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

Chapter 12: First Impressions Are Lacking

Spot

I know he's talked to Cherish, but he's still withdrawn and gloomy. He came home, met my brother, and went to sleep.

"Is that him?" Dutchy asked me when Racetrack had fallen asleep.

I nodded and Dutchy looked at him. "He's not very friendly, is he?" he asked next.

"He's not in a good mood. I think he just talked with Cherish," I explained. Really, though, it's true. Racetrack has never been overly friendly to people, he's always defensive and moody. But that's what makes Racetrack 'Racetrack'. I can't imagine him being happy and perky all the time. Well, actually I can, but it scares the hell out of me.

The window is still open. Seeing as it's late November now it's not surprising to see several dewy snowflakes wafting down from the sky. Outside the wind is picking up and it's as though the maple tree is shivering in the cold. Racetrack just turns over and pulls his covers tighter, oblivious to the raging storm outside.

"It's really beautiful, isn't it?" asks Dutchy, appearing at my side.

I nod and sit cross-legged on my bed. "Yeah, it's amazing."

"Buddha says that the earth and all its creatures are the rulers of this world and that we live under their protection. Mother Nature is the almighty lord of mankind then." He has his eyes closed, but his face is directed towards the street. He doesn't suggest closing the window like Cherish did, changing the way that Racetrack likes it; the way that I like it.

"Where do you learn this stuff Dutchy?"

He smiles sleepily and pulls a cigarette from his pocket. "I read books. You really should read some, it makes life seem so much more worthwhile." He lights up and takes a puff, sending a cloud of smoke around the room.

I want to ask how nature ruling you would make you feel worthwhile, but I know there must be a very obvious reason for this so I don't. I just watch the tree, swaying in the wind, as if it's dancing for Dutchy and me. It's a…

"Ballet. It's like poetry of the earth," Dutchy says, smiling sleepily again. He watches the tree and puffs on his cigarette. I realize that the smell is much sweeter than Racetrack's occasional cigar. I conclude it must be marijuana, thus explaining the sleepy way Dutchy is doing everything. Dutchy's gaze has turned back to Racetrack, who is lying asleep in his bed, sprawled around and muttering.

"I wonder what he's dreaming about," I ponder aloud, not afraid of criticism because it's Dutchy and we share everything.

"I don't know. Maybe about life. I think I dream about life."

I've been around people who are high before and they don't act at all like Dutchy is right now. He's calm and wizened, not giddy and idiotic. He seems so deep and knowing in the moonlight like this and I realize that the lights are still off for reasons I don't know. Dutchy looks older with his hair in dreadlocks more mature and travelled in a way even though I know he has never left the continent. He takes off his glasses and puts them down on my bedside table.

"Where am I supposed to sleep?" he asks. "I'm sure you have class tomorrow."

I nod deftly and work on blowing up an air mattress for him.

In the bathroom he brushes his teeth, leaving his joint out on the table, still burning steadily. Racetrack is mumbling softly in his sleep and I strain to hear his words, but behind Dutchy's fervent brushing and the constant tap running I can't make out a word.

"Goodnight Spot." Dutchy pulls the covers over himself.

"Goodnight." I turn over and stare at Racetrack across the room. He'll talk to me tomorrow. He has to.

Racetrack

The lights are off when I reach the dorm, but Spot and his brother are sitting awake at the kitchen table. What compels Spot to do things like this? Sit in the dark at the table.

His brother is taller than us and possesses pale blonde dreadlocks and a hungry aura of sweet smoke and hemp.

I don't notice these things immediately because I'm still thinking about what Cherish said to me. Why am I such an idiot? Couldn't I see how happy she was? I always ruin everything.

I do want to make it work, I want to make it work more than anything in the world, but how can I do that without screwing another thing up? It's a lose-lose situation. Cherish is my world, but Spot is the person who makes such a world worth living. How am I supposed to choose? Without one or the other I'm doomed. Maybe I should leave everything alone and hope it goes back to like it was before.

Why are you so unsure? What's wrong here? Take control boy! Show them what it means to be a Higgins! He's not even here and he's still bossing me around. He's always here when I want to figure things out on my own, and always gone when I need him. Where's my father when things are fire? Why would he show up now and confuse me?

[End Chapter]

((That's that! I'm updating! Glad you could all hold yourselves and (even though I haven't yet been asked) I had a great time in Montreal. You should go! Especially to Old Montreal, it's so pretty!))

Shoutouts: (how I missed doing these…)

Padfootismyhero- how could Cherish be totally fine with it? That'd be to Sue-ing it! It just cannot be so! She had to be…disgruntled…?

Uninvisible- sorry, I did go away. But I can back and brought inspiration and updates! As for the stereotype thing, I don't know many stoner/vegetarian/dreadlock dudes so I just had to use a stereotype. It's the only way I could go! Maybe you're the real life Cherish. Everyone has a twin! Cherish it yours! (manic laughter)

Strawberri Shake- I went there two years ago and it only rained once: on New Years Eve. I met a guy who looked like Specs! I took his picture. I think you knew that already… I love POTC! Johnny Depp is so good in that movie!

Coin- I can picture Cherish slipping into Race and Spot's dorm with a chainsaw and chopping off their heads. Ahh! Mountie is brainwashing me, now I think about violence all the time! But I hate Mary-Sues too, they bug me. I realized this about Cherish and I'm going to pull her out of the deep tar hole that is Sue-ness.