A/N: Oh, another one from Fishface! Oh, you KNOW you missed me and my..
COOKIES! I made them fresh this afternoon! Okay.. who gets 'em? Kelly does,
for being.. the LEADER of our groupies! She even made us a Yahoo! Group..
if you get the urge to join, then DO! *hands Kelly a cookie* And Emily
does! *hands Emily a cookie*, MegabeeAthlete, you get one too! They're
super fresh! *hands you one* I can't decide who to feel bad for either.
mostly I feel bad for Kerry, 'cause he's so nice, oh! Next cookie! Brooke
Lyn, Here ya go! *hands cookie to you* Oh! Another one for Snooza, I KNEW
you loved my cookies! *hands you one* or perhaps it was just the story ;)
I'm routin' for Kerry too. He's so much NICER than Spot, don't ya think? Oh
well, Next cookie! Angela! Oh, you knew you were just coming for the
cookies! ;) j/k, thanks for likin' the story so much, here's your cookie!
*hands you one* Oh, and we MUSN'T forget Lady Elwen, who will, I believe,
be very pleased with this chapter *wink wink*, Here's a cookie! *hands you
one* Awesome Cookies, aren't they? *eats the rest herself* Alright.. on to
the rest of the A/N!
We've decided that Kerry is.. FLUFF BOY. Why? Because he has ALL THESE INADVERTANT FLUFF MOMENTS! Bwahaha. I feel pseudo-evil for writing them too sometimes . oh well, He's a big teddy bear, right? Now! Who wants a Fluff- Boy t-shirt? *wears hers proudly*
On to the fic.
***
I rubbed my eyes as the sunlight, once again, disrupted the peacefulness of my sleep. I rolled over, trying to hide my face from that dreaded light coming through the curtain lacking window when I heard someone quietly close the door behind them. I jerked my head up. Damn it. It was Fishface. She looked a bit different before, and she was carrying a basket of clothing. She glanced over to me, looking apologetic when she realized she had woken me.
"Sorry Shortstack," She said, "Didn't mean ta' wake you up like that." Her voice was abnormally soft for her, and her eyes were a little bit blotchy, as if she had been crying. I sat up, scratching my head.
"No, that God awful sunlight did it again," I said, my speech a bit slurred from not being totally awake. She looked like she felt a little better, but that didn't lift my suspicion that she had been crying. She set down the basket she'd been carrying and sat down on another of the makeshift mattresses in the room. Quietly she wiped one of her eyes. I raised my eyebrow, "What's wrong?" Though I wasn't completely in favor of Fishface being in my room at the time, I, having been raised by nuns, felt that when someone was crying, the right thing to do was to ask what was wrong.
'Nothin' Shortstack," She put on another one of her million-dollar smiles, but it seemed tainted, as if something was missing, "I'm fine." She stood up and picked up her basket again, "I was gonna ask, do you have any laundry?" I checked the basket she was carrying. Yes. It was filled with laundry. Most of which I recognized as Spot Conlon's. I shook my head, not sure whether to be totally disgusted or sympathetic. Either way, Fishface was acting very strange.
But I didn't ask anymore questions, and she didn't say anything as she left. While I braided my hair, I wondered what could possibly be wrong with her. Could it be Spot again? That boy had a way of making people miserable. But she hadn't seemed this upset the day before when she had walked out on him. Something else was wrong, and for some reason I wanted to know what it was.
I went downstairs, hoping to see Fishface in order to figure out why she wasn't her usual cheerful self. But she must have left already, so I just went outside onto the dock. All of the newsies had gone to sell, so I was alone. I tried to think of something I could do until they got back, but the only thing that came to mind was cleaning that disgusting floor, which I was not about to do.
It must have been hours before the sound of that damnable cane rapping on the dock as Spot Conlon returned from selling his papers interrupted my thoughts. I turned around and saw him standing not three feet away from me.
"G'afternoon Spot." I said, trying my hardest to be cold.
"Shortstack," He nodded in an awkward greeting to me.
