Happy Boxing Day!
Before we start, I'd like to thank the people who read my holiday one-shots. Thank you both so much!
Review Responses:
JustVildaPotter: (Chapter 32) Romeo and Specs! Spromeo! *shakes head* Finchy, Finchy, Finchy. Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed. (Chapter 33) Hmm... what am I implying? You'll have to wait and see. Two a.m. phone calls are fun ways to move a story along, every now and then, and Spot's perspective is so much fun to write.
AndrewKeenanBolgerFan: Thank you! It did indeed scream SPRAAAAAAAACE! They're both idiots, but also not idiots. It's a lovely relationship. (Why would anyone want to call them Rat, though?)
And, on we go! (Time for scab drama.)
Chapter 34- Sniper
Saturday, September 18, 1999, 1:30 p.m.
Following a long night of being lectured by her father, and an even longer morning of work at the laundromat below her apartment, Sniper was more than ready for the protest. There was still a half hour to go before it started, but Sniper didn't mind if she was the only one at school. As it happened, she needed some time alone. The previous night's lecture had included the usual subjects: her grades were awful (even though it was the first week of school), she was wasting her life in various ways (she already knew that), she wasn't living up to his standards (he'd said most of this before), and she spent far too much time with "those boys" (Smalls was not a boy, and neither were Buttons and Jojo). But the events of the day before had given Sniper's father something new to be upset with her about: her involvement in the newsie strike. During a short pause in the reprimanding, Sniper had tried to explain to her father that her friends had not meant to let the protest- which she hadn't actually gone to, deciding to opt out for fear of what her father would say- get so out of hand, and that they were really fighting against Pulitzer cutting Medda's class. The increase in the amount they had to pay to work on the pape, she had tried to tell him, was only a small part of it.
Of course, the man had not listened. He never listened to his daughter. Evidently, all he had heard when he'd been told about the incident at Roosevelt High, was the phrase "student riot". There hadn't really been a riot, Sniper had attempted to say, there was only the sudden arrival of a dog that had made things harder for her friends. But that had only made him angrier; she knew he didn't want to be known for having a daughter who associated with people like them, and that was all he cared about. He was barely concerned with the well-being of his daughter.
Disregarding the information she had given him, Sniper's father had forbidden her from taking part in any more protests. Again, she hadn't taken part at all the first time, but as he kept mentioning it, she was considering becoming involved now, and she had conveniently neglected to mention that the protest would continue that day, Saturday. As such, she was allowed to leave the building that morning, which was a relief. Sniper didn't think she could have taken much more reprimanding.
Currently, Sniper was headed to school, contemplating whether or not she was going to join the strike or reject it all together. On the one hand, if she bailed on the whole thing, Finch would be mad at her, not that Finch's opinion was anything she cared about at the moment. The nerve of him, kissing her and pretending it wasn't a big deal! Though, maybe it wasn't. For him. But for Sniper...
Well, anyway, there was Smalls' opinion consider. If Sniper sat the protest out again, Smalls would no longer see her as the feisty girl she appeared to be. At Jacobi's the night prior, it had become clear that Smalls- as well as most of the other newsies- had a rock-solid set of beliefs about Sniper. Which wasn't fair, because right now she was confused about numerous things, and them putting her in a box was not going to help her deal with her feelings, even though dealing with her feelings was not something she wanted to do this week. Finch's fault, she'd decided, and left it at that. It was all Finch's fault. Sniper hadn't liked him kissing her, and he hadn't liked that she hadn't liked it. It was all a mess. An unnecessary mess. And anyways, her friends' opinions regarding her sitting out the protest were something Sniper didn't have to worry about. She had another option for a method of avoiding the strike.
When she slipped into the journalism classroom, Sniper was surprised to find Jack standing in front of the blackboard. She'd expected the room to have a few people in it, but Jack was not one of those people. What was he doing here? Trying to step out of the room without being noticed was an idea that quickly failed, for Jack turned at the sound of footsteps. His hands were full of chalk.
"Hey, Snipes."
Sniper stepped back in, resigned to being present. "Hey, Jack. What're ya doin'?"
He smiled. "Workin' on somethin'. You'll see lata'." For a moment, Jack studied Sniper. Then, he said, with concern in his tone, "Heard somethin' happened at Jacobi's las' night. You okay?"
"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"
"Smalls said ya yelled at ev'ryone an' ran out."
"Finch jus' won't get off my back about this kiss thing. Tha's all."
"Alright, jus' checkin." Jack moved toward the door. "Ya comin' outside?"
"Uh, not yet. I gotta..." Sniper searched for the most stereotypically "girly" excuse she could think of, "look fer my, uh, hairbrush."
"Right... Well, see ya later, then." Stuffing the pieces of chalk in his pockets, Jack exited the scene.
As his footsteps faded down the hall outside, Oscar and Morris emerged from a side door that led into the storage closet. Creepy, as usual.
"Close call there," Oscar remarked, tossing a few spiral-bound notebooks into the nearest desk. "Ya got lucky, girl." Sniper rolled her eyes. "Ya got information fer us or what?"
