Disclaimer:  Unfortunately, I don't own Newsies, Disney does, but I wish I did.  I would probably have far too much fun with that . . .

Author's Note:  This chapter is dedicated to Quimby, but I don't think it will be what she was expecting (::turns to Quimby:: "but I hope you like it just the same").  Anyway, prepare for a bit of angst,  and enjoy chapter two in the saga of . . . The Good Booth.



                        Snipeshooter sighed as he sank farther into the booth.  Tibby's was bustling with people on this cool evening in August, but Snipeshooter sat by himself.  He sighed quietly as he sipped his soda.  The rest of the boys had gone to the Brooklyn L-H for a party of sorts but Snipeshooter had decided to stay behind.  He hadn't been feeling up to a party that night.  Actually, he hadn't been feeling up to being around people in general, lately.  He seemed to be growing more depressed with the passing of each day.  He was lonely.  Sure he was always surrounded by people, and he had friends, but he didn't feel close to anybody.  He felt like nobody understood him, nobody knew him, and he didn't know them either.

                        Snipeshooter stared off into oblivion as he swirled the ice in his glass.  After several minutes, he was pulled from his solitude by a soft voice.

                        "Excuse me?"  When the girl had gained Snipeshooter's attention she continued.  "I'm sorry to disturb you, but would you mind if I sat with you?  There are no other tables."  She stared at Snipeshooter who had a slightely confused look on his face.  Frustrated, she added, "I thought maybe I could sit here, seeing as the booth is so spacious and you're the only one sitting in it."  Snipeshooter snapped out of his trance at the annoyed tone the girl had taken on.

                        "Yeah, sure," he stated flatly, distantly, as he scooted over making space for the girl.  She slid in beside him, looking at him questioningly.

                        "I'm sorry if I interrupted you.  You seemed to be rather occupied with your thoughts," she uttered apologetically.  Snipeshooter didn't lift his gaze from his drink.

                        "It doesn't matter," he responded glumly.

                        "Oh, okay."  The girl watched him with interest.  He was young, 14 maybe.  She felt badly for him.  He seemed so depressed, his eyes were so empty, but at eh same time so filled with emotion.  She wanted to listen to his troubles, to help him solve all of his problems, to comfort him, anything.  She sighed and took a sip of her tea.  This boy didn't seem to want to discuss all that, though, and she didn't want to pry.  She decided to just try to make some small talk.

                        "I'm Catherine, by the way."  She smiled as she extended her hand.

                        "Snipeshooter," he replied as he took her hand and shook it half-heartedly.

                        "Snipeshooter?  That's an interesting name," Catherine responded in an attempt to move the conversation forward.

                        "It's a nick-name.  All newsies have got a nick-name."

                        "Oh, you're a newsie.  What's that like?"  Snipeshooter started at the interest in her voice and he looked at her for the first time.  She was pretty.  She had long, wavy, dark-brown hair and chestnut colored eyes that had and innocent yet knowledgeable quality about them.  She appeared to be at leas 16.  Snipeshooter brightened at the attention she was giving him.

                        "It's not too bad.  It's a hard life, but it's a fine life."  He glanced at her and, noticing the curiosity on her face, decided to embellish.  "Sometimes there's nothing to eat, and the headlines aren't always great, but I always land on my feet.  And there's nobody tellin' ya what ta do or where ta go, or how ta spend ya time and money."

                        "Sounds pretty good."  Catherine smiled softly but her tone had held a hint of unhappiness and longing. 

                        "What about you?"  Snipeshooter stared questioningly at Catherine as he waited for her response.  She let her hand slide across the smooth black table and fall into her lap.  She sank into the cushion and cleared her throat before answering.

                        "Well," she began, not wanting to tell him what she really did, what she really was.  "I work in a burlesque house.  But it's not what you think," she added quickly when she saw his expression.  He looked at her skeptically.  "I work in the kitchen," she explained as she lowered her eyes.  They both knew she was lying, but they both decided to pretend it was the truth.  Neither of them spoke for some time and the awkwardness grew.

                        "So, how is that?"  Snipeshooter tried to cover up the discomfort of the silence with more small-talk.

                        "It's okay," answered Catherine, regaining her composure and confidence as if they had never been lost.  The two continued to chat about subjects that were all rather inconsequential but after and hour or so they had both run out of steam.  They sat silently for a moment before Snipeshooter moved the conversation in a different direction.