I hated that no one else was around to talk to, but I really didn't have a choice. I wanted to ask him what was wrong with Fishface, but in the back of my mind I didn't want to discuss her with him again.
I relented, curiosity was eating at me. "Do you know what's wrong with Fishface today?"
"Yeah, she told me this morning." So she was still talking to him. He was quiet again.
"Well, are ya gonna tell ME?" I asked impatiently.
"I don't know," he looked slightly smug, but I couldn't figure out why. "Why does it matter to you anyway?"
"Fine, don't tell me," I said, turning back around.
He didn't say anything for a few seconds, and then he said quietly, "The Cowboy's leavin'." I turned around again, surprised.
"Where's he goin'?"
"Santa Fe, stupid bastard still can't get that outta his head," he smiled a bit. I rolled my eyes, for a moment forgetting why Spot was so bitter to Jack Kelly. "Yeah," Spot continued, "He said he'd send for 'er when he's got some land or somethin'. Asked me to look after 'er."
I nodded, looking out on the same river I'd looked out on with Kerry the night before, it somehow looked different with Spot. With Kerry it was a barrier, taking away the things we wanted, with Spot it was an obstacle, something to get over.
I turned back and looked for him, but he'd already walked away into his clubhouse. A part of me was glad to be alone again, but the other part wished he hadn't.
After re-braiding my hair after dinner, I emerged from the upstairs room and walked into the main room of Spot's clubhouse. He was still sitting on that "throne" of his and had one hand idly holding the gold tip of his cane, in the other he held a cigarette. His gaze was, once again, on Fishface, who was sitting in the corner with her brother, who seemed to be trying to comfort her. I decided to join them.
"Hello Fishface," I nodded politely to her as I approached them, "Kerry," I nodded to him, and he smiled at me.
"Hello Bonnie," He said softly. Kerry seemed so much different from the first time I had met him in the alleyway, for one thing, he was always so soft spoken. For another, he kept calling me 'bonnie'.
"Hi Shortstack," Fishface said, almost in a monotone. No matter how much Fishface's obsessive cheer had annoyed me, her depression was starting to annoy me even more.
"So... Spot told me, about Jack leavin'..." I tried to sound sympathetic.
"I knew he would."
Suddenly, I felt sorry for Fishface. I had seen her with Jack that night in Manhattan, and then again two nights ago at her birthday party. She was in love with him.. so why'd he leave her? Oh this was all to confusing for me to handle, so I changed the subject. Later on, Fishface and I retreated to the upper room of the clubhouse, which Spot had so courteously ordered none of his men to enter. Not that they had been recently in the first place, but he had done it with Fishface in mind. Not me. As usual.
She was straightening the blanket to her own makeshift mattress when I realized that she was crying again. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, was that ALL she was going to do until Jack sent for her? I closed my eyes. Great. This "raised by nuns" thing was getting almost as obnoxious as Fishface's crying. I got up and put my hand on her shoulder, "Hey, come on, Cowboy'll send for you soon."
Fishface turned and looked at me, her eyes were not only blotchy, but they were welling up with tears, "I just. miss him so much." She sat down, and I, as if in turn, sat down next to her, it was then that I realized that trying to comfort Fishface would only be in vain, but I could always try, right?
"You'll just have to wait, Ruth," I said, trying my best. Her head snapped up and she stared at me.
"How'd you know my name?" She said, raising her eyebrow, in the exact manner that Spot Conlon had of raising his eyebrow at me. It unnerved me.
"Spot let it slip once or twice." I said, trying my best to sound nice, but whenever his name escaped my lips, my tone almost automatically went cold. She nodded. Another pang of sympathy from Shortstack to Fishface. She looked so lost and confused without the Cowboy. In a way it confused me that she couldn't survive on her own, but in a way, I felt so bad for her. I remember seeing the way he looked at her. Spot had looked at her in a similar way, but the way Jack had, was so much more pure. I remembered the way they had sat in the back of the Manhattan Newsboy's Lodging house and whispered in each other's ears. Suddenly I felt another pang, yet it wasn't one of sympathy. It was a pang of jealousy of what Fishface had with Jack. She had Jack, she had that all-pure love with him, AND she had Spot Conlon hanging on her every word. It made me almost want to puke.
