Dutchy lay uncomfortably on the thin bed. Never before had the lumps in the old mattress felt so lumpy, never had the sheets felt so scratchy, and never had the normal nighttime sounds of other sleeping boys echoed so cavernously in his ears. It felt as though he'd been lying there for hours, hoping for some sort of sign that Racetrack had succumbed to fatigue. After all, he couldn't sneak out of the Lodging House if Racetrack was awake.
Slowly, ever so slowly, he raised his head and squinted until the blurs began to come into hazy focus. He still couldn't see clearly, but even though Race was lying several bunks over, it was clear that his eyes were closed, his face relaxed. In one smooth movement, Dutchy grabbed his glasses from where they were lying, next to his head, and slipped them on his face. His quick glance around the room revealed no suspicious glances or postures; everyone was simply asleep.
He rose from his bed, fleetingly wishing that Bumlets was still sleeping right above him, as he had slept every night for years. But there was no time for wishing, no time for shoes or even for pants. If Dutchy wanted to sneak out silently, he would have to go as he was, and right away. He didn't know precisely what time it was, but the slow lightening of the sky outside the window told him that it was nearing dawn, and that Kloppman would be waking up soon.
Stepping over creaky boards with an ease borne of years of experience, he tiptoed down the stairs and let himself out through the front door. Had he been paying more attention at that last moment, Dutchy would have noticed Race's and Jack's eyes opening, and he would definitely have noticed the grim look they shot at each other.
But he hadn't noticed. His brain had already been filled with images of the delighted grin Bumlets was sure to shoot his way. Not only had his family been located, not only that, but the clowns weren't after him to kill him to begin with! It had just been one big, gigantic misunderstanding, one that Dutchy was looking forward to getting cleared up.
He hated seeing his friends sad, especially when it was all his fault. He hated lying, and he didn't like what this entire charade was doing to him. Remembering his nightmare, and hearing once again the ghostly voice of his mother in his ears, he paused and shivered, despite the warm night.
Despite his aching feet, he managed to move at a fairly brisk pace towards Irving Hall. He wasn't sure why, but he had this feeling deep inside that if he could just make Bumlets smile, it would make everything better.
Abruptly, he halted and stared at the cobblestones. If he told Bumlets about his family, then Bumlets might want to leave, to go back to his family.
"No," he whispered. "That ain't what he told me. He said he wasn't gonna go back." He paused, his confident words ringing false. As much as Dutchy loved the newsies, if someone told him to choose between the newsies and having his family back... "If I can give him back his family," he said aloud, testing the words, "I oughta. It's the right thing to do, ain't it?" All the same, thoughts of life without Bumlets seemed...gray and dull.
He sighed, and resumed his march towards Irving Hall, but some of the bounce was gone from his step.
When he looked up and saw the giant sign proclaiming that he had reached his destination, he couldn't quite decide how he felt. On the one hand, he would make Bumlets happy, and if he could do that, everything would be all right again. His family would stop haunting him. On the other...
"No! He ain't gonna leave!" With a firm nod, Dutchy resigned himself to whatever this would bring, and marched inside. He didn't stop until he reached the green room and knocked firmly on the door.
"Bumlets!" he called softly through the door. "It's Dutchy! I got news!"
For a few seconds, there was silence, then Dutchy could hear some quiet rustling. The door cracked open and Bumlet's dark eyes looked out at him. At the sight, Dutchy almost grinned.
"Let me in, ya idiot," he said. "I ain't bein' followed."
Without a word, Bumlets opened the door further, and Dutchy hurried in. When he turned to face Bumlets, he nearly swallowed his tongue. Bumlets wasn't wearing a shirt. Dutchy forced his eyes upward.
"Well?" Bumlets asked quietly. "How'd the guys take it?"
"Uh..." Dutchy scratched the back of his head, suddenly not wanting to meet Bumlets' eyes. "They believed me."
"Good, I...guess..." Bumlets trailed off and both boys looked at each other in silence.
