Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, Empress of the World, or and other media references I may make.
Emperor of the World
July 25th, Siegel Institute Library, 9:00 pm
I dare not sit at that table. Just being here makes me want to cry. This is the place where we got caught for absolutely nothing. If I clamp my eyes shut I can see Skittery and I sitting at the table across from me, holding hands and trying to study.
It's hard to get any work done at all. My History textbook lies open, begging me to study. But I can't. I can't let myself; it's too hard to let go.
I know it's pathetic. It's not like we loved each other, right? Sure, I cared for Skittery, but I'm only sixteen.
Napoleon sailed from Spain to…
The librarian is watching me. I can feel her eyes like fire on my neck, as if daring me to do something to get kicked out again. I won't do anything. I won't look up and I won't breathe too loudly. I'll pretend I don't exist. Skittery can do it, so I think I can too. Why not? Look how quickly he moved on, it's like magic, like he just pushed a button and we never were.
Suddenly Racetrack I sitting beside me. We spend a lot of time together now; I think he feels bad for me.
"What's up?" he whispers.
I shrug and squint at the miniscule text. Who the hell cares about Napoleon? He was alive hundreds of years ago. Right now he doesn't matter to me. Except that I want to pass my test.
"Studying?" he asks, equally as quiet as before. The librarian glares.
I nod. "Yeah, I'm trying."
Racetrack grabs my arm and pulls me up. "Let's go," he hisses.
I'm not sure what's going on. I dump my books in my bag haphazardly and follow him out of the library.
We step into the wilderness. Dusk is inching closer, filling the sky with a smoky purple colour. We don't say anything. I still don't know what's going on.
"Dutchy, Specs, Jack and I, we've been talking," says Racetrack after a minute.
I draw my breath in. They've been talking about me. About how pathetic I am, not leaving the room and not conversing with Skittery. Not that he's even really tried talking to me. I think he's guilty. That's something, at least.
"About what?" My voice comes out softly, as if anticipating the worst.
"About Skittery, he's been hanging around with Jack a lot. Jack thinks he's asking weird." He shoots a look in my direction.
"So?" I ask, kicking a pinecone ahead of me.
"We think it's Jade. Spot and I, we don't think he really likes Jade."
I can't believe this. "Hold on," I gasp, "back up, you talk to your boyfriend—who I know is very nice, but who I've only met once—about me and my problems?"
Racetrack ignores me and continues. "We think he's still stuck up on you. And of course it's all because his dad's a minister and his parents won't let—"
"His dad is a minister—" I gasp next.
Once again, no answer.
"—him do anything about that. I mean, come one, they're Christian, it's not exactly like their religion is open to that or anything. So we think they're afraid that he'll bring shame on the family or something. So Jack thinks he's just going to drop Jade when he's sure everything's OK and he doesn't want Jade getting hurt."
I hadn't thought about this before. But that's probably because I didn't know how religious Skittery's family is. Wait, Skittery's real name is Christopher. Christopher, Christian. And he hates his name.
I realize Racetrack has stopped talking. I look at him. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"You have to win him back!" declares Racetrack happily. "Tell him how you feel. Get in his pants again!" He snickers at this last part.
I gawk for a moment. "For your information, I have never been in Skittery's pants!" I can't help thinking 'too bad'. I blush. "Besides, he's made it clear that he doesn't want me anyways."
"A prediction is never as sure as a fact," says Racetrack nonchalantly.
I know what he means saying this. I'll never know how we could be if I don't even try. At least I can say I tried, that I struggled. At least I can get some sort of satisfaction in knowing that he didn't leave me because of his family, but because of how he felt.
Man will do more for what he wants than for what he needs…
Does Skittery really want me?
July 26th, The Cafeteria, 12:00 pm
How am I going to do this? Just begin talking to him like nothing's wrong? How can I do that?
"Skittery, hi," I say as he sits down. My voice quavers. I swallow.
He looks confused. He stares for a minute, studying my face. I get that lurching feeling again.
"Yeah, hi," he says, "are you OK?"
But I hear Are we OK?
I nod. "Yeah, I wasn't feeling to well. A bit of a headache. But I'm better now."
"That's good, I'm glad you're better. Hope you didn't miss any class, did you?"
I'm glad. You didn't worry about it too much did you?
"Nah, it's OK. Never—"
Racetrack is watching me.
"—been better."
Skittery begins eating. Jade waltzes over and sits beside him. "Good afternoon!" she sings. My stomach drops to my feet, dragging on the ground.
Her hand goes to Skittery's. Discreetly he shoots me a look. I pretend not to notice. Jack swallows.
Isabel sits across from us, along with Medda. They are oblivious to anything going on. Medda groans in her Medda-like way.
