Happy Halloween, my ghouls, gals, and nonbinary pals!
Review Responses:
dylanquagmir: (Chapter 59) We love reading confirmation. (Chapter 60) Only Dyl would nitpick that one apostrophe. But real talk, for personal reasons I'm going to need you to minor in editing in college or whatever you do to become an editor. I need someone who'll put up with me being stubborn and not wanting to change anything, and you know me well enough, so... D, you're hired. (Chapter 61) Okay okay, you're right. I should've given you more Elmer content or not made that chapter an Elmer chapter. The thing was I really had nothing to add to Elmer's story, and I needed to wrap up the Finch and Sniper thing. I would have used either of their perspectives, but my outline said they were each at their chapter limit, and Elmer needed one more. And now here we are. Thank you for the good luck and the congrats! Now I'll just relay your message to Jonna.
citysfinallysleeping: Boo your sucky day. Elmer and Finch are an underrated friendship (I say, not making them interact at all ever). *bludgeons Delanceys with stale baguette* We were all raging though, how can you not? ONCE AND FOR ALLLL THE DELANCEYS WILL REGRET BEING BORNNNN Finch knows she was acting in self-defense, he's just like... paranoid she'll make everything worse (which did happen). YOU'RE WELCOME FOR SADNESS IT'S THE ONLY THING I'M GOOD AT!
Huffelpufdraws: All hail Jon the artist! Speaking of the cover, unless you've been stalking the reviews and saw it already, Dylan wants a rundown on who's who in the art. *evil laugh because yeah it's gonna get so much worse* LET'S ALL ATTACK MORRIS WITH QUEEN SNIPER! WILL ANYBODY SEE IS ANYBODY WAVING BACK AT MEEEEEEEEEE I do apologize for making Finch cry, but y'know, these fictional newsboys gotta express emotion. YES I CAN END THE CHAPTER LIKE THAT AND I WILL! Whoops, I never did post double... Thank you for the good luck, it actually worked!
I'm gonna quickly say that I actually did manage to snag a part in my school's production of The Laramie Project!
If I don't update so frequently for the next month, it'll be because I'm busy acting. But until then, let's have a chapter...
Chapter 62- Davey
Tuesday, September 21, 1999, 2:00 p.m.
Several different things happened after Jack ran out on that morning's meeting. First, Mush, Specs, and Henry got into a long discussion of who was to blame for scaring their leader off. Some took sides with one of the three, and others, like Albert, remained nonpartisan and insisted none of them had really meant what they said. Therefore, he reasoned, Jack was overreacting.
"He should a' stayed ta hear da full situation," had been Albert's main point. "Tha's whatcha always see in movies, people walk away when they hear somethin' bad an' it turns into a huge misunderstandin'. Thing is, no one eva' thinks ta just stay an' listen."
"Would you stay if yer best friends were sayin' shitty things about you?" In all that time, Race had been on his own in trying to explain Jack's side of the story.
"Eitha' way, Jackie-boy's gonna be jumpin' to conclusions from what he heard, and they ain't gonna be good ones," Spot had told Race. "I dunno what he's gonna do next, but if I'm bettin' I'd say it ain't endin' well fer us."
At that point, Mush, Blink, Tommy Boy, and Sarah had taken off to visit Harlem. A handful of minutes later, Katherine had gone away at the insistence of her phone, which suddenly reminded her of some important appointment she had to get to. Davey was supposed to have been in control, but he was so far from grounded there was no point in trying to stop anyone from leaving.
Now, not for the first time, he was mentally reviewing the facts. Jack was most likely done with any and all plans from there on out. Again. Two of their members were injured, Smalls had quit, Finch and Sniper were... somewhere, and all who remained were at odds with one another. Maybe if they just called the whole strike off now... no. They couldn't. Davey had told Jack himself that was a bad idea. But suppose they did, now that everything was on such thin ice.
Davey had considered it at length already; for a long while he'd done so as Spot made rally plans with Specs and the others scattered their conversations to other irrelevant topics. A little over two hours had passed now, and still Davey was at a loss for what to do. He was still pondering when the only phone in the theater started ringing off the wall. Since he was sitting closest, it was he who took up the task of answering, expecting to hear another teacher or someone who had dialed the wrong number by accident.
