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!
Shoutouts:
Coin- thanks, I like writing new PoVs that I haven't done yet. I can make up new stuff... Whoo! Go livin' vicariously though fics!
Strawberri Shake- (laughs and wipes eye) Swoots, sigh. I don't think anything's wrong with TV, that's Pies opinion. I love my Smallville...Tommy...and yeah, but Crutchy's head is in the clouds. Oh, and I saw The King And I at Stratford last year. I loved it!!! I had seen the movie and such, but I'd never seen the actual play before that.
Erin Go Bragh- I don't know anyone named Garret. I do talk a lot though, when I'm in the right mood...or just about always!
(Sunday)
Racetrack's PoV
"Catherine?"
I looked up from the newspaper and fixed my gaze on the door. My sister had gone out to get groceries, but she wasn't accompanied by shopping bags.
"Mom? Dad?"
Catherine stood behind them looking sullen.
At that moment I understood why people said 'my blood boiled'.
"Anthony, please come home," my mom didn't hesitate to beg.
"Now. Your mother has been very worried about you." It was more of an order than a suggestion. I noticed he didn't say he was worried.
"Would you like to come in? I'll make you some coffee."
My father looked around with a sneer. "No, I don't think we'll be staying long. Let's go Anthony."
"I don't want to."
"Anthony," he said warningly, "now, we'll talk at home."
"What's wrong with here? What's home? Dad, we don't have a home," I said bravely.
I could tell he was getting frustrated because he was doing that weird calm thing he does.
"Please Anthony," my mother was close to tears, "please come home."
"Why?" I laughed nastily, "You didn't seem to care too much before. You didn't call Catherine. I bet you didn't call the police. You didn't seem too interested in me when I was at home. Admit it Mom, you only want what you can't have."
Now she really was crying.
"Look what you've done!" my father yelled, "You made your mother cry!"
"No more than you ever did."
My mother sobbed and my father turned pale. Somewhere in the kitchen Catherine fumbled with a kettle.
My father found his voice. "We are gong home. Now."
Look at what we'd become. They had to drag me out. I made my mother cry.
Yesterday I would have blamed Michael, but the more I thought about it, the more I became convinced that it was all my fault.
A/n: there you have it, Race is being dragged, kicking and screaming, from his, shall we say, sanctuary. Too bad. Poor Catherine.
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!
Shoutouts:
Coin- thanks, I like writing new PoVs that I haven't done yet. I can make up new stuff... Whoo! Go livin' vicariously though fics!
Strawberri Shake- (laughs and wipes eye) Swoots, sigh. I don't think anything's wrong with TV, that's Pies opinion. I love my Smallville...Tommy...and yeah, but Crutchy's head is in the clouds. Oh, and I saw The King And I at Stratford last year. I loved it!!! I had seen the movie and such, but I'd never seen the actual play before that.
Erin Go Bragh- I don't know anyone named Garret. I do talk a lot though, when I'm in the right mood...or just about always!
(Sunday)
Racetrack's PoV
"Catherine?"
I looked up from the newspaper and fixed my gaze on the door. My sister had gone out to get groceries, but she wasn't accompanied by shopping bags.
"Mom? Dad?"
Catherine stood behind them looking sullen.
At that moment I understood why people said 'my blood boiled'.
"Anthony, please come home," my mom didn't hesitate to beg.
"Now. Your mother has been very worried about you." It was more of an order than a suggestion. I noticed he didn't say he was worried.
"Would you like to come in? I'll make you some coffee."
My father looked around with a sneer. "No, I don't think we'll be staying long. Let's go Anthony."
"I don't want to."
"Anthony," he said warningly, "now, we'll talk at home."
"What's wrong with here? What's home? Dad, we don't have a home," I said bravely.
I could tell he was getting frustrated because he was doing that weird calm thing he does.
"Please Anthony," my mother was close to tears, "please come home."
"Why?" I laughed nastily, "You didn't seem to care too much before. You didn't call Catherine. I bet you didn't call the police. You didn't seem too interested in me when I was at home. Admit it Mom, you only want what you can't have."
Now she really was crying.
"Look what you've done!" my father yelled, "You made your mother cry!"
"No more than you ever did."
My mother sobbed and my father turned pale. Somewhere in the kitchen Catherine fumbled with a kettle.
My father found his voice. "We are gong home. Now."
Look at what we'd become. They had to drag me out. I made my mother cry.
Yesterday I would have blamed Michael, but the more I thought about it, the more I became convinced that it was all my fault.
A/n: there you have it, Race is being dragged, kicking and screaming, from his, shall we say, sanctuary. Too bad. Poor Catherine.