Chapter 9

The Crap Hits The Fan (Or Does It?)

"Heya, Mushy, where should we sells our papes today?" Olive asked Mush when he had bought his papers.

Mush looked down. "Actually, I think I'll sell by meself today. Hope ya don't mind." He started to walk away.

"Hey…somethin da matta?" she said, tugging at the sleeve of his arm.

He turned around quickly and their eyes met for a second. She saw something in his eyes that she'd never seen before. Usually his eyes were smiling at her, not lately though. But today they looked sad and…something, something that she couldn't put her finger on. She just knew it wasn't normal, not for the ever-optimistic Mush. "I'm fine" Mush told her quietly.

Olivia wondered what was wrong. She didn't want to press the case though…she had papes to sell, after all. She walked off to find Kid Blink or Racetrack, hoping that one of them would let her tag along for the day.

* * * * *

Olivia couldn't get that look that Mush had in his eyes out of her head all day. All she wanted was to talk to him, to find out what was the matter. They were supposed to be best friends, after all; if he couldn't talk to her, who could he talk to?

That night, Olivia asked Mush if he wanted to share a bunk. "No," he replied. "You'se got a steady now, afta all."

She looked at him strangely. "It don't matta…he won't know, or mind eithah."

Mush looked at her with that same look in his eyes. "He would mind…I know I would."

* * * * *

It continued like this for over two weeks. Olivia couldn't stand not being able to talk to Mush. He was, after all, the only person who knew all about her…the only person she could really be herself in front of. She loved Spot, and he treated her well, but he couldn't know that when she went home at night she slept in a roomful of newsboys. And it wasn't just that Mush was the only one who knew about her secret…she also just liked talking to him, liked being around him and having a laugh with him. She didn't realize how much she would miss his company until it was gone.

Mush missed her company just as much if not more. If he wasn't himself before, now he was downright depressed. Everyone was concerned about him, and he was sick of it. He put on a brave face and made everyone believe, as all good Newsies should be able to, that he was ok. But he wasn't. He had feelings for Olivia, and he couldn't deny them. So in lieu of denying them, he repressed them. Why did he have to introduce her to Spot anyway? He asked himself this question over and over, but he knew the answer. It was because she asked him to. Not only was it against his nature to say no to anything, but also, it was Olivia…how could he say no to Olivia?

* * * * *

It was a Saturday night and Olivia had been invited by Spot to come to the pier for a party. All of the Brooklyn Newsies would be there. There would be singing and dancing as always, and plenty of drinking. Brooklyn Newsies, as with all Brooklyn youths, were very…mature for their age. Booze was no big deal, even to some extent, to the youngest of Newsies. Olivia wasn't too keen on the drinking part; she wasn't thrilled when anyone got drunk, actually. Her father's drinking left in her a deep revulsion of booze. However, she usually had fun at these Brooklyn parties, so she went, against her better judgement.

This party was bigger and louder than any she'd been to before. Half of the boys seemed to be drunk when she arrived, including Spot. She could taste the beer on his lips when he kissed her in greeting.

Olivia tired of the party soon. All it had been all night was getting hit on by most of the Newsies and Spot getting mad, but amused by it. She sensed that it would be turning into another drunken brawl soon, so she decided to leave before that happened.

She searched for Spot to tell him that she was going to leave. She couldn't find him anywhere so she asked Rattler, one of the few Brooklyn Newsies besides Spot that she did know, where he was. He told her he saw Spot going into the "Shack," which was a small two-room structure in the area that the dock met the boardwalk. It had a small bathroom and a room with a couch and a beat up old radio. The Brooklyn boys frequently took girls into that little communal room on "dates." Olivia had only been there once. "Spot?" she asked, opening the door slowly. There he was, on the couch with Maybelle Roberts. Both were in various states of undress and were obviously not expecting to see Olivia.

"Olivia?!" he said incredulously. "It's, uh…it ain't what it looks like!" he exclaimed.

Olivia gasped. "Spot?! How…how could you?"

"Let me explain," he said, getting up, or rather, stumbling up.

She took a step back. "You don't…don't talk to me. Don't you eva talk to me again!" she yelled, running through the door and slamming it shut behind her.

* * * * *

Author's Note: I swear, I love Spotty! I hope no one is offended that I made him be a jerk but…well he was drunk, he didn't know what he was doing! Oh boy, when the writer finds herself defending her characters, you know something's the matter…

Anyhow, thanks for the reviews everyone! I really appreciate it!