A/n: Chapter Twenty-Eight and not a moment to lose! QUICK! READ IT! Lol.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own "Newsies." I do not own The Beatles or the lyrics to their song "Golden Slumbers." (Good song, though) I own "Tanya" and "Bianca." "Robert" and "Ben" are real people. The companion to this story is "Hidden" by Bella7. I thank her, once again, for all her incredible support and assistance (and for letting me write Del and Keaton!)
The following characters appear courtesy of Lady Elwen, Bella7, Shorty Carter:
"Sarah McGregorn"
"Delaney and Keaton Adams"
"Diane Carter"
It had been a subdued cab ride back to the Adams'. Delaney wished the cabbie would turn the radio off. She was not in the mood to listen to the Beatles...
"Once there was a way to get back homeward. Once there was a way to get back home...sleep, pretty darling, do not cry..."
Tanya felt like crying, anyway.
Delaney itched to ask Racetrack about the year 1900. The greatest opportunity of her career, of ANYONE'S career, and she didn't feel right bothering him.
"Are you okay, Race?" Tanya asked, twisting a finger around the hem on his sleeve.
"I jus' can't believe deah gone. Ya know?"
"I know."
"I jus' saw 'em!" Almost as an afterthought, he repeated, scornfully, "Gone."
Outside the car windows, New York carried on without them. The newsie turned his head to watch buildings and people flying by.
"Is it strange?" Delaney blurted.
"Huh?"
"Seeing the city so different...is it strange?"
They had stopped at an intersection and Race's experienced eye caught a pick-pocket pushing up against an unsuspecting shopper. He almost grinned, "It ain't so strange."
"Ben? Hi! It's Diane! Yeah, Tanya, said she'd come tomorrow! Yeah, she's bringing somebody with her. Is that okay? Cool. See you tomorrow. Buh-bye!" Diane hung up the phone.
Delaney was just paying the driver when a man with his arms full of boxes shoved by, knocking the historian off balance. Delaney was just about to yell something unfriendly when Racetrack piped, "'Ey, weah standin' heah! Ya gotta prob'em, huh?"
The man looked back warily but kept walking.
"A true New Yorker," Tanya sighed dramatically, entwining her hands under his arm. The newsie continued to glare menacingly at the man now crossing the street as Tanya dragged him inside.
"Dormi, dormi, Sogna, piccolo amor mio..."
Tanya sat up in bed, frowning. Racetrack?
A quick peek into the hall revealed the newsie in front of the mirror, combing his hair with amusing precision, a look of intense concentration on his face. He seemed almost unconscious of his singing, "Dormi, sogna. Posa il capo sul mio cor."
Tanya bit hard on her lip to keep from giggling. He seemed so serious. And a little sad, too. She mentally kicked herself for wanting to laugh.
Closing her door, she tugged open a dresser drawer and frowned. She had forgotten to do laundry. She pulled the sleek grey pants up against her and stared into the mirror. They were loose enough to work in, anyway. Tugging them on, she buttoned the snaps up the sides and straightened the straps on her tank top. It felt like ages since she had done any acting. She really needed to get back in the mood.
Outside the door, Race kept singing, "Dormi, sogna...Posa il capo..."
Tanya pulled out the scrunchie in her hair and shook her curls loose. She put a movie star smile on and posed. She leaned forward and pursed her lips, her eyes glowing dark and playful.
"Tanya?"
"Aaaahhh!"
She spun around with a look of dismay.
Race's eyes were wide, "What ah you'se doin?"
"Nothing!"
His confusion turned to teasing, "Didn't look like nuttin' ta me, Tanya."
"I wasn't doing anything," she insisted, straightening up.
"Shoah...whatevah you'se say, sweetie."
His giggles carried to the other side of the apartment.
"So wheah's dis place weah goin'?" Race asked, matching the girl's quick, unfaltering step.
"It's a theater."
"Like a hall?"
"No...not like you're used to. We practice dancing and singing and doing stuff on stage."
"Well, no wondah you'se so good at it! Ya have ta practice?"
Tanya immediately forgave Racetrack for walking in on her, "Yeah, just like you probably aren't very good at selling newspapers when you first start, you have to get good at it so you can make money."
"Yeah, ya shoulda seen me my foist day," the newsie grinned. "It ain't all roses and violins out deah, ya know."
Tanya was reminded, then. "Racetrack?" she asked, quietly.
"Huh?"
"Can you really play the violin?"
His nonchalant expression hardened, "When did I say dat?"
