Disclaimer—I don't own Newsies, nor any other Media references I may make. I am not profiting at all from this story.
A/n—at the beginning of each chapter it says what day of the week it is. If it says 'Still ' that means the day of the week is the same as the day before it. (duh?) If it doesn't say 'Still' before it that means it is a new day. Please R&R!
READ AND OPINION: It's a travesty! A TRAVESTY I tell you! My dad was playing my guitar and using my laminated picture of Itey and a pick! ITEY AS A PICK!!! AHH!
Shoutouts:
Strawberri Shake- (in regards to the chapter 41 review) I love Itey, but Snitch and Itey, eh? You'd think because of that opening scene they'd be paired more often, wouldn't you? And Pigeon (who is my friend SparkS) loves Skittery. To death. (in regards to chapter 42) I don't care if it's the most damn obvious thing in the world! Shove Spot and Race together! Whoo hoo!!! Spot didn't like Sprinter in reality and his hate for the smellof strawberry is a deep psychological symbol of that (og my God, is that no the biggest load of crap you've ever heard? I just made that up) TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD ALL THE WAY!!!
Coin- Race and Spot, lovely. They're so cute, aren't they?
Two-Bits- thanks for reviewing when you could at the least. Mush and Blink ARE cute. All newsies are cute...
Sloane Miette- Sprinter did it with some unknown guy so the story would move along and deliver the promised Angst. But I agree, poor Spot!
(Tuesday)
Crutchy's PoV
"Hello Mrs Jones. Is Will ready?"
"Eric!" Skittery's mom exclaimed. "I haven't seen you in so long! I'll go get William for you." She turned to the staircase and yelled, "William!" upstairs.
Skittery came down, looking surprisingly different with dark, dark, brown hair. Surprisingly different, but surprisingly good.
"Hi Skittery." I stood meekly in the doorway.
"Crutchy! What're you.........hi, we're walking to school?"
I nodded, relieved that he wasn't making a big deal out of it in front of his mom.
Skittery picked up his backpack and kissed his mom on the cheek, then we walked down the driveway and onto the sidewalk.
"Listen, Skittery," I swallowed nervously, "I'm really sorry about blowing up on you about my parents like I did. I just.........I'm not ready to talk to anyone about them yet."
He smiled slightly. "It's OK. Sorry for pressing like I did and all."
Skittery has this amazing way of making you feel better with only a few words. He seems to understand what you mean, even though he's never experienced what you have, but not in an overly cocky, incredibly annoying, worldly-knowledge, sort of way.
"Friends?" I asked.
"Of course. But I'll always listen if you want to talk. Always."
Luckily Skittery is as great a guy as he is.
Racetrack's PoV
"I'm going out to class now. Think about calling Mom and Dad, OK Anthony?"
I gave a muffled response from my couch bed.
"And Anthony? Don't watch TV all day. Not only does it rot your brain, but it's not free and I only have so much money for bills."
Same muffled response as before.
Catherine left, the door clicking softly behind her.
I got up and ate breakfast, brushed my teeth, took a shower, got dressed, and sat by the phone. I really was thinking of calling home, but what good would it do? What would I say to them? That I wish that Michael would leave? That I wish my dad would go back to the office? That I wish I could go back to school and hang out with my friends? That I could quit stupid horseback riding? I couldn't tell him that. So I called the person I could.
"Hi, Bumlets?"
"Race! Is that you?"
"Yeah, what's up?" I smiled sadly, glad to finally hear someone who would listen.
"Nothing much—"
"Mr Messier! Would you like to join the class?" asked a shrill voice in the background.
"Sorry Race, I've got to go." He hung up.
I was sitting alone n my sister's dorm room with nothing to do.
I put my coat on, grabbed the spare key, scrawled a quick note, and left. I wasn't exactly sure of where to go, but I had to get out of that room.
Right now everyone was in school—just like Bumlets was. I wonder if anyone misses me, if anyone notices that I'm missing. Does anyone care? Why haven't my parents come looking for me? They should have at least called Catherine to tell her I'm gone.
I found an old CD store on the street corner and turned in. the shelves were filled with nothing from before 1990. Other that that there was really no discrimination in music choices.
I worked my way to an old cassette bin that read 'Tapes, $1'. There was nothing in it that I usually would have picked out, but I found a bunch of tapes of the blues and old time rock. Like Elvis.
The man who worked there approached me. He was about my dad's age, that's where the similarities ended. He had a very bushy brown beard and squinty, crow's feet accented eyes. He was wearing a regular pair of jeans and a Woodstock sweater. I don't think my dad knew what Woodstock was. His nametag said Norman.
"There's an HMV around the corner," said Norman.
I looked up from the Elvis cassette in my hand. "I'm OK for now, thanks."
He appeared sceptical and I don't blame him, thinking of how I must've looked and all.
"It's for.........my dad," I said and immediately wished I hadn't. I couldn't even mention my parents without becoming full out confused.
Norman grinned, showing off the laugh lines on his leathery face. "Your dad is a fan of the King?"
I nodded dumbly, because for all I know he is. I don't know much about me father.
Norman looked amazed. "It's not often a kid like you looks for music for his dad. Most kids don't even know what kind of music their parents liked. You and your old man must be close."
"Yeah," I mumbled, "we're real close."
A/n: what's this? Is Racetrack missing his family? Answer: no, not really. Norman just seemed like the guy to lie to. I really don't know what I'm talking about. R&R!
