Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies or any other media references I may make throughout the duration of this fic.

Chapter 10: We Need to Talk Things Out

Spot

"Dutchy, thanks for coming up here. You really didn't have to you know."

"Don't sweat it, I had nothing else to do anyway. Mama's on my back about getting a job again. I told her I have a job, but she doesn't consider teaching guitar lessons a real job. She says it doesn't pay enough." Dutchy shrugged and sat down at the kitchen table. "What's your roommate's name again?"

"Anthony," I said, restraining myself from blurting out the truth about Racetrack. "He's an accounting major."

"Oh, that's interesting," said Dutchy insincerely. I agree with him though—accounting doesn't sound very interesting, especially the Calculus courses—so I don't say anything.

It was really nice of Dutchy to come down from New York to see me. He says he was thinking of coming down anyways, but I know that he'd have nothing to really see. I'm very happy that he's come just to see me.

"Wanna go out for dinner?" I suggest, pacing the floor nervously.

"For what? What's good to eat around here?" he asked. "But it's my treat, wherever we go." He waves his wallet in the air and I feel a sudden rush of gratitude towards him, on a university budget it's hard to buy food. I practically live off instant noodles and Fruit Loops. I love it when Dutchy's around; he's like my wall. There's no stopping him and he'll always help me when and if I need it.

"Want Thai food?" I know Dutchy loves Thai food.

He looks pleased. "Sure, I'm all for new things." I want to tell him that he's had Thai food before but I don't bother. He might be stoned and anyways, it's nice enough that he's willing to treat.

"Let's go, you'll love it." I grab my jacket and lock the door behind us. Dutchy looks different than he did last time I saw him. He let his hair grow out and into long blonde dreadlocks. They reach about his shoulders and as we walk he ties them back into a rough ponytail. His face looks the same as always, amazingly clean cut and pale. His glasses perch on his nose just like they always have. Behind them his eyes are as blue as ever. I think his daddy looked like him, because Mama looks more like me and Snipeshooter looks more like his father.

Off of Young street, near the Young and Dundas intersection, there is a Thai restaurant that I found without Racetrack's help. Above the door is a hanging sign, not unlike the ones you might find in an old Western ghost town or such a movie. It reads 'Salad King' and inside there is a slightly reddened light shining out. There is a line to the door, but usually service is fast and I'm sure a lot of the people are here for take out.

"Popular place, isn't it?" asks Dutchy pleasantly, glancing around the room with interest.

It is painted all red and has a very modern deco, having just been renovated. The table- and countertops were gilded silver and the chairs were cushioned in rich reds and purples. Saris and tapestries hung from the walls. Behind one counter was a cheerful old Asian man, taking orders and handing out menus. I waved to him and he smiled and waved back.

"That's the owner. He and his wife have had the restaurant for over twenty years. They used to cook but now they just handle the cash and costumer flow."

Dutchy smiled and nodded. "I like it here," he declared.

We were seated and handed menus.

"What are you having?" Dutchy's brow furrowed, going over the menu unsurely.

"I'm having the chicken Phad Thai," I told him, folding up the menu and waiting for the waitress to come and take my order. I had been here enough times to know what I wanted.

"I can't eat meat," he muttered, "What should I have?"

I'm pretty sure the question wasn't directed at anyone in particular, but I answered anyways, "Try the Vermicelli. It's just snow peas, carrots and noodles. Plus spices and everything. You can have it with shrimp or chicken too, if you want."

The room was filled with the smell of food and the sound of conversation. Though t was loud you couldn't tell one speaker from the next. It was so comfortable and so reassuring. Or maybe that was just the feeling I got when Dutchy was around. He was so strong, so brave. Dutchy has that way of making you feel like everything's going to turn out OK, no matter how bad things are looking.

"What's the problem? Why'd you need to talk to me so badly anyways?" Dutchy remembered the reason he was here again. He looked at me with an expression that assured he was giving me his undivided attention.

I began, what did I have to worry about? Dutchy could fix anything.

