Note From Author: Okay, so this is going to be like my "epic." I have lots
of ideas, alas, if only I could get them written down. (PS: Spot will not
always be called Benji. During the second half be will be called Spot like
he should be.) This will be odd for me, because I have a really short
attention span when I write, and this story will get pretty "intense?"
later on. So, please review! I will love you forever and ever if you do!!!
Disclaimer: I do not own the Newsies. I have to thank Kenny Ortega and the screenwriters of this little lov'ly movie that had so many hot guys in it. I only own the characters of Lux Listin, Fetch Fianni, William Morrison, Nero Night, Ruby Danson, Rose Danson, Soleil Night and any other supporting characters that do not appear in Newsies.
Please review! I am on cloud nine when I get reviews! (PS: Some of the characters speak some Italian since they live in the Italian district. I have no clue if it is right, I got it off a translator. So, forgive me if it isn't.) Enjoy.
AS THEY RISE AND FALL
PART ONE: BIRTHDAYS ARE BAD LUCK
CHAPTER ONE
The day was hot. Yet, hot would be quite an understatement. Smoldering, blistering, unbearable would be more like it.
The only relief one could find that particular scorching July 14, was not in the rat-trodden apartments or in the sticky sweatshops, yet under the shade of the sentinel-like elm tree in The Park.
The Park was unusually empty. No children shrieked while playing tag or jumping rope or playing catch. The only sounds were the almost inaudible breathing of two figures under the shade of the massive tree. Two figures aged twelve, who were not at all thinking of the future, only of the heat of the moment. The boy lay lazily with his back against the thick trunk of the tree as the girl was sprawled like a cat at his feet, one eye partially opened, observing the area around.
They felt like not much moving, as even though the sun did not touch them, they still felt the drowsy effects. They blocked out the loud oaths being shouted with thick Italian accents or the clatters and clashes of random noises.
The girl, her chin resting on the boy's crossed ankles, picked at a strip of brown-green grass larger than the others. She twisted it around her index finger, desperately fighting off the heaviness in her eyelids. She yearned to shut her eyes for one moment, alas, if she did, she knew she would be gone.
The boy was not faring much better. The oversized cap he wore pulled over his brow made the world seem black as pitch, even with his eyes wide open. He shut his eyes once, yet they fluttered open. Twice, and he couldn't help it. He fought sleep only when she rested her outstretched arm on his legs, burying her face into them. Now he knew he could not sleep. Lunch would be soon.
"Luxy," he murmured, pushing the cap off his brow and onto his pate. The blinding sunlight invaded his eyes and when he closed them, he still saw the blinding image of the sun.
She didn't reply. She was too slumberous to reply. She only let out a weak grunt.
He found it equally as hard to form the words. "Lu-xy. Lunch.soon."
This time, Luxy responded by turning her face to him, her cheek feeling the poking of his leg bone. "Hum?"
He opened his eyes, letting the sunlight pierce them. "Lunch."
"Um." She rolled reluctantly onto her back, her neck fitting perfectly with his crossed ankles.
The boy reluctantly uncrossed his ankles, forcing a rather unhappy moan from Luxy, who let her head fall back against the grass.
He let out a deep sigh, a sigh that rustled the stifling heat. He crouched, and then slowly stood up, his joints creaking.
"Luxy!" he yawned, stretching his arms over his head.
Luxy remained motionless, silent, her raven hair glinting blue in the light, the scent and feel of the grass surrounding her, the heat of the sun on her, not wanting to go anywhere but stay and sleep.
"Luxy," he said. "Lux, I'm gonna leave you here for Mistah Antonelli to get."
Her head shot up and her eyes got wide. "Ya wouldn't dare, Benji!"
A sly smile crossed Benji's lips and his eyes glittered. "Who's to say I wouldn't?"
"Because, its me birthday and I don't feel like movin'."
He snorted. "Oh, really, Luxy? I hear that Mistah Antonelli collects little goils."
"Alright, alright!" she sighed, wearily climbing to her feet. "I'm up, I'm up! Are you happy, you rompicoglioni."
