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:
Strawberri Shake- Mr Higgins could benefit from some time in a mental institution. Or by living with a shrink. And of course Swifty doesn't know what grounding is, he's practically an orphan.
Coin- yum, SpRace!
Erin Go Bragh- he may be paranoid, but in a cute way.
(Still Tuesday)
Jack's PoV
Arrow sat across the staff room going over a pile of papers. I turned my cup of coffee around in my palms to keep them warm. It was abnormally cold in the ring during lessons today.
"What're you doing?" I asked her.
She looked up. "Huh? Oh, studying for my World History finals."
"Is it hard?" I pulled up a chair next to her. I had World History next term.
"I just have trouble remembering names and dates and places. Well, matching them together, y'know?"
I nodded.
She put her pen down and looked at me. "Are you OK?"
Arrow is quite an intellectual. She's the kind of person who likes to know how you're feeling and always has an opinion on everything. But that's a good thing.
"I'm fine. I was—I was thinking about you this weekend." Was this being too forward?
Arrow half-smiled. "Really?" Arrow never blushes.
"Yeah, I had a really good time the other day with you."
"I had a good time too, Jack," Arrow shifting and was fully facing me now, "but—"
I flinched. There had to be a 'but'.
"Don't get too ahead of yourself. It was just a date. Keep in mind Jack," she swallowed, "you're on the rebound. I could just be another fling."
And that made my throat close. I couldn't speak. I had nothing to say for once. She thinks she's just a fling. Just a fling. It was just a rebound date.
I found my voice. "Um..." I checked my watch, "I've got to go. Good luck with World History."
I rushed to the door. Behind me Arrow called, "Bye Jack."
I hadn't talked to her, but I knew that I had to. I had to ask Sarah where we were. Could Arrow really just be a rebound girl?
Skittery's PoV
"This is a very good pot roast Mrs Jones!" Pidge helped herself to seconds.
"Why, thank you dear." My mom looked pleased. "But it's really Len—I mean, Mr Jones' mother's recipe and marinade. She was a wonderful cook." Of course my mother had to be modest; it was the Jones way.
"Well than," Pidge turned to my father, "your mother has an excellent pot roast recipe."
"Why thank you very much dear" My father smiled, obviously happy at Pigeon's thoughtful comments.
Every night my family sit down to dinner in the kitchen, unless it's Sunday, Easter, Christmas, Thanksgiving or someone's birthday, in which case we sit in the dining room. Oh, and when we have company.
So, because Pidge is company, we're eating in the dining room.
I think my mother has taken quite a liking to Pidge, after getting over the initial shock of the vibrant yellow 'Get Shucked' t-shirt, Pidge's choice for wear today.
"Tonight's lasagne night at my house," says Pidge, "I like lasagne, but I like pot roast better, we only have it on Easter and when my Great-Aunt comes over."
It's times like this when Pidge reminds me of a curious, bubbly six-year old. She's so perky, but in a childhood-innocence sort of way.
My mom and dad are smiling, looking at each other, looking at me, looking at Pidge and looking at me again.
Uh oh.
My dad clears his throat. "How long have you kids been," uh oh, "dating for?"
My mother leans in anxiously, ready to soak in the details.
Pigeon laughs lightly, as if my dad has just made a bad joke. "Skittery's not my boyfriend. He's gay! He has his own boyfriend!"
My mom's fork clatters to the plate from where it had been risen, halfway to her mouth. My father's face is slowly turning red. And then a very nasty shade of purple.
Pidge is still grinning and blinking around like nothing is out of ordinary. Quite suddenly she asks, "Is dinner going to be over soon? I have an English exam tomorrow."
My parents seem happy for any excuse for her to leave, ad within seconds Pigeon is out the door.
"William," my father turns to me, "we have to talk."
People are right, nothing good comes after those words.
A/n: Pigeon! Way to screw up! But don't hate her everyone, she can't help it. And Arrow shut down Jack, suckah! Review!
