "should see I ain't..." he pushed himself into a climbing down position and swallowed, neglecting to finish his sentence. He wasn't going to talk about this. Faking the smile again, Charlie looked at Jack as he stretched his leg down a few rungs. "Jus' be a pal, Jack, an' help me dow- ahh!" His good foot had missed the rung, and his other one was, of course, useless. Charlie hung onto the top of the ladder as tightly as possible, as if he were millions of miles above the city streets rather than a few feet above the floor.

Jack rushed forward, bracing Charlie before he could fall off completely. "Geez!" His voice jumped up an octave with the exclamation. "Ya wanna bust yer otha' leg too?"

"No, I wanna go down," Charlie muttered as Jack helped him reach the floor without injury this time. At least he didn't feel like crying anymore. One's stomach dropping as they nearly fell off a bed tended to make any other feelings vanish.

"Is it really that hard fer you ta talk ta me? Ya gotta hurt yerself ta get outta it?"

"No. I jus' don't wanna. Not righ' now."

"Well, that there's all ya had ta say, 'stead a' bustin' yer head open."

"Sorry."

"No, don't apologize." Jack ran his hands through his hair. "Look, I'll be stayin' in da penthouse tonight, if yer ready ta talk then."

"Maybe."

"Jus'- jus' don't keep this stuff all bottled up, alright? It ain't good."

"Okay."

Jack hovered in the doorway. "Penthouse. If ya need me. Got it?"

"Got it."

"Alrighty." Jack left the room.

Charlie's smile vanished.

Oh gods, my poor Crutchie. Dude, I'm sorry I did this to you, but it had to be done. You needed a sad backstory, because that's what newsies have. I don't make the rules, I just follow them.

If you (as the reader) would like me to post another chapter today because this chapter was sad, let me know! I may or may not do that.

Other than that, tell me your favorite part of this somewhat depressing chapter in your review! Thanks for reading!