A/N- This chapter is the brainchild of what happens when a performing arts student gets a hold of her old Broadway CDs. Contains, "Brush up Your Shakespeare" from Kiss Me, Kate. How original of me. Enjoy.
Chapter Four: Brush Up Your Shakespeare
Brush up your Shakespeare
Start quoting him now
Brush up your Shakespeare
And the women you will wow…
-Kiss Me, Kate
Jack woke up the next morning, the sun slicing through the windows on his pillow like an arrow on a target. He yawned and sat up in his bunk, noticing that the other boys were lounging around, fully dressed. He jerked his head around to find a clock on a wall, but was unsuccessful and ended up asking one of the boys what time it was.
"About twelve," Skittery replied, sleepily. Jack cursed and leapt out of bed, grabbing the clothes on his bed post and pulling them on hurriedly. He was halfway through pulling on his trousers when he heard the boys sniggering at him, stupidly.
"What?" Jack said, almost whining. When none of the boys answered, Blink took it upon himself to tell him why they were still at the lodging house.
"Old Man Pulitzer thought he'd give us a break," he explained. "The sales have been bad, so he's decided to let us take some time off until sales get good again. But, we're still getting paid! I wonder how many men in New York get paid for sitting on their asses." A few newsies giggled as he pointed to some boys on the other side of the room. "They think it's generous, but I think he's just trying to suck up to us after the strike." Some boys chuckled in agreement as Jack rolled his eyes and flopped back onto his bunk.
"So, Jacky-boy," Mush exclaimed. "Who was that doll you were with last night? The boys told me all about it."
Jack rolled over to face him and saw the faces of all the boys of the lodging house turned to him, putting him on the spot.
"What?" He asked, raising an eyebrow in annoyance. "Sally? Oh, we go way back…to the refuge. I just haven't seen her in a while, that's all."
Some of the boys laughed at this remark, while others had tuned out of the conversation at the word "refuge." Racetrack, who had been listening quietly the entire morning while sipping a bottle of soda, decided to pipe in at this.
"Yes boys," he said, placing the bottle on the crotch of his pants. "They only want to get caught up." He started poking Jack on the leg with the tip of the bottle until Jack sat up and swatted him away in embarrassment and annoyance. The boys died laughing and made some whooping noises as Race put his arm around Jack's shoulders, giving him a fake toast with the same bottle.
"Shut up," Jack demanded, but he wasn't heard over the raucous. Race reached in his pocket and retrieved a cigar with a match. He lit it and puffed, blowing smoke into Jack's face but he didn't seem to mind; most of the boys, including him, had smoked in their lives and when you're living with them, you get used to it.
"You like her?" Race said through teeth clenching the cigar.
"As a friend," Jack replied. It was only later when he figured out that was most certainly a lie. The boys around the room groaned and clicked their tongues at each other till some of them complained that the others were spitting on them.
"This is ridiculous," Jack sighed and fell back onto his pillow, rolling around to face the other direction. Race shook his head and grabbed a book from one of the other boys who protested for a moment before Race gave him a nasty glance. He shut up. Race sprinkled the ashes from his cigar over the edge of the bed and turned back to Jack, gazing at his peacefulness for a moment before taking the heavy book and hitting him with it squarely in the head. Jack jerked around and grabbed the book, placing Race in a headlock as he read the title.
"'Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare?' You've got to be joking!" He shook his head and gave Race a blow on the head with it before letting him out of his grip. "Race, I am a poor kid in New York. My reading level is here." He put out a fat hand in thin air. "This book is way up here." He indicating a space in the air with the other hand about two feet higher than the previous one. The other kids laughed as Race shrugged and flipped to a page, clearing his throat before telling the crowd of boys to shut their traps.
"'Romeo, Romeo," He recited in a high, squeaky girl voice. "Where for art thou Romeo!' Look here, Jack; you win her heart and you're Romeo!" Jack snorted and took the book in his hands, realizing that if he didn't, the others would pester him for hours. Race hopped down and beckoned for Blink to join him in a song they had heard once at the theatre.
The girls today in society
Go for classical poetry
So, to win their hearts, one must quote with ease
Aeschylus and Euripides
But the poet of the all
Who will start them simply raving
Is the poet people call
The bard-of-Stratford-on-Avon
Brush up your Shakespeare
Start quoting him now.
Brush up your Shakespeare
And the women you will wow.
Just declaim a few lines from "Othella"
And they think you're a helluva fella.
If your blonde won't respond when you flatter 'er
Tell her what Tony told Cleopaterer,
If she fights when her clothes you are mussing,
What are clothes? "Much Ado About Nussing."
Brush up your Shakespeare
And they'll all kowtow.
With the wife of the British embessida
Try a crack out of "Troilus and Cressida,"
If she says she won't buy it or tike it
Make her tike it, what's more, "As You Like It."
If she says your behavior is heinous
Kick her right in the "Coriolanus."
Brush up your Shakespeare
And they'll all kowtow,
And they'll all kowtow,
And they'll all kowtow!
The applause was even better than last night's and its sounds still rang in Jack's ears as he made his way to Sally's room. She had performed a slow, jazzy song tat reminded him of a story they would read at the refuge at recess time while the others played. He knocked on her door, thinking about the lines he'd read earlier that day and what Race had "taught" him. They door opened, revealing Sally in the forest green dress and jewelry she'd flaunted onstage, smiling and widening the opening for him to enter.
"Great job onstage," he commented as she shut the door. She just gave him her half smile and plopped down in her vanity table chair as he slumped on the bed. "Did you write the song?"
She nodded. "A long time ago, when I was a stagehand. I had been writing poetry in between acts and sat down one morning at put music to it. Medda helped a bit, though, so don't give me all the credit." Jack began to hum the familiar melody until he noticed Sally staring at him, dreamily.
"Are you okay?" He asked, breaking her from her trance. Her cheeks flushed and she looked away, only to find his smiling face in the mirror. She smiled and began to remove her emerald necklace from her pale neck.
They chatted for hours, it seemed, until David opened the door and stuck his head through the crack, interrupting the two's conversation. He looked tired and frustrated, probably because he tried to tell Race that Sally wouldn't like to see him with a bottle on his crotch.
"Jack," he said, breathlessly, as if he had just run a marathon. "The others are getting crazy; I think tat Blink is drunk and he's mistaken me for Medda. Could you please help?"
Jack and Sally laughed at his helplessness and David rolled his eyes, disappearing from the doorway having headed down the hall.
"I'm coming, David!" Jack assured him and started towards the door until he remembered that he hadn't spoken a single line from 'Romeo and Juliet.' He stopped in the doorway and turned to face Sally, inwardly saying, Damn you, William Shakespeare!
He took her hand in his and kissed it softly.
"Parting is such sweet sorrow," he recited. He watched as she smiled in humility before speeding out the door, half-relieved and excited, half- felling stupid and cheesy. But, he saw her reaction- a shy smile. A smile!
"Thanks, Willie Shakespeare," he said to himself as he grabbed Blink's arm to lead him home. Blink hiccupped and stumbled about, laughing and giggling like a lunatic.
"Who's Willie Shakespeare," he said in a slurred voice. Jack just looked at him and smiled as he clapped him on the back.
"You are, my friend."
Oh," Blink replied, a bit confused. "Well, you're welcome."
A/N- By the way, there is about one more chapter before the story gets sad and a teensy weensy bit angsty. That's why it's under the angst/romance section. But, don't worry; no one's going to cut their wrists or anything. Happy Holidays! I'll see you next year!