She shook her head for a moment, as if she had been thinking something to herself and then cursed herself for thinking it, "I'm going to sleep, Shortstack. I'll talk to you in the morning, m'kay?"
I nodded, standing up and walking over to my own mattress, the same one Spot had pinned me down on two nights before. I turned and looked at her, she had her eyes closed but her body was still shaking from crying. I blew out the candle that illuminated the room and lay down to sleep.
The next morning when I awoke, before I had even opened my eyes, I heard someone else in the room, breathing steadily. I realized that someone must have been sleeping close by, and my eyes flew open, almost hopeful that I would see Spot laying there on the floor next to my mattress just like before. But all I found was Fishface, sleeping a few feet away.
Getting up quietly, I braided my hair again and left the room, making sure to be quiet. The last thing Fishface seemed to need was to be bothered right now, and I did feel bad about what happened to her. I headed downstairs, meeting Kerry on the way down. He was sitting on the bottom step, and I sat down next to him.
"Good morning," he looked upset, so I tried to sound cheerful, hoping it might influence his mood too. "How ya doin'?"
"Not so good," he didn't look at me, just stared straight ahead in thought. "How is she, though?"
I sighed heavily, "Devastated."
"I was gonna go up and see her, but Conlon said nobody goes up there."
"Not even him?"
Kerry looked at me questioningly, and I shook my head. "You know," he said slowly, as if unsure, "you never did explain what went on yesterday, why you were so angry at him."
I smiled a bit. "I'm always angry at him."
"But it was... different, yesterday. Do you feel like talkin' about it, yet?"
I stared right into his eyes. I had never noticed how blue they were, almost as blue as Fishface's. "Kerry, I - I just can't tell you what happened. It's something I'm gonna have to just keep to myself."
He took my hand and pressed the back of it to his lips gently. "Okay, but you know that if you ever need to tell anyone, I'll always be around."
Smiling, I nodded. "I know." This time I did. "You're a great guy, Kerry, and a great brother, just like mine."
"Thank you." He still hadn't let go of my hand. Slowly I broke away from his eyes, and he softly kissed my hand again before letting it go.
"Listen Kerry, I'm going to go get something to eat, do you want to come with me?" I asked him, in all actuality, I had been hoping to run into Spot on the way for some food, but having Kerry with me would be good company. He was a lot easier to talk to anyway.
But he shook his head, "No thanks, I think I'll just wait for Ruth, I'd like to talk to her." I nodded and left him at the bottom of the steps. Who knew how long it'd take Fishface to wake up? I didn't even know how late she had gotten to sleep, as far as I could remember, she'd still been sobbing softly as I drifted off to my own little dream world.
When I walked out of the clubhouse, my mind was elsewhere. I didn't know exactly where I was going to go to get the aforementioned food, but I was sure I wasn't going to that pub that Spot Conlon had taken me to. When BANG. I fell flat on the ground.
That hurt. I closed my eyes and fell all the way flat. "Okay, I'm dead!" I pronounced as loudly as I could, wondering how many stares I was gathering. I opened my eyes to see a curly headed boy staring down at me. He looked somewhat familiar, but I couldn't place his name.
"I am so sorry!" He said, offering me his hand to pull me up. Politely I took it and stood up, brushing myself off.
"That's perfectly alright," I said, for some reason not feeling very snappy that day, "You look. incredibly familiar." I said, still trying to place his name.
"You do too."
"The name's Shortstack."
"Oh!" Suddenly, he remembered who I was, and I was just ITCHING to remember him, "You're Mush's sister!" I nodded.
"I'm Skittery." He said, "You probably don't remember me. I live with your brother." I smiled, finally I DID remember him.
"How's Patr-Mush doing?" I asked, very anxious to hear his answer.
"Ah, so-so. He's been sellin' pretty good though, tryin' to get an apartment I bet." He smiled.
"What're you doin' in Brooklyn?" I questioned him, regaining some of my composure.
