Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies or any other media references I may make throughout the duration of this fic.

Living in Suburbia

Starring: Patrick 'Spot' Conlon, Richard 'Snipeshooter' Conlon, Sue-Ellen Conlon, Jeremy Conlon, Marguerite O'Connor, Nathaniel 'Kid Blink' O'Connor

Chapter 11

—Spot's PoV—

Skittery is my brother. That's strange, but predictable in a way. However, to know that my father was screwing around with another woman is a shock. For Jeremy Conlon, his worst moments were when he got a bit too drunk and threw up and when he got angry at the grocer and tipped over a crate of tomatoes, which he ended up apologizing and paying for.

Yet, through all that, him being good and loyal to the city, I still felt no respect towards him. He would sell out his eldest son so that he would make a name for himself on the force. He would turn his back on his family when it was inevitable that they need face their demons.

And now this. Skittery knows. I'm sure his father knows and it's no doubt his mother does. What about my mother? Does she know? And Specs and Snipeshooter? How about them? Am I the only one left out on this? Am I the only one who had no idea that my father was a cheating pig?

"Patrick, pass the potatoes."

I look up, jolted out of my stupor.

I reach to the heavy bowl and pass it over to him. That scum.

"So, Dad," I begin calmly. "Are you still seeing Mrs. Bardot?"

And I can't believe what I've just said. The table grows silent. My mother looks from him to me slowly. Snipeshooter drops his fork.

My father's eyes bulge, but he quickly regains himself. "I don't know what you're talking about." He scoops some potatoes onto his plate.

"Then how come Skit—Philip does?" I ask.

He glares.

"What's going on?" asks my mother shakily.

I turn to her. "Dad used to mess around with Mrs. Bardot. That's why Skittery doesn't look like Mr. Bardot."

My father stands up and slaps me across the face with the backside of his hand. "Shut up Patrick, this is none of your business. Keep it to yourself. This is my issue with your mother. It's not your place to get involved."

I scowl. My cheek smarts where he smacked me, the feeling hot and real still. "Specs was right to get out while he could," I hiss.

He looks like he wants to punch me. I tip my chin up, daring him to.

He turns away. "Richard, help your brother clear the table."

He and my mother leave.

0o0o0o0o0o0

I can hear their voices. Hers is soft and deliberate, his is panicked and apologetic. He's falling apart.

"What's going on?" asks Snipeshooter.

"Dad's a skeeze," I tell him, scrubbing a plate with a sponge.

Snipeshooter looks to the doorway. "Skittery's our brother?" he asks awe-filled.

I nod.

Snipeshooter begins to grasp the concept. He doesn't say anything. We listen to the conversation.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

For a while we are going to stay at Kid Blink's house. This is fine by me. It is large and stately, with presidential balconies and tiled flooring. There are fresh flowers on every table, and two housemaids with stark white uniforms to wait on us. It is like staying at a fancy hotel, only for free.

Blink shows Snipeshooter and I our rooms. Snipeshooter's is green and has a large bed in the centre. There are a lot of chests for him to put his toys, as well as a heavy desk and matching chair.

My room is smaller than Sniper's, but with royal red paint and a thick bedspread. I also have a desk and chair, along with an adjoining bathroom.

My mother's room is all pink and floral, with a puffy bedspread and flowing curtains.

"I hope this will do you all well, I know it's not home, but we'll do our best to make you feel comfortable," says Mrs. O'Connor pleasantly.

My mother insists that everything is wonderful.

The house is very grand. Blink's daddy was an oil baron before he died. People always thought Mrs. O'Connor was only with him for his money, but she didn't remarry after he died and stayed true to his name, so people had to re-evaluate this. Mrs. O'Connor is very pretty. She is getting older, but her blue eyes are still alive. My mother looks very plain next to her or Mrs. Bardot, who is an exotic beauty of sorts.

Blink and I sit down to talk for a while. We talk about Specs and ease in to Skittery and, finally, my father.

