Disclaimer: I honestly don't own any of the Newsies. They belonged to
Disney the last I knew of. I only own the plot and some of the characters
families. This story is purely for your enjoyment and not meant to offend
anyone. So please...enjoy it!
Spot's POV
A sharp crack at my door woke me that morning and I glared at the small giggles that erupted from outside in the hallway.
My family didn't seem to believe in alarm clocks. And instead invested their trust more it seemed, on relying on one person to wake up at the correct time and then proceed to wake the others.
That one person usually tended to be my mother, though she often went straight back to bed in a dire effort to set a glorious example for her children. Yet today it seemed that my youngest, and only, four year old sister Lexis was so excited to return from winter break to her second semester of Kindergarten, that she had woken up extra early to make sure there was no way she could be late. And she apparently wanted to drag me along with her.
Sighing I began to get up. I ran a hand through my newly cut hair, it had taken all of my mother's constant persistence to convince me to cut it from hanging at my ears to simply short and tousled atop my head. I was, however, only semi-self conscious about it because I knew that the only people whose opinions actually mattered to me, well, honestly wouldn't care.
Stumbling out of my tangled and twisted bed sheets, I tend to be a restless sleeper, I directed myself over to my bathroom where I had already conveniently tossed a pair of slightly baggy, yet conservative, faded jeans, a tight black t-shirt and similar jacket and a pair of black suede boots that barely peeked out of the bottoms of my pants. After all it was fairly cold up here in January,
Slipping them on I smacked a large amount of toothpaste on my toothbrush and took a good ten minutes to make sure my entire mouth felt extremely clean. I'm huge on dental hygiene and have never once, that I know of, forgotten to brush my teeth.
Rounding the corner of my room and our staircase that led to the bottom level of our house, I contemplated whether or not the banister would hold my weight. I had never weighed over 119 lbs. and decided to take my chances.
As I hopped off the railing at the bottom of the stairs I heard my sister squeal.
"Oh! Spot don't do that!" she chastised me and I found it slightly odd that I was being scolded by a four year old.
I took a seat beside her on the couch where she was watching T.V. "What're you watching?" I asked her curiously.
"Barney!" she exclaimed happily and I cringed. "Why don't you watch something more knowledgeable? Like CNN or the History Channel?" I asked her skeptically knowing full well that I was the only person in our household that watched either of those.
She rolled her eyes at me. "Because I'm not a pol...i...ti-tical activist like you are Spot!" she said as if were the plainest answer to all but me. I arched an eyebrow, slightly astounded at how smart she sounded.
"Do you even know what a political activist is?" I inquired half expecting her to say yes. She shook her head.
"Not really," she said, "but Daddy says that watch CNN a lot." I rolled my eyes I thought of my father. Leaning forward I ruffled her honey colored hair she had received from our mother.
"Well Daddy's stupid!" I informed her in a sing-song voice as she playfully swatted my hand away and turned back to her more interesting regular programming. In about three seconds she seemed to forget I was there.
I flipped backwards over and off the couch and put my hands on my hips, much like my friend Dutchy did when he was dealing with small children.
"Do you want me to make you breakfast?" I asked her and she nodded knowing full well that when I said breakfast that I meant cereal because I sure as Hell couldn't cook.
"Spot did you take a long shower last night?" she asked me randomly and I noticed that her eyes had not once left the television screen.
"What does that have to do with anything?" I asked her and once again her answer consisted of a small rise of her little shoulders.
"There was just no hot water left when I took my bath," she informed me, her tone slightly snarky, "I'm surprised you didn't shrivel up like a prune."...She sure didn't sound four years old...huh.
I made a face as I turned from her at my position in the kitchen, which looked out into the living room. I poured some milk in her Cheerios and contemplated adding some prunes, which for some reason we had, in as well just to shut her up. Oh well the moment had past.
"You're just jealous because I smell better than you." I declared poking her tummy gently. She didn't look at me and I frowned.
Creeping forward I popped her Barney tape out of the VCR. "Hey!" she cried indignantly. I shook my head and handed her the bowl of cereal.
"Watch 'Winnie the Pooh'," I told her as I placed the new tape in the previous one's position, "It's better for you."
"Whatever, Spot." She said. Well it was. I only didn't want her watching Barney because I felt her mind was impressionable enough to believe that reality could sometimes happen that way. At least 'Winnie the Pooh' was a cartoon, making it obvious that it was simply fiction with morals and in no way reality.
Leaning over the couch I placed a brotherly kiss on her forehead. "Tell Mom that I'm walking to school today that way, when I come home safely she can sleep at night." I told my sister. She looked at me and nodded.
"Aren't you going to eat breakfast?" she asked her mouth a thin copper line frown. I shook my head. "Lexy you know I never do." I told her only to receive another nod.
I slid my wallet into my back pocket and was halfway to the door when she called out simply, "Spot, your bag."
I grinned at the back of her head before retrieving my black, leather 'sling over the shoulder' type bag, opened the door and left. Damn that kid was really bright.
Putting my hands in my pockets I skirted around the curb on my street and stopped at the stop sign. I was off to another exhilarating semester of my 10th grade year at Jefferson High School. In all honesty the only thing I was really looking forward to was my new 'Newspaper' class.
Call me what you will but I liked journalism well enough and the thought of having to get a newspaper out every week for such a large school was like oil to the wheels of my brain.
It seemed that I was taking the course with only 9 other students. Yet I was pleased because at least four of them were some of my better friends and I was happy to be having a class other than 'lunch' with them.
Waiting at the stop sign reminded me painfully of how much I really needed to get a car. Yet I'm sadly only fifteen and my day of birth isn't until late this year. So I simply relied on my parents, and the majority of my friend whom were older than me, to tote me places.
Suddenly a slick, black Lexis pulled up in front of the stop sign. Smirking I clambered in and shot a grin at the driver, my father.
"Where were you?" I asked, "I thought you weren't going to show I was waiting so damn long." I joked.
Had this been my mother I was speaking to I very well may have received a slap upside the head. However I knew my dad was just a kid at heart and he was much looser with his children than my mother was.
He shrugged and hugged the steering wheel of his beloved car. I rolled my eyes at his action. "Just driving my baby around." He informed me.
My father, for some reason, loved his car so much that he felt the need to name his only daughter after it. It caused me to briefly wonder if my sister would have to grow up competing with the car for my father's affection.
My dad had also given me my name. It seemed that after having to undergo a C-section surgery to have me; my mother was so pumped with antibiotics and painkillers that my dad was appointed the 'difficult' task of naming me.
My father, whom had recently been grieving the death of his late dog Spot, decided he needed another running around in the house. Only, hopefully, this one would live longer. Therefore I am now known as Spot.
My dad began to drive, "So what is this you're trying to convince your mother of again?" he asked me referring to why I had told my mother I was walking to school and instead wound up rendezvousing with him at the stop sign.
"Well," I began, "You know how Mom thinks that Manhattan is such a dangerous place-"
"That's because it kind of is," my dad cut me off only to receive a glare from me that requested he remain silent until I was finished. Not that my father was terribly intimated by me.
