A/N-And hereafter the mean reviews will occur...*nods* Well until all is
resolved. I wonder how many readers I'll lose.*gets out calculator* --A/N
When something occurs to me in my life, and it is a moment of utmost importance, I like to call it an 'event'. Usually said 'event' makes the world seem to stop still, and I usually can't hear anything because of all the blood rushing to my head.
I woke up a few months after running around Manhattan, perfectly happy, with Race and the rest of the newsies. It was early; the sky outside of one of the windows was dark. I knew that Kloppman would be up to rouse us from our beds and hard-earned slumber. I sat up and lit a cigarette, inhaling and exhaling slowly, enjoying the quiet.
It was then that it hit me, the sour, twisting, burning bile rising in my throat. I hastily stumbled from my bed and barely made it to the wash room where I hugged a toilet bowl, retching out my stomach's contents. This went on for some time before I was quite empty. I threw my cigarette into the toilet and vowed to not smoke them again this early. Surely that's what had caused it.
I heard Kloppman in the room, hollering and banging his broom stick against bunks. As I sidled out of the stall, I came face to face with a sleepy Racetrack, his undershirt unbuttoned and hanging open, suspenders hanging from his trousers at his side. His black hair was sticking up and I giggled before he leaned in for a kiss. Yelping, I sprang away from him, my mouth covering my hand.
"No kissing! I have puke breath!" I proceeded to hang my head under the water pump and scrub my tongue with a finger. Racetrack looked at me like I was insane before a spark of worry hit his eyes.
"Puking? Why were you puking?" I shrugged and lit a cigarette, already having forgotten my vow of earlier.
"Must be somethin' I ate. You know, maybe I grabbed a rotten apple or somethin' yesterday." Race just looked at me for along moment before kissing my forehead and going about his morning routine. I skipped into the girl's room and yanked my black vest on. I usually just slept in long underwear and my shirt, but last night had been a late night and I had slept fully clothed. I sniffed my shirt a few times to make sure I didn't smell horrendous and told myself that I'd wash my clothes today.
Bourbon stood by her bunk, an amused grin on her lean face. She and Riddle were cautiously still sniffing each other out as partners. Even though that night at the Brooklyn party when Race had caught Spot and I kissing, she had been almost inhaling Riddle's face, they had suddenly seemed to be wary of each other.
"You always smell, Mis. I don't know why you think today'd be any different." I haughtily sniffed at her and exhaled a cloud of smoke.
"My shit smells like roses, Bourbon. I don't know what you're talkin' about. If my shit smells so pretty then the rest of me is a freakin' rose garden." Bourbon guffawed and rolled her eyes at me. I snitched one of Peppermint's mints to suck on and it helped the horrible taste I had in my mouth.
Pistol leapt onto my back and I almost pitched head-first down the stairs. Digging her heels into my sides she rode my back down the stairs and then flew off to charge Kid Blink. He saw her coming and ran out the front door screaming. I shook my head and twisted my back in a huge stretch. That Pistol was something else. I almost was starting to think that she was insane. I made my way outside to find her sitting on Blink's chest poking him in his armpits, giggling hysterically. Blink was looking half-mortified, half-amused as he tried to fend her off.
"Misery, help me!" he pleaded, his one blue eye blinking up at me. I grinned and shook my head no.
"WHY NO?" he hollered at me. Pistol cackled impishly and began playfully slapping his face.
"Because this is funny to watch," I explained matter-of factly. Then I dove around the corner to get sick to my stomach again. I held onto the wall with one hand and with the other, braced my self against my knee as I bent over to retch. When I was done, I wiped off my mouth and looked up to see the heads of Pistol and Blink staring at me from around the corner of the building. I knew Pistol was on Blink's back because her head was above his.
"Are you sick or somethin'?" Pistol slapped Blink upside the head.
"Wonderful deduction, Sherlock, anythin' else you think you can uncover?" Blink gave her a mysterious look which was rather hard to do with one eye, and I saw them appear from around the building, him setting her down onto her feet gently.
