Author's Note: Woo Hoo, it's time to plug my newest website – Infatuation, a Newsies Fanlisting. Are you a fan of Newsies, and would like to join? Go here – http://newsiesinfatuation.cjb.net
Shout Outs:
Aki - *looks a little shifty* No, Aki, you don't have to worry about me. *hides long butcher knife behind her back* Not at all… : )
Iris – Oh thank you, Mother Inspiration! I am healed!! LOL!!
Singa - Thanks!
Emu - I honestly have no clue. My brain amazes even me sometimes!
Raider – Here you go!
Vix – *blushes* Thanks! But you don't want to go too crazy, right?
Dragonfly - *starts a chant* Creepy is fun! Creepy is fun!
Jeanette – I'm so glad that you are enjoying this. Your compliments are awesome!
Holiday – My mommy thinks that I'm on crack. *nods* I made her read this story and now she's a little worried about me. But that's O.k.!
Moneybags – Yes, keep those kitchen knives right where they are!
Drama-Queen – I'm so happy that somebody understands where her *issues* are coming from!
Two-Tone - *smiles widely* I'm also really happy that someone didn't expect Morris to be the next victim. I'm trying not to be predictable, and I hope it works.
Anna Belle - *looks sideways before whispering* If you promise not to tell anyone, I'm not going to kill Dave. Somebody else, maybe, but not Dave! That would be too creepy.
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August 26, 1899
Dear Journal,
You know what, something really strange is going on here. Remember that dream I told you about during the wee hours this morning? Well, I don't think it was a dream...
Secrets yawned as her long raven tresses fell in her eyes. "What's goin' on heah?" she mumbled, barely awake. Once again, due to her nightmare from the previous night, Secrets was one of the last newsies to make it to the distribution center that morning. Not that it mattered or anything; when she arrived, the gate was still locked.
Holiday and Bumlets, the two of them leaning against the gate talking quietly, looked up when Secrets approached. "Ya'll nevah believe what Tunes jist tol' us," Holiday said, gravely.
Secrets rubbed one of her eyes warily before actually looking around. "Wait, wheah is ev'ryone?" Now that she was semi-awake, Secrets could see that not only was the gate locked, nobody -- sans Holiday and Bumlets -- were waiting to get their papers.
"Lissen up, Secrets. It toins out dat deah was anuddah moidah last night," Bumlets said slowly.
Secrets paled at once. Another murder? Who could it be this time?
Before she could ask, Holiday began to tell her what had happened. "It seems dat last night Morris-- y'know da Delancey's right?"
Secrets nodded, somewhat reluctantly though. She knew where this was heading and she didn't want to hear it.
"Well, last night Morris didn't retoin ta da apartment dat he shares wit dat bruddah o' his, Oscah, an' deah Uncle Weas. Y'know, Weasel. Anyways, when Morris didn't go home last night, Oscah went lookin' fer him a--"
"Found him too," interrupted Bumlets with a grim smile.
"Shh, Bum. I'se tellin' her what's happenin'," Holiday whined before turning back to face Secrets, "Like I was sayin', he found Morris lyin' in an alley right next ta da boys' lodgin' house. It looks like da same crook dat knifed Stress, got Morris too. An' da freaky t'ing is dat he got dat bloody kiss mark on his forehead jist like Stress did."
Secrets listened to Holiday's tale and doubled over. For some reason she felt like vomitting. It was a good thing she hadn't had any time that morning to bum a piece of bread off of the nuns.
Bumlets and Holiday looked at Secrets in surprise and took a step back when she doubled over and sat down on the ground, clutching the iron gate with her right hand for some support. "Secrets?" Holiday asked tentatively. Secrets was the eighth person she had told about Morris' untimely demise since she had been sitting at the distribution center, and it was Secrets who had taken the news the hardest (except for Oscar and Weasel, of course, hence the reason the distribution center was closed. With Weasel, Oscar and Morris being the only three who ran the office for the morning edition, it was no surprise that Oscar and Weasel decided to take the day off. Just don't tell Pulitzer.)