"Anyway," I started once more, "I think that if I tell her I'm walking, and come home safely enough times she can stop sleeping with that shotgun under her bed." That got his attention.
"There's a shotgun under our bed!" he squeaked, my dad was kind of uptight about guns and violence. I nodded slowly. He had been more out of it than was normal lately and I wondered if work might just be getting to him.
"Yeah," I stated, "Where've you been lately?" I asked as we pulled off of our street. Stopping at a packed red light he sighed. 'Yep' I thought, 'Definitely work.'
"I'm sorry son....it's just work's...getting to me, you know?" he stated more than asked as he waved his hand. I nodded. I did know.
My father was a genetic engineer whom had recently teamed up with some out of country biologists to work on some 'huge breakthrough' that was far too 'secret' to tell his family about.
But that's not what bothered me really. It was the fact that in the past couple of weeks my father's work arena had been receiving death threats from some religious freaks, not that I being a Christian wasn't religious, and he was worried that some shipment they were trying to receive might be sabotaged. I only hoped it hadn't become too much for him.
"Hey Dad," I said breaking him from the track of his thoughts, "Can we pick up Race today?" I asked and he nodded. I was speaking of my closet and only other tenth grade friend Racetrack Higgins, whose real name was actually Anthony (A/N: kind of overused I know but I like it.)
With a smirk my dad pulled onto his street where Racetrack was already waiting with a cigarette and rolled down the window. "PROVIDED HE DOESN'T SMOKE IN MY CAR!" he shouted, which caused Race to jump, turn and mock-scowl at my dad.
Stomping out his cigarette he walked over to us. "Hey Spot," he directed toward me, "nice haircut." He stated sincerely yet I took offense.
"What're you waiting for Higgins?" I asked eyebrows raised, "Into the back!" I ordered.
"Okay just for that Racetrack gets shotgun!" my dad announced and I groaned as Racetrack picked me up and actually tossed me into the backseat with a look of triumph.
"God you're shut a shrimp Spot, honestly." Racetrack told me and I glared jokingly at him as he took a seat next to my father. Most of my friends got along well with my parents because they both enjoyed their little nicknames. Whereas my other "nicknamed" friends which included Racetrack, Kid Blink and Dutchy could never get their parents to say their own for the life of them.
I scowled at Racetrack and then sighed. Oh well.....at least wasn't smoking in the car...that would be kind of gross.
I pressed my hands against the cool, heavy oak of my Chemistry door and gave a hefty push as the bell let out a shrill cry that echoed in my ear, letting me know that I could now leave to go to my 3rd/4th period class.
I watched in amazement as students simultaneously pooled into the hallways. I was mostly happy because I was soon to trek two halls down to my newest class, yet I was also partially pleased to be free of Chemistry until tomorrow.
It wasn't that I had anything against my father's area of passion and expertise, it was just that I could never derive any kind of joy or slight interest in any of my core Science classes. Good grades, sure, but not enjoyment.
Truthfully my best grades and most loved classes were my English and History classes. They each respectively gave me a use for my creativity and love of reading. I had wanted to take a writing course but had filled both of my elective courses for this semester with my 'Newspaper' class.
Sighing I walked past the brick walls of my school, weaving in and out through the mass of people and stopped at my locker. Lifting my hand up I began to twist in the combination.
I wrinkled my nose in disgust as a nameless teenager decided to spit onto the slick, wooden floors. I honestly had no idea why anyone would feel the need to do that. Yet I wasn't too shocked to see him doing it. It must have had something to do with his charming disposition. Phht.
"Ugh," I stated simply. The boy lifted his head and I realized that it was a senior by the name of Oscar Delancy. My triumph of having put a name to a face, however, was only brief because his first words to me were; "You got a problem fish?"
I raised my eyebrows. 'Fish' was a nickname given to freshman for God knows why and spoken as if it were the lowest level of the Hindu Caste System. Yet I was confused... because I was no freshman. But for the sake of oxygen I decided not to bother to tell him that.
"Only your choice to pollute our poor unsuspecting floors with your salvia." I answered in a terribly honest voice before turning casually back to my locker. Looking over at him I watched as he contemplated if I had insulted him or not. Possibly giving up on thinking he began to move toward me in what he seemed to believe was a menacing manner... Ah yes, violence, the universal answer to all problems. -Insert eye roll here please-.
I honestly wasn't really scared. I had been in fights with people bigger than and just as big as him. One being my best friend Jack Kelly, whom was also a senior, and the only reason I could recognize the oaf we now refer to as 'Oscar'.
Yet it seemed that I had nothing to fear in any case because out of nowhere a locker opened and slammed directly into Oscar's face knocking him out cold. I let out a surprised laugh as I placed my needed materials in my bag and shut my locker.
"Oops," said a slightly tenor voice that I identified as the 'locker opener'. I turned to look at my 'savior'. He had a good four or five inches on me in height yet it seemed that most people did, seeing as I'm a little bit on the short side.
His hair was short, and dark brown styled into an array of messy spikes on his head and his attire consisted of large, baggy black cargo jeans and a large black shirt that had the name of a band I didn't know branded on it and tennis shoes. I felt kind of uptight in my more conservative attire but decided not to dwell on it.
He seemed to have an obsession with piercings because he had two on his left eyebrow, one on his right ear, one on his nose on the left side and one on his bottom lip. They all looked like studs.
All in all his figure was lanky and attractive, yes I said attractive, while I mostly dated only girls I didn't mind looking at members of the same sex, and he had a slightly mysterious yet gentle air about him.
He grinned crookedly at me and jerked his thumb over to Oscar's unconscious form, "If anyone asks he slipped on his own loogie, okay?" He asked.
I laughed and nodded despite myself. Walking over to him I extended my hand. While I was not used to introducing myself to people in the hallways I was, at the same time, not used to having people save my sorry ass.
"Thanks," I told him with a smile as he took my hand, "I'm Spot Conlon." He nodded and said, "My names Jacob but you can call me Skittery."
I nodded and decided not to comment on the absence of a last name. I gave him a guilty look before nodding towards Oscar.
"Should we...turn him over or something? You know so he doesn't choke on his tongue?" I asked never too upset to worry. He tilted his head to the side.
"Good idea." He consented and we both kneeled next to him, me shifting my bag onto my knees so it wouldn't scrape the floor.
Together we lifted Oscar up and turned him onto his back. "Whew," Skittery started, "He's a big guy." And I shrugged.
"So," he said, "You seemed pretty calm for a freshman. In my freshman year I would've freaked if that had happened to me." He looked slightly impressed and I shrugged.
"I'm not actually a freshman." I told him, "I'm a sophomore." He raised and eyebrow as if he didn't believe me.
"Doesn't matter too much now, huh?" he asked referring to Oscar's state once more.
"Guess not. So what about you? What grade are you in?" I asked him curiously. He was probably a junior; he didn't look much older than me.
"I'm a senior." He told me and laughed at the shocked look on my face. "I started kind of early," He explained and I nodded. So had I, which is probably why he thought I was a freshman.