A/n—at the beginning of each chapter it says what day of the week it is. If it says 'Still ' that means the day of the week is the same as the day before it. (duh?) If it doesn't say 'Still' before it that means it is a new day. Please R&R!
READ AND OPINION: It's a travesty! A TRAVESTY I tell you! My dad was playing my guitar and using my laminated picture of Itey and a pick! ITEY AS A PICK!!! AHH!
Shoutouts:
Strawberri Shake- (in regards to the chapter 41 review) I love Itey, but Snitch and Itey, eh? You'd think because of that opening scene they'd be paired more often, wouldn't you? And Pigeon (who is my friend SparkS) loves Skittery. To death. (in regards to chapter 42) I don't care if it's the most damn obvious thing in the world! Shove Spot and Race together! Whoo hoo!!! Spot didn't like Sprinter in reality and his hate for the smellof strawberry is a deep psychological symbol of that (og my God, is that no the biggest load of crap you've ever heard? I just made that up) TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD ALL THE WAY!!!
Coin- Race and Spot, lovely. They're so cute, aren't they?
Two-Bits- thanks for reviewing when you could at the least. Mush and Blink ARE cute. All newsies are cute...
Sloane Miette- Sprinter did it with some unknown guy so the story would move along and deliver the promised Angst. But I agree, poor Spot!
(Tuesday)
Crutchy's PoV
"Hello Mrs Jones. Is Will ready?"
"Eric!" Skittery's mom exclaimed. "I haven't seen you in so long! I'll go get William for you." She turned to the staircase and yelled, "William!" upstairs.
Skittery came down, looking surprisingly different with dark, dark, brown hair. Surprisingly different, but surprisingly good.
"Hi Skittery." I stood meekly in the doorway.
"Crutchy! What're you.........hi, we're walking to school?"
I nodded, relieved that he wasn't making a big deal out of it in front of his mom.
Skittery picked up his backpack and kissed his mom on the cheek, then we walked down the driveway and onto the sidewalk.
"Listen, Skittery," I swallowed nervously, "I'm really sorry about blowing up on you about my parents like I did. I just.........I'm not ready to talk to anyone about them yet."
He smiled slightly. "It's OK. Sorry for pressing like I did and all."
Skittery has this amazing way of making you feel better with only a few words. He seems to understand what you mean, even though he's never experienced what you have, but not in an overly cocky, incredibly annoying, worldly-knowledge, sort of way.
"Friends?" I asked.
"Of course. But I'll always listen if you want to talk. Always."
Luckily Skittery is as great a guy as he is.
Racetrack's PoV
"I'm going out to class now. Think about calling Mom and Dad, OK Anthony?"
I gave a muffled response from my couch bed.
"And Anthony? Don't watch TV all day. Not only does it rot your brain, but it's not free and I only have so much money for bills."
Same muffled response as before.
Catherine left, the door clicking softly behind her.
I got up and ate breakfast, brushed my teeth, took a shower, got dressed, and sat by the phone. I really was thinking of calling home, but what good would it do? What would I say to them? That I wish that Michael would leave? That I wish my dad would go back to the office? That I wish I could go back to school and hang out with my friends? That I could quit stupid horseback riding? I couldn't tell him that. So I called the person I could.
"Hi, Bumlets?"
"Race! Is that you?"
"Yeah, what's up?" I smiled sadly, glad to finally hear someone who would listen.
"Nothing much—"
"Mr Messier! Would you like to join the class?" asked a shrill voice in the background.
"Sorry Race, I've got to go." He hung up.
I was sitting alone n my sister's dorm room with nothing to do.
I put my coat on, grabbed the spare key, scrawled a quick note, and left. I wasn't exactly sure of where to go, but I had to get out of that room.
Right now everyone was in school—just like Bumlets was. I wonder if anyone misses me, if anyone notices that I'm missing. Does anyone care? Why haven't my parents come looking for me? They should have at least called Catherine to tell her I'm gone.
I found an old CD store on the street corner and turned in. the shelves were filled with nothing from before 1990. Other that that there was really no discrimination in music choices.
I worked my way to an old cassette bin that read 'Tapes, $1'. There was nothing in it that I usually would have picked out, but I found a bunch of tapes of the blues and old time rock. Like Elvis.
The man who worked there approached me. He was about my dad's age, that's where the similarities ended. He had a very bushy brown beard and squinty, crow's feet accented eyes. He was wearing a regular pair of jeans and a Woodstock sweater. I don't think my dad knew what Woodstock was. His nametag said Norman.
"There's an HMV around the corner," said Norman.
I looked up from the Elvis cassette in my hand. "I'm OK for now, thanks."
He appeared sceptical and I don't blame him, thinking of how I must've looked and all.
"It's for.........my dad," I said and immediately wished I hadn't. I couldn't even mention my parents without becoming full out confused.
Norman grinned, showing off the laugh lines on his leathery face. "Your dad is a fan of the King?"
I nodded dumbly, because for all I know he is. I don't know much about me father.
Norman looked amazed. "It's not often a kid like you looks for music for his dad. Most kids don't even know what kind of music their parents liked. You and your old man must be close."
"Yeah," I mumbled, "we're real close."
A/n: what's this? Is Racetrack missing his family? Answer: no, not really. Norman just seemed like the guy to lie to. I really don't know what I'm talking about. R&R!