When Secrets ignored her, Holiday tried again. "Secrets, honey, are ya feelin' awl right?"
Secrets looked up and shook her head. "Uh-- what? Didja say sumting, Hol? I'se so tired, I musta dozed off."
"Secrets?"
Holiday, Bumlets, and Secrets did an about face when they heard David walking up behind them. And he wasn't alone.
"Dave, Jack? What are you'se two doin' out heah? I t'ought you'd be stayin' ovah at da lodgin' house taday 'gain," asked Bumlets, surprised and pleased to see Jack out in the sunshine again.
Jack nodded tersely. "I hoid dat sumting happened ta Morris but I jist figahed dat Snipes had da story wrong. What happened?"
Holiday shot a look at Bumlets and looked down at her feet. "Naw, Cowboy. I don't t'ink dat he got da story wrong. From what I've been hearin' awl moinin' long, Morris was killed last night. Jist like Str--"
Bumlets reached around Holiday and covered her mouth with his hand. He didn't think it was too good of an idea for her to mention Stress' name at the moment.
But Jack didn't even notice, instead running his hands through his hair. "So, it's true den. Anuddah kid in Manhattan has been moidahed. Damn. Dave?" he called out to his friend.
David looked up from where he was holding Secrets in his arms, listening to her murmur how tired she was, as if she hadn't gotten any sleep at all. "Yes, Jack?"
"'Membah what we was tawkin' 'bout da day aftah... da day aftah..." Jack stumbled but couldn't get the words out. For him, the grief of losing his girlfriend was still too new.
"I remeber Jack and I think it's a good idea, especially since it does seem that this person's targets are all kids in out part of the city," David answered.
Secrets, her head laying on David's shoulder, whispered her question to Dave. "What's a good idea?"
David sighed and looked to Jack to explain. But Jack was staring up at the sky once more, tears in his eyes. From his experience with Jack from the past week, David knew he was begging forgiveness from Stress, wherever she was at the moment; David liked to think it was Heaven. "We think it might be smart if we all stopped selling papes until this nutcase is caught. I've talked to Mrs. Cook, and Jack has talked to Kloppman, and they agree. They also said they would waive lodging fees for anyone who didn't have enough money while we went on a reprieve. We figure that with the newsies refusing to sell papers, all the newspaper moguls will pressure the bulls to catch this killer."
"I t'ink dat's a great idea, guys," Bumlets announced, eyeing Holiday, who looked relieved at the idea. "I agree. C'mon, Bum. Let's go tell some o' da uddahs."
Bumlets nodded and the two of them took off, in search of as many of their friends that they could find.
Secrets lifted her head. "If we ain't gonna be sellin' papes no moah, I'se gonna go back ta da lodgin' house an' catch up on me sleep."
David looked down and kissed her gently on the forehead. "Sure thing, Secrets. I'll talk to you later on. I'm just going to make sure that Jack makes it back safely to the lodging house," he stopped for a second and lowered his voice considerably, "He's not doing so good, you know."
Secrets nodded and nuzzled her cheek against his chest. "I love ya, Davey."
"I love you, too, Secrets." David slowly stood, helping Secrets to her feet, before grabbing Jack by his arm, and guiding him away.
Secrets watched Jack stare at the sky as David carefully helped him away. "Poor Jack. Poor Morris. I really hope dat dey catch dis killah soon." For once, Secrets wasn't jealous at the time David was spending with Jack. She just hoped that that would be the end of the sorrow in Manhattan. But she didn't think that was going to happen.
Not, at least, until Secrets figured out if there was any connection to her "Kisses" and the "Kisses" in her dream. And is it that "Kisses" -- the "Kisses" in her dream, I mean -- that is murdering all the people she knew? Secrets didn't know...
But she wanted to find out.
Journal, I think something is wrong. I saw Morris being killed in my dream last night by someone who called them self "Kisses" and now he's dead. What does this mean? I need to know, what does this mean? Tell me, Journal. Please...