My father is at home alone. The only thing I fear is that he will burn down the house. He doesn't cook well or fend for himself. I wouldn't want my room, which has all my baseball posters in it, to go up in flames.

I couldn't care less about him, however.

I want to talk to Skittery, tell him I know. I am his younger brother. Did he ever think about it that way? Does he stand up for me in a brotherly way, but I just don't notice? How long has he known. I am sitting on my bed when I ponder this, only to stop myself.

I have to concentrate on Specs right now. His future depends on it, and maybe mine does too.

0o0o0o0o0o0

"Who could be behind drugs in Lindale?" I wonder aloud.

Blink looks up. "Seriously? You've never thought of it before?"

I look to him, confused. Did I miss an obvious suspect?

"It's the mayor!" he exclaims. He goes on to divulge his ideas and the plans of the mayor's conspiracy on the teens of the town. "He sells drugs so that the state will send him more money for law enforcement. At the same time, he raises local taxes for the same thing. It's a first class scandal!" he finishes strongly.

I don't know if I should smack Blink for being so idiotic, or smacking myself for admitting this could make sense. Why else would he tell a reporter about his town's drug control problem? He wants more money and we're willing to pay it if it keeps our loved ones from getting mixed up in this all. The more we pay, the more he can expand. This could go regional.

I look at Blink. "You're a genius!" I exclaim.

He shrugs. "Yeah, I try."

End Chapter

Hmmm... did that have a point? Read and find out!!! Muahhahahahaha!

Shoutouts:

Jacky Higgins—I'm taking German next year!

Charlie!Muse: You aren't even German! At all!!!

Me: so? The teacher's nice.

Charlie!Muse: Yeah, whatever. (muttering) pretender.

Me: I'm not a pretender! You came third place in your own look-alike contest! I WIN!

Erin Go Bragh—I totally agree. I love For the Want of a Nail, but I too don't think Ellen should be OK with Vlad so fast. He's a skeeze. Just like Mr. Conlon. Did you get my email, but the way?

Utopia Today—hear that everybody! I'm supercool! I'm so cool, it's illegal!

Itey!Muse:is supercool a word?

Charlie!Muse: no, it's not you moron! It is underlined in red! That means it's spelt wrong!

Me: be nice to Itey.

Charlie: (mocking) be nice to Itey! Blah!

Me: that's it! Go to the corner!

Strawberri Shake—I want any Zippo lighter. I wrote the last chapter in class, so I was going on about Zippos during French and everyone was like 'is she one something'?

Belinda: (comes back and re-steals the lighter)

Tom!Muse: I'll save the day! (chases after Belinda) Come back here! I'm Superman!!!

Charlie!Muse: (from corner) heheheh (trips Tom)

Tom!Muse: (falls) Ow.

Me: (sighs) hectic, hectic, hectic.

C.M. Higgins—Pidge is silly. I miss her. We go to different schools now and we don't see each other nearly as much. Though we do every weekend. EVERY weekend.

Pidge: (sticks head in door) that's right!

Icanreadncount—yeah. Spotty's a loudmouth. Someone will probably punch someone soon. I'm thinking it'll be Mr. Bardot hitting Mr. Conlon, but things could all change with the wind...

Spitzer!Muse: are you trying to be cryptic? How posh!

Me: thanks!

Peter!Muse: what does 'cryptic' mean?

Spitzer: y'know, cryptic...like, being crypt-like...ish.

Peter!Muse: oh! I see (it still confused)

Me: Spitzer, do you know what cryptic means?

Spitzer!Muse: of course! How dare you! If you gave me the definition right now, I'd be able to tell if you were lying!

Me: OK, to be mysterious and puzzling.

Spitzer!Muse: (squints) that's it!

Me: no, I was lying.

Spitzer!Muse: (coughs awkwardly) yeah. I was...uh...testing you...

Me: (rolls eyes)