"Oh, hoo hoo hoo! A pain in the ass, am I?" Benji whistled. "Well, you're a donnina!"
He took the first wary step from out of the protective shade. The heat hit him like a million daggers. "Oca! Fa caldo fuori! "
"Of course it's hot out, Benji. It's only one hundred an' three degrees out," Luxy replied, shielding her eyes and stepping out beside him. "I swear, me birthdays are always hot. I was born smack in the middle of the hottest heat wave Manhattan-New Yawk-had ever experienced."
"Maybe your birthdays are just bad luck," he jested.
"Maybe they are," she murmured an undercurrent of seriousness in her voice.
The perspiration was starting to find a trail over Benji's flesh. "Come, on, Luxy, stop standin' there. Let's run. It's too hot."
Luxy glanced at him. "What, ya think that runnin' in the blisterin' heat to our apartments that are two hundred and three degrees inside rather than the one hundred and three it is outside will cool us right down?"
His eyes widened as he pondered this and finally said, "Hang lunch. I'd rather sit in the shade and starve than eat lunch with Mr. Rat and Mr. It's- So-Damn-Hot-Out as guests at the table." With that, he fell back onto the grass, the shade cooling him immediately.
Luxy, still standing with the smoldering sun on her back, shook her head. "I can't tie a noose 'round lunch's neck that fast. Mama will very angry that I up stood Mr. Rat and Mr. It's-So-Damn-Hot-Out. Comin'?"
Benji shook his head, finding his back finding its place against the rough bark or the sentinel. "I ain't goin' nowhere."
"Suit yourself," she casually replied, taking more steps in the heat. She turned around and shielded her eyes. "Hey, Benji!"
"What?" his muffled cry answered from under his hat that had found its way over his eyes again.
"Want me to git ya anything?"
With this, he slowly removed his cap, and even from the distance she was standing away from him, she could see the Cheshire cat like grin creep over the width of his entire face.
"Yeah, ya can!"
"What?" Luxy inquired, shifting her weight onto one foot.
"Julie!" he replied.
She shook her head and rolled her eyes, but couldn't help smile. "I meant somethin' more that is in a food group."
He slowly shook his head and his hat fell down his brow once more and his ankles found themselves crossed and his arms found themselves behind his head. "Nah, then that's okay, Luxy."
"Bye, Benj," she replied, starting the two block trek to her residence, yet she stopped and turned around. "Benj?"
"Yeah?" his faint voice came.
"Never, ever call me a street-walker again."
With that, she sauntered home as Benji flipped the one corner of his hat up to peer at her, and smile.
*** It was when he sweaty palm grasped the knob to the main door to the apartment that Luxy Listin knew she would die. Die of the relentless, unmerciful son of a whore sun and his damn heat that kept boring down on her.
She crouched, placing her hands on her upper legs and panting just like a dog. After she had collected herself, she straightened and flicked open the door. She stepped inside the threshold and the door swung shut with a creak. The sheer mugginess hit her in ways that just were not right. The humid apartment building had to be twice that of what it was outside. At once, she wished that she had stayed under the tree with Benji, asleep at his feet and the peaceful sound of their unison breathing the only sound in the world.
Yet, the rumbles in her stomach made her climb the several sets of stairs until the reached the apartment. Struggling, stumbling in the heat she finally made it. She stood at the door, resting her forehead against the splintering pine, yells invading her ears.
"Placez la volonté de table vous, Annie ?"
"Mama, you know we don't speak French."
"No, you don't speak French. Only I speak French! Votre père ne vous laissera pas parler français. Seulement italien. Son Italien ! "
"Mama, we don't understand you!"
"Oui, I know, Lynn! Did you set the table yet, Anastacia? I asked you how many minutes ago! Ah, ces enfants ! Ils agissent comme leur père ! Un imbécile italien ! "
"Great," Luxy murmured under her breath. "They got Mama speakin' in French. What the hell did they do this time?" She turned the knob and opened the door (after a few tries for the door always stuck.)