"Someday I think I'll figure out why you bug me so much," he said softly before hitting her chin with a clenched fist gently. I saw her eyes widen before she blushed furiously and stuck her tongue out at him. Clambering over to me, she helped me straighten up and flipped Blink the bird as she rushed me away down the street. We could hear his laughter grow faint as we ran.
Collapsing against the iron gates of the Distribution yard, I gave her a curious look. Her face was the same shade of angry red as her hair and her own blue-gray eyes were snapping mad.
"He shouldn't make fun of me like that," she ranted while I stood there, out of breath. She finally seemed to shake herself out her mood and gave me a long look. I looked back, my eyes wide with question.
"How long you been pukin' like that eh?" I shrugged indifferently.
"Today's the first day. I think I'm just catchin' a cold or somethin'." Pistol narrowed her eyes at me and her mouth thinned out into a flat smile. I saw a flash of sympathy enter her eyes before she turned away to kick at a loose cobblestone.
"How old were you when yer mom died?" I was taken aback and I blinked at her in shock. Her tone was serious so I knew she wasn't asking me this out of plain curiosity. Uncomfortable, I shrugged again. Pistol lit a cigarette and handed me one before picking flecks of tobacco off of her tongue.
"I'm only askin' because, well, I could be wrong but we'll have to wait and see. When was the last time you had your monthly curse?" I turned red and looked away before my heart sank into my stomach as rapidly as a stone disappearing underwater. The full meaning behind her questions sunk in. She was asking about when my mother died because she knew that I probably hadn't been instructed in certain things most women know about. True, when I got my first 'monthly curse' one of my brother's 'girlfriends' had been staying with us and had taken pity on me when she happened upon me sobbing in the bathroom. But that had been it, no one else had explained squat.
But even I knew what it meant when you missed your monthly curse. Rapidly I started adding days up in my head and groaned. I was almost three months behind and I hadn't even noticed. Granted, a lack of food and other things can make you skip or be late, but not by almost three months. I sank down onto the sidewalk and dropped my head into my hands. The worst part about all of this was that it wasn't Race's kid. It was Georgie and Young Joseph Maguire's.
"I gotta get out of here," I muttered thickly. Pushing myself up with my hands, I stumbled away from Pistol, into the street. I narrowly missed a carriage and I heard Pistol holler something at me. I felt an arm encircle my waist, and yank me across the street.
"Jesus Misery, watch where you're going. So I'm right, aren't I? Shit." Pistol and I walked towards the park where we sat on a bench, side by side. All we did for a few hours was smoke cigarettes and not say a word, my predicament rolling around in our heads.
"You could always get rid of it," Pistol began. "I know some whores down in Hells Kitchen who know some doctors who will do that cheap." I mutely shook my head. I was surprised she even mentioned it, knowing that we were both raised strictly Catholic. But sometimes that didn't hold over into your adult years when you had brought yourself up for so long as a child.
"So you won't get rid of it?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because it's not the baby's fault if that IS what's wrong with me." I felt a hand grip my shoulder and squeeze gently as a voice said in my ear softly, and with emotion;
"It wasn't your fault either, Mis." I buried my face into the other girl's shoulder and sobbed like an infant. She wrapped her thin arms around me and we sat that way for awhile as well. Finally, my eyes swollen and red, I pulled away.
"I can't stay here, I can't face Race. Why would he want to be with a girl who's going to have another man's child?"
"Because he's crazy about you?" was Pistol's scornful reply. I shook my head at her and she heaved her shoulders upwards in a shrug. I knew that this was different. I would never completely forget about what had happened, but with Race's help and the other's caring about me, there had been no in your face evidence of that horrible night, until now. And why should Race want me if I was crazy enough to keep a baby that was conceived in such an awful way?
"I need to talk to Spot," I said suddenly. Pistol looked at me like I had flipped my lid.