"Just came to do some business Jack left. bring some o' Fishface's stuff too. She had a lot of it y'know." He trailed off after a minute, "Well, I'd better go. Nice seein' yas again." He stepped past me, picking up another bucket of little trinkets that I supposed belonged to Fishface.
I turned around and called to him, "Hey, Conlon won't let ya see 'er unless she comes down, so you might wanta drop that stuff with him. She didn't sleep much last night."
He turned around and smiling, nodded. Then he started to saunter off towards Spot's clubhouse, which had become, once again, almost unbearable dirty. And I was off to get some breakfast, as of yet, alone.
We've decided that Kerry is.. FLUFF BOY. Why? Because he has ALL THESE INADVERTANT FLUFF MOMENTS! Bwahaha. I feel pseudo-evil for writing them too sometimes . oh well, He's a big teddy bear, right? Now! Who wants a Fluff- Boy t-shirt? *wears hers proudly*
On to the fic.
***
I rubbed my eyes as the sunlight, once again, disrupted the peacefulness of my sleep. I rolled over, trying to hide my face from that dreaded light coming through the curtain lacking window when I heard someone quietly close the door behind them. I jerked my head up. Damn it. It was Fishface. She looked a bit different before, and she was carrying a basket of clothing. She glanced over to me, looking apologetic when she realized she had woken me.
"Sorry Shortstack," She said, "Didn't mean ta' wake you up like that." Her voice was abnormally soft for her, and her eyes were a little bit blotchy, as if she had been crying. I sat up, scratching my head.
"No, that God awful sunlight did it again," I said, my speech a bit slurred from not being totally awake. She looked like she felt a little better, but that didn't lift my suspicion that she had been crying. She set down the basket she'd been carrying and sat down on another of the makeshift mattresses in the room. Quietly she wiped one of her eyes. I raised my eyebrow, "What's wrong?" Though I wasn't completely in favor of Fishface being in my room at the time, I, having been raised by nuns, felt that when someone was crying, the right thing to do was to ask what was wrong.
'Nothin' Shortstack," She put on another one of her million-dollar smiles, but it seemed tainted, as if something was missing, "I'm fine." She stood up and picked up her basket again, "I was gonna ask, do you have any laundry?" I checked the basket she was carrying. Yes. It was filled with laundry. Most of which I recognized as Spot Conlon's. I shook my head, not sure whether to be totally disgusted or sympathetic. Either way, Fishface was acting very strange.
But I didn't ask anymore questions, and she didn't say anything as she left. While I braided my hair, I wondered what could possibly be wrong with her. Could it be Spot again? That boy had a way of making people miserable. But she hadn't seemed this upset the day before when she had walked out on him. Something else was wrong, and for some reason I wanted to know what it was.
I went downstairs, hoping to see Fishface in order to figure out why she wasn't her usual cheerful self. But she must have left already, so I just went outside onto the dock. All of the newsies had gone to sell, so I was alone. I tried to think of something I could do until they got back, but the only thing that came to mind was cleaning that disgusting floor, which I was not about to do.
It must have been hours before the sound of that damnable cane rapping on the dock as Spot Conlon returned from selling his papers interrupted my thoughts. I turned around and saw him standing not three feet away from me.
"G'afternoon Spot." I said, trying my hardest to be cold.
"Shortstack," He nodded in an awkward greeting to me.
I hated that no one else was around to talk to, but I really didn't have a choice. I wanted to ask him what was wrong with Fishface, but in the back of my mind I didn't want to discuss her with him again.
I relented, curiosity was eating at me. "Do you know what's wrong with Fishface today?"
"Yeah, she told me this morning." So she was still talking to him. He was quiet again.
"Well, are ya gonna tell ME?" I asked impatiently.
"I don't know," he looked slightly smug, but I couldn't figure out why. "Why does it matter to you anyway?"
"Fine, don't tell me," I said, turning back around.
He didn't say anything for a few seconds, and then he said quietly, "The Cowboy's leavin'." I turned around again, surprised.
"Where's he goin'?"