Racetrack

Spot was gone when I got back from class. There was a large suitcase near the door and at first I panicked, thinking that he was packing up to get ready to leave me. When I looked closer I noticed the tags on it that read 'Darren Conlon'. He must be Spot's brother. I pull the suitcase further into the room and put it on Spot's bed.

It's nice that Spot and his brother get along so well. I don't get along nearly as well with my sister. She dated the high school quarterback, this was back when the football team was the school's tyrants and the quarterback ruled them, and he used to beat me up. Well, I shouldn't say he used to beat me up; he'd get other people to. It was like initiation. I don't think that there was one kid who was 'in' with them who hadn't kicked my ass around a few times. Except my sister, but she taunted me and almost encouraged these beatings to the extent of abuse. My father didn't care and my mother was indecisive.

My mother used to drink a lot. We'd go through three bottle of whisky a week at a minimum and I think I was the only one who was worried that she'd die from alcohol poisoning one of these days. My father eventually put her in rehab because her hobby was eating a hole in his pocket and he was sure that if he stifled the flame now it'd be worth all the money he'd be spending.

It was during this rehab stint that I met Cherish. When my mother was first admitted I was in grade ten. During many of her sessions it was mandatory that a member of direct family be in attendance so that we could help our loved ones through this 'difficult time'. Cherish was also from a high society family and Galesburg Recuperation Centre was the place to send your drugged up or wasted beyond belief relative. Cherish's mother was also there and, like me, attended all of her sessions.

"I think I know you," she said to me the first day during a break.

"Yeah," I adverted my eyes in the fear that she too would jump on me for my homosexual lifestyle. "I think I go to your school."

"I'm Kim. Well, it's actually Kimberly Chastain. That's my mother over there." She pointed to a tired and wan looking woman. Her hair was pale blonde and her face was sallow and yellowed.

Since then her mother has recovered and thanks to several vacations to Bermuda and a multitude of facial lotions she looks half-human again.

"Anthony Higgins," I grunted.

"I've seen you at school before, I think we have Geography together."

I nodded. "I'm gay," I said bluntly.

"So? Why should that bother me? That just means I don't have to worry about you trying to sleep with me." It was an awkward thing to say but she laughed anyways and carried through with confidence. It was different from the type that I had, so everything fit together so perfectly.

The next day when I was lying on the ground as two freshmen kicked me repeatedly in the stomach she saw me.

"Get off him!" she shouted, pulling them back and slapping them in the face. "What's the matter with you?"

I'd like to say that nobody beat me up after that, but it's not true. She did, however, help me get through high school. It's not nearly as hard when you've got someone backing you.

"Cherish, I have to talk to you," I said today when I called her.

"Is it about Spot?" she asked, allowing the curiosity to shine through undisguised.

"Yeah, it's about Spot, I'll meet you at the coffee house at six, OK?"

"No problem. And Racetrack?"

"Un huh?"

"I love you. Make it work with Spot, OK?"

"I'll try."

(End Chapter)

((There you go, it's over. Racetrack is talking to Cherish and Spot is talking to Dutchy…things are on the path to recovery…or are they? I honestly don't know. Review!))

Shoutouts:

Strawberri Shake- I don't like any guys who have girlfriends, so I'm pretty well off. On the other hand, I still don't have a boyfriend, though I do like someone…oh, he doesn't know. And if he does he doesn't act like it so he doesn't like me. Damn. So far Bumlets' mom and Dutchy are my favourite characters…yay!

Erin Go Bragh- yes, yes he does. Who wouldn't lust after Racey? If he were real, I would be!!!

Uninvisible- (rushes over and pulls you from cowering position) I don't mind. I just like getting review hen I can. It's OK, I get weird someti—a lot too. Oh, and I have a question, would you lick Racetrack's ear or make sure he'd brought a Q-tip to it first? See, I'm weird too, but I'd still like an answer!

Madison Square- 'Conflict' is my middle name! Actually, it isn't but I'm thinking of changing it.

Padfootismyhero- you wish! I own them! And all newsies in the world…

Coin- me too! And Dutchy!