Suddenly I felt two arms snake around my torso and lift me up and I shrieked in surprise at finding myself suddenly off the ground.
"JACK! Put me down!" I shouted knowing it was him. He and my friends had a weird thing about picking me up and Jack had once actually tossed me in a trash can that, luckily for him, contained no actual trash.
Skittery laughed as Jack sat me on the ground and I noticed he had been joined by a boy in dark jeans, a green shirt and a green backwards cap. There were freckles draped across his clear face and when he smiled it brilliantly showed all of his teeth.
"Ass," I muttered haughtily and elbowed Jack in the ribs. I nodded to the new guy next to Skittery who introduced himself as 'Snitch'.
"We gotta get going Spot!" Jack exclaimed as he too was in my next class and his simple statement strangely reminded me of something I'd hear in a 'Peanuts' comic or something to the like. I gave a curt nod towards Skittery.
"Thanks again." I told him and he nodded as his friend impatiently tugged at his elbow. "Yeah," he began, "maybe I'll see you around sometime." He stated and I waved bye as he finally let his friend drag him off.
"Aww," Jack joked ruffling my hair, "Is Spotty sad to see his knight in shining armor go?"
I glared at him as we began to walk to the English hall and swiped his hand away. "What're you yapping about?" I asked impatiently. He rolled his eyes.
"Oh for Christ sake, Spot I saw the whole thing." he informed me and nodded back to where Oscar was. I gasped and narrowed my eyes at him as if he were an evil traitor.
"So why didn't you help!" I demanded in an accusing tone. He shrugged. I was getting sick of people doing that.
"You're a big boy." He stated, "And besides remember that time me and you got into fight last year? You beat the shit outta me."
"True," I told him still curious as to how that had happened. We made a stop at another oak door that had a vertical window at the top and a plaque that said "Newspaper Editing Room 206".
It was indeed the right room and Jack opened the door for me. "Ah, so chivalry isn't dead, eh?" I joked with him.
"Well I didn't want you to hurt yourself." He teased me and I glared at him. As we entered the room I took a look around.
The room had the same basic brick and wood furnishings as any other classroom but the walls were lined with different Newspaper articles and there was an abundance of printers, phones, computers and fax machines.
A large, glass cabinet sat next to a desk area that I supposed our teacher occupied, though he wasn't there, and in it were different types of cameras. It suddenly dawned on me as I heard the bubbling of a pot of coffee that this would be more difficult than I had originally thought.
"Hey Blink!" Jack called over to where are Junior sandy haired friend was sitting and conversing with a well toned, olive skinned boy with dark, curly hair.
The boy was asking him about his infamous eye patch, which Blink chose to wear on his left eye simply because, after going colorblind in that eye at an early age, he hadn't liked the fact that his eyes were two different shades of brown.
Blink grinned over at us and pulled out a couple of chairs with his foot and motioned to us to sit, "Mush," he said to the boy, "These are two of my best friends, Spot Conlon, and Jack Kelly. Guys this is Erin Meyers." Blink told us jiggling his hand in the pocket of his khaki slacks.
Jack nodded a greeting at him and I noticed that he had the same earring on his right ear that I saw on Skittery and Snitch earlier. "Call me Mush, please." He said kindly.
I grinned, "So Blink, do you think we got in over our heads?" I asked him motioning to all the equipment that littered the room. He whistled in awe and nodded feverishly which caused Mush and a voice from behind me to laugh.
Turning around I spotted my friend Dutchy, whom was also a junior along with Blink. He rolled his eyes at the two of us.
"You two need to stop worrying so much, this newspaper thing will be- " but Dutchy was cut off by a new voice and face that I had never seen.
"A piece of cake?" finished a tall, sweet looking boy with dark curly locks and sparkling blues eyes.... Was Jack staring? What the fuck?
"Trust me," he started taking a seat next to Jack and across from me, "I've done this editing business at previous schools and it's anything but." He informed us honestly.
"I'm David Jacobs. I'm kind of new here." He said filling in all of our unanswered thoughts. Jack grinned at took his hand, "I'm Jack Kelly, but you can call me Cowboy." I put my hands on my face. Jack was probably going to make an ass of himself, and judging by the fact that David plastered on a stiff smile and nodded slowly I figured his chances of not were slim. So what kind of friend would I be if I didn't butt in?
"Do you have any nickname?" I asked him inquisitively. He shook his head, "None that are affectionate." He stated honestly.
"That's different." Dutchy stated plainly and I glared at him. "What about me?" I asked knowing that my friends sometimes tended to forget that Spot was actually my name.
"Well your name's just weird." Blink informed me without batting a single eyelash. I consented, "It's sad because it's true."
David laughed and I decided that he seemed pretty nice. "So what grade are you in?" Mush asked joining the conversation.
"Oh I'm a junior. What about you all?" he asked and Blink proceeded to tell him that they were all juniors except for me and Jack. Suddenly Dutchy gasped as someone jumped onto his back.
"Jesus Christ Specs! Don't do that!" He scolded a pale brown haired boy that I noticed was wearing...well a pair of Specs. He had the same earring as Mush. No one else seemed to notice.
I smiled and hopped to my feet. "So you're the famous Specs?" I asked noticing him grin and wave to Mush and it was my conclusion that they already knew each other.
He nodded and playfully punched Dutchy's shoulder, "He better only say good things about me." He joked and I grinned.
"Oh yes," I answered, "Terribly good things." This caused Dutchy to blush and me to wonder, as I watched Blink and Jack talk avidly to David and Mush, if all my friends had become gay without informing me. There was still Racetrack.
You see, Dutchy always talked about his best friend Specs, whom he had apparently known for a fairly long time. Yet somehow we had never actually met him. And now that we had it seemed like he had always been here.
I sighed as I felt a strange exclusion from my friends as I looked at their paired off conversations. I began to count the people to see how many we were missing. Jack, Blink, Dutchy, David, Mush, Specs and myself. So we were only missing three people.
I jumped as a pair of clammy hands were clamped over my eyes and a raspy "Guess who?" was whispered into my ear. Okay make that two people.
"Hi Racetrack." I said in a dragging voice as I jerked his hands off of my face. He pulled up a chair next to me and hopped in it slinging an arm around my shoulders. This action caught David's attention for some reason and he raised an eyebrow at us.
I wasn't quite sure what he was thinking. Racetrack was always very affectionate with his friends. Or perhaps it was just me. Regardless I didn't give it much thought.
"Hey Spot," he began in a hushed tone, "I've been wondering," but he too didn't finish his sentences.
"Spot!" exclaimed a slightly familiar voice from the door. Snapping my head around I allowed a grin to break out on my face. It was Skittery and Snitch.
I stood up and didn't notice the look on Racetrack's face as his arm slid off my shoulder or the way that Snitch groaned and slammed his head into the door.
"Hey Skittery," I said walking over to him, "it looks like we'll be seeing a lot more of each other than we thought, huh?"
He grinned at me and then waved behind me where Snitch had walked over to our cluster of chairs. "Hey guys," he called out.
