"What was that all about?" Racetrack asked him. The former was smoking a
cigar. The intricately patterned outsides of it rested between his middle
and index finger. He took drags of it lazily.
Jack shrugged. David walked over, concerned. He, Jack, and Racetrack watched Jo get lost in the crowd.
"You okay, Jack?" David asked. His blue eyes probed his friend's thoughts. Jack evaded his gaze, but David was onto something. He wouldn't let go until he knew what was going on. Considering it was David, he'd figure it out sooner rather than later.
"Yeah, I guess so," Jack said.
"What's going on..." David asked, gesturing toward the general area Jo had disappeared into. Jack fixed his eyes straight ahead, not facing David.
"Nothing. Why would anything be going on?" Jack asked. His tone betrayed nothing, but Jack Kelly, a.k.a. Francis Sullivan, was a master of embellishment, concealment, and unemotional reactions, and being around him for so long it was easy for David to see through him.
"Because you looked like a bomb just went off in your skull, Sullivan."
"The name's Kelly," was Jack's automated response.
"Sure it is," David said. "Did you tell her it was?" Jack gave David a look that was a mixture of false confusion and anger.
"Why should she know?" he asked, pointedly crossing his arms in front of his chest and looked straight ahead again.
"Because you're slack-jawed, Jack," David quipped brightly. "Tell me, is it just the fact that she continues to challenge you with her intellect, or is it your gargantuan-sized ego that keeps getting in the way of having a normal conversation with her?"
David said all of this very fast. Jack hurled back around at this, whipping his head back, the action very violent and spurred by the fact that it was, well...true. David's eyes were twinkling. He knew he was right. Jack grunted, attempting to dismiss his statements.
"I've had a normal conversation with her," Jack said.
"Oh really?"
"Yes, really."
"She's good friend material, Jack."
"Thanks Dave, I didn't know I had to get your approval to make friends," he said dryly. David chose to ignore that one.
"She needs friends, Jack. People like us."
"Yeah..."
"Maybe you could invite her to dinner with us at Tibby's on Saturday. You, me, a few more of the guys, Jo, and Sarah."
Jack's pulse quickened and he returned back to reality for an instant.
He met David's eyes. Damn. Sarah. David was smarter than he looked, of course. That was a personal dig. He didn't say it, but he meant it. It was a "Fuck with my sister, and you inevitably fuck with me." David was simultaneously hinting at a relationship between Jack and Jo, defending his sister's honor, and monitoring Jack's friend-making skills.
"So she's back from Carolina, huh?"
"Yeah. Arrives tomorrow."
Sarah had wanted to talk to him the night before she left, and he'd promised to come up to her room. He didn't, of course. A sick feeling started to meld inside his stomach, one that he couldn't fight. Saturday...I'll talk to her before dinner.
He raked a hand through his dirty-blonde, greasy hair, and tried to focus.
But the expression on David's face when he mentioned Sarah stuck in his brain, and he couldn't force it out.
She had done it. She sold all ten of her papers within fifteen minutes of receiving them from David. That would have to go in some sort of record book. Jo was hot and hungry, but beaming and rosy.
Instead of heading back to them, she continued to walk down the street, thinking of possible job options. Working for the newspaper seemed like the obvious choice, and she'd be lying if she said it didn't sound tempting. She looked around her at the craziness of the New York City street and brushed her mahogany-brown hair out of her eyes. She wasn't in Concord anymore. Maybe it was time for some more changes to take place. She remembered the conversation she had with Laurie one time...about what she'd do if she weren't a writer...what was it...she'd want to be an actress, pursue the stage...The idea was incredibly spontaneous and wild, but also amazingly appealing. What would her family do if they found out she was a full- fledged thespian, astounding audiences and fellow actors alike with her renditions of all the famous, dramatic plays of the world?
She'd been wandering with her thoughts swimming, and had paid little attention to where she'd been walking. It was in the center of town. A small park resided in the center, surrounded by a spiked-iron gate that circled a statue of Horace Greeley. Directly across from this was the imposing building of Mr. Joseph Pulitzer's World, and the headlines written on a large chalkboard. Newsies ran in this area, clutching their papers.
Jo eyed the building for a minute. Would she be happy in there, chasing a story, creating magic on the printing press, and editing to her heart's delight? Wasn't it everything she'd ever wanted? It was. But she suddenly felt downtrodden with anything related to the former Jo. The former Jo was passive and dejected, waiting around for some kind of miracle to sweep her off her feet. The former Jo was still living in that attic in Concord, writing fairy tales so her sisters could read them. No bones about it: the former Jo was miserable. And she wouldn't be that person anymore.
Beaming up at the World building, she turned on her heel and headed in another direction. The very act was empowering. It was liberating. She was going to be an actress.
A/N: Thanks for the reviews, guys! Sorry I couldn't update sooner, but I was on a trip. I might be busy in the next few days/weeks, but I will update! Just be patient, and keep tuning in.