"You can't go to Brooklyn, that's not a good idea. Especially to see Spot." Most of the Brooklyn newsies were indifferent around me; some had grown friendly with me again. They had realized their mistake and the tensions had ceased. I had finally thought that everything was back to normal and I could be happy for once.
"Back when things were...bad here. Spot was going to send me away, to live with a friend. I think I'm going to take him up on that offer." Pistol's eyes bugged out of her head.
"WHAT? YOU CAN'T!"
Calmly I stood up and brushed off the seat of my pants. If leaving Race for awhile until I was ready to tell him about the baby was what I had to do to protect his emotions and mine, then that's what I was going to do. Pistol stood up as well, her arms folded across her chest.
"So you're running away," she stated flatly.
"Yeah, much like you did to Kid Blink when he confronted you," I shot back. Two spots of color appeared high on her cheekbones and I knew I had scored a direct hit. Spitting onto the ground, she gave me one last furious look.
"Maybe you should leave, Misery. Someone who doesn't have the balls to know when a person loves them and would be willing to face anything alongside them doesn't deserve that person. Maybe you didn't care about Racetrack at all."
"I'm doing this BECAUSE I care about him," I spat. She gave me an incredulous look.
"He'll hate my baby every time he looks at it. I know he will."
"And you won't?" I shook my head.
"No because it's a part of me."
"Exactly why he wouldn't hate it either," Pistol spun around on her heel and stalked away leaving me to shake my head in disagreement.
"This is for the best! You'll see," I whispered the last part more to myself than her retreating back. Squaring my shoulders, I headed towards Brooklyn after checking my pockets for my brassknuckles and switchblade. I had business to attend to.
SHOUT OUTS!
BrkLnLady- Yes Misery is actin' like a ho. But she isn't one, I swear to God. Spot is just jealous pretty much.
Fox - Whoa I don't remember getting your review in an email, but thank you! I'm glad you liked it I really am.
My Dog ate my penname -- *smacks Spot* That bitch. It's okay, you give me whatever sort of reviews you want to. Psh.. *Spot sniffles*
*melts* Oh okay then you arse....*grumbles* Heheh.and you ARE cute!
Pokey7-Oh you WILL see Jack..Just wait. But yeah, I thought that stuff with Kid Blink was funny too. I'm glad you liked it. Heh I'm just glad that you don't mind me using your character and that I'm writing her okay. Love does suck most of the times, but sometimes it's okay. And don't worry, I'm not going to hurt Race..Too much.Nope.
JamieBell-Hey! I'm glad you liked it! I reviewed your story, I hope you continue to read mine and like it
Erinsailorditz-- *does a chicken dance* How's that? I'm glad you weren't disappointed!!
Chelsea-Viking mythology is actually quite interesting if you can get into it. And yes, Spot is an arse...
Spot: HEY!
Misery: Hey I'm sorry man, you are. The public has spoken.
But he will make it up somehow. If not in this story, then in my next one.
Netangel182-Hey! I'm glad you aren't bored with this story yet! Thank you for reviewing again.
Kays14-I can't promise anything! I'm glad you are reading this though, I hope you continue to read it!
Pmochizuki-I agree that Spot deserves his chance with Misery but I think that MAYBE he might have a better option in another story I'm going to do. Just maybe..
Shaug-Yes! Such a choice ISN'T fair. I'm glad you like it!
JustDuck-Hahaha..whoa there cowboy..You'are all riled, but I'm glad. You get a lot of the tensions that are building or have come about, and I think that's awesome. Don't worry, Spot gets his.
Jocelyn Padoga-- *frowns* Why are you crying? I'm sorry you're sad I wish there was something I could do for you. Being sad sucks, I know. So does most everyone. But still here's an updation for you..*offers up story on a silver platter*
NadaZimri-Yes, yes we do have alter egos. Mine is currently a mixture of people, but mostly Pie Eater for some reason. Muaaaaaahaha..*singsongs evily* I knooooow who she's going to eeeend up wiiiiiiiiiith...