Instead, he was greeted by the slight drawl and roughness of Jack's voice. "Hey, who's this?"
"It's Davey. Jack, where-"
"Dave! Yer just the person I needed ta hear from!"
Thrown off by Jack's odd excitement, Davey paused before slowly saying, "Okay... Listen, about earlier, whatever you heard, it wasn't-"
"What'd I hear?"
"I know Mush was sayin' some things... an' Specs... Race saw ya run out, and Jackie, we all thought-"
Jack laughed. "That? Oh, I don' care 'bout that, it's nothin'."
"Then you know they were all kidding."
"Sure! Seriously, don't sweat it, ain't a big deal. So hey, uh, how far along are you guys on plannin' the rally?"
We're moving backwards. "Um..."
"Think youse could have it happen by tonight? Like, in a couple hours?"
Hell no. "What, why?"
"Kinda weird thing, but I'm gonna meet with Pulitzer in just a few minutes for negotiation an' whatnot. I was thinkin' I'd tell 'im about the rally bein' tonight, so-"
"You're not thinking of meeting with Pulitzer alone."
"Yeah, why shouldn't I?"
That wasn't what we planned. "I just don't think-"
"What, that I can't handle myself? Think I'll get too emotional an' wreck everythin', the way I always do?" The friendliness in Jack's tone was gone, now replaced by something colder, clearly pained. He was in no state to talk to the head of the school board.
"Look Jackie, don't see Pulitzer yet, tell me where you are an' I'll meet you. We can negotiate together. If you just hang on, I'll get to you."
"I can do it by myself, Dave, I ain't a child. An' I got an appointment in like a minute, can't exactly wait around. You handle things ova' with the others, get that rally set up fer me, will ya?"
"We can't have the rally tonight, nothing's done-"
"Sure ya can! Youse are already in the theater, right? I'll send Medda over ta help out, she's with me now."
"But I don't-" The rustling of Jack covering his end of the phone silenced Davey. He could hear muffled discussion, but understood none of it.
Then the sound cleared up, and Jack returned. "Right, I told her. She's gonna head over. With her help it'll all work out, 'kay?"
"You don't understand, I can't-"
"Shit, it's time already. Look, I gotta go, but you'll tell the others the plan, won'tcha?"
"Jackie, wait!"
"What?"
"You haven't thought this through."
"Yeah I have! Geez Dave, you worry too much, y'know that?"
Davey didn't know what to say. There was no bargaining with someone this stubborn.
"Now I really hafta go. Gotta seize the day an' shit. I'll see ya tonight though! You can do this!" The line clicked off.
Mulling over the instructions, Davey stood, trying to combat his own anxiety enough to tell the rest of the group about what they now had to do. What if they hated that he hadn't been able to talk Jack out of it? What if they tried to get the rally ready and never finished in time? There were so many what ifs running around in his head that Davey didn't manage to snap himself out of fear until someone tapped him on the shoulder.
"Smalls?" He asked in surprise when he faced her. Then he took in her slightly ashamed expression. "What's up?"
"I'm back in."
"You-"
"Whateva' you need, Captain, I can do it. Jus' say the word." The 'captain' slipped out like it was nothing. Smalls didn't seem to notice, but it gave Davey pause.
"Why the sudden change?"
Elmer approached from where he'd been lurking behind Smalls, handing a square of paper to Davey.
As Davey read the handwritten message, a feeling of dread crept into him. "Finch and Sniper got suspended? Why?"
Smalls shrugged. "I guess they were fighting the Delanceys an' it got bad, I dunno, I wasn't there."
"Oh my god..." So that was another two members of their group gone. What a lovely time this was going to be.
Walking out of the wings, Davey relayed this message to the others, internally screaming for the doubtful voice in his head to be quiet.
"How long're they out for?" Albert demanded as Davey took a breath.
In response, Elmer held up two fingers.
"Well, okay, two days ain't so bad-"
Smalls was quick to clarify, "It's two weeks, Al."
"You kiddin' me? What do those idiots think dey're doin'?"
"I'm sure they had their reason, whatever it was."
"Idiots."
"Well," said Spot, indifferent as usual, "It's not like we desperately needed those two fer anythin'. What's another two newsies gone?"
Davey had been waiting to drop the next bombshell, and this was as good an opening as any. "Actually, uh... I got a call from Jack."