The door opened with a horrid squeal. Her mother stopped and connected gazes with her from across the room. Her pretty face was hidden under a mask of weariness and her once lustrous black hair was pinned upon her head in a bun. "Luxy? Where on Earth have you been? You should have been here to help set up for lunch! Where were you?"
Luxy let out a long sigh, grasping her hair in her grasp and holding it off her slick neck. She shut the well-needed oiled door behind her and approached the warped table that served the Listin meals.
"I was with Benji, Mama," she replied, sliding into a chair.
"Benji, who is this Benji?" her mother shrilly inquired, circling the table, spooning servings of unappetizing gruel into the wooden bowls. A rat suddenly scurried across the warped wooden floor, making her jump. "These rats!"
"Ben Conlon, Mama," Luxy replied. "The boy who lives in the apartment next door."
"Ben Conlon? He's the little boy with the non-Italian parents! I declare, but I find something wrong with that. Living in the Italian district and not even being Italian!" she huffed, falling into a chair.
"Mama, Ben Conlon's father is part Italian. It's his mother that is from Manhattan," Anastacia piped in.
Luxy breathed a sigh of relief.
Yet, Nathalie Listin was a relentless woman. "Still. His mother is not Italian."
"Mother, you are not Italian, either. You are French," Julie sharply stated.
Nathalie Listin's jaw dropped, yet it was scornfully shut as she spooned a helping of gruel into her mouth.
Lunch was filled with tension that could have cut through iron. Luxy inhaled her food as quickly as she could so that she could be excused as quickly as she could.
After she had managed to stomach the last of the gruel, her spoon landed with a clatter into the wooden bowl. "May I be excused?"
Her mother's fierce blue eyes met hers. "You certainly may not be."
"Oh, Mother, what use will she be at the table? Let he go," Julie caustically said.
Nathalie Listin's eyes filled with fury, but she dropped them to the bowl once again. "Yes, you may be excused," she said in a quiet but hard tone.
Luxy happily pushed her chair back and rose to her feet. As she passed Anastacia, her sister caught her and whispered, "Happy Birthday, Luxy."
A quiet smile formed on her lips. "Thanks, Annie."
She was out the squeaky-hinged door and down the stairs and finally pushed open the door to be greeted by the smoldering sunlight. She was about to trot over to The Park to find Benji, who was relaxing, maybe asleep, under the old elm, when she heard the apartment door next to hers creak open.
She cocked her head, and what she saw made her roll her eyes and shake her head and smile at the same time. It was Benji, who had traces of spaghetti sauce smattered on the corners of his mouth.
"I thought that you were hanging dinner, Benj?" she asked, as they made their way to The Park.
He shrugged. "You can't argue with ya stomach, even when it is hot out."
Relief rushed through them both as they found the glorious shade of the sentinel once more. In a matter of moments, Benji lay lazily once more with his back against the thick trunk of the tree as Luxy was sprawled like a cat once more at his feet, one eye partially opened, observing the area around.
"Luxy?" Benji asked, fighting off the reoccurring drowsy effects of the heat.
"Um?" Luxy murmured the side of her head resting on his crossed ankles.
"Didya git me Julie like I asked?"
She gave a snort of laughter as she rolled onto her back, her neck fitting with his ankles. "Sorry, Benj, I didn't. But I could get you a few good rats, though."
Disclaimer: I do not own the Newsies. I have to thank Kenny Ortega and the screenwriters of this little lov'ly movie that had so many hot guys in it. I only own the characters of Lux Listin, Fetch Fianni, William Morrison, Nero Night, Ruby Danson, Rose Danson, Soleil Night and any other supporting characters that do not appear in Newsies.
Please review! I am on cloud nine when I get reviews! (PS: Some of the characters speak some Italian since they live in the Italian district. I have no clue if it is right, I got it off a translator. So, forgive me if it isn't.) Enjoy.
AS THEY RISE AND FALL
PART ONE: BIRTHDAYS ARE BAD LUCK
CHAPTER ONE
The day was hot. Yet, hot would be quite an understatement. Smoldering, blistering, unbearable would be more like it.
