Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, yadda yadda yadda, you know da drill! Tuesday owns Esco, Lil' Italy owns Butcher, Poker O'Shea owns Poker and Cut O'Shea, Sneaks owns Preacher, the name Trey Campbell (given to young Kid Blink) belongs to my boss, and it just so happens that the name Mike Rodgers was the name of that guy on Saved By the Bell: The College Years (which, by the way, is much more cheesy and corny than the first ones!) But anyway, that just goes to say that I own nothing! Ya happy? Good.
Newsies featured: Jack, Blink, Race, Skittery, Specs, Snoddy, Spot
Newsies mentioned: All the others!
Betas: Tuesday and Gin (thank ya'll sooo much!)
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Chapter Two: Can't Be Newsies Foreva
A few final tears silently flowed down Jack's face as he reminisced about the good friends he was leaving behind. They were the only family he had ever known. The only family he could remember well, anyway. He remembered all the things they remembered, the ways they first met, the high times, the hard times. Another tear threatened to fall from his eye as he remembered the slingshot incident that had cost Kid Blink his. He thought back on Mush's first girlfriend, Skittery's infamous pink shirt, the way Dutchy was always losing his glasses, Crutchy and his sweet, warm smile, teaching the younger ones how to read, teaching the newbies how to "improve the truth"…Jack's thoughts trailed off, and as the train bumped along, he fell asleep thinking of the guys, but specifically Kid Blink. Jack was remembering how he had gotten his nickname…
Ten-year-old Jack Kelly handed the slingshot back to his eight-year-old friend Spot Conlon. "Dat's a beauty, Spot. Ya know how to shoot it yet?"
About that time, Jack's friend Racetrack joined them, followed by the new kid, Trey Campbell. This little blond boy had joined the newsies at the lodging house about a month ago after his father had run off and his mother committed suicide. Obviously, it had been extremely hard on the child, but he was adjusting very well to his new life with all his new friends. However, in the next 27 seconds, another hardship would come upon the nine-year-old orphan. He watched little Spot clumsily load his new slingshot, awkwardly pull back the sling, and confidently aim it and let it go in the direction of a dented old tin can set precariously on the rail of the Brooklyn Bridge. However, Spot was not yet the dead shot that he would later become. He had aimed too low, causing the marble to hit the railing and ricochet straight into the face of young Trey. Somehow, the frantic boys got him to a doctor, who, Jack remembered, had said that Trey was lucky to have only lost his eye. Mr. Kloppman had given him an eye patch and told him to wear it all time, it would help him get sympathy. After that, Jack wasn't sure of the exact creation of the nickname, but he was pretty sure that Kloppman had had something to do with it.
Blink chuckled whenever he remembered this also. However, he did in fact remember how Kloppman had come up with it. When Trey first got his patch, it was hard to become accustomed to blinking with only one eye. So his eye would only half close some of the time, and he would freak out because his eye was drying out. So Kloppman would tell him to "Just blink, kid, blink!" Obviously, it stuck. Blink tried to suppress his laughter as he thought about how incredibly stupid his nickname really was.
"Hey, will ya be quiet, ya bonehead?" Race hissed to a stumbling, laughing Blink who was woken out of his reverie.
Blink winced as he knocked something else over as they exited the bunk room. "Sorry, I don't see too good in da dark."
Race rolled his eyes. "You don't see too good in da light."
Blink shrugged and hushed Race as the boys passed the front desk and a snoring Kloppman. Blink put his hand around the bell that was hung over the doorknob and the two silently stole into the night.
"Where to now?"
Blink looked around himself nervously, uneasy about being on the streets of New York in the middle of the night. "Grand Central's forty-five minutes away. Dat's da only place I would know of to look for him." He sat down on the damp curb and noticed a wadded up piece of paper a mere few inches from his feet. He picked up the grimy note and flattened it out, Race joining him. "'Gone to Santa Fe. Jack.'" The two boys sat dumbfounded. "He was prob'ly gonna leave it but decided not to. Prob'ly 'fraid he'd loose his noive."
Blink slammed his fist on the curb and Race cursed angrily.
"We gotta go afta him!"
Race looked at Blink as if he were crazy. "Are you crazy? We can't do dat!"
"Well, what's we gonna do? We can't jus let Jack leave like dat, he can't do dis to us!"