"Santa Fe, stupid bastard still can't get that outta his head," he smiled a bit. I rolled my eyes, for a moment forgetting why Spot was so bitter to Jack Kelly. "Yeah," Spot continued, "He said he'd send for 'er when he's got some land or somethin'. Asked me to look after 'er."
I nodded, looking out on the same river I'd looked out on with Kerry the night before, it somehow looked different with Spot. With Kerry it was a barrier, taking away the things we wanted, with Spot it was an obstacle, something to get over.
I turned back and looked for him, but he'd already walked away into his clubhouse. A part of me was glad to be alone again, but the other part wished he hadn't.
After re-braiding my hair after dinner, I emerged from the upstairs room and walked into the main room of Spot's clubhouse. He was still sitting on that "throne" of his and had one hand idly holding the gold tip of his cane, in the other he held a cigarette. His gaze was, once again, on Fishface, who was sitting in the corner with her brother, who seemed to be trying to comfort her. I decided to join them.
"Hello Fishface," I nodded politely to her as I approached them, "Kerry," I nodded to him, and he smiled at me.
"Hello Bonnie," He said softly. Kerry seemed so much different from the first time I had met him in the alleyway, for one thing, he was always so soft spoken. For another, he kept calling me 'bonnie'.
"Hi Shortstack," Fishface said, almost in a monotone. No matter how much Fishface's obsessive cheer had annoyed me, her depression was starting to annoy me even more.
"So... Spot told me, about Jack leavin'..." I tried to sound sympathetic.
"I knew he would."
Suddenly, I felt sorry for Fishface. I had seen her with Jack that night in Manhattan, and then again two nights ago at her birthday party. She was in love with him.. so why'd he leave her? Oh this was all to confusing for me to handle, so I changed the subject. Later on, Fishface and I retreated to the upper room of the clubhouse, which Spot had so courteously ordered none of his men to enter. Not that they had been recently in the first place, but he had done it with Fishface in mind. Not me. As usual.
She was straightening the blanket to her own makeshift mattress when I realized that she was crying again. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, was that ALL she was going to do until Jack sent for her? I closed my eyes. Great. This "raised by nuns" thing was getting almost as obnoxious as Fishface's crying. I got up and put my hand on her shoulder, "Hey, come on, Cowboy'll send for you soon."
Fishface turned and looked at me, her eyes were not only blotchy, but they were welling up with tears, "I just. miss him so much." She sat down, and I, as if in turn, sat down next to her, it was then that I realized that trying to comfort Fishface would only be in vain, but I could always try, right?
"You'll just have to wait, Ruth," I said, trying my best. Her head snapped up and she stared at me.
"How'd you know my name?" She said, raising her eyebrow, in the exact manner that Spot Conlon had of raising his eyebrow at me. It unnerved me.
"Spot let it slip once or twice." I said, trying my best to sound nice, but whenever his name escaped my lips, my tone almost automatically went cold. She nodded. Another pang of sympathy from Shortstack to Fishface. She looked so lost and confused without the Cowboy. In a way it confused me that she couldn't survive on her own, but in a way, I felt so bad for her. I remember seeing the way he looked at her. Spot had looked at her in a similar way, but the way Jack had, was so much more pure. I remembered the way they had sat in the back of the Manhattan Newsboy's Lodging house and whispered in each other's ears. Suddenly I felt another pang, yet it wasn't one of sympathy. It was a pang of jealousy of what Fishface had with Jack. She had Jack, she had that all-pure love with him, AND she had Spot Conlon hanging on her every word. It made me almost want to puke.
She shook her head for a moment, as if she had been thinking something to herself and then cursed herself for thinking it, "I'm going to sleep, Shortstack. I'll talk to you in the morning, m'kay?"
I nodded, standing up and walking over to my own mattress, the same one Spot had pinned me down on two nights before. I turned and looked at her, she had her eyes closed but her body was still shaking from crying. I blew out the candle that illuminated the room and lay down to sleep.