"So you two's corresponding, good fer youse."
"He... he wants us ta push the rally to tonight."
"He what?"
"I know, I know, it's sudden."
"We ain't ready for that," Specs piped up. "You told him we weren't ready, right?"
"You can't say I didn't try..."
Specs slapped a hand to his forehead. "Come on, Davey!"
"I'm sorry! You know how Jack is, he wouldn't listen! He's got some meetin' with Pulitzer right now, apparently, and wants 'im to know we're still on strike."
"When he said 'tonight'," prompted Race, "how long-"
"Couple hours at most. I'm not exactly sure, but he's not givin' us long."
"Ain't no way in hell we's gettin' this mess ready in two hours!" Hotshot protested, "Our fellas gotta come all da way from Brooklyn!"
Spot hopped on that bandwagon. "Mouth, what about da otha' boroughs? We can't possibly get word to 'em all in time."
Specs pressed, "Dave, what're we gonna do?"
Now everyone was staring at Davey, waiting for his guidance. He had never felt more like a deer in headlights. How was he supposed to take control of this? Every day of the past few he'd felt like he'd been doing well, but here was another punch to the gut that told him, no, he was right back where he'd started. A nervous kid with no clue what to do.
"Can I say something?" Smalls was front and center now. As Davey was all too willing to let her to come to his rescue, he allowed her to proceed, hoping she'd say something encouraging enough to lighten his mind. "I got no more clue'n youse on how ta fix this, but I'll tell youse what we're not gonna do. We ain't gonna sit around mopin' because we think we can't do it."
"Ya mean like you been doing?" asked Albert.
Smalls' nostrils flared, but she spoke calmly. "That's exactly why I'm sayin' this, ya see? I learned my lesson. Bein' a bystander gets nobody nowhere, an' I'm done wit that fer good."
"As if ya ain't gonna chicken out again right away."
This time, Smalls turned to Davey rather than dignifying Albert with a response. "Anythin' ya need, Cap, I'll do it. I'm in this ta win now."
"Lemme see..." Thankful he could articulate thought again, Davey took a moment to consider the tasks needed. "The Bronx newsies. Will they listen to you?"
"They won't!" Albert taunted.
"Yes, they will. I can make them listen."
"You an' what army?"
Smalls growled at him. "What's yer problem?"
"Ya couldn't get da Bronx on board last time, when Crutchie was there as back up. What makes ya think dey'll obey just you?"
"I'll convince 'em. You watch. I'll do it."
"See that you do."
"See that you get off yer ass an' help somebody fer once!"
"Wanna bet?" Albert marched up to Davey, ordering, "Put me in, coach."
"Try-hard," Smalls muttered.
"C'mon Mouth, send me somewhere."
On the spot, Davey tried to decide. "Right, uh-"
"Richmond High," Spot cut in, nodding at Albert. "School in Staten Island. Go."
"Hell yeah, let's do this!" Albert put his hands in the air as he left the theater. "Staten Island better be ready!"
Watching the doors swing shut behind the redhead, Davey shot Specs a wide-eyed look. "Is he high or something?"
Specs shrugged. "I honestly have no idea. If youse don't need me here, I can go-"
"Yes, do that."
Specs headed out, chasing after Albert.
Jojo approached Davey next, Henry close behind. "I could catch that group that went ta Harlem an' catch them up on the plan."
"That'd be great, thanks."
"An' El, Buttons, Romeo, an' I can take Queens," Henry offered.
That's when Davey remembered his little brother and the date he'd been talking about non-stop. Thanks to Les' "girlfriend", a school in Flushing was already mostly on board with joining the strike. Recalling that information relaxed him a little. He divided the group of four between Flushing and Woodside, the two neighborhoods most interested, then sent them off. Smalls departed with the Queens-bound quartet, and that left...
Race and the twins, as Spot and Hotshot quickly set out for Brooklyn. Davey had not thought this through. At all.
"Jack say anythin' fer me ta do?" Race asked Davey.
"No..." Jack hadn't said a word about Race. "But I need you here ta help set up the theater. Medda's s'posed to be comin', but until then, we should get some stuff ready." Davey scanned the audience of empty seats, trying to imagine them filled with over a hundred newsies, all from different neighborhoods and walks of life. The premature stage fright was already sickening. "You got any ideas, Race?"