"At Greg's party. Remember?"
"Me and my big mouth," he said, fighting to stay light.
"So?"
"So what?" he asked, sticking a cigar from his back pocket into the corner of his mouth. Somehow, it made him feel more...secure.
"So can you?"
"I'se don't wanna talk about it."
"But...we tell each other everything."
"You didn't tell me what you'se was doin' in front of da mihhah dis mohnin'!"
"That's different."
"No, it ain't."
"But..."
"We fah from dis heah theatah?" he interrupted.
She sighed, hurt, "No, it's just around the corner now."
He nodded and put a confident arm around her waist, "Tanya, deah ah somet'ings a fella jus' doesn't wanna talk about. Undahstand?"
Another sigh, "Yeah, okay. Whatever."
"Good. Now let's go do some theatah!" He struck an enormous pose across the sidewalk, arms outspread.
Ben looked between his choreography notes and the monologues he had read. He yawned and sprawled backwards in his chair. No more 2 AM's when he had to work the next day.
"We're here!" Diane ran in and shrieked. "Ta DA!"
"You have way too much energy for this time of morning," Ben's eyebrows furrowed.
"You're just jealous," she told him, throwing her backpack down with enthusiasm.
A bedraggled Sarah McGregorn entered and walked solemnly to a chair in the corner, "Wake me up when we have to start working," she announced, before closing her eyes.
"Ben, do you have any AA batteries?"
Ben looked up to see Robert, "Batteries?"
"For my fan," the kid held out his miniature fan.
"No."
"No what?"
"No batteries."
"Oh. Diane?"
The petite girl looked up from torturing Sarah awake, "Yeah?"
"Do you have any batteries?"
She sent him a look, "No? Why would I bring batteries to a theater class?"
"I was just WONDERING."
"Whatever. Sarah, c'mon....ya know you wanna play 'duck, duck, goose' with me!"
"No. Actually, I don't."
"Fine. 'Ducky Wucky,' then?"
"No," Ben growled, "No 'Ducky Wucky!'"
"Sneaky Shadows!" suggested Robert, forgetting about his fan.
"Yeah, I'll play that," Diane agreed, "How 'bout it, Sarah?"
"Will you please just let me sleep?"
"But..."
"Five minutes!" she almost screamed, "I just want five minutes!"
"Okay, okay! So, Ben, have you ever been mobbed?"
"Mobbed?"
"Yeah, like attacked by a large crowd of hysterical fans?"
"Why do I not like where this going?"
"Hey, is this Conservatory Prep III?"
Ben looked up, "Yeah. What's your name?"
"Grenada. Grenada Larimer.'
"Hey, Grenada, nice of you to join us. Didn't see you, yesterday."
"Oh, yeah," Grenada flipped her blond hair and shrugged, "I had a matinee. Couldn't make it. My bad." She snapped her gum.
"Well, why don't you go spit that gum out and we'll get started?"
"Hello, my lovelies!"
"TANYA!" Diane shrieked making a flying leap for her friend.
"Whoa! What have you been smoking this morning?"
"Poptarts," Sarah told her. She stood up and stretched.
"Toaster strudels are YUMMY!" Diane exclaimed.
"Tanya? You in heah?"
"Yeah, in here, Race!" Tanya called.
"Race?" Ben asked, trying to evade the breeze from Robert's fan.
The newsie stuck his head in the door.
"Yeah, Ben, everybody, this is Anthony Higgins. But he goes by Racetrack."
Their teacher stood up, "Nice to meet you, Racetrack. I'm Ben."
Tanya cringed as Racetrack spit into his palm and held it out, "Pleased ta meetcha."
Ben looked amused but spit in his own hand and met Race's. The newsie nodded in approval.
"Euuuuuughhhh! That is..." Grenada struggled for a word, "So gross."
Ben ignored her and picked up his scripts again.
"Race is gonna hang out with me today, okay?" Tanya bit her lip and looked at her teacher.
"Sure, that's fine. We've got plenty of room." Sigh. "Alright, you guys, let's warm up."
A couple stragglers came in, then.
"Hey, you two, we're warming up. Come on," Ben coaxed.
A collective groan and they were on the floor doing isolations.
"Hold it for...ten, nine, eight, seven, six..."
Tanya thought her stomach muscles were going to explode with the tension.
"Five, four, three, two..."
Race felt his muscles begin to shake but he pursed his mouth and didn't move.
"One...and rest."
"Ugggggh..." Robert fell ungracefully to the floor.
