Three chapters in a day? Why, yes. Yes indeed.
Review Responses:
AndrewKeenanBolgerFan: (Chapter 22) Smalls is a queen, and Medda is Queen of Being Okay With Things Until Race Does Something, At Which Point She Realizes It's A Bad Idea (that's not a long title at all...) I had to do that with the hats and badges line. It's awkward every time in the musical when Jack sings that line and every single newsie has a hat on. (Chapter 23) WHY SEE THE WORLD IN ALL OF ITS GLORY, WITHOUT A FRIEND TO TELL YOUR STORIES TO... Don't be sorry, there's gonna be a big Tuck Everlasting reference in an upcoming chapter. (If you haven't guessed, I'm obsessed with musicals too.) I'm glad you love the funny parts! Heh, about Finchy... uh, you'll see.
Okay, that response was long. But who cares? On with the chapter!
Chapter 24- Finch
Thursday, September 16, 1999, 3:15 p.m.
As suspected, there was commotion when Finch arrived at the principal's office with Sniper. Minutes before, Jack, the Mouth, and Shortstop had gone inside. Having become tired of waiting for the trio to return, Albert and Race had propped the door open to listen in. Finch joined them. Principal Hannah was having a conversation with a bald white man in a suit while also trying to shoo the three boys away.
"I'm so sorry, Mr. Bunsen, I don't usually get visitors that are this... insistent," Hannah said as Jack stared her down.
"We got complaints, an' we ain't leavin' 'til ya hear 'em," Jack told her.
"Yeah," muttered Davey.
Shortstop faced the bald man. "You too."
The man looked him up and down. "Why is this four-year-old speaking to me?"
"I'm ten, you bald bastard!" Shortstop shot back. Immediate silence fell over the office.
Impressed as he was, Jack seemed too shocked to say anything, leaving the Mouth to stammer out, "I'm sorry, I- I don't know where he learned that from. We'll see ourselves out."
Principal Hannah looked at him over her spectacles. "Yes, that would be good."
Mouth tried to leave, pulling Shortstop with him, but the little boy resisted and Jack blocked his friend's way. "We ain't leavin', Davey." He turned to Hannah. "We'd like ta speak wit Mr. Pulitzer."
The woman looked at him as if he were from an alien planet. "No."
"Mr. Pulitzer is a very busy man," said the bald man.
"I don't care."
"I can see that you're upset, and I have a guess as to why, but I can't trust you to speak to Mr. Pulitzer in a civil manner." Hannah, with the help of bald Mr. Bunsen, ushered the three boys out of the office.
Finch, Race, and Albert backed away from the doors to let the trio out. A small scuffle ensued, as Shortstop and Jack were still unwilling to leave. They kept trying to shove past the two adults, using so much force that the secretary had to leap up from behind her desk to aid in throwing them out of the room. Ultimately, the adults succeeded. The bald man accidentally threw Shortstop to the ground in the process.
But the little boy didn't stay down for long. He sprung to his feet, yelling, "You can tell Pulitzer, that when we get this strike up and running, he's going to be begging for an appointment to see me! You got that!" Bunsen slammed the doors in Shortstop's face, and the kid spun around to look at the group, his expression triumphant. "He got it."
Finch clapped him on the shoulder. "Well done, kid."
Mouth looked at Finch in disbelief. "Well done? Did you hear how he was talking to that man?"
"Yeah, so?"
"Where the hell did he learn that?"
"I dunno." Out of the corner of his eye, Finch saw Tommy Boy looking guiltily at his feet.
"Calm down, Dave," Jack threw an arm around the Mouth's shoulder. "Les ain't gonna say that again, are ya Les?" Shortstop shook his head. "See, Dave? One time thing. Now c'mon fellas, we're goin' ta Jacobi's."
A half-hour walk later, the newsies had packed the restaurant, to Mr. Jacobi's chagrin. While Race ordered drinks for everyone, Finch sought out a seat. Unfortunately, the place Sniper should have saved for him had been taken by Smalls, and of course the midget wasn't about to give it up. All the other chairs surrounding Sniper were full as well, so Finch found a different table, falling into a seat beside Albert with a huff.
The redhead patted him on the back. "You'll get 'er next time, slugger."
Jacobi came around with a tray of water glasses, followed by Race, whom he had trusted to balance two similar trays. "A glass of water for you, and one for you, and for you..." the restaurant owner said in a bored tone as he handed the glasses around. Other than Mouth, none of the newsies thanked him. "And for you-" he gave a water to Finch, then turned his gaze to the two cups that remained- "And who's the big spender who ordered the seltzer?"
Albert's hand shot up. "Over here."
Jacobi hesitated before giving him the drink. "That's two dollars, Albert."
"Two dollars fer a glass a' seltza'?" Albert whined, "Jus' gimme a wadda'."