Finally, Dutchy brightened again. "Oh! And I got some good news!"
"Really?" A tired grin touched Bumlets' face, and Dutchy realized how exhausting this all must be for him. "Well, what is it? I could use good news."
"It's about your family," Dutchy said, pulling his cap off of his head. "I... I found out where they are." He held his breath, waiting for Bumlets' reaction.
"You what?" Bumlets didn't look as happy as Dutchy had hoped.
"Yeah, I..." he faltered. "I mean, I didn't find 'em, but..." He trailed off again. "They'se gonna be in town in about a month, with the Carson and...and..." Damn, why couldn't he remember the name? "...and Barnes Circus," he finished triumphantly. "And I wanted to come and tell ya right away, 'cause I...I wanted..."
"What didja want, Dutchy?" Bumlets asked quietly, his voice steady.
Race's words came back suddenly. He always watched you, you know, when you wasn't lookin'. He'd look at you like you was the most wonderful thing he'd ever seen. Dutchy felt heat rising to his face. He'd responded that he didn't like boys like that, and he'd meant it. He really had. But somehow, Bumlets was different. Dutchy had known that for a while. Even when he hated the world, he'd never hated Bumlets. He never would have admitted to anyone that Bumlets' smile always gave him a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach. Looking at Bumlets right now, Dutchy couldn't imagine what he would do if he woke up one morning and didn't have Bumlets snoring in the bunk above.
And suddenly, Dutchy knew. He knew. With every fiber in his body, he knew. He'd always ignored it before, but now, standing face-to-face with Bumlets, all alone together in the hushed night, it was only too clear.
"I wanted to tell you," Dutchy began, his head pounding crazily and his stomach turning flip-flops, "'cause I wanted to make you happy. And I wanted to make you happy 'cause I...I..."
His mouth was dry. Though he wanted desperately to say it, the words wouldn't come. He reminded himself of Race's words, of the fact that Bumlets liked him. All the same, he couldn't shake the notion that if he said it, Bumlets would turn away in disgust, would reject him. And then Dutchy would be all alone again. With no one to love.
Luckily, Bumlets saved him before he passed out and spoke first. "I still remember the first time I met ya, Dutchy."
"Oh, yeah?" Dutchy croaked.
Bumlets took a step closer. "Yeah. It was my first time at the Lodging House, and I was kinda scared. I missed my family, and I didn't know what I was gonna do. I went upstairs. There was a whole bunch of guys in there, and you was lyin' on your bunk with your hat over your eyes. I took the bunk above yours 'cause it didn't look like anyone had slept there, an' I didn't want to take someone else's. So I lay down, and a minute later, you popped up and looked at me. You asked me if I was new and then you smiled at me. An' I smiled back. Ever since then, I always thought that you was special."
Dutchy smiled then. It spread over his face, uncontrollably, and shone out of his eyes. He only smiled like that when he was really happy, and both boys knew it.
"I ain't special," Dutchy replied. He rubbed at the back of his neck, aware that Bumlets had taken another step closer. "Me? I'se a selfish bastard who never lifted a finger to help no one, and told myself it was okay 'cause no one ever really helped me. But you...You always helped me when I needed it, and you didn't ask for nothin' in return neither. You'se the special one, an' you always was, Bumlets."
Bumlets smiled back, his white teeth flashing in his dark face, though there was a trace of nervousness in his eyes. "That was when I told myself that it was okay if I didn't find my family. When you smiled at me, Dutchy. That even if I found 'em, I wouldn't go back. 'Cause I told myself that I didn't need family as long as I had..." He paused, searching Dutchy's face.
It was ridiculous. They both knew, and they both knew that the other one knew, but both were too scared to say it first. There was a moment of silence, when neither could find the words to speak.
Dutchy stared at the room around them, trying to bolster his courage. Medda's costumes hung from every surface, creating a strange kind of plush decadence around them.
"Did I ever tell ya about my family?" he said, the words surprising even him.