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:
Strawberri Shake- Mr Higgins could benefit from some time in a mental institution. Or by living with a shrink. And of course Swifty doesn't know what grounding is, he's practically an orphan.
Coin- yum, SpRace!
Erin Go Bragh- he may be paranoid, but in a cute way.
(Still Tuesday)
Jack's PoV
Arrow sat across the staff room going over a pile of papers. I turned my cup of coffee around in my palms to keep them warm. It was abnormally cold in the ring during lessons today.
"What're you doing?" I asked her.
She looked up. "Huh? Oh, studying for my World History finals."
"Is it hard?" I pulled up a chair next to her. I had World History next term.
"I just have trouble remembering names and dates and places. Well, matching them together, y'know?"
I nodded.
She put her pen down and looked at me. "Are you OK?"
Arrow is quite an intellectual. She's the kind of person who likes to know how you're feeling and always has an opinion on everything. But that's a good thing.
"I'm fine. I was—I was thinking about you this weekend." Was this being too forward?
Arrow half-smiled. "Really?" Arrow never blushes.
"Yeah, I had a really good time the other day with you."
"I had a good time too, Jack," Arrow shifting and was fully facing me now, "but—"
I flinched. There had to be a 'but'.
"Don't get too ahead of yourself. It was just a date. Keep in mind Jack," she swallowed, "you're on the rebound. I could just be another fling."
And that made my throat close. I couldn't speak. I had nothing to say for once. She thinks she's just a fling. Just a fling. It was just a rebound date.
I found my voice. "Um..." I checked my watch, "I've got to go. Good luck with World History."
I rushed to the door. Behind me Arrow called, "Bye Jack."
I hadn't talked to her, but I knew that I had to. I had to ask Sarah where we were. Could Arrow really just be a rebound girl?
Skittery's PoV
"This is a very good pot roast Mrs Jones!" Pidge helped herself to seconds.
"Why, thank you dear." My mom looked pleased. "But it's really Len—I mean, Mr Jones' mother's recipe and marinade. She was a wonderful cook." Of course my mother had to be modest; it was the Jones way.
"Well than," Pidge turned to my father, "your mother has an excellent pot roast recipe."
"Why thank you very much dear" My father smiled, obviously happy at Pigeon's thoughtful comments.
Every night my family sit down to dinner in the kitchen, unless it's Sunday, Easter, Christmas, Thanksgiving or someone's birthday, in which case we sit in the dining room. Oh, and when we have company.
So, because Pidge is company, we're eating in the dining room.
I think my mother has taken quite a liking to Pidge, after getting over the initial shock of the vibrant yellow 'Get Shucked' t-shirt, Pidge's choice for wear today.
"Tonight's lasagne night at my house," says Pidge, "I like lasagne, but I like pot roast better, we only have it on Easter and when my Great-Aunt comes over."
It's times like this when Pidge reminds me of a curious, bubbly six-year old. She's so perky, but in a childhood-innocence sort of way.
My mom and dad are smiling, looking at each other, looking at me, looking at Pidge and looking at me again.
Uh oh.
My dad clears his throat. "How long have you kids been," uh oh, "dating for?"
My mother leans in anxiously, ready to soak in the details.
Pigeon laughs lightly, as if my dad has just made a bad joke. "Skittery's not my boyfriend. He's gay! He has his own boyfriend!"
My mom's fork clatters to the plate from where it had been risen, halfway to her mouth. My father's face is slowly turning red. And then a very nasty shade of purple.
Pidge is still grinning and blinking around like nothing is out of ordinary. Quite suddenly she asks, "Is dinner going to be over soon? I have an English exam tomorrow."
My parents seem happy for any excuse for her to leave, ad within seconds Pigeon is out the door.
"William," my father turns to me, "we have to talk."
People are right, nothing good comes after those words.
A/n: Pigeon! Way to screw up! But don't hate her everyone, she can't help it. And Arrow shut down Jack, suckah! Review!