The delivery boy was--heaven fordbid--Bo. Or Weasel, as I call him.
He grinned, stupidly, at me. "How ya doin', Tory?" I growled at him.
"Just gimme the lousy pizzas!" I snapped, reaching for them. He held them over my head. Cripes, I hate being short.
"Not so fast. You gotta go out with me this Saturday!" My eyes flashed, dangerously, and I could hear whispers behind me.
"Giver her the friggin' pizzas!" Spot said, angrily. I spun around, hissing, "Go in the living room!"
"Who're you?" Bo spat, rudely. I turned to answer him, and felt Spot snake his armaround my shoulders. I swear, I thought I'd died and gone to heaven.
"I'm her boyfriend, Spot. Now giver her the pizzas, put an egg in your shoe, and beat it!" Spot snapped.
"Hey!" Race called, angrily. "That's MY line!" I rolled my eyes. Then I felt the presence of all the newsies crowded behind me, fists clenched. Bo stared at them, and I saw (with a heck of a lot of satisfaction) fear in his eyes. Then he put an egg in his shoe and beat it.
Haha.
"So, who da hell was that punk?" Mush demanded as I led them into the dining room. I rolled my eyes.
"Bo. He likes me. He's a bastard," I said, shortly. "So, what was up with that, Spot?" I asked, turning to Spot.The newsies said nothing, but I could tell they were thinking the same thing.
"I didn't like that guy. I wanted him to go away," Spot replied, keeping his eyes down. There was an awkward silence, and Jack, sensing the tension, spoke up.
"So! What's pizza?" I burst out laughing. They all crowded around the table, and I sat in the middle of it, a box of pizza in my hands.
"Gentlemen...and Davvy," I added. He scoffed at me, and the others snickered. "I am about to introduce you to the magic of pizza!" I whispered, dramatically. I opened the box and let the delicious aroma sneak out. Again, in a chorus, the newsies breathed deeply, their eyes closed in pleasure. I stifled a laugh. I withdrew the first slice and slowly handed it to Crutchy, who was the closest. Warily, he took a bite, and chewed, thoughtfully.
"It's good!" he exclaimed. All of a sudden, they were calling for slices, and I passed them out. I wasn't hungry at all, but between the twelve of them (yeah, twelve!), they went through three and a half boxes!
"So...What's been happenin' in Manhattan?" I asked, trying to sound nonchalent. If they hadn't had the strike yet, I had to be careful. But if they had...
"Well, last week, Jacky-boy and the Walkin' Mouth led a strike against Pulitzer, and we won!" Spot said, smirking. I breathed, deeply, trying to keep a straight face. I nodded.
"Well, then, I can tell ya how I knows you all!" I said, smiling. They followed me back into the livingroom, and I pressed 'play' on the DVD player. A familiar voice came on, and I watched their eyes widen, and they all turned to Racetrack.
"That's you, man!" Skittery said, clapping him on the back. He was stunned. Then Kloppmancame on, and the newsies watched Newsies in fascination. I grinned, then stood up and walked out onto myfront porch. I sat on the banister and watched the rain fall, leaning against the brick pillar.
How on earth did the newsies get to my house? And why were they all my age? They were seventeen...I did the math...Okay, I tried t do the math. Anyways, how could they get here? Maybe a rip in time...Maybe they were zapped here...Maybe it was just a dream.
No, it couldn't be a dream! I could smell the pizza! I could see clearly, not blurry and far-away, like in a dream! But most importantly of all, I could feel Spot's touch! Wait. I could feel Spot's touch! I turned around, and Spot was standing behind me, looing at me, intently.
"Hey...Why aren't you watching the movie?" I asked, looking at his hand resting on my shoulder. He withdrew it, quickly. "Ya wanna sit down?" I asked, motioning to the railing. He nodded, and sat, cross-legged, next to me.
"So...what's on your mind?" I said, quietly. The pitter-patter of rain was the only thing breaking the silence. But that wasn't true. As I gazed out over the rosebush and watched the rain splash against a large puddle on the walkway, I could hear my neighbor playing a sweet, soft tune on her flute. She was always practicing in her bedroom, and she kept the window open so I could listen.
"What is that?" Spot asked, suddenly. I looked over at him and smiled. He blushed. No way. Spot Conlon blushing? This was too good to be true.
"It's a flute. My neighbor plays," I said, closing my eyes and listening to the piercing notes. I felt Spot scoot closer, his body radiating heat. "Cold?" I asked, shivering, slightly.
"Nah..." he said, softly. "I-I'm fine." I nodded, staring at the dew- dropped petals of the odd roses. I sighed, and gave a huge yawn. It had to be pretty late. I glanced at my watch. It was twelve thirty-seven. Slowly, sleep took me as I watched the rain.