"No..." Bumlets said, confusion on his face.
"I'll...tell ya sometime," Dutchy said. "I ain't never told no one, but I'll tell you, Bumlets."
That was all he could say. And that was all he needed to say. Bumlets understood.
Now standing close enough, he reached out a hand and gently touched Dutchy's hair. Then he slowly drew off Dutchy's glasses, leaving Dutchy utterly vulnerable. Somehow, Dutchy didn't mind, though he did reach out and grab his glasses back to hold. Even though he could no longer see Bumlets as clearly, he could still feel the heat of Bumlets' gaze. His breath began coming in short gasps.
"You got gorgeous eyes," Bumlets breathed. "I don't think I'se ever seen you without the glasses before."
Dutchy managed to shrug, though his every nerve was tightly-strung and humming softly. "I don't see real good without 'em. Sometimes I forget to take 'em off before I go to sleep." Bumlets' hand was now stroking his cheek, distracting him immensely.
"I know," Bumlets said, and Dutchy could hear the grin in his voice. "Sometimes I look at you while you'se sleeping."
"I...I..." Dutchy gasped as the warm hand firmly cupped his cheek. "I watch you in the mornings...when we go to work."
"You do?"
He wanted to reciprocate, but he couldn't find the courage to reach out and touch Bumlets. Not yet. "Yeah, I kinda...like watchin' the sun on your hair."
Bumlets' other hand crept towards the back of Dutchy's neck, lightly playing with the blond strands. Now that he was closer, Dutchy could see his face again, and he looked, as if for the first time, at the smooth cocoa skin, at the big brown eyes, the shining hair, and the mouth...Oh, god, the mouth.
Probably having seen where Dutchy was staring, Bumlets said, "I watch you eat sometimes."
He was so close now that Dutchy could simply bring his hand up between them and place it on Bumlets' chest, and he did, marveling at the warmth and strength of the skin underneath.
"I watch you twirl the stick around, most days," Dutchy said, staring at his hand, so comfortable on Bumlets' bare skin. Slowly, he moved his hand upwards and traced the line of Bumlets' collar bone back and forth with a single finger. "And I like watchin' you walk, too," he blurted out, hoping that his face couldn't possibly get any redder. "If you was a girl, you coulda been a dancer."
A warm hand tilted his chin upwards until he was looking deeply into Bumlets' eyes, so close.
"But I ain't a girl," Bumlets said. His voice was quiet, but there was a note of warning in there. Dutchy heard it, clear as day, and knew that this was his last chance to leave.
Suddenly bold, he slid his free hand around Bumlets' side and let it rest at the small of his back as his glasses fell to the floor, forgotten. "No, you ain't a girl," Dutchy agreed. "And don't I know it."
Finally, their lips touched. Ever so softly and timid at first, the kisses quickly grew in length and passion. Neither one was sure who opened his mouth first, but within moments, their tongues were darting in and out of each other's mouths with impunity.
Bumlets' hands were busy holding Dutchy's head to his, as though he were afraid that the blond boy would run away if he let go. Dutchy, however, felt free to let his hands roam up and down Bumlets' torso, though he was too shy to let his hands wander below Bumlets' waist. He'd never realized before how muscular Bumlets was.
He told Bumlets so in between kisses. Bumlets' only response was to tell him to be quiet and keep kissing him.
As they kissed and held each other, Dutchy's head felt like it was whirling. He'd never felt anything like this before, not even during his few sweaty fumblings with girls he'd met. This was different. This was...right. He clutched at Bumlets' shoulders, sure that he'd fall down if Bumlets didn't hold him up.
And Bumlets did hold him, his hands sliding around Dutchy's back. All the same, though, Dutchy felt himself beginning the inevitable slide towards the floor, Bumlets with him.
He'd forgotten everything: his family, the clowns, the newsies...everything. All that mattered was right here and now, was in his arms. And he might not have ever remembered the rest of it had not a cold voice sounded from the door.