Race could've sworn he saw the bright glint of tears threatening to well up in his friend's eye. "Why can't he? If he jus wants to 'bandon awl 'is friends like dat, let 'im! We don't need 'im anyway! Blink, it's his life. If he wants to go off to Santa Fe, we ain't got no right to stop 'im. We's all gots to move on sometime. We can't be newsies foreva."
There was a sudden deafening silence as the newsies stood in the middle of the street in Manhattan, New York at 2:37 in the morning, and for the first time ever, really realized that they were growing up. We can't be newsies foreva. It echoed in their minds as it had down the dark, dusty streets. Race was just as taken aback by his comment as Blink, who added quietly, "Yeah, but we's still newsies now." Then, as an afterthought, "He could've at least talked to us about it."
"Nah. He knew we'd react jus like dis. Blink, we need to let 'im go. He'll come back when he's good 'n ready."
"'When'?" Blink repeated.
"Yeah, when. He's comin back. He ain't ready for Santa Fe yet. Heck, Santa Fe ain't ready for him."
---
Jack had been feeling that way about growing up for quite some time now. However, he didn't share Race's sentiment that he wasn't ready. In his mind, he had been ready ever since he read his first cowboy story with his mother nine years ago. After his good-for-nothing dad had run off and eventually gone to jail for who-knew-what, his mother really had told him that the family was going out there to make a better life for themselves. But the next day she and his younger brother and sister had been killed when their house caught fire while Jack was at school, crushing his dreams and leaving the eight-year-old on the streets. Eventually, he found the newsies and created a new life. Now, it was time for another change. He was
(almost)
sure of it. He hadn't talked it over with anyone, and had backed out of leaving a note for fear that he would be talked out of his decision or loose his nerve. Even now he had his reservations, but was exhilarated by the fact that there was no turning back.
He arrived at his first stop in Chicago. Jack was rather tired from the trip, so he tried to sleep in the terminal as he waited for the train to take him to St. Louis, but the rancid odors, filthy conditions and bums coming up asking him for money somewhat hindered that prospect. Chicago was horrible, Jack realized. New York was bad enough, but it was home. But not anymore. Santa Fe was home, he reminded himself. He just hoped it was nothing like Chicago.
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Blink looked up at the dim stars through the smoggy New York air. "I wonder where Jack is now," he mused quietly.
"Hey man, we bettah head back." Race clapped his friend on the back and the boys headed back to the lodging house, both knowing that neither would sleep. They entered the lodging house and nonchalantly passed Kloppman, then went upstairs, taking none of their previous pains to avoid the creaky steps.
"I feel betrayed," Blink murmured as the boys sprawled out on Race's bed.
"Yeah. But you know Jack. Sure we was his friends and awl, but he was always lookin out for number one."
Blink raised his head. "Whadaya mean?" he asked, somewhat defensively.
"You know, he only did stuff if it was good for him. And if it happened to 'elp someone else out, den good." Race had been harboring these feelings for Jack deep within his subconscious for quite a while, but the events of the last few hours finally brought them to the surface.
Blink lay quietly for a moment, attempting not to believe this accusation. His attempts didn't work. "Yeah, I guess you's right. How're we gonna tell da guys?"
"Jus give it to 'em straight. Dey can take it."
"Dey don't gots a leader no more."
Race looked at his friend resolutely. "Sure dey do. You an' me Kid. We can run dis show! What's dere to it? Dere ain't no strike to worry 'bout no more. Da reign of Jack Cowboy Kelly is over. Like I'se said, we's awl gots to move on."
"Yeah."
The guys didn't say much the rest of the night, drifting in and out of fitful sleep. By the time Kloppman came in for the morning ritual, Race was already up and ready.
"Come on boys, geddup! Snoddy, Bumlets. Come on Mush, I don't wanna 'ear no complainin this mornin. Geddup, all a' yous, come on, carry da banner. Blink, whatayadoin', geddup, you're blind, not deaf. An' where's Kelly, he bummin' it again?"
Blink sat up, holding his head in his hands. "Nope. He's gone."
"Gone? Whadaya mean, gone?"
Snipeshooter heard this from his bed where he was arrantly smoking a stolen cigar. "Jack's gone!?" he exclaimed.
"Shhh! We don't want da whole woild to know yet!"
