A/N: Well, here's the next chapter. I'm working on the next one, and hopefully, if all goes well, it will be up by Sunday. I'll do my best to finish the next chapter before then, but if I don't, please don't hold it against me! Oh, and one more thing: I do not own Newsies.
Chapter 3
I woke up a week later feeling totally miserable. Another day without seeing Race. That's seven down, and seven to go. I groaned and pulled my blanket over my head.
"Time to get up!" I heard Spot call. I sighed and rolled out of bed, too tired to argue, and not really wanting to anyway. Pockets walked over to me and slung an arm around my shoulders.
"Cheer up, Bookworm," she said. "Only a week left to go."
"But it's felt like a month, and it's only been a week," I moaned. "How on earth am I going to last another week?" Pockets hugged me.
"You'll find a way." She glanced around, then leaned closer. "If you want, I can go to Manhattan and give Racetrack any messages that you have for him," she said quietly.
"You would do that?" I asked. When she nodded, I grinned and threw my arms around her. "Youse the best!"
"So, have you thought about how you're going to get Spot back for banning you from Manhattan?" Pockets wanted to know. I shook my head.
"I'm not," I said simply. Pockets was shocked for a moment.
"But why?" she asked incredulously. I sighed.
"I'm not about to get on Spot's bad side again, Pockets. If I do, what's stopping him from extending the two weeks to a month or more? I won't do that to Race!" Pockets was silent for a few moments.
"What about a guilt trip? Or the silent treatment?" she asked mischievously. I grinned.
"Oh, you better believe I'm gonna lay on the guilt," I said. "He can't punish me for moping around and acting completely miserable." Pockets beamed. "I've already been doing the silent treatment. I'm not about to stop that now."
"That's the spirit, girl!" she said. Just then Spot walked up to us.
"Mornin' you two!" he said with a smile, just like he did every morning. "How are my two favorite newsies?" I simply frowned at him, then started walking away.
"What's her problem?" I heard Spot ask. "She hasn't said one word to me for a week." It took every ounce of self control that I had to not march back and tell Spot just what my "problem" was.
"Hello, you've banned her from seeing her boyfriend for two weeks, Spot. Why do you think she's acting like this?" Pockets said sarcastically. I didn't hear Spot's reply because I walked out the door and started a slow walk towards the Brooklyn Distribution Center.
"20 papes," I requested once I got there, not seeing Spot come up behind me.
"That's all yer gettin' today?" he asked. I picked up my papes and headed out towards the street, without saying a word to Spot. "Hey, I asked ya a question, Bookworm!" he said, jogging after me. Still, I said nothing as I sat down on the curb. I had made up my mind a week ago: I was not going to talk to Spot Conlon at all for the two weeks; I wasn't even going to look at him. "Look at me, will ya?" he almost demanded, sitting next to me on the curb.
I started scanning the headlines, deliberately ignoring him. After a few moments, I realized that I wasn't really actually reading anything; I was just going through the motions. All I could think about was Racetrack, and how it was going to be another long week without him. Suddenly, all I wanted was to be alone. I hastily got to my feet and took off down the street, not really caring where I was going.
"Bookworm!" Spot called after me, but I kept running. All I cared about right then was being left alone. Unfortunately, Spot had other plans for me. As I turned a corner, I glanced behind me and saw Spot running after me. After awhile, I slowed down, unable to run any more.
I stepped into an alley and leaned up against the wall, trying to catch my breath and fighting back tears that threatened to spill over at the thought that I wasn't going to see Racetrack for another whole week.
"Get a grip, Bookworm," I mumbled to myself, sliding down the wall and sitting on the ground, making sure to keep my papes on my lap so they wouldn't get dirty. "Pockets is right--it's only a week more. You can last that long."
A shadow fell over me and I looked up, not really surprised to find Spot standing over me. I glared up at him, but didn't say anything.
"Now, don't you give me that look, Bookworm," Spot warned. "It's your own fault that you can't see Racetrack for another week." I got to my feet and attempted to walk past him, but he grabbed my arm. "Don't walk away from me when I'm talkin' to ya. And look at me, would ya?!" I held back a sigh as I turned to face him. "Thank you. Now, what is your problem? Ya haven't said a single word to me for the past week, and I want to know why."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Was he serious? Did he actually not know?
"Are you serious?" I finally asked, unsuccessfully holding back the laughter in my voice. "You honestly have no idea why I refuse to speak to you for the time being?" I laughed and shook my head. "Thanks, Spot. I needed a laugh. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must be going." I started to walk away, but Spot grabbed my arm again.
"Hey, I wasn't done talkin' to ya. And ya still haven't answered my question. You've been nothin' but rude to me this whole week. Why?" I looked at him in exasperation.
"Once I finally get to see Racetrack again, Spot, then I'll think about speaking civilly to you again. But not until then."
"That's why you're actin' like this? 'Cause I won't let ya see your boyfriend for another week?" Spot asked incredulously. I glared at him.
"Are you done? 'Cause I've got some papes I gotta sell." This time when I tried to walk away, he didn't stop me. He simply watched as I turned the corner and disappeared from sight.