Jack shrugged. David walked over, concerned. He, Jack, and Racetrack watched Jo get lost in the crowd.
"You okay, Jack?" David asked. His blue eyes probed his friend's thoughts. Jack evaded his gaze, but David was onto something. He wouldn't let go until he knew what was going on. Considering it was David, he'd figure it out sooner rather than later.
"Yeah, I guess so," Jack said.
"What's going on..." David asked, gesturing toward the general area Jo had disappeared into. Jack fixed his eyes straight ahead, not facing David.
"Nothing. Why would anything be going on?" Jack asked. His tone betrayed nothing, but Jack Kelly, a.k.a. Francis Sullivan, was a master of embellishment, concealment, and unemotional reactions, and being around him for so long it was easy for David to see through him.
"Because you looked like a bomb just went off in your skull, Sullivan."
"The name's Kelly," was Jack's automated response.
"Sure it is," David said. "Did you tell her it was?" Jack gave David a look that was a mixture of false confusion and anger.
"Why should she know?" he asked, pointedly crossing his arms in front of his chest and looked straight ahead again.
"Because you're slack-jawed, Jack," David quipped brightly. "Tell me, is it just the fact that she continues to challenge you with her intellect, or is it your gargantuan-sized ego that keeps getting in the way of having a normal conversation with her?"
David said all of this very fast. Jack hurled back around at this, whipping his head back, the action very violent and spurred by the fact that it was, well...true. David's eyes were twinkling. He knew he was right. Jack grunted, attempting to dismiss his statements.
"I've had a normal conversation with her," Jack said.
"Oh really?"
"Yes, really."
"She's good friend material, Jack."
"Thanks Dave, I didn't know I had to get your approval to make friends," he said dryly. David chose to ignore that one.
"She needs friends, Jack. People like us."
"Yeah..."
"Maybe you could invite her to dinner with us at Tibby's on Saturday. You, me, a few more of the guys, Jo, and Sarah."
Jack's pulse quickened and he returned back to reality for an instant.
He met David's eyes. Damn. Sarah. David was smarter than he looked, of course. That was a personal dig. He didn't say it, but he meant it. It was a "Fuck with my sister, and you inevitably fuck with me." David was simultaneously hinting at a relationship between Jack and Jo, defending his sister's honor, and monitoring Jack's friend-making skills.
"So she's back from Carolina, huh?"
"Yeah. Arrives tomorrow."
Sarah had wanted to talk to him the night before she left, and he'd promised to come up to her room. He didn't, of course. A sick feeling started to meld inside his stomach, one that he couldn't fight. Saturday...I'll talk to her before dinner.
He raked a hand through his dirty-blonde, greasy hair, and tried to focus.
But the expression on David's face when he mentioned Sarah stuck in his brain, and he couldn't force it out.
She had done it. She sold all ten of her papers within fifteen minutes of receiving them from David. That would have to go in some sort of record book. Jo was hot and hungry, but beaming and rosy.
Instead of heading back to them, she continued to walk down the street, thinking of possible job options. Working for the newspaper seemed like the obvious choice, and she'd be lying if she said it didn't sound tempting. She looked around her at the craziness of the New York City street and brushed her mahogany-brown hair out of her eyes. She wasn't in Concord anymore. Maybe it was time for some more changes to take place. She remembered the conversation she had with Laurie one time...about what she'd do if she weren't a writer...what was it...she'd want to be an actress, pursue the stage...The idea was incredibly spontaneous and wild, but also amazingly appealing. What would her family do if they found out she was a full- fledged thespian, astounding audiences and fellow actors alike with her renditions of all the famous, dramatic plays of the world?
She'd been wandering with her thoughts swimming, and had paid little attention to where she'd been walking. It was in the center of town. A small park resided in the center, surrounded by a spiked-iron gate that circled a statue of Horace Greeley. Directly across from this was the imposing building of Mr. Joseph Pulitzer's World, and the headlines written on a large chalkboard. Newsies ran in this area, clutching their papers.
Jo eyed the building for a minute. Would she be happy in there, chasing a story, creating magic on the printing press, and editing to her heart's delight? Wasn't it everything she'd ever wanted? It was. But she suddenly felt downtrodden with anything related to the former Jo. The former Jo was passive and dejected, waiting around for some kind of miracle to sweep her off her feet. The former Jo was still living in that attic in Concord, writing fairy tales so her sisters could read them. No bones about it: the former Jo was miserable. And she wouldn't be that person anymore.
Beaming up at the World building, she turned on her heel and headed in another direction. The very act was empowering. It was liberating. She was going to be an actress.
A/N: Thanks for the reviews, guys! Sorry I couldn't update sooner, but I was on a trip. I might be busy in the next few days/weeks, but I will update! Just be patient, and keep tuning in.