"I just had an exam. Killer!" she stabs her salad with a fork.
Isabel takes a long slurp from her soft drink and sighs. "I am so hungry."
No one answers; they look around, confused.
"What's going on?" asks Isabel cautiously.
Jack looks around. "I—"
But his explanation is interrupted by Specs flinging himself on the bench. His tray skids a few feet, but he doesn't notice. He brings his head to the table roughly and rests it there.
"'Sup Specs?" asks Medda, shoving a leafy lettuce stalk into her mouth.
Specs shrugs and mumbles something indeterminable. I give up and open my sketchbook; it's obvious that I'm not going to get anything across.
Racetrack kicks me hard in the shin. My head jerks up. He looks at Skittery pointedly. I give up. "I'm going to my room," I say. Racetrack moans. Jack looks scared. I can't see Specs' face. Medda and Isabel look confused. Jade looks indifferent. I try not to look at Skittery's face; I'm afraid of what I might see.
I rush to the exit and swing the heavy door open.
Something inside of me pushes me forward, making me stumble. I fight back tears that sting my nose and burn my vision. My throat aches, forming a giant lump that threatens to explode. I trip and fall forward, my hands break my fall.
I can only hear the sounds of the cafeteria. Loud, happy sounds. Why did I try?
Nostalgia overtakes me, catching up with my consciousness, drowning out my thoughts.
And without thinking we kiss. It just seems right.
I can feel the sun on my face. Just like when we kissed in the studio. I can feel his hand on my arm, the light on my eyelids, making them red and see-through.
They just look like hands. Intertwined, slightly pink and calloused, knuckles bent slightly, white bones bending with the joints, making them shiny and white.
I feel the joyful embarrassment. I hear Jack's camera, clicking repetitively and Skittery's hand squeezing mine tighter.
Skittery looks up and smiles. He chuckles and leans forward, his lips meeting my forehead. "Dutchy," he says with a sigh of amusement. "I can't believe you even care."
I feel youthful, young and childlike. I feel handsome and witty, but tiny and stupefied. Skittery's smile and his mouth on my forehead. My hand travels there, lingering at the spot as if I can still feel it. But I can't.
I stand up. Tomorrow I will try again. Skittery loves me. He wants me. I know it.
End Chapter
((Who loves Determined!Dutchy? Every hand in the house should be raised, otherwise…(shakes fist) OK, please review and I'm very sorry to take so long updating. School is catching up with me! Ahhhh! It's back!!! (runs away)
Charlie!Muse: oooook…I'm in charge now. You get your shoutouts from ME!))
Shoutouts: (Special guest…Charlie!!!)
Nakaia Aiden-Sun—Yes. I think some good ass-kicking will do…
Peter!Muse: that's not good Charlie, people could get hurt!
Charlie!Muse: this coming from the guy who chopped off someone's hand a fed it to a crocodile? Puh-lese!
Tom!Muse: (mumbling) I would have saved him. But I don't know what the hell the Jolly Roger is!
Charlie!Muse: go play with your First Aid kit, I need to finish these reviews. Geez, you guys should just GET OUT OF MY HAIR!!! Oh, and way to ask out that guy.
Michael!Muse: that's what I would have done!
Erin Go Bragh—wow. Have you taken your pills?
Tom!Muse: Pills? I have pills!
Spitzer!Muse: What. A. Druggie.
Michael!Muse: yeah, but he's hot!
Both: mmmmm…
Charlie!Muse: shutup you lust-filled drama freaks!!! The world is INSANE!!!
Madison Square—cryptic, eh? Interesting…does crypt include death? Like…Tales of the Cryptkeeper or whatever? That guy is AWESOME!
Itey!Muse: that guy gave me nightmares!
Charlie!Muse: suck it up. I'm only ten and I can take it. Wuss.
Tom!Muse: I have anti-sad pills! Here! (flexes muscles in process)
Michael/Spitzer!Muse: (sigh)
Charlie!Muse: just thought I'd get it across, flowy language SUCKS! I'm never in the shoutouts for those because it's too serious.
Jacky Higgins—did you really cry? Wow…
Tom!Muse: never fear! I have tissues!!!
Charlie!Muse: (shoves Tom in a closet)
Spitzer!Muse: YES! Now he can come out!!! (High-fives Michael!Muse)
Eagle Higgins-Conlon—your story isn't up, we all checked. I think something's wrong.
Peter!Muse: Buttons doesn't make promises she can't keep. Well, not too often…
Michael!Muse: (tries to pry door off the closet)
OK, now that that's over. Never again will my Charlie!Muse do the shoutouts. NEVER! If he insulted you, please ignore him. He usually is anyways.