When something occurs to me in my life, and it is a moment of utmost importance, I like to call it an 'event'. Usually said 'event' makes the world seem to stop still, and I usually can't hear anything because of all the blood rushing to my head.
I woke up a few months after running around Manhattan, perfectly happy, with Race and the rest of the newsies. It was early; the sky outside of one of the windows was dark. I knew that Kloppman would be up to rouse us from our beds and hard-earned slumber. I sat up and lit a cigarette, inhaling and exhaling slowly, enjoying the quiet.
It was then that it hit me, the sour, twisting, burning bile rising in my throat. I hastily stumbled from my bed and barely made it to the wash room where I hugged a toilet bowl, retching out my stomach's contents. This went on for some time before I was quite empty. I threw my cigarette into the toilet and vowed to not smoke them again this early. Surely that's what had caused it.
I heard Kloppman in the room, hollering and banging his broom stick against bunks. As I sidled out of the stall, I came face to face with a sleepy Racetrack, his undershirt unbuttoned and hanging open, suspenders hanging from his trousers at his side. His black hair was sticking up and I giggled before he leaned in for a kiss. Yelping, I sprang away from him, my mouth covering my hand.
"No kissing! I have puke breath!" I proceeded to hang my head under the water pump and scrub my tongue with a finger. Racetrack looked at me like I was insane before a spark of worry hit his eyes.
"Puking? Why were you puking?" I shrugged and lit a cigarette, already having forgotten my vow of earlier.
"Must be somethin' I ate. You know, maybe I grabbed a rotten apple or somethin' yesterday." Race just looked at me for along moment before kissing my forehead and going about his morning routine. I skipped into the girl's room and yanked my black vest on. I usually just slept in long underwear and my shirt, but last night had been a late night and I had slept fully clothed. I sniffed my shirt a few times to make sure I didn't smell horrendous and told myself that I'd wash my clothes today.
Bourbon stood by her bunk, an amused grin on her lean face. She and Riddle were cautiously still sniffing each other out as partners. Even though that night at the Brooklyn party when Race had caught Spot and I kissing, she had been almost inhaling Riddle's face, they had suddenly seemed to be wary of each other.
"You always smell, Mis. I don't know why you think today'd be any different." I haughtily sniffed at her and exhaled a cloud of smoke.
"My shit smells like roses, Bourbon. I don't know what you're talkin' about. If my shit smells so pretty then the rest of me is a freakin' rose garden." Bourbon guffawed and rolled her eyes at me. I snitched one of Peppermint's mints to suck on and it helped the horrible taste I had in my mouth.
Pistol leapt onto my back and I almost pitched head-first down the stairs. Digging her heels into my sides she rode my back down the stairs and then flew off to charge Kid Blink. He saw her coming and ran out the front door screaming. I shook my head and twisted my back in a huge stretch. That Pistol was something else. I almost was starting to think that she was insane. I made my way outside to find her sitting on Blink's chest poking him in his armpits, giggling hysterically. Blink was looking half-mortified, half-amused as he tried to fend her off.
"Misery, help me!" he pleaded, his one blue eye blinking up at me. I grinned and shook my head no.
"WHY NO?" he hollered at me. Pistol cackled impishly and began playfully slapping his face.
"Because this is funny to watch," I explained matter-of factly. Then I dove around the corner to get sick to my stomach again. I held onto the wall with one hand and with the other, braced my self against my knee as I bent over to retch. When I was done, I wiped off my mouth and looked up to see the heads of Pistol and Blink staring at me from around the corner of the building. I knew Pistol was on Blink's back because her head was above his.
"Are you sick or somethin'?" Pistol slapped Blink upside the head.
"Wonderful deduction, Sherlock, anythin' else you think you can uncover?" Blink gave her a mysterious look which was rather hard to do with one eye, and I saw them appear from around the building, him setting her down onto her feet gently.