Looking over I saw that the pairs had separated more into two groups, one consisting of Mush, Snitch and Specs. And the other consisting of Race, Dutchy, Jack and Blink. It seemed that everyone had signed up for the class mostly to be with their friends. Save for David, I suppose, who was still getting chatted up by Jack.
Skittery seemed to notice also because he snorted, yep snorted, as I sat next to Race and motioned for him to take the other seat next to me. Now all we needed was our teacher.
We got the said addition the moment the bell rang and the door swung open. A tall man in his early thirties it seemed walked in. He was wearing a pair of wrinkled black slacks and a long sleeved white dress shirt that hung loosely about him giving him a somewhat gaunt look. He went to his desk, plopped down a stack of papers and shot us a friendly grin.
"Hello class," he said somewhat amused seeing as he only ten students, "I'm Byron Denton, you can me Byron, Denton, Mr. Denton, "Hey you," I honestly don't care as long as you come to me if you need anything. The all of you are the only class I teach here and I'm going to assume you're all present. So you guys can talk and shit while I mark you as being here and assign you into pairs. Any questions?"
'Yes,' I thought yet remained silent. He seemed like a pretty cool guy. Jack lifted his hand tentatively and I knew he didn't normally ask too many questions. Denton nodded and pointed at Jack. "Yes?" he asked mirroring my thoughts.
"What do you mean by into pairs?" Jack inquired looking generally curious and I thought that he might have actually been interested. Or trying to impress David, who was looking at Denton's stacks of paper curiously.
"Well," Denton said, "I have your school files here with me," at this many people winced, "And I'm going to pair you with someone to work on certain sections of the paper."
"But why do you need our files for that?" Specs asked from next to Dutchy. Denton looked as if he were expecting these questions.
"Well I just wanted to read up on you a little and pair you with someone you might not normally work with, and each pair will work to get a story out for the paper and whomever's is best gets put on the cover."
"So that's what those are?" David asked and seemed to catch Denton off guard. But he smiled and nodded.
"Okay." Denton said, "Just let me mark you off and read these files and I'll pair you up. We won't start doing any actual work until tomorrow." We all nodded and slowly chatter began to spread.
After the first period of the class and half of the next one, Denton was still reading our files. Saying that it was an important decision that he make correctly seeing as we would be partnered with these people until the end of the year.
About thirty minutes prior, when I decided to talk to Skittery after aquatinting myself with everyone I didn't know, Racetrack decided to start a game of poker with him and wound up getting everyone in on it. Except for Specs, and me who didn't know how to play.
Everyone had seemed fairly surprised when David joined in. But looks were pretty deceiving. After getting a 'good hand' as Race said, Skittery stuck his tongue out in triumph, showing off a tongue ring I hadn't noticed he had.
Suddenly the game was interrupted as Denton rapped lightly on his desk. We looked over at him and I was amused to see him drinking his third cup of coffee for that day. He looked like he could use it however, because his eyes were lidded with heavy bags.
He waved around a strip of paper. "I finished-sip-reading your files and assigning you to pairs. And also noted what names you all like to go by so I won't bother using your real name if you never use it yourself." He informed us as he looked over his list looking pleased with himself.
"Okay," he said, "the list goes as follows, "Specs and David." Specs grinned, "Good," he said, "I get the smart one!" he stated getting a pencil thrown at him by an offended Dutchy.
Denton rolled his eyes, "Then there's Jack and Racetrack." He seemed to be pairing based on age differences and/or personality differences. He moved on, "Spot and Skittery is it?" he asked Skittery who nodded and shot a smile in my direction.
"Mush and Dutchy and Snitch and Kid Blink?" he asked in a way curious to see if we were pleased with the pairs. Skittery seemed nice enough to me and I figured that working with him should be fairly easy.
I smiled at how well it seemed to be going so far. Now I just had to keep it that way... but I couldn't help wonder...Why was Race looking at me funny?
The rest of the day past with a sliding ease and it turned out that we all had the same lunch period and spent the time to get betted aquatinted.
When I got home I saw my mother in the kitchen chopping up carrots and other foods that had absolutely nothing to do with each other. I walked up to her and lifted myself onto the counter and stared at her critically. My mother was tall and slim and I looked like her to a degree but not like the similarities I shared with my father.
"Mom," I told her startling her slightly, "If you want to take out some stress you should invest in a punching bag." She glared at me and pointed to the floor indicating that I should get off the counter. You see what I mean? She wasn't nearly as loose as my father.
"I'll have you know that carrots and pickles go great in a salad together!" she informed me but I knew she was just upset because I "walked to school" that day. I laughed.
"Whatever you say mom." I joked and she scowled at me. "Oh go to your room," she said playfully to me.
I shrugged at her. "Where's dad at? Work?" I asked and she nodded. "Oh you know that shipment your father's been working on?" she questioned me and I told her that I did.
"Well it seems there was an accident and he has to work late to fix it." She said giving no further explanation. Turning to me she held out a plastic bowl. "Pickle and carrot salad sweetie?" she joked in a sugary voice and I pretended to gag.
"I'll pass," I said holding up my hand, "Besides I've got to do some homework."
Which I wound up working on until 10:30 before I decided to take a shower and get ready to go to sleep.
Throwing on a pair of baggy black pajama pants I stripped off my shirt and hopped into my bed. I sighed and closed my eyes, hugging my pillow I realized how tired I felt.
I let my thoughts slip away and began to drift to sleep when my pesky cell phone began to ring in my bag. "Ugh!" I muttered for the second time that day. Flipping over I slipped my hand into the bag's side pocket and pulled out the phone.
Not bothering to check and see whom it was I flipped it on and put it to my ear. "Hello," I asked groggily.
"Hey Spot?" a voice asked. "Eh?" I countered. "Hey," the voice said again, "it's Skittery." I groaned and decided to hit myself later for giving my number to him and the others.
"Skittery?" I asked in disbelieving tone, "do you have any idea what time it is?" At this there was a pause on the other end of the line. Then, "No. Do you?"
"Hold on." I said then looked at the clock on my phone, "Yeah, it's 1:30. Now let me go back to sleep."
"Hang on will ya?" Skittery said desperately, "Look I wouldn't call if this wasn't really important. There was this crash outside my apartment a little while ago and the police haven't showed up yet. Can I come pick you up? Please I want to get a look at if before the police show up."
I paused, "You do know that's highly illegal right?" I asked. He sighed, "Yes." I wasn't surprised really. I knew why he was telling me instead of some of his other friends. I was his Printing partner. And this was something he wanted to look into, not knowing what I was thinking I sighed and gave him my address. Flopping out of bed I threw on a T-shirt and some flip-flops. I squinted as a car's headlights shone through my window. Sighing once again I grabbed my keys and headed toward the door. I must've been out of my fucking mind.
DigitalAngel4U: This actually does have a plot though it seems to be moving pretty fast. I'm sorry if it isn't what's normal for most readers. I've never actually written slash or Newsies for that matter. So review and let me know what you think! I'll take reviews, flames, constructive criticism...whatever! I'd love to know what you think and I'm currently working on the next chapter which will continue from here from Skittery's POV.