The next morning when I awoke, before I had even opened my eyes, I heard someone else in the room, breathing steadily. I realized that someone must have been sleeping close by, and my eyes flew open, almost hopeful that I would see Spot laying there on the floor next to my mattress just like before. But all I found was Fishface, sleeping a few feet away.
Getting up quietly, I braided my hair again and left the room, making sure to be quiet. The last thing Fishface seemed to need was to be bothered right now, and I did feel bad about what happened to her. I headed downstairs, meeting Kerry on the way down. He was sitting on the bottom step, and I sat down next to him.
"Good morning," he looked upset, so I tried to sound cheerful, hoping it might influence his mood too. "How ya doin'?"
"Not so good," he didn't look at me, just stared straight ahead in thought. "How is she, though?"
I sighed heavily, "Devastated."
"I was gonna go up and see her, but Conlon said nobody goes up there."
"Not even him?"
Kerry looked at me questioningly, and I shook my head. "You know," he said slowly, as if unsure, "you never did explain what went on yesterday, why you were so angry at him."
I smiled a bit. "I'm always angry at him."
"But it was... different, yesterday. Do you feel like talkin' about it, yet?"
I stared right into his eyes. I had never noticed how blue they were, almost as blue as Fishface's. "Kerry, I - I just can't tell you what happened. It's something I'm gonna have to just keep to myself."
He took my hand and pressed the back of it to his lips gently. "Okay, but you know that if you ever need to tell anyone, I'll always be around."
Smiling, I nodded. "I know." This time I did. "You're a great guy, Kerry, and a great brother, just like mine."
"Thank you." He still hadn't let go of my hand. Slowly I broke away from his eyes, and he softly kissed my hand again before letting it go.
"Listen Kerry, I'm going to go get something to eat, do you want to come with me?" I asked him, in all actuality, I had been hoping to run into Spot on the way for some food, but having Kerry with me would be good company. He was a lot easier to talk to anyway.
But he shook his head, "No thanks, I think I'll just wait for Ruth, I'd like to talk to her." I nodded and left him at the bottom of the steps. Who knew how long it'd take Fishface to wake up? I didn't even know how late she had gotten to sleep, as far as I could remember, she'd still been sobbing softly as I drifted off to my own little dream world.
When I walked out of the clubhouse, my mind was elsewhere. I didn't know exactly where I was going to go to get the aforementioned food, but I was sure I wasn't going to that pub that Spot Conlon had taken me to. When BANG. I fell flat on the ground.
That hurt. I closed my eyes and fell all the way flat. "Okay, I'm dead!" I pronounced as loudly as I could, wondering how many stares I was gathering. I opened my eyes to see a curly headed boy staring down at me. He looked somewhat familiar, but I couldn't place his name.
"I am so sorry!" He said, offering me his hand to pull me up. Politely I took it and stood up, brushing myself off.
"That's perfectly alright," I said, for some reason not feeling very snappy that day, "You look. incredibly familiar." I said, still trying to place his name.
"You do too."
"The name's Shortstack."
"Oh!" Suddenly, he remembered who I was, and I was just ITCHING to remember him, "You're Mush's sister!" I nodded.
"I'm Skittery." He said, "You probably don't remember me. I live with your brother." I smiled, finally I DID remember him.
"How's Patr-Mush doing?" I asked, very anxious to hear his answer.
"Ah, so-so. He's been sellin' pretty good though, tryin' to get an apartment I bet." He smiled.
"What're you doin' in Brooklyn?" I questioned him, regaining some of my composure.
"Just came to do some business Jack left. bring some o' Fishface's stuff too. She had a lot of it y'know." He trailed off after a minute, "Well, I'd better go. Nice seein' yas again." He stepped past me, picking up another bucket of little trinkets that I supposed belonged to Fishface.
I turned around and called to him, "Hey, Conlon won't let ya see 'er unless she comes down, so you might wanta drop that stuff with him. She didn't sleep much last night."
He turned around and smiling, nodded. Then he started to saunter off towards Spot's clubhouse, which had become, once again, almost unbearable dirty. And I was off to get some breakfast, as of yet, alone.