Ben kneaded the back of his neck with his fingers and stood up straight, "Undulations," he told them grimly. "Up, and down...up and...down...ohh, that's wicked."
"Wicked? It's wicked?" Diane grinned, poking Tanya.
Ben crossed his legs in front of him, "Butterflies."
The giggling ceased and was replaced by unlady-like grunts as they pushed themselves as far over their laps as they could.
Robert began to bounce back and forth on his thighs.
"Look at me, Ben! Bouncy, bouncy, bouncy!"
Ben shook his head, hands gripping his ankles, "Don't bounce. You'll tear something and then you'll wish you'd never been born."
Robert stopped, his pale skin turning pink.
Ben let out a long breath, "Alright, let's work on some monologues, shall we?"
"Ooh, ooh! I get to be Heather today! Right, right, right?"
"Diane will read 'Heather.' Sarah will read 'Pollyanna.' Grenada, let's have you try 'Maria,' alright?"
"Oh, that's no problem, at all. I was actually cast as Maria at the Crawley."
"Huh. Good, you'll be familiar with it. Tanya?"
"Mm hmm?"
"I want to hear 'Miranda.'"
"Sure."
"Racetrack?"
"Yeah?"
"Would you like to read something?"
There was no hesitation. "Shoah, why not?"
Ben studied him for a moment before handing him a sheet of paper, "How 'bout this?"
The newsie shrugged but when the teacher had turned his back, he whispered to Tanya, "Read foah what?"
"We get up in front of each other and pretend to be these characters."
Race looked down at the monologue before him, "Oh. A'right."
"What part did you get?" asked Diane, curiously.
"D...Dodger?"
"Ooh, Oliver Twist! Nice."
"Olivah Twist?"
"Yeah. You've seen that, right?" Sarah was looking over his shoulder.
The boy sat confused for a moment, "Oh...Uh, oh yeah, yeah...dat guy...dat Olivah Twist scabbah, heheh. 'E's a great guy, huh?"
"What?" Tanya's friends looked puzzled.
"You...know...him?" asked Ben, a little bemused.
"Shoah, shoah, I do!" Tanya started to tense up, but Racetrack didn't bat a lash as he launched deeper into his bluff, "Da doity rotten son of a gun! Didn't evah mention me's to ya!"
"No..." Ben said slowly, "Can't say that he did."
"Why I oughta give 'im a good right hook next time I'se see 'im, da big old scab," Race laughed and leaned back in his chair, completely at ease.
Grenada giggled, "What a freak."
"Racetrack," Diane laughed, "Oliver Twist isn't real."
"Huh?"
"He's just a character in the musical. You know the musical 'Oliver!'?" added Sarah.
"It's a famous movie, too."
"Movie?"
Tanya squeezed his arm and whispered, blushing furiously at the weird looks she was getting, "I'll tell you on the way home, Race."
The newsboy swallowed hard but nodded.
"O...kay...then...who's first?" Ben looked around the room expectantly.
"I'll go," Diane volunteered.
"Go ahead."
Diane bounded up to the stage and began her monologue, "What is this all about Mikey?" She seemed to listen. "But...why? But what about the car, huh? Are you just gonna leave it there? I think you should, at least, hide it in the field. I mean, two months is a long time..."
Tanya snuck a look at Racetrack, expecting another confused expression. She was amazed to find his eyes glued to Diane's movement, his mouth working as he watched her. He nodded once and began a slow grin that showed his teeth and sharpened his dimples. The muscles in his back and shoulders grew taut as he leaned forward in his seat, laughing and shaking his head sometimes.
When Diane finished, Race was the first one to clap, "Dat was real nice!" he exclaimed, still applauding. "Dat was good!"
Ben cleared his throat to interrupt the newsie's rapture of enthusiasm. "So...Racetrack? You feel like goin' next?"
"Uh..." the newsie looked hesitant. But only for a second. He raised the monologue, studied it, scanned it, a look of meaning entering his dark eyes. He stood up.
"Wait, Race," Tanya stopped him. "You don't want to...read it through first?"
"Nah, dat's a'right. I t'ink I got it."
"Then go right ahead," Ben motioned for him to step onto the stage.
He did so, his stare not at the vastness of the space around him or at the silent audience but at the steps in front of him. One at a time he took them. Only when he stood in the center of the stage, did Race begin to look around him. He caught the eyes on him and flashed an easy, unconscious smile. He looked down at the paper in his hands, shifted from foot to foot, looked back up. Tanya recognized the stance.