Spot's POV
A sharp crack at my door woke me that morning and I glared at the small giggles that erupted from outside in the hallway.
My family didn't seem to believe in alarm clocks. And instead invested their trust more it seemed, on relying on one person to wake up at the correct time and then proceed to wake the others.
That one person usually tended to be my mother, though she often went straight back to bed in a dire effort to set a glorious example for her children. Yet today it seemed that my youngest, and only, four year old sister Lexis was so excited to return from winter break to her second semester of Kindergarten, that she had woken up extra early to make sure there was no way she could be late. And she apparently wanted to drag me along with her.
Sighing I began to get up. I ran a hand through my newly cut hair, it had taken all of my mother's constant persistence to convince me to cut it from hanging at my ears to simply short and tousled atop my head. I was, however, only semi-self conscious about it because I knew that the only people whose opinions actually mattered to me, well, honestly wouldn't care.
Stumbling out of my tangled and twisted bed sheets, I tend to be a restless sleeper, I directed myself over to my bathroom where I had already conveniently tossed a pair of slightly baggy, yet conservative, faded jeans, a tight black t-shirt and similar jacket and a pair of black suede boots that barely peeked out of the bottoms of my pants. After all it was fairly cold up here in January,
Slipping them on I smacked a large amount of toothpaste on my toothbrush and took a good ten minutes to make sure my entire mouth felt extremely clean. I'm huge on dental hygiene and have never once, that I know of, forgotten to brush my teeth.
Rounding the corner of my room and our staircase that led to the bottom level of our house, I contemplated whether or not the banister would hold my weight. I had never weighed over 119 lbs. and decided to take my chances.
As I hopped off the railing at the bottom of the stairs I heard my sister squeal.
"Oh! Spot don't do that!" she chastised me and I found it slightly odd that I was being scolded by a four year old.
I took a seat beside her on the couch where she was watching T.V. "What're you watching?" I asked her curiously.
"Barney!" she exclaimed happily and I cringed. "Why don't you watch something more knowledgeable? Like CNN or the History Channel?" I asked her skeptically knowing full well that I was the only person in our household that watched either of those.
She rolled her eyes at me. "Because I'm not a pol...i...ti-tical activist like you are Spot!" she said as if were the plainest answer to all but me. I arched an eyebrow, slightly astounded at how smart she sounded.
"Do you even know what a political activist is?" I inquired half expecting her to say yes. She shook her head.
"Not really," she said, "but Daddy says that watch CNN a lot." I rolled my eyes I thought of my father. Leaning forward I ruffled her honey colored hair she had received from our mother.
"Well Daddy's stupid!" I informed her in a sing-song voice as she playfully swatted my hand away and turned back to her more interesting regular programming. In about three seconds she seemed to forget I was there.
I flipped backwards over and off the couch and put my hands on my hips, much like my friend Dutchy did when he was dealing with small children.
"Do you want me to make you breakfast?" I asked her and she nodded knowing full well that when I said breakfast that I meant cereal because I sure as Hell couldn't cook.
"Spot did you take a long shower last night?" she asked me randomly and I noticed that her eyes had not once left the television screen.
"What does that have to do with anything?" I asked her and once again her answer consisted of a small rise of her little shoulders.
"There was just no hot water left when I took my bath," she informed me, her tone slightly snarky, "I'm surprised you didn't shrivel up like a prune."...She sure didn't sound four years old...huh.
I made a face as I turned from her at my position in the kitchen, which looked out into the living room. I poured some milk in her Cheerios and contemplated adding some prunes, which for some reason we had, in as well just to shut her up. Oh well the moment had past.
"You're just jealous because I smell better than you." I declared poking her tummy gently. She didn't look at me and I frowned.
Creeping forward I popped her Barney tape out of the VCR. "Hey!" she cried indignantly. I shook my head and handed her the bowl of cereal.
"Watch 'Winnie the Pooh'," I told her as I placed the new tape in the previous one's position, "It's better for you."
"Whatever, Spot." She said. Well it was. I only didn't want her watching Barney because I felt her mind was impressionable enough to believe that reality could sometimes happen that way. At least 'Winnie the Pooh' was a cartoon, making it obvious that it was simply fiction with morals and in no way reality.
Leaning over the couch I placed a brotherly kiss on her forehead. "Tell Mom that I'm walking to school today that way, when I come home safely she can sleep at night." I told my sister. She looked at me and nodded.
"Aren't you going to eat breakfast?" she asked her mouth a thin copper line frown. I shook my head. "Lexy you know I never do." I told her only to receive another nod.
I slid my wallet into my back pocket and was halfway to the door when she called out simply, "Spot, your bag."
I grinned at the back of her head before retrieving my black, leather 'sling over the shoulder' type bag, opened the door and left. Damn that kid was really bright.
Putting my hands in my pockets I skirted around the curb on my street and stopped at the stop sign. I was off to another exhilarating semester of my 10th grade year at Jefferson High School. In all honesty the only thing I was really looking forward to was my new 'Newspaper' class.
Call me what you will but I liked journalism well enough and the thought of having to get a newspaper out every week for such a large school was like oil to the wheels of my brain.
It seemed that I was taking the course with only 9 other students. Yet I was pleased because at least four of them were some of my better friends and I was happy to be having a class other than 'lunch' with them.
Waiting at the stop sign reminded me painfully of how much I really needed to get a car. Yet I'm sadly only fifteen and my day of birth isn't until late this year. So I simply relied on my parents, and the majority of my friend whom were older than me, to tote me places.
Suddenly a slick, black Lexis pulled up in front of the stop sign. Smirking I clambered in and shot a grin at the driver, my father.
"Where were you?" I asked, "I thought you weren't going to show I was waiting so damn long." I joked.
Had this been my mother I was speaking to I very well may have received a slap upside the head. However I knew my dad was just a kid at heart and he was much looser with his children than my mother was.
He shrugged and hugged the steering wheel of his beloved car. I rolled my eyes at his action. "Just driving my baby around." He informed me.
My father, for some reason, loved his car so much that he felt the need to name his only daughter after it. It caused me to briefly wonder if my sister would have to grow up competing with the car for my father's affection.
My dad had also given me my name. It seemed that after having to undergo a C-section surgery to have me; my mother was so pumped with antibiotics and painkillers that my dad was appointed the 'difficult' task of naming me.
My father, whom had recently been grieving the death of his late dog Spot, decided he needed another running around in the house. Only, hopefully, this one would live longer. Therefore I am now known as Spot.
My dad began to drive, "So what is this you're trying to convince your mother of again?" he asked me referring to why I had told my mother I was walking to school and instead wound up rendezvousing with him at the stop sign.
"Well," I began, "You know how Mom thinks that Manhattan is such a dangerous place-"
"That's because it kind of is," my dad cut me off only to receive a glare from me that requested he remain silent until I was finished. Not that my father was terribly intimated by me.