"Someday I think I'll figure out why you bug me so much," he said softly before hitting her chin with a clenched fist gently. I saw her eyes widen before she blushed furiously and stuck her tongue out at him. Clambering over to me, she helped me straighten up and flipped Blink the bird as she rushed me away down the street. We could hear his laughter grow faint as we ran.
Collapsing against the iron gates of the Distribution yard, I gave her a curious look. Her face was the same shade of angry red as her hair and her own blue-gray eyes were snapping mad.
"He shouldn't make fun of me like that," she ranted while I stood there, out of breath. She finally seemed to shake herself out her mood and gave me a long look. I looked back, my eyes wide with question.
"How long you been pukin' like that eh?" I shrugged indifferently.
"Today's the first day. I think I'm just catchin' a cold or somethin'." Pistol narrowed her eyes at me and her mouth thinned out into a flat smile. I saw a flash of sympathy enter her eyes before she turned away to kick at a loose cobblestone.
"How old were you when yer mom died?" I was taken aback and I blinked at her in shock. Her tone was serious so I knew she wasn't asking me this out of plain curiosity. Uncomfortable, I shrugged again. Pistol lit a cigarette and handed me one before picking flecks of tobacco off of her tongue.
"I'm only askin' because, well, I could be wrong but we'll have to wait and see. When was the last time you had your monthly curse?" I turned red and looked away before my heart sank into my stomach as rapidly as a stone disappearing underwater. The full meaning behind her questions sunk in. She was asking about when my mother died because she knew that I probably hadn't been instructed in certain things most women know about. True, when I got my first 'monthly curse' one of my brother's 'girlfriends' had been staying with us and had taken pity on me when she happened upon me sobbing in the bathroom. But that had been it, no one else had explained squat.
But even I knew what it meant when you missed your monthly curse. Rapidly I started adding days up in my head and groaned. I was almost three months behind and I hadn't even noticed. Granted, a lack of food and other things can make you skip or be late, but not by almost three months. I sank down onto the sidewalk and dropped my head into my hands. The worst part about all of this was that it wasn't Race's kid. It was Georgie and Young Joseph Maguire's.
"I gotta get out of here," I muttered thickly. Pushing myself up with my hands, I stumbled away from Pistol, into the street. I narrowly missed a carriage and I heard Pistol holler something at me. I felt an arm encircle my waist, and yank me across the street.
"Jesus Misery, watch where you're going. So I'm right, aren't I? Shit." Pistol and I walked towards the park where we sat on a bench, side by side. All we did for a few hours was smoke cigarettes and not say a word, my predicament rolling around in our heads.
"You could always get rid of it," Pistol began. "I know some whores down in Hells Kitchen who know some doctors who will do that cheap." I mutely shook my head. I was surprised she even mentioned it, knowing that we were both raised strictly Catholic. But sometimes that didn't hold over into your adult years when you had brought yourself up for so long as a child.
"So you won't get rid of it?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because it's not the baby's fault if that IS what's wrong with me." I felt a hand grip my shoulder and squeeze gently as a voice said in my ear softly, and with emotion;
"It wasn't your fault either, Mis." I buried my face into the other girl's shoulder and sobbed like an infant. She wrapped her thin arms around me and we sat that way for awhile as well. Finally, my eyes swollen and red, I pulled away.
"I can't stay here, I can't face Race. Why would he want to be with a girl who's going to have another man's child?"
"Because he's crazy about you?" was Pistol's scornful reply. I shook my head at her and she heaved her shoulders upwards in a shrug. I knew that this was different. I would never completely forget about what had happened, but with Race's help and the other's caring about me, there had been no in your face evidence of that horrible night, until now. And why should Race want me if I was crazy enough to keep a baby that was conceived in such an awful way?
"I need to talk to Spot," I said suddenly. Pistol looked at me like I had flipped my lid.