The only relief one could find that particular scorching July 14, was not in the rat-trodden apartments or in the sticky sweatshops, yet under the shade of the sentinel-like elm tree in The Park.
The Park was unusually empty. No children shrieked while playing tag or jumping rope or playing catch. The only sounds were the almost inaudible breathing of two figures under the shade of the massive tree. Two figures aged twelve, who were not at all thinking of the future, only of the heat of the moment. The boy lay lazily with his back against the thick trunk of the tree as the girl was sprawled like a cat at his feet, one eye partially opened, observing the area around.
They felt like not much moving, as even though the sun did not touch them, they still felt the drowsy effects. They blocked out the loud oaths being shouted with thick Italian accents or the clatters and clashes of random noises.
The girl, her chin resting on the boy's crossed ankles, picked at a strip of brown-green grass larger than the others. She twisted it around her index finger, desperately fighting off the heaviness in her eyelids. She yearned to shut her eyes for one moment, alas, if she did, she knew she would be gone.
The boy was not faring much better. The oversized cap he wore pulled over his brow made the world seem black as pitch, even with his eyes wide open. He shut his eyes once, yet they fluttered open. Twice, and he couldn't help it. He fought sleep only when she rested her outstretched arm on his legs, burying her face into them. Now he knew he could not sleep. Lunch would be soon.
"Luxy," he murmured, pushing the cap off his brow and onto his pate. The blinding sunlight invaded his eyes and when he closed them, he still saw the blinding image of the sun.
She didn't reply. She was too slumberous to reply. She only let out a weak grunt.
He found it equally as hard to form the words. "Lu-xy. Lunch.soon."
This time, Luxy responded by turning her face to him, her cheek feeling the poking of his leg bone. "Hum?"
He opened his eyes, letting the sunlight pierce them. "Lunch."
"Um." She rolled reluctantly onto her back, her neck fitting perfectly with his crossed ankles.
The boy reluctantly uncrossed his ankles, forcing a rather unhappy moan from Luxy, who let her head fall back against the grass.
He let out a deep sigh, a sigh that rustled the stifling heat. He crouched, and then slowly stood up, his joints creaking.
"Luxy!" he yawned, stretching his arms over his head.
Luxy remained motionless, silent, her raven hair glinting blue in the light, the scent and feel of the grass surrounding her, the heat of the sun on her, not wanting to go anywhere but stay and sleep.
"Luxy," he said. "Lux, I'm gonna leave you here for Mistah Antonelli to get."
Her head shot up and her eyes got wide. "Ya wouldn't dare, Benji!"
A sly smile crossed Benji's lips and his eyes glittered. "Who's to say I wouldn't?"
"Because, its me birthday and I don't feel like movin'."
He snorted. "Oh, really, Luxy? I hear that Mistah Antonelli collects little goils."
"Alright, alright!" she sighed, wearily climbing to her feet. "I'm up, I'm up! Are you happy, you rompicoglioni."
"Oh, hoo hoo hoo! A pain in the ass, am I?" Benji whistled. "Well, you're a donnina!"
He took the first wary step from out of the protective shade. The heat hit him like a million daggers. "Oca! Fa caldo fuori! "
"Of course it's hot out, Benji. It's only one hundred an' three degrees out," Luxy replied, shielding her eyes and stepping out beside him. "I swear, me birthdays are always hot. I was born smack in the middle of the hottest heat wave Manhattan-New Yawk-had ever experienced."
"Maybe your birthdays are just bad luck," he jested.
"Maybe they are," she murmured an undercurrent of seriousness in her voice.
The perspiration was starting to find a trail over Benji's flesh. "Come, on, Luxy, stop standin' there. Let's run. It's too hot."
Luxy glanced at him. "What, ya think that runnin' in the blisterin' heat to our apartments that are two hundred and three degrees inside rather than the one hundred and three it is outside will cool us right down?"
His eyes widened as he pondered this and finally said, "Hang lunch. I'd rather sit in the shade and starve than eat lunch with Mr. Rat and Mr. It's- So-Damn-Hot-Out as guests at the table." With that, he fell back onto the grass, the shade cooling him immediately.