"How did I ever see that coming." Jacobi swapped out the seltzer glass with the last cup of water, then walked away.
The Mouth stood up and raised his glass for a toast. "I'd say we launched our strike in a most auspicious manner."
"Yeah," said Smalls, the little know-it-all. Everybody else stared blankly at Mouth, even Shortstop.
"Uh... I don't know about that," said Mush, looking as confused as Finch felt. "But we sure scared the bejeebers outta Weasel!" Evidently, some of the newsies had broken the news of the strike to the journalism supervisor before Finch and Sniper had caught up with them in front of the main office.
"An' didja see the Delanceys?" Crutchie grinned as he always did, "They didn't know which way was up."
"They don't generally know that," said Race. "What's next, Jack?"
The leader of the newsies answered, "Snipes' idea. We gotta spread the word, talk ta the otha' boroughs."
"Blink an' I'll take Harlem!" Mush offered.
Race called, "Me an' Albert've got Midtown!"
Jack feigned deep thought. "Hmm, who should we send to da Bronx?" He looked directly at Smalls, then turned away at the last second. "Crutchie, you go."
"Ya kiddin' me?" Smalls demanded to know.
"You're right, I shouldn't go alone," said Crutchie. "Hey Finch, wanna come wit me?"
Finch smirked. "Why yes, Crutch, I would."
"The Bronx is my turf," Smalls glared at Finch.
"Was your turf. It ain't anymore. They's prob'ly forgotten all about ya."
"That's enough, Finch," Jack said, with only a touch of seriousity in his tone. "I was tryin' ta make a joke. Smalls an' Crutchie are takin' da Bronx."
"And Jojo an' I got the Bowery," Buttons volunteered.
"Great." Jack continued to split up the group. "Specs an' Romeo, you take Queens."
"Yeah," Specs replied, looking pleased to be stuck with the freshman newbie.
"Tommy Boy, take the East Side."
Tommy Boy grunted to affirm this.
"And who wants Brooklyn?" The idea was so unappealing that even the people who had already been assigned places to visit ducked their heads down and avoided Jack's eyes. "C'mon, Brooklyn! Spot Conlon's turf." Jack was only making the prospect sound worse by mentioning the self-proclaimed leader of the biggest high school in Brooklyn. "Finch! Ya tellin' me yer scared a' Brooklyn?"
So Jack was going to pick on him now? That was great, Finch thought, just great. Absolutely marvelous. "I ain't scared a' no turf," he said, then looked at Smalls, making sure his point was entirely clear to her.
"Okay, great. Then you an' Sniper can-"
"But that Spot Conlon gets me a lil' jittery," Finch admitted, and watched Jack roll his eyes. "Why don't I take Midtown, an' ya can send Race ta Brooklyn?"
At that suggestion, Race looked like he'd seen a ghost. Jack shook his head. "No, me an' Davey'll take Brooklyn."
"Me?" Mouth asked. Finch was pleased to see him bearing a terrified expression as well. "No."
"Why is everyone so afraid of Brooklyn?" Female Mouth asked. She and Plumber were sitting at a corner table by themselves.
Jack groaned. "Ya followed us here, too?"
"She's with me," Plumber said. "We're following the story."
"I don' see what Sarah has ta do wit this, an' yer s'posed ta be talkin' to the editor of da Sun."
"Excuse me?" Plumber left her seat and crossed the room to stab her pointer finger into Jack's chest. "I am not another boy for you to order around, Jack Kelly."
Averting his eyes, Jack muttered, "I know. Sorry."
"I certainly hope you know. And for your information, Sarah's my camerawoman. Every good news story needs a picture for the front page."
Race's eyes shot open wide. "Ya think we could make the front page?"
"A ragtag gang of ragamuffins wanting to take on the king makers of New York schools? I should think so."
"I could be king of New York," Race whispered.
"You ain't king material," Finch told him.
"I ain't yet. You'll see when we get on da front page."
Jacobi came back into the dining room, brandishing three aprons, which he threw at Jack, Smalls, and Race. "You three, set up for dinner. The rest of you, clear out. I got payin' customers waitin' for a meal."
"Can't work tonight, Mr. Jacobi," Jack apologized, handing his apron back.
"Then get me some friends of yours who can."
Finch watched Smalls hand her apron to Sniper, and Race saw him looking.
"Here ya go," the other boy said, handing his apron off to Finch as the rest of the newsies filed out of the restaurant. "You kids have fun."
That seemed like it went by rather fast. Oh well. We're off to the other boroughs!
Also... Finch. Sniper. That's a nice little friendship you've got there. It would be a shame if something... *looks at upcoming chapters* happened to it.
Leave a review for me, will ya? See you next time, and if this week is the week of your final exams, good luck!