As if in slow motion, he lifted his eyes above the waiting class, above the rows and rows of seats, almost to the balcony. He inhaled, his face raw with confidence, and when he spoke...his voice was wild and free and carried to the back of the auditorium, to the top of the rafters, to the box office.
"Whatta you'se starin' at?" he asked loudly. Sarah had begun to drift off in her seat and, at this, jerked awake.
"Haven't you never seen a..." Racetrack eyed the word and pushed through it, "...a toff?" He looked down at the words, "Oh, dat's a'right. Hungry? (he waited)
"Ah, been runnin' away from da beak, have ya?" He chuckled his noisy, obnoxious newsie laugh. One the reminded Tanya of Mush.
"Don't say ya don't know whatta beak is, me flash mate. (beat) My eyes! How green can ya get?" Race shook his head in disgust. Like the time I tried to sell papers, Tanya thought.
"Foah yoah infoahmation, a beak's a magistrate. Who you'se runnin' away from den?" He shifted, his eyes never leaving that spot behind the audience. "Yoah old man? To make yoah foahchuh...You 'ave, 'ave ya? Got'ny lodging'? (waits) Money? (waits) I suppose you'se want some place ta sleep tanight, eh? As it so 'appens, I'se know a respectable old gen'leman what'll give you'se lodging' foah nuttin'! And'll never ask foah change. Dat is, if any oddah gentleman what he knows intraduces ya. And don't he know me? And I'm a pahticulah favorite a' his. Jack Dawkins. Better known among me moah intimate friends as de Ahtful Dodgah (bows)."
"Darcy."
"Del?"
"Yeah, it's me. Hey, are the kids there with you?"
"No, they stayed at the apartment last night."
"How's Jenny doing?"
"Better. Doctor thinks she can go home tomorrow."
"Good, good. Now. Where's Racetrack?"
"He and Tanya went to some theater thing she had today."
"Oh?"
"Delaney, what do you know about him?"
"Darce...you don't know want to know."
"It involves my daughter. Yes, I think I'd like to know."
"Do you remember those drawings I showed you?"
"The ones you found in your basement? Yes, that's why I sent Tanya over. I..." There was a relucant sigh from Darcy.
"Go on."
"I...he reminded me of the boy in the picture. The...the one you found in your basement...with that diary."
"Darcy, he is the boy in the picture."
"You expect me to believe that?!"
"No. But I think you do."
A shaky whisper, "But Delaney...what does that mean?"
"It means..." An exasperated sigh, "Oh, hell, I don't know what it means!"
Stay tuned...Chapter Twenty-Nine arriving soon! Review if you can! I'd love to hear from all of you!
Shout ins:
Irish Rain: Thank you, my darling! Yes, poor Bumlets.
Race: (scowls) I'se ain't a cookie.
OneConfusedNewsie: Long chapters are fun. This one was definitely shorter but...hope you liked it, anyway! Thank you for another great review!
Artemis-chan of Redwing: I'm so excited that everyone liked the chapter! To be honest, I wasn't really happy with it. But that's okay. ;) Thank you, precious!
Blink: (another large tear rolls down cheek, sniffs, wipes nose on his sleeve) Hi, Ahtemis. (Puckers up to be kissed)
Raven: lol. Yes, you...Spot...married. And don't think I'm done with you two! (villainous laugh) Thanks for reviewing...Yes, it was sad with Bumlets and everything. It really was. (wanders off)
imaginelet: Thank you! I've decided that after I finish the story, because I've had so much incredible support and love, I'll have a special chapter devoted to all of you. So spread the word. Your official invitation is at the beginning and end of this chapter.
Sapphy: Your reviews are so cute. Lol. Thanks, I love you, too! Hope you liked this new chapter...
PsYcHoJo: Hey, yeah...The brownies are Shorty's secret Newsie recipe, whatever kind that is...Skittery's glad to help. Thanks...
Skittery: (thumbs up sign)
AngelicOne: "Wow" says plenty. :) Thank you! Let me know what you thought of this new bit...Mwah.
Nevaeh: Well, didn't take me quite as long this time. Not that it was a quick update but...uh...ya know. It was quickER. And thanks for playing with Les. He's smiling like this is a Broadway musical. (Hugs) Thank you for reviewing!
Jessica Knight: Have I mentioned how much I love your screen name? It's just so cool. ANYhow, you're welcome a million times. It was great having you come with us to drool over the hobbits and elves and all...Thanks for your sweet reviews! I liked 'em...(hugs)
Moonlights Sundance: It was kinda sad. I knew it would be...(sigh) Life seems to be heading that direction these days. I'll read your new stuff, soon. I will. Really.