"Well, now. Isn't this sweet?"
Their heads both snapped around in alarm, though only Bumlets could actually see the man who was casually lounging in the doorway. Dutchy blinked and squinted, trying to see, but all he could make out was a blur. He could see Bumlets' face clearly, though, and judging by the grayish pallor the other boy now had, Dutchy had a feeling that this was going to be a very bad situation.
"How'd you find me?" Bumlets asked, his voice so harsh that Dutchy knew that terror lay beneath.
The man in the doorway laughed, though it was a cruel sound. "It was easy enough. We just followed your little 'friend' here. He led us straight to you."
Dutchy let out a strangled gasp. What had he done? Had he unintentionally betrayed the one person he really cared for? He took one glance at the expression on Bumlets' face and started babbling desperately. "Bumlets, I swear I didn't know, I swear it. You gotta believe me; I'd never do anythin' to hurt ya. You gotta know that, right? Right?"
Bumlets took a step away, keeping his gaze on the doorway as one, two, three, four men filed in, blocking the escape route. "At this point, it ain't gonna make much of a difference whether you knew or not, Dutchy."
It felt as though someone had stabbed him through the heart. No, it was worse than that. It felt more like someone had taken a blunt instrument, jammed it into his chest, pushed it around for a while, and pulled his heart out.
The tallest of the four men walked forward slowly, every movement menacing, and towered over Bumlets. "We've waited a long time for this, you little bastard," he snarled. "And now we've finally got you." He drew back his hand and punched Bumlets in the face. Letting out a short cry of pain, Bumlets stumbled backwards and barely managed to catch himself on the edge of the couch. "That was for Bozo!" The tall man straightened his coat, and snapped his fingers. "Boys?" he said. "Grab him."
As two of the other blobs that Dutchy assumed were men began to move forward, Dutchy's brain finally kicked back into motion. He couldn't let them hurt Bumlets. He just couldn't. Though he was no match for any of these men, particularly not without his glasses, he was going to have to do something brave...or stupid. He wasn't sure which.
Letting out a frightening (he hoped) roar, he lunged towards the tall man and tackled him. The man didn't go tumbling to the floor, but he was thrown off balance by Dutchy's leap. For his part, Dutchy swung his fists in the direction of the man's face, hoping that a swing or two would connect, and shouted, "Bumlets! Run!"
He couldn't tell what was happening beyond the world of his pummeling fists, so he couldn't see what Bumlets was doing, though he heard the sounds of a desperate struggle.
The tall man managed to catch Dutchy's fists and tossed him to the ground, knocking the breath out of him. When he glanced up, trying to breathe, he saw the blur that was Bumlets imprisoned between the blurs that were two of the clowns.
"No..." he moaned, terrified that they were going to kill Bumlets right here, right now, right in front of him. "I can't..."
Before he could try to struggle to his feet, there was a sudden choked cry from the doorway. As all heads swiveled around, Dutchy could only see that one of the clowns had just been knocked down by two newcomers.
Though he couldn't see their faces, their voices were familiar and entirely welcome.
"Well, well, Jack. What have we got 'ere, huh?"
"Dunno, Race. It looks like some bums are tryin' to hurt some of our boys, though."
"Yeah, it does kinda look like that, though..." Racetrack's voice faltered. "Though I wasn't expectin' to see Bumlets here..."
Dutchy swallowed. There would be hell to pay for this. He levered himself from the floor and threw himself at the feet of the tallest man, finally knocking him to the ground, just as Race and Jack jumped over the body of the man they'd already knocked down and went after the two men who were holding Bumlets.
For the next several minutes, the only sounds in the room were the cracking noises of fists against flesh and the sharp grunts that accompanied them. For his part, Dutchy wasn't doing too well against the tall clown. He'd gotten punched several times, and could already feel one of his eyes beginning to swell closed.
He was about to start biting the man's fleshy arm when Jack shouted, "Bumlets! Get outta here!"