"Anyway," I started once more, "I think that if I tell her I'm walking, and come home safely enough times she can stop sleeping with that shotgun under her bed." That got his attention.
"There's a shotgun under our bed!" he squeaked, my dad was kind of uptight about guns and violence. I nodded slowly. He had been more out of it than was normal lately and I wondered if work might just be getting to him.
"Yeah," I stated, "Where've you been lately?" I asked as we pulled off of our street. Stopping at a packed red light he sighed. 'Yep' I thought, 'Definitely work.'
"I'm sorry son....it's just work's...getting to me, you know?" he stated more than asked as he waved his hand. I nodded. I did know.
My father was a genetic engineer whom had recently teamed up with some out of country biologists to work on some 'huge breakthrough' that was far too 'secret' to tell his family about.
But that's not what bothered me really. It was the fact that in the past couple of weeks my father's work arena had been receiving death threats from some religious freaks, not that I being a Christian wasn't religious, and he was worried that some shipment they were trying to receive might be sabotaged. I only hoped it hadn't become too much for him.
"Hey Dad," I said breaking him from the track of his thoughts, "Can we pick up Race today?" I asked and he nodded. I was speaking of my closet and only other tenth grade friend Racetrack Higgins, whose real name was actually Anthony (A/N: kind of overused I know but I like it.)
With a smirk my dad pulled onto his street where Racetrack was already waiting with a cigarette and rolled down the window. "PROVIDED HE DOESN'T SMOKE IN MY CAR!" he shouted, which caused Race to jump, turn and mock-scowl at my dad.
Stomping out his cigarette he walked over to us. "Hey Spot," he directed toward me, "nice haircut." He stated sincerely yet I took offense.
"What're you waiting for Higgins?" I asked eyebrows raised, "Into the back!" I ordered.
"Okay just for that Racetrack gets shotgun!" my dad announced and I groaned as Racetrack picked me up and actually tossed me into the backseat with a look of triumph.
"God you're shut a shrimp Spot, honestly." Racetrack told me and I glared jokingly at him as he took a seat next to my father. Most of my friends got along well with my parents because they both enjoyed their little nicknames. Whereas my other "nicknamed" friends which included Racetrack, Kid Blink and Dutchy could never get their parents to say their own for the life of them.
I scowled at Racetrack and then sighed. Oh well.....at least wasn't smoking in the car...that would be kind of gross.
I pressed my hands against the cool, heavy oak of my Chemistry door and gave a hefty push as the bell let out a shrill cry that echoed in my ear, letting me know that I could now leave to go to my 3rd/4th period class.
I watched in amazement as students simultaneously pooled into the hallways. I was mostly happy because I was soon to trek two halls down to my newest class, yet I was also partially pleased to be free of Chemistry until tomorrow.
It wasn't that I had anything against my father's area of passion and expertise, it was just that I could never derive any kind of joy or slight interest in any of my core Science classes. Good grades, sure, but not enjoyment.
Truthfully my best grades and most loved classes were my English and History classes. They each respectively gave me a use for my creativity and love of reading. I had wanted to take a writing course but had filled both of my elective courses for this semester with my 'Newspaper' class.
Sighing I walked past the brick walls of my school, weaving in and out through the mass of people and stopped at my locker. Lifting my hand up I began to twist in the combination.
I wrinkled my nose in disgust as a nameless teenager decided to spit onto the slick, wooden floors. I honestly had no idea why anyone would feel the need to do that. Yet I wasn't too shocked to see him doing it. It must have had something to do with his charming disposition. Phht.
"Ugh," I stated simply. The boy lifted his head and I realized that it was a senior by the name of Oscar Delancy. My triumph of having put a name to a face, however, was only brief because his first words to me were; "You got a problem fish?"
I raised my eyebrows. 'Fish' was a nickname given to freshman for God knows why and spoken as if it were the lowest level of the Hindu Caste System. Yet I was confused... because I was no freshman. But for the sake of oxygen I decided not to bother to tell him that.
"Only your choice to pollute our poor unsuspecting floors with your salvia." I answered in a terribly honest voice before turning casually back to my locker. Looking over at him I watched as he contemplated if I had insulted him or not. Possibly giving up on thinking he began to move toward me in what he seemed to believe was a menacing manner... Ah yes, violence, the universal answer to all problems. -Insert eye roll here please-.
I honestly wasn't really scared. I had been in fights with people bigger than and just as big as him. One being my best friend Jack Kelly, whom was also a senior, and the only reason I could recognize the oaf we now refer to as 'Oscar'.
Yet it seemed that I had nothing to fear in any case because out of nowhere a locker opened and slammed directly into Oscar's face knocking him out cold. I let out a surprised laugh as I placed my needed materials in my bag and shut my locker.
"Oops," said a slightly tenor voice that I identified as the 'locker opener'. I turned to look at my 'savior'. He had a good four or five inches on me in height yet it seemed that most people did, seeing as I'm a little bit on the short side.
His hair was short, and dark brown styled into an array of messy spikes on his head and his attire consisted of large, baggy black cargo jeans and a large black shirt that had the name of a band I didn't know branded on it and tennis shoes. I felt kind of uptight in my more conservative attire but decided not to dwell on it.
He seemed to have an obsession with piercings because he had two on his left eyebrow, one on his right ear, one on his nose on the left side and one on his bottom lip. They all looked like studs.
All in all his figure was lanky and attractive, yes I said attractive, while I mostly dated only girls I didn't mind looking at members of the same sex, and he had a slightly mysterious yet gentle air about him.
He grinned crookedly at me and jerked his thumb over to Oscar's unconscious form, "If anyone asks he slipped on his own loogie, okay?" He asked.
I laughed and nodded despite myself. Walking over to him I extended my hand. While I was not used to introducing myself to people in the hallways I was, at the same time, not used to having people save my sorry ass.
"Thanks," I told him with a smile as he took my hand, "I'm Spot Conlon." He nodded and said, "My names Jacob but you can call me Skittery."
I nodded and decided not to comment on the absence of a last name. I gave him a guilty look before nodding towards Oscar.
"Should we...turn him over or something? You know so he doesn't choke on his tongue?" I asked never too upset to worry. He tilted his head to the side.
"Good idea." He consented and we both kneeled next to him, me shifting my bag onto my knees so it wouldn't scrape the floor.
Together we lifted Oscar up and turned him onto his back. "Whew," Skittery started, "He's a big guy." And I shrugged.
"So," he said, "You seemed pretty calm for a freshman. In my freshman year I would've freaked if that had happened to me." He looked slightly impressed and I shrugged.
"I'm not actually a freshman." I told him, "I'm a sophomore." He raised and eyebrow as if he didn't believe me.
"Doesn't matter too much now, huh?" he asked referring to Oscar's state once more.
"Guess not. So what about you? What grade are you in?" I asked him curiously. He was probably a junior; he didn't look much older than me.
"I'm a senior." He told me and laughed at the shocked look on my face. "I started kind of early," He explained and I nodded. So had I, which is probably why he thought I was a freshman.
Suddenly I felt two arms snake around my torso and lift me up and I shrieked in surprise at finding myself suddenly off the ground.