However, it was too late. The reaction was much different from when Jack had almost left the first time, right after the strike. Their family-like bond had grown infinitely stronger since then, and this time it came as an absolute surprise. They wouldn't know what to do without Jack around anymore. Lately, they had taken his presence almost for granted, relying on his constant friendship and support. Now what were they to do when someone was accused of cheating at poker, or the bulls were after one of them for jipping a customer out of change, or a fight broke out? The newsies had become quite dependent on their Cowboy over the past couple of months, and they would feel empty without him.
The guys started to crowd around Blink and Snipeshooter, murmuring amongst themselves and most likely hatching rumors already. Kloppman quieted the boys down so Blink, who was now joined by Race, could explain.
"Yes, Jack is gone. He left las' night, went to Santa Fe. Dat's awl dere is to it."
The lodging house erupted in a chorus of surprise, alarm, and anger. A resounding "What?!" was heard above the rest of the chaos and an ensuing riot was quickly quelled by Kloppman.
"Hey hey, let da boys finish." Then the old man's curiosity, of course, got the better of him. "Come on guys, what's up, why'd he leave?"
"Dunno. He jus got up in da middle o' da night n' took off. We dunno why, but we found dis note." Blink handed the crumpled paper to Kloppman, who slowly read it for all the guys to hear.
"'Gone to Santa Fe. Jack.'" Kloppman shook his head in disbelief. "Well, how 'bout dat. Alright, get up, sell da papes."
But all the guys were dumbfounded. How could they sell their papes just like normal with out their Cowboy there to get them out of any trouble they might get themselves into? How could Jack do this to them?
Race decided that now was the perfect time for his pep talk. As he climbed on top of Blink's bed, he silently prayed that he could execute it with considerably more confidence than he had to Blink the night before. "Hey guys, get yourselves togedda. So what if Jack left? We don't need 'im!" He dodged the miscellaneous clothing items hurled at him by the boys, who were enraged at the name of their former leader being blasphemed in such a way.
Blink joined his friend on top of his bed, hitting his head as he forgot to take the same pains to accommodate for the low ceiling that Race had. He hoped not many had seen and began as if it hadn't happened. "Guys, shaddup, he's right! We can make it without Jack, da strike's over! Awl we gots to do is sell papes, and we don't need Jack by our sides to do dat!" A few boos ensued, but the boys were still listening and Race knew that they could be won over.
"Jack ain't got no responsibility to us, he had ev'ry right to leave. Blink's right, we can make it on our own!"
Poor Mush was near tears. "But Race, we do need a leader. We gots other problems 'sides da strike dat needs solvin!" Specs, Skittery, and Pie Eater agreed with him.
"Whadaya t'ink me an' Blink's doin standin in front o' ya like dis? We's loined well from Jack, we's can take care o' yous. Da reign of Jack Kelly in 'hattan is over. We's awl gots to move on sometime, boys.
The guys were somewhat taken aback by Race's tirade. Except Snipeshooter. "Yeah, we don't need Jack no more! We's can take care of ourselves!"
The truth of their new leaders' words began to sink in to most of the boys. "Yeah, Race 'n Blink ain't gonna let no one starve or nothin'," Crutchy agreed as he congratulated his new leaders.
As the two men came down from their "soapbox," they were greeted with cheers and congrats from the majority of the newsies. However, there were a few scattered around the room that had a great deal of doubt in their new self-proclaimed leaders. Skittery noticed by the disapproving look on his face that Snoddy seemed to feel the same way as he, so he approached him at the same time that Specs joined them.
"I don't like dis one bit," Skittery announced. "No one can jus come in an' take Jack's place."
"Yeah," Specs agreed. "Dat's 'sactly what I'se t'inkin. We don't need no new leaders."
"So what are we gonna do about it? Overthrow them or something?" Snoddy asked sarcastically, ever the skeptic.
"No no, none o' dat. We's still peaceful Manhattan newsies, we ain't gonna do nuttin violent. Race n' Blink don't mean no harm, dey's jus a couple o' self-righteous morons can't think o' anyt'ing better to do den try to boss people around." The other boys tried to ignore the bitterness dripping from their "leader's" voice. "We'll jus find our own sellin spot. We'll stick togedda awl da time, an' we won't cause no trouble or nuthin. So you guys wid me?" Snoddy and Specs nodded their agreement to Skittery.
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Whee-hoo, read and review please, I'll love you forever, and you might actually get a shout next time!! Yay!! Love ya'll!!