"Yer askin' me?"
"'Course. You're here ta help, aren't you?"
"Yeah!" Race looked more delighted than Davey had seen him in a while. "If we wanna set up the stage so's a lot a' people can fit, there's some risers stored somewhere 'round here that they use fer choir concerts an' stuff. The twins could go dig those out."
Davey let out a breath that had balled up inside him. "That'd be excellent."
With a thumbs-up from Ike and a salute from Mike, the twins disappeared.
Race then turned his attention to where the crowd would be. "You an' I should mark off sections fer each borough." Without Davey asking, he launched into an explanation of his vision. "There's way more seats in the middle, so Brooklyn an' the Bronx should go there, Brooklyn in front a' course. Then Queens to da left- our right- a' Brooklyn, Staten Island behind them wherever they can fit, an' Harlem plus the rest a' Manhattan on the right- our left- side. That's obviously not countin' the Manhattan guys that'll be onstage, which'll be a lot, that's what the risers are for."
That bordered on too much information, not to mention too many newsies. Davey was beginning to feel genuinely afraid of running this rally. That voice in his head was back, letting him know it didn't want to do this.
Seeing Davey's bewildered nod, Race decided, "I'll get tape an' do that, don't you worry 'bout it."
"Sure." A suspicious ringing had started in his ears.
Stop worrying, you'll be fine. Don't worry, you can do this. You worry too much, Dave. "Davey? Are you okay?"
His breathing was too fast. His heart was racing. They had two hours until the rally. He couldn't do this. He wasn't equipped. He would never measure up to Jack Kelly or Spot Conlon. Why was he even trying?
"Davey!" When had they gone underwater? Race's voice was all warped. "Dave, breathe!"
He was breathing. Just not correctly...
"SANTA FE!" Race half-screamed, half-sang. "YOU CAN BET! WE WON'T LET DEM BASTARDS BEAT US!" He threw out his arms as if he were trying to fly and spun in circles around the stage.
Davey was so shocked, he laughed, and his oxygen intake shakily returned to a normal pace. "Racer, what are you doing?"
Race let his arms fall, a look of relief crossing his face. "Old trick Jack taught me. That ain't exactly how it's s'posed ta be done, but I had ta distract you from hyperventilatin'."
"Thank you."
"No problem. You gonna be okay?"
"Maybe? It's debatable."
"Well, if ya need any more help, just-"
"What do you do when you feel like you're gonna mess up everything?" Davey interrupted.
"Yer askin' the wrong person," said Race with a joking smile.
"Sorry, I just-"
"Davey. I'm kidding. C'mon."
"Right."
"Thing is though... I'm so used ta messin' up that I expect it. Still feels like shit, but at the same time it don't hurt so much anymore, y'know?"
"Ah."
"But hey, you're Davey the Mouth! You's been da brains a' this operation from the start. Anythin' ya do now is gonna be fine, even if you don't got Jack ta back you up."
"...I don't think I can do it without him."
"Then what've you been doin' these last few days?"
How come Race was being the rational one right now? He was saying the same things others had been telling Davey for a while now, but even so…
"Doesn't stop me being scared," he admitted, thinking again, What if I can't be as good as Jack?
"So be scared! Go out there scared as hell, an' wow them with yer words!"
"But Jack's the one-"
"Jack might be good at speeches sometimes, but you's betta', we all know it. Most a' Jack's words were inspired by yours, anyway."
"I suppose..."
"You got this, Davey. Listen ta me. You ain't gonna be the one messin' anything up tonight." Race put a hand on Davey's shoulder, stared deep into his eyes. "That's my job."
"Don't say that, you'll do great too."
"Eh," Race removed his hand. "I'm gonna find tape." He started to head towards the wings but stopped after a moment, turned back around to point sharply at Davey. "You, don't do anythin' but relax 'til Medda shows up, got that?"
Davey swallowed, grinning as best he could. "Got it."
Whaddaya mean some of this was projection?
That's absurd...
No but seriously, a lot of this story from here on out is gonna be every character's mental heath going *points to the ground*
So let's buckle down for that.
But don't worry, everything will work out in the end, I've just got a long road ahead before we get to that. Like a really long road.
So long, in fact, that I'll have to start paving it with your lovely reviews! Leave me one, if you please, and I'll see you in the next chapter!