"I can't leave you guys!" came the reply, punctuated with the sound of a sharp kick.
"We's fine. Go!"
Suddenly frozen, Dutchy watched as Bumlets shoved past one of the clowns and raced out of the room. The sound of his footsteps began to recede within seconds. With an angry yell, the tall clown flung Dutchy away from him and ran after Bumlets.
Once he was gone, Jack and Racetrack made short work of the remaining two men, who barely managed to make it to the door and limp off after their compatriot. One lingered long enough to snarl, "This isn't over, boys. We know where you live, and we'll be back for you!"
Then all was silence. Dutchy lay still, breathing heavily. He was vaguely aware of Racetrack and Jack, neither much the worse for the wear, walking over to stand above him, looking down.
"My glasses?" he croaked.
"Broken," Jack replied flatly. "Dutchy, you got some serious explainin' to do."
"I know," Dutchy said miserably, wiping a hand across his nose and noting the blood that smeared the back of it. "Can you guys jus...help me sit up? I'll tell ya everythin', I promise."
He was helped to a sitting position, none-too-gently.
As he gazed off in the general direction of the door, futilely wishing that Bumlets would come back, Dutchy tried to think of the quickest way to explain this whole awful situation to Jack and Race, who weren't looking very charitable.
"Okay. Okay," he said. "So...Yeah." He paused again, then said in a rush, "So the clowns're after Bumlets, and we kinda thought the best way to make 'em cheese it was to make you'se guys think that he's dead, but-but-the-whole-plan-kinda-backfired-and-now-BumletsisgoneandmyglassesarebrokenandIdon'tknowwhattodo!" He stared fixedly at the ground, his head pounding.
Both Racetrack and Jack were silent for a long moment, probably attempting to sort out Dutchy's hurried words.
Finally, Race squatted down close to look Dutchy in his nearsighted eyes. "Dutchy... We followed ya here 'cause we was worried about you. You'se our friend, and we ain't gonna just desert you. But..."
"How could ya do this to us?" Jack burst out, interrupting Racetrack. "You made us all think he was dead. Did you see what that did to everyone?"
"I know!" Dutchy cried out. "I know, I saw, I saw it all, Cowboy. I only did it 'cause I was tryin' to...to help Bumlets."
"An' you couldn't have come to us?" Jack replied coldly. "Newsies always back each other up, Dutchy. They don't...do this."
Dutchy felt a stinging behind his eyes and blinked as rapidly as he could, though his bruised and swollen eye wasn't responding too well. "Look, I'se real sorry, okay? I jus' wanted to do the right thing."
"Great job," Jack said curtly.
"Jack!" Race cut in. "You ain't helpin'." He sighed. "Look, Dutchy. Maybe it'd be good if you tried to get some sleep."
"Maybe," Dutchy muttered. "I ain't seein' too good, though, so I'se gonna trip on everythin' on the way back."
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence before Racetrack cleared his throat.
"I think...maybe it'd be good if ya didn't come back to the Lodging House for now, Dutchy."
Dutchy snapped his head up, ignoring the pain it caused. "What?" he exclaimed, his voice wavering. "You're—"
"I believe that you was tryin' to help Bumlets," Race said quickly, "but all the same... The guys ain't gonna take this too good, know what I mean? Safer for you to stay here."
He wouldn't cry. He hadn't cried since the day his real family had died, and he wasn't about to start now.
"So what do I do?" Dutchy asked bitterly. "Sit in this room and pretend I don't exist?"
"That's a good start," Jack muttered, and slammed out of the room, pausing only to yell, "Racetrack! We're goin'."
Race said quietly to Dutchy, "You can still sell papes, but you'll want to show up at Distribution after we'se all already through the line. I'll...tell Kloppman that your glasses are broke, and maybe he'll get you some new ones."
With that, he nodded, stood up, and followed Jack. Dutchy was left all alone in the messy room with nothing but his shattered glasses and a heart that was nearly the same.