                        "Ya, know, I've had more fun in da past hour den I've had in da past month."  He laughed a bit and Catherine smiled at him.

                        "I've had a good time, too.  I hadnoticed you'd seemed to have forgotten whatever it was that had been troubling you."

                        "No, not forgotten, just ignored, but it'll come back later . . . it always does."  Snipeshooter's previous countenance had returned and he became depressed again.  Catherine felt her heart go out to him once more.

                        "If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine, but it would probably do you some good to get it out."  Catherine placed her hand on Snipeshooter's encouragingly.  Snipeshooter stared at her hand on his.  He never talked about his feelings, he was a guy, all of his friends were guys.  If he tried to talk to anyone about something like feelings they would probably laugh in his face.  It was kind of weird, but for some reason, he felt like it was okay and he wanted to tell her about all of the thoughts that had been building up inside of him.

                        He began slowly, unsure of what to say.  He told her everything, though. M about feeling disconnected, about not knowing other people and other people not knowing him, but mostly about feeling like he didn't know himself.  He finished and sank into the comfortable booth, letting the worn cushion mold to his back.  Once he had started it was like opening a flood gate.  Catherine had sat there the whole time, nodding occasionally, but mainly just listening.  Snipeshooter's face reddened a bit.  He was embarrassed about sharing so much with this girl that he barely knew.

                        "Sorry, I guess I kinda talked ya ear off," he apologized.

                        "Don't worry about it."  A short moment of silence passed before she continued.  "Ya know, Snipeshooter, everybody feels like that at one point in their life or another.  I've dealt with those feelings too many times to count."

                        "Really?"

                        "Yeah.  All of your friends, the other newsies, they all probably have felt that way before, too.  I bet if you told one of them what you just told me, they would understand completely.  Then, maybe you would find someone who could really know you, someone who will understand you; a friend you can count on when you need to. . ."  She let her voice drift off as she smiled as Snipeshooter, who smiled back shyly.

                        "I already have found someone," he answered, grabbing her hand and squeezing it.

                        And there they sat, holding hands and smiling at each other, a friendship formed over drinks and a crowded restaurant, a friendship that would last a very long time.  The good booth had brought them together, and nothing could tear their friendship apart.



Author's Note:  Well, there you have it, the second installment.  I guess now would be a good time to clarify, that throughout the fic, each chapter could have any kind of theme, humor, angst, romance, etc. Who knows, maybe even a parody of sorts.  I apologize if you were expecting humor in this chapter, I didn't deliver.  Although, the idea of 14 year-old Snipes hooking up with a 16 year-old prostitute is sort of humorous . . .   ANYWAY, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, actually, I'm dying to find out if you did . . . THAT CAN ONLY MEAN ONE THING . . . . . .  if you don't review . . . I'LL DIE!!!  AHHHHHHHHH  REVIEW!

And now . . . the shout-outs  (there are so few people to shout to . . . ::cries::)

Quimby   Wow, thank you, but you are the one who owns, truly.  I'm glad you like the fic and I hope you liked this chapter.  Oddly enough, when I was finished writing it I found I no longer felt an intense hatred toward Snipeshooter, perhaps I should get my head checked, what do you think?  I'm glad I did a good job with the Spot and the fight scene and such.  Thanks for reading and Boo-woop my dear.

Oberon O'neil  Haha, thanks.  I'm glad you enjoyed it.  Hope you liked the new chapter . . . speaking of new chapters . . . you should really think about that whole updating thing . . . HAHA, thanks again.

KP  Tehe, thanks dear.  It was fun to write.  I checked the word awesomely with the shift F7, it is, in fact, a word.  That was a fun day wasn't it, I'm glad those kinds of things happen to us, it's a fantastic source of inspiration.  I'm aware you are in love with Spot, I'm reminded of it repeatedly every day . . . HAHA global studies with Mr. Man . . . I'm so in love with him, he is FINE!  Gotta love hot student teachers and such. . . anyway, hope ya liked this last chapter.

Rae Rae  Gladyou liked it sweetheart . . . yes, yes, I love them too.  I can't wait for vacation so we can finally expose you to all those awesome movies you have yet to affiliate yourself with.  Especially HOLES, it is critical that you see it, absolutely critical. . .  anyway . . . I LOVE YOU!!!!!! 

REVIEW ALL!