"JACK! Put me down!" I shouted knowing it was him. He and my friends had a weird thing about picking me up and Jack had once actually tossed me in a trash can that, luckily for him, contained no actual trash.
Skittery laughed as Jack sat me on the ground and I noticed he had been joined by a boy in dark jeans, a green shirt and a green backwards cap. There were freckles draped across his clear face and when he smiled it brilliantly showed all of his teeth.
"Ass," I muttered haughtily and elbowed Jack in the ribs. I nodded to the new guy next to Skittery who introduced himself as 'Snitch'.
"We gotta get going Spot!" Jack exclaimed as he too was in my next class and his simple statement strangely reminded me of something I'd hear in a 'Peanuts' comic or something to the like. I gave a curt nod towards Skittery.
"Thanks again." I told him and he nodded as his friend impatiently tugged at his elbow. "Yeah," he began, "maybe I'll see you around sometime." He stated and I waved bye as he finally let his friend drag him off.
"Aww," Jack joked ruffling my hair, "Is Spotty sad to see his knight in shining armor go?"
I glared at him as we began to walk to the English hall and swiped his hand away. "What're you yapping about?" I asked impatiently. He rolled his eyes.
"Oh for Christ sake, Spot I saw the whole thing." he informed me and nodded back to where Oscar was. I gasped and narrowed my eyes at him as if he were an evil traitor.
"So why didn't you help!" I demanded in an accusing tone. He shrugged. I was getting sick of people doing that.
"You're a big boy." He stated, "And besides remember that time me and you got into fight last year? You beat the shit outta me."
"True," I told him still curious as to how that had happened. We made a stop at another oak door that had a vertical window at the top and a plaque that said "Newspaper Editing Room 206".
It was indeed the right room and Jack opened the door for me. "Ah, so chivalry isn't dead, eh?" I joked with him.
"Well I didn't want you to hurt yourself." He teased me and I glared at him. As we entered the room I took a look around.
The room had the same basic brick and wood furnishings as any other classroom but the walls were lined with different Newspaper articles and there was an abundance of printers, phones, computers and fax machines.
A large, glass cabinet sat next to a desk area that I supposed our teacher occupied, though he wasn't there, and in it were different types of cameras. It suddenly dawned on me as I heard the bubbling of a pot of coffee that this would be more difficult than I had originally thought.
"Hey Blink!" Jack called over to where are Junior sandy haired friend was sitting and conversing with a well toned, olive skinned boy with dark, curly hair.
The boy was asking him about his infamous eye patch, which Blink chose to wear on his left eye simply because, after going colorblind in that eye at an early age, he hadn't liked the fact that his eyes were two different shades of brown.
Blink grinned over at us and pulled out a couple of chairs with his foot and motioned to us to sit, "Mush," he said to the boy, "These are two of my best friends, Spot Conlon, and Jack Kelly. Guys this is Erin Meyers." Blink told us jiggling his hand in the pocket of his khaki slacks.
Jack nodded a greeting at him and I noticed that he had the same earring on his right ear that I saw on Skittery and Snitch earlier. "Call me Mush, please." He said kindly.
I grinned, "So Blink, do you think we got in over our heads?" I asked him motioning to all the equipment that littered the room. He whistled in awe and nodded feverishly which caused Mush and a voice from behind me to laugh.
Turning around I spotted my friend Dutchy, whom was also a junior along with Blink. He rolled his eyes at the two of us.
"You two need to stop worrying so much, this newspaper thing will be- " but Dutchy was cut off by a new voice and face that I had never seen.
"A piece of cake?" finished a tall, sweet looking boy with dark curly locks and sparkling blues eyes.... Was Jack staring? What the fuck?
"Trust me," he started taking a seat next to Jack and across from me, "I've done this editing business at previous schools and it's anything but." He informed us honestly.
"I'm David Jacobs. I'm kind of new here." He said filling in all of our unanswered thoughts. Jack grinned at took his hand, "I'm Jack Kelly, but you can call me Cowboy." I put my hands on my face. Jack was probably going to make an ass of himself, and judging by the fact that David plastered on a stiff smile and nodded slowly I figured his chances of not were slim. So what kind of friend would I be if I didn't butt in?
"Do you have any nickname?" I asked him inquisitively. He shook his head, "None that are affectionate." He stated honestly.
"That's different." Dutchy stated plainly and I glared at him. "What about me?" I asked knowing that my friends sometimes tended to forget that Spot was actually my name.
"Well your name's just weird." Blink informed me without batting a single eyelash. I consented, "It's sad because it's true."
David laughed and I decided that he seemed pretty nice. "So what grade are you in?" Mush asked joining the conversation.
"Oh I'm a junior. What about you all?" he asked and Blink proceeded to tell him that they were all juniors except for me and Jack. Suddenly Dutchy gasped as someone jumped onto his back.
"Jesus Christ Specs! Don't do that!" He scolded a pale brown haired boy that I noticed was wearing...well a pair of Specs. He had the same earring as Mush. No one else seemed to notice.
I smiled and hopped to my feet. "So you're the famous Specs?" I asked noticing him grin and wave to Mush and it was my conclusion that they already knew each other.
He nodded and playfully punched Dutchy's shoulder, "He better only say good things about me." He joked and I grinned.
"Oh yes," I answered, "Terribly good things." This caused Dutchy to blush and me to wonder, as I watched Blink and Jack talk avidly to David and Mush, if all my friends had become gay without informing me. There was still Racetrack.
You see, Dutchy always talked about his best friend Specs, whom he had apparently known for a fairly long time. Yet somehow we had never actually met him. And now that we had it seemed like he had always been here.
I sighed as I felt a strange exclusion from my friends as I looked at their paired off conversations. I began to count the people to see how many we were missing. Jack, Blink, Dutchy, David, Mush, Specs and myself. So we were only missing three people.
I jumped as a pair of clammy hands were clamped over my eyes and a raspy "Guess who?" was whispered into my ear. Okay make that two people.
"Hi Racetrack." I said in a dragging voice as I jerked his hands off of my face. He pulled up a chair next to me and hopped in it slinging an arm around my shoulders. This action caught David's attention for some reason and he raised an eyebrow at us.
I wasn't quite sure what he was thinking. Racetrack was always very affectionate with his friends. Or perhaps it was just me. Regardless I didn't give it much thought.
"Hey Spot," he began in a hushed tone, "I've been wondering," but he too didn't finish his sentences.
"Spot!" exclaimed a slightly familiar voice from the door. Snapping my head around I allowed a grin to break out on my face. It was Skittery and Snitch.
I stood up and didn't notice the look on Racetrack's face as his arm slid off my shoulder or the way that Snitch groaned and slammed his head into the door.
"Hey Skittery," I said walking over to him, "it looks like we'll be seeing a lot more of each other than we thought, huh?"
He grinned at me and then waved behind me where Snitch had walked over to our cluster of chairs. "Hey guys," he called out.