"You can't go to Brooklyn, that's not a good idea. Especially to see Spot." Most of the Brooklyn newsies were indifferent around me; some had grown friendly with me again. They had realized their mistake and the tensions had ceased. I had finally thought that everything was back to normal and I could be happy for once.
"Back when things were...bad here. Spot was going to send me away, to live with a friend. I think I'm going to take him up on that offer." Pistol's eyes bugged out of her head.
"WHAT? YOU CAN'T!"
Calmly I stood up and brushed off the seat of my pants. If leaving Race for awhile until I was ready to tell him about the baby was what I had to do to protect his emotions and mine, then that's what I was going to do. Pistol stood up as well, her arms folded across her chest.
"So you're running away," she stated flatly.
"Yeah, much like you did to Kid Blink when he confronted you," I shot back. Two spots of color appeared high on her cheekbones and I knew I had scored a direct hit. Spitting onto the ground, she gave me one last furious look.
"Maybe you should leave, Misery. Someone who doesn't have the balls to know when a person loves them and would be willing to face anything alongside them doesn't deserve that person. Maybe you didn't care about Racetrack at all."
"I'm doing this BECAUSE I care about him," I spat. She gave me an incredulous look.
"He'll hate my baby every time he looks at it. I know he will."
"And you won't?" I shook my head.
"No because it's a part of me."
"Exactly why he wouldn't hate it either," Pistol spun around on her heel and stalked away leaving me to shake my head in disagreement.
"This is for the best! You'll see," I whispered the last part more to myself than her retreating back. Squaring my shoulders, I headed towards Brooklyn after checking my pockets for my brassknuckles and switchblade. I had business to attend to.
SHOUT OUTS!
BrkLnLady- Yes Misery is actin' like a ho. But she isn't one, I swear to God. Spot is just jealous pretty much.
Fox - Whoa I don't remember getting your review in an email, but thank you! I'm glad you liked it I really am.
My Dog ate my penname -- *smacks Spot* That bitch. It's okay, you give me whatever sort of reviews you want to. Psh.. *Spot sniffles*
*melts* Oh okay then you arse....*grumbles* Heheh.and you ARE cute!
Pokey7-Oh you WILL see Jack..Just wait. But yeah, I thought that stuff with Kid Blink was funny too. I'm glad you liked it. Heh I'm just glad that you don't mind me using your character and that I'm writing her okay. Love does suck most of the times, but sometimes it's okay. And don't worry, I'm not going to hurt Race..Too much.Nope.
JamieBell-Hey! I'm glad you liked it! I reviewed your story, I hope you continue to read mine and like it
Erinsailorditz-- *does a chicken dance* How's that? I'm glad you weren't disappointed!!
Chelsea-Viking mythology is actually quite interesting if you can get into it. And yes, Spot is an arse...
Spot: HEY!
Misery: Hey I'm sorry man, you are. The public has spoken.
But he will make it up somehow. If not in this story, then in my next one.
Netangel182-Hey! I'm glad you aren't bored with this story yet! Thank you for reviewing again.
Kays14-I can't promise anything! I'm glad you are reading this though, I hope you continue to read it!
Pmochizuki-I agree that Spot deserves his chance with Misery but I think that MAYBE he might have a better option in another story I'm going to do. Just maybe..
Shaug-Yes! Such a choice ISN'T fair. I'm glad you like it!
JustDuck-Hahaha..whoa there cowboy..You'are all riled, but I'm glad. You get a lot of the tensions that are building or have come about, and I think that's awesome. Don't worry, Spot gets his.
Jocelyn Padoga-- *frowns* Why are you crying? I'm sorry you're sad I wish there was something I could do for you. Being sad sucks, I know. So does most everyone. But still here's an updation for you..*offers up story on a silver platter*
NadaZimri-Yes, yes we do have alter egos. Mine is currently a mixture of people, but mostly Pie Eater for some reason. Muaaaaaahaha..*singsongs evily* I knooooow who she's going to eeeend up wiiiiiiiiiith...