Race: (smiles evilly at Legs as he takes the plate of cookies from Moonlight and bites into one)
Legs: Racetrack! You've already stolen the Christmas cookies! And now you're eating more?
Race: (takes another bite)
snipah higgins: Sheesh. Don't say all that about me! I wasn't too impressed with that chapter, myself. But thank you. I'm immensely flattered. And I always love hearing from you, my favoritest of snipahs! :)
Bella7: That review was great. I read it like three times. Or more. I kinda stopped counting. But it was great, like I was saying. I got your email. I'll write back soon, soon...I promise (or promsie, as my friend and I would say) Thank you for taking the time to write a whopping good review AND a letter. I don't deserve friends like you. (Sobs, then hugs Bella) And like always, thanks for letting me borrow your characters and story lines. They've helped so much!
nicnaco2: Nice new pen name...(admires it) (all the newsie crowd around the screen to admire it, as well) Thank you! And I'm NOT GOING TO KILL KRISTEN'S BABY! GAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!! (clears throat) Yes, anyway...love you!
Caitie: Wouldn't worry too much about Spot staying old. Hint, cough, hint. So glad you found this story! And even more glad that you enjoyed it! And I believe the life expectancy of twenty years that you're talking about was held more during the fifteen and sixteen hundreds. But I'm not Delaney, so I don't know. She really is a brilliant historian. So smart and resourceful and...
Delaney: (runs in, brandishing sledge hammer) I'm GOING TO KILL THAT LITTLE MONSTER!
Race: (runs out, chocolate smeared across his guilty face)
Delaney: He stole my Christmas cookies!
Snipeshooter: (chewing contemplatively on one of Race's cigars) I'm beginning to spot a trend.
Spot: Someone call me name?
Jack: Would ya quit t'inkin' about yaself?
Spot: 'Ey, what did I'se evah do ta you'se, huh? Ya doity rotten...
Jack: Aaaa, put a lid on it, ya scabbah.
Delaney: (clears throat) So where was I?
Legs: About to kill the cookie thief?
Delaney: Aha! YES! (Runs out, laughing manically, hammer high above her head)
Aiya: It was rather depressing. (Hands Aiya a tissue) Don't cry, though. It gets happier. I think. Heh. Thank you for your review!
MethosMacLeod: Cheescake? THANK YOU! Hope you liked this chappy.
Brownie/Melody: Aww, shucks! (kicks toe in dirt) Ya shouldn't have gone and said all that! Golly, gee whiz! Anyhow, thank you for your review!
feisty2: Thanks. Lol. Let me know what you think of this new part. Definitely a twist, no?
Gryffin Parker: Does Tanya stay or go back? (scoffs) Well, if I told you that, what would be the point of reading the rest of the story? Ohhhhhhhh no! You're stuck until it's over. Got that? Good.
Kristan: Why, thank you, as always! I actually haven't seen Chicago, yet. Now I kinda want to. Hmm...Don't cry! It gets happy...(scans chapter) See? Happiness! REVIEW! (Hugs)
Angel St. Matthew: Dear me, look how many reviews you left me! And I haven't updated in SO long! But thank you! Wow. (reads reviews, swings legs) Get it? LEGS! (cackles madly)
Race: (hits Legs over the head with Snipeshooter's dictionary) Dat's enough a dat, goily! Get back to woik. Ya'd t'ink dis was a hobby owah sumtin'! Ya lazy, good foah nuttin scabbah! Sittin' aroun' doin' nuttin'. Write, lazy bum! Write!
Legs: Racetrack, say hello to Angel St. Matthew. She's one of my newest reviewers! But look how many she's written! (shows them off)
Race: Dat's nice. Write.
Legs: But...
Race: (clonks her on the head again)
Legs: (sobbing as she clutches her keyboard) Ow...
Corky Higgins: Don't cry! I'm going to finish it! Really. I am. If Vinnie can still write poetry, that would be so wonderful to read. I might cry, though. Love you lots! Thanks for reviewing, as always.
Brooks: Thanks for reviewing in spite of my long absence! That was really sweet of you! Hope you enjoy this chapter. You have to let me know if you have any ideas for the next few. :)
Plaid Pajamas: Lol. No apologies necessary. I'm afraid there isn't any bridge in this story. But I love that movie. Yes, "Hidden" is the best story ever. Bella is my baby! Mine, all mine. Review if you can. (oodles of hugs)