Looking over I saw that the pairs had separated more into two groups, one consisting of Mush, Snitch and Specs. And the other consisting of Race, Dutchy, Jack and Blink. It seemed that everyone had signed up for the class mostly to be with their friends. Save for David, I suppose, who was still getting chatted up by Jack.
Skittery seemed to notice also because he snorted, yep snorted, as I sat next to Race and motioned for him to take the other seat next to me. Now all we needed was our teacher.
We got the said addition the moment the bell rang and the door swung open. A tall man in his early thirties it seemed walked in. He was wearing a pair of wrinkled black slacks and a long sleeved white dress shirt that hung loosely about him giving him a somewhat gaunt look. He went to his desk, plopped down a stack of papers and shot us a friendly grin.
"Hello class," he said somewhat amused seeing as he only ten students, "I'm Byron Denton, you can me Byron, Denton, Mr. Denton, "Hey you," I honestly don't care as long as you come to me if you need anything. The all of you are the only class I teach here and I'm going to assume you're all present. So you guys can talk and shit while I mark you as being here and assign you into pairs. Any questions?"
'Yes,' I thought yet remained silent. He seemed like a pretty cool guy. Jack lifted his hand tentatively and I knew he didn't normally ask too many questions. Denton nodded and pointed at Jack. "Yes?" he asked mirroring my thoughts.
"What do you mean by into pairs?" Jack inquired looking generally curious and I thought that he might have actually been interested. Or trying to impress David, who was looking at Denton's stacks of paper curiously.
"Well," Denton said, "I have your school files here with me," at this many people winced, "And I'm going to pair you with someone to work on certain sections of the paper."
"But why do you need our files for that?" Specs asked from next to Dutchy. Denton looked as if he were expecting these questions.
"Well I just wanted to read up on you a little and pair you with someone you might not normally work with, and each pair will work to get a story out for the paper and whomever's is best gets put on the cover."
"So that's what those are?" David asked and seemed to catch Denton off guard. But he smiled and nodded.
"Okay." Denton said, "Just let me mark you off and read these files and I'll pair you up. We won't start doing any actual work until tomorrow." We all nodded and slowly chatter began to spread.
After the first period of the class and half of the next one, Denton was still reading our files. Saying that it was an important decision that he make correctly seeing as we would be partnered with these people until the end of the year.
About thirty minutes prior, when I decided to talk to Skittery after aquatinting myself with everyone I didn't know, Racetrack decided to start a game of poker with him and wound up getting everyone in on it. Except for Specs, and me who didn't know how to play.
Everyone had seemed fairly surprised when David joined in. But looks were pretty deceiving. After getting a 'good hand' as Race said, Skittery stuck his tongue out in triumph, showing off a tongue ring I hadn't noticed he had.
Suddenly the game was interrupted as Denton rapped lightly on his desk. We looked over at him and I was amused to see him drinking his third cup of coffee for that day. He looked like he could use it however, because his eyes were lidded with heavy bags.
He waved around a strip of paper. "I finished-sip-reading your files and assigning you to pairs. And also noted what names you all like to go by so I won't bother using your real name if you never use it yourself." He informed us as he looked over his list looking pleased with himself.
"Okay," he said, "the list goes as follows, "Specs and David." Specs grinned, "Good," he said, "I get the smart one!" he stated getting a pencil thrown at him by an offended Dutchy.
Denton rolled his eyes, "Then there's Jack and Racetrack." He seemed to be pairing based on age differences and/or personality differences. He moved on, "Spot and Skittery is it?" he asked Skittery who nodded and shot a smile in my direction.
"Mush and Dutchy and Snitch and Kid Blink?" he asked in a way curious to see if we were pleased with the pairs. Skittery seemed nice enough to me and I figured that working with him should be fairly easy.
I smiled at how well it seemed to be going so far. Now I just had to keep it that way... but I couldn't help wonder...Why was Race looking at me funny?
The rest of the day past with a sliding ease and it turned out that we all had the same lunch period and spent the time to get betted aquatinted.
When I got home I saw my mother in the kitchen chopping up carrots and other foods that had absolutely nothing to do with each other. I walked up to her and lifted myself onto the counter and stared at her critically. My mother was tall and slim and I looked like her to a degree but not like the similarities I shared with my father.
"Mom," I told her startling her slightly, "If you want to take out some stress you should invest in a punching bag." She glared at me and pointed to the floor indicating that I should get off the counter. You see what I mean? She wasn't nearly as loose as my father.
"I'll have you know that carrots and pickles go great in a salad together!" she informed me but I knew she was just upset because I "walked to school" that day. I laughed.
"Whatever you say mom." I joked and she scowled at me. "Oh go to your room," she said playfully to me.
I shrugged at her. "Where's dad at? Work?" I asked and she nodded. "Oh you know that shipment your father's been working on?" she questioned me and I told her that I did.
"Well it seems there was an accident and he has to work late to fix it." She said giving no further explanation. Turning to me she held out a plastic bowl. "Pickle and carrot salad sweetie?" she joked in a sugary voice and I pretended to gag.
"I'll pass," I said holding up my hand, "Besides I've got to do some homework."
Which I wound up working on until 10:30 before I decided to take a shower and get ready to go to sleep.
Throwing on a pair of baggy black pajama pants I stripped off my shirt and hopped into my bed. I sighed and closed my eyes, hugging my pillow I realized how tired I felt.
I let my thoughts slip away and began to drift to sleep when my pesky cell phone began to ring in my bag. "Ugh!" I muttered for the second time that day. Flipping over I slipped my hand into the bag's side pocket and pulled out the phone.
Not bothering to check and see whom it was I flipped it on and put it to my ear. "Hello," I asked groggily.
"Hey Spot?" a voice asked. "Eh?" I countered. "Hey," the voice said again, "it's Skittery." I groaned and decided to hit myself later for giving my number to him and the others.
"Skittery?" I asked in disbelieving tone, "do you have any idea what time it is?" At this there was a pause on the other end of the line. Then, "No. Do you?"
"Hold on." I said then looked at the clock on my phone, "Yeah, it's 1:30. Now let me go back to sleep."
"Hang on will ya?" Skittery said desperately, "Look I wouldn't call if this wasn't really important. There was this crash outside my apartment a little while ago and the police haven't showed up yet. Can I come pick you up? Please I want to get a look at if before the police show up."
I paused, "You do know that's highly illegal right?" I asked. He sighed, "Yes." I wasn't surprised really. I knew why he was telling me instead of some of his other friends. I was his Printing partner. And this was something he wanted to look into, not knowing what I was thinking I sighed and gave him my address. Flopping out of bed I threw on a T-shirt and some flip-flops. I squinted as a car's headlights shone through my window. Sighing once again I grabbed my keys and headed toward the door. I must've been out of my fucking mind.
DigitalAngel4U: This actually does have a plot though it seems to be moving pretty fast. I'm sorry if it isn't what's normal for most readers. I've never actually written slash or Newsies for that matter. So review and let me know what you think! I'll take reviews, flames, constructive criticism...whatever! I'd love to know what you think and I'm currently working on the next chapter which will continue from here from Skittery's POV.