"Just gimme the lousy pizzas!" I snapped, reaching for them. He held them over my head. Cripes, I hate being short.
"Not so fast. You gotta go out with me this Saturday!" My eyes flashed, dangerously, and I could hear whispers behind me.
"Giver her the friggin' pizzas!" Spot said, angrily. I spun around, hissing, "Go in the living room!"
"Who're you?" Bo spat, rudely. I turned to answer him, and felt Spot snake his armaround my shoulders. I swear, I thought I'd died and gone to heaven.
"I'm her boyfriend, Spot. Now giver her the pizzas, put an egg in your shoe, and beat it!" Spot snapped.
"Hey!" Race called, angrily. "That's MY line!" I rolled my eyes. Then I felt the presence of all the newsies crowded behind me, fists clenched. Bo stared at them, and I saw (with a heck of a lot of satisfaction) fear in his eyes. Then he put an egg in his shoe and beat it.
Haha.
"So, who da hell was that punk?" Mush demanded as I led them into the dining room. I rolled my eyes.
"Bo. He likes me. He's a bastard," I said, shortly. "So, what was up with that, Spot?" I asked, turning to Spot.The newsies said nothing, but I could tell they were thinking the same thing.
"I didn't like that guy. I wanted him to go away," Spot replied, keeping his eyes down. There was an awkward silence, and Jack, sensing the tension, spoke up.
"So! What's pizza?" I burst out laughing. They all crowded around the table, and I sat in the middle of it, a box of pizza in my hands.
"Gentlemen...and Davvy," I added. He scoffed at me, and the others snickered. "I am about to introduce you to the magic of pizza!" I whispered, dramatically. I opened the box and let the delicious aroma sneak out. Again, in a chorus, the newsies breathed deeply, their eyes closed in pleasure. I stifled a laugh. I withdrew the first slice and slowly handed it to Crutchy, who was the closest. Warily, he took a bite, and chewed, thoughtfully.
"It's good!" he exclaimed. All of a sudden, they were calling for slices, and I passed them out. I wasn't hungry at all, but between the twelve of them (yeah, twelve!), they went through three and a half boxes!
"So...What's been happenin' in Manhattan?" I asked, trying to sound nonchalent. If they hadn't had the strike yet, I had to be careful. But if they had...
"Well, last week, Jacky-boy and the Walkin' Mouth led a strike against Pulitzer, and we won!" Spot said, smirking. I breathed, deeply, trying to keep a straight face. I nodded.
"Well, then, I can tell ya how I knows you all!" I said, smiling. They followed me back into the livingroom, and I pressed 'play' on the DVD player. A familiar voice came on, and I watched their eyes widen, and they all turned to Racetrack.
"That's you, man!" Skittery said, clapping him on the back. He was stunned. Then Kloppmancame on, and the newsies watched Newsies in fascination. I grinned, then stood up and walked out onto myfront porch. I sat on the banister and watched the rain fall, leaning against the brick pillar.
How on earth did the newsies get to my house? And why were they all my age? They were seventeen...I did the math...Okay, I tried t do the math. Anyways, how could they get here? Maybe a rip in time...Maybe they were zapped here...Maybe it was just a dream.
No, it couldn't be a dream! I could smell the pizza! I could see clearly, not blurry and far-away, like in a dream! But most importantly of all, I could feel Spot's touch! Wait. I could feel Spot's touch! I turned around, and Spot was standing behind me, looing at me, intently.
"Hey...Why aren't you watching the movie?" I asked, looking at his hand resting on my shoulder. He withdrew it, quickly. "Ya wanna sit down?" I asked, motioning to the railing. He nodded, and sat, cross-legged, next to me.
"So...what's on your mind?" I said, quietly. The pitter-patter of rain was the only thing breaking the silence. But that wasn't true. As I gazed out over the rosebush and watched the rain splash against a large puddle on the walkway, I could hear my neighbor playing a sweet, soft tune on her flute. She was always practicing in her bedroom, and she kept the window open so I could listen.
"What is that?" Spot asked, suddenly. I looked over at him and smiled. He blushed. No way. Spot Conlon blushing? This was too good to be true.
"It's a flute. My neighbor plays," I said, closing my eyes and listening to the piercing notes. I felt Spot scoot closer, his body radiating heat. "Cold?" I asked, shivering, slightly.
"Nah..." he said, softly. "I-I'm fine." I nodded, staring at the dew- dropped petals of the odd roses. I sighed, and gave a huge yawn. It had to be pretty late. I glanced at my watch. It was twelve thirty-seven. Slowly, sleep took me as I watched the rain.