Secrets finished her journal entry in time to see Aki & Moneybags enter the bunkroom. She smiled once, trying to hide the fear she knew was evident on her face, as she slipped the journal under her pillow. "Hi goils."
"Hey, Secrets. Whatcha doin' in
heah by yerself?" asked Moneybags, sticking her hands in her pockets.
"Ya hoid Cowboy, we ain't ta be sellin' papes awl 'round da city," Secrets reminded her.
"We know, but he didn't say we had ta lock ourselves in da bunkroom. Right?" tried Aki.
"True..."
"An' 'sides, I t'ought you'd be spendin' moah time gettin' ta know yer new guy bettah. It's been ovah a week now since he asked ya ta be his goil, eh?" questioned Moneybags.
Secrets nodded slowly. "Yeah, but in awl dat time, I've only seen him a few times. He's been spendin' awl his days wit' Cowboy," she replied, oblivious to the degree of bitterness in her voice. After returning to the bunkroom and resting for a bit, Secrets waited for David to stop by. It had been hours since she had left Jack and Dave at the distribution center, and Dave had yet to stop by Bottle Alley to visit her.
But both Aki and Moneybags heard her tone, and they exchanged a look. "You're right, Secrets. He has been spendin' moah time wit' Jack dan usual. But ya got nuttin' ta worry 'bout. Dey'se da best o' pals, but he still loves ya. Trust me, I kin tell dese t'ings," offered Moneybags, trying to appease Secrets.
"Yeah, I haven't seen Dave dis hung up ovah a goil since da foist time he met Stress," added Aki.
Secrets blanched at the mention of Stress' name. "T'anks Aki," she muttered as she laid back down on her bunk and stared up at the ceiling. "I know it's early an' awl, but I t'ink I'se gonna toin in." For some strange reason, Secrets was still very much tired, even after her mid-morning nap.
"But, Secrets, it's barely mid-aftahnoon," exclaimed Moneybags.
"I know, but wit' awl da excitement again taday, an' ev'ryt'ing, I really need some shut-eye," Secrets turned her back to the two bewildered girls and proceeded to fall asleep.
"Whatevah ya say, Secrets," said Aki, as she turned and followed Moneybags out of the bunkroom. "Hey, dat hoit!" she cried when Moneybags slapped her, not hard though, on the cheek.
"Ya knew dat Secrets became good friends wit' Stress in da few days dat dey knew each uddah. O' coise ya mention her when da grief is still deah. When we visit da guys at da lodgin' house latah, are ya gonna ask Jack if he misses his goil?"
"I ain't dat stupid!" defended Aki, "I jist tried ta make her feel
bettah cause Dave cares 'bout her so much!"
"Whatevah ya say, Aki, whatevah ya say." Moneybags chuckled as she and Aki continued down the lodging house steps and headed off down the street.
And Secrets slept on, unaware of anything that went on around during that day.
Well, at least until later that evening. Awoken from a dreamless sleep sometime long after the sun had set, Secrets slowly stretched and looked about the pitch-black darkness. Since everyone was sleeping, she decided it was the perfect time to continue writing in her journal. She wanted to write down more of her insecurities and suspicions about any connection there may be between the dream she had had the previous night and Morris Delancey's murder.
She arose from her bunk slowly and lit a candle so that it was easier to write in her journal. She set the white wax candle on the top of a nearby bedside table and placed her journal next to it. Picking up her pen, she opened to her page, debating what she should write. And, also, though she didn't admit it to herself, see if maybe there was some sort of message from Kisses.
There always was.
Layna,
Layna, Layna, Layna. Don't you worry your pretty little head about any mean old men named Delancey. The world is better off without scum like him polluting it. Don't you agree? And I must say, interesting dream you had last night. But don't worry about it, my friend, it's nothing. You can trust me, right? I mean, after all, if you can't trust your best friend, who can you trust? And I am your best friend. I'm your only friend. I take care of you, and you take care of me. We, in a sense, are one. One, you hear me! One...
Kisses