This was Sniper's other option. Yesterday afternoon, the Delanceys had offered her the chance to feed them any information she could about the next day of the strike, in exchange for an easy way out of any trouble should the protest get out of hand again. And Weasel had thrown in free time to write for the pape, giving her an alibi that none of the other newsies would have if things went wrong. Knowing her father and anticipating another lecture as well as more anger from him, Sniper had decided to agree to the proposal during her walk to school. So far she had done an excellent job of not acting suspicious.
"Yeah," she answered Oscar. "Though I'm surprised ya still need it, considerin' ya just saw that the Cowboy's here."
"What's Cowboy got ta do wit anythin'?"
"He's here 'cause we're strikin' again today, dimwit."
Morris growled, but Sniper was unfazed. The Delanceys didn't scare her that easily. Oscar jerked his chin towards his brother, instructing, "Call 'em." To Sniper, he said, "We 'preciate it," while throwing her one of the notebooks.
"Yer welcome, I guess." She turned to leave with the notebook tucked under her arm.
"Hold up, we ain't done wit ya yet."
Sniper spun around. "What?"
Instead of answering, Oscar pushed past her to scan the hallway. Copying him, Sniper saw two figures slowly approaching. When they caught sight of Oscar glaring at them, they broke into a run, reaching the doorway within a minute. It was Tommy Boy, along with Blink, who was surprisingly without Mush.
"Geez, how long does it take youse?" Oscar demanded.
"Ya didn't set a time or nothin'," Blink protested. "An' it took us a while ta get away. They're really gatherin' out there, 'cause today's..." he suddenly realized that Sniper was in fact Sniper. "But I'm bettin' someone already told ya, huh?"
Tommy Boy faced the girl as well. "What're ya doin' 'ere?"
"Same as you," she answered with a shrug. "I ain't gettin' in trouble."
Nodding, Tommy Boy and the other two were forced back into the journalism classroom by Oscar. While his brother shut the door, Morris threw two notebooks at the new arrivals.
"Listen up, kids," ordered Oscar while Blink felt his face, seemingly checking for paper cuts from the notebook that had just collided with it. "We know none a' youse wanna see yer friends gettin' hurt taday. So, we take youse out there, an' ya tell 'em dey don't get get hurt if dey listen ta us an' call da whole thing off."
"What if they don't listen?" Sniper asked, though she knew the answer before Morris provided it.
"Things ain't gonna end well fer 'em."
Blink questioned, "Didn't ya tell us yesterday ya wouldn't hurt 'em at all?"
"We said we wouldn't be hurtin' youse if ya gave us information," Oscar clarified. "If ya wanna protect yer friends, youse gonna need ta convince 'em."
Coming to the same conclusion Sniper had thought of, Tommy Boy declared, "That ain't fair, an' ya know it."
"Seems fair ta me," muttered Morris. "'Less ya think ya can't do it."
That was exactly what they were all thinking, Sniper knew. She, Blink, and Tommy Boy were three of the least influential members of the group, and with her ongoing argument with Finch, the largest number of people the trio could conceivably convince was one. But even Mush might not take the sensible side if he saw them with the Delanceys. There was no way they were going to be able to pull off this operation.
Oscar noticed Sniper's face and sneered at her, so her worry must have been visible. "Scared, are ya? Havin' second thoughts?"
Scared, she was. But Sniper remained firm in her decision. Anything she could do to stay out of trouble with her father. "No, I ain't."
"Good, 'cause we don't wanna see none a' youse changin' yer minds an' joinin' da losin' side. We ain't gonna hurt youse 'less we hafta."
Blink mumbled. "Gee, thanks."
Morris added, "'Specially you, girlie," and he smiled at Sniper, making her shudder. If she'd been standing closer to him, she would've kicked him.
At least there was Tommy Boy, who wasn't afraid to cuss out Morris for looking at Sniper that way.
In response to that, Morris brandished his brass knuckles. "I ain't against hurtin' you."
"Bring it."
"Tommy Boy, don't worry 'bout it," Sniper warned. A lot of good their staying out of trouble would do if he started a fight anyway.
Morris grinned again. "Yeah, da girl knows what she wants." Tommy Boy lunged at him, but Blink held his friend back, turning Morris' grin into a smirk. "Dis yer new boyfriend?"
"Hell no," Sniper and Tommy Boy said in unison, except Tommy used a work beginning with "f" in place of "hell".
"Whoa there," Oscar reprimanded, "I'd hate ta think youse got a problem wit us."
"Our problem is that yer brother's a creep," Sniper stated, glaring at Morris.
"You makin' an accusation, there, girl?"
Blink snapped, "She's statin' a fact. I dunno how ya don't see it."
"I dunno how you do." It was a low blow, but it sent Tommy Boy lunging toward the brothers again, this time in defense of Blink. However, the other boy stood his ground while Oscar went on insulting him. "Blind as a bat, ain'tcha?"
Sniper would have loved dearly to pummel the assholes then and there, but the sight of the clock when she looked past the snarl on Oscar's face made her pause. It was 2:00 p.m., otherwise known as strike time. "Enough," she ordered the boys, as if they were a group of children arguing over something stupid. "We got a strike ta break up."
Morris and Oscar's identical menacing grins, which followed that statement, had never scared her more.
And... here we go.
If you couldn't tell, I despise the Delanceys. They need to go away.
More scab drama will occur in the next chapter. I'll see you there tomorrow!
And, if you wouldn't mind reviewing to tell me what you thought about the chapter, it would be much appreciated. Bye for now!