Luxy, still standing with the smoldering sun on her back, shook her head. "I can't tie a noose 'round lunch's neck that fast. Mama will very angry that I up stood Mr. Rat and Mr. It's-So-Damn-Hot-Out. Comin'?"
Benji shook his head, finding his back finding its place against the rough bark or the sentinel. "I ain't goin' nowhere."
"Suit yourself," she casually replied, taking more steps in the heat. She turned around and shielded her eyes. "Hey, Benji!"
"What?" his muffled cry answered from under his hat that had found its way over his eyes again.
"Want me to git ya anything?"
With this, he slowly removed his cap, and even from the distance she was standing away from him, she could see the Cheshire cat like grin creep over the width of his entire face.
"Yeah, ya can!"
"What?" Luxy inquired, shifting her weight onto one foot.
"Julie!" he replied.
She shook her head and rolled her eyes, but couldn't help smile. "I meant somethin' more that is in a food group."
He slowly shook his head and his hat fell down his brow once more and his ankles found themselves crossed and his arms found themselves behind his head. "Nah, then that's okay, Luxy."
"Bye, Benj," she replied, starting the two block trek to her residence, yet she stopped and turned around. "Benj?"
"Yeah?" his faint voice came.
"Never, ever call me a street-walker again."
With that, she sauntered home as Benji flipped the one corner of his hat up to peer at her, and smile.
*** It was when he sweaty palm grasped the knob to the main door to the apartment that Luxy Listin knew she would die. Die of the relentless, unmerciful son of a whore sun and his damn heat that kept boring down on her.
She crouched, placing her hands on her upper legs and panting just like a dog. After she had collected herself, she straightened and flicked open the door. She stepped inside the threshold and the door swung shut with a creak. The sheer mugginess hit her in ways that just were not right. The humid apartment building had to be twice that of what it was outside. At once, she wished that she had stayed under the tree with Benji, asleep at his feet and the peaceful sound of their unison breathing the only sound in the world.
Yet, the rumbles in her stomach made her climb the several sets of stairs until the reached the apartment. Struggling, stumbling in the heat she finally made it. She stood at the door, resting her forehead against the splintering pine, yells invading her ears.
"Placez la volonté de table vous, Annie ?"
"Mama, you know we don't speak French."
"No, you don't speak French. Only I speak French! Votre père ne vous laissera pas parler français. Seulement italien. Son Italien ! "
"Mama, we don't understand you!"
"Oui, I know, Lynn! Did you set the table yet, Anastacia? I asked you how many minutes ago! Ah, ces enfants ! Ils agissent comme leur père ! Un imbécile italien ! "
"Great," Luxy murmured under her breath. "They got Mama speakin' in French. What the hell did they do this time?" She turned the knob and opened the door (after a few tries for the door always stuck.)
The door opened with a horrid squeal. Her mother stopped and connected gazes with her from across the room. Her pretty face was hidden under a mask of weariness and her once lustrous black hair was pinned upon her head in a bun. "Luxy? Where on Earth have you been? You should have been here to help set up for lunch! Where were you?"
Luxy let out a long sigh, grasping her hair in her grasp and holding it off her slick neck. She shut the well-needed oiled door behind her and approached the warped table that served the Listin meals.
"I was with Benji, Mama," she replied, sliding into a chair.
"Benji, who is this Benji?" her mother shrilly inquired, circling the table, spooning servings of unappetizing gruel into the wooden bowls. A rat suddenly scurried across the warped wooden floor, making her jump. "These rats!"
"Ben Conlon, Mama," Luxy replied. "The boy who lives in the apartment next door."
"Ben Conlon? He's the little boy with the non-Italian parents! I declare, but I find something wrong with that. Living in the Italian district and not even being Italian!" she huffed, falling into a chair.
"Mama, Ben Conlon's father is part Italian. It's his mother that is from Manhattan," Anastacia piped in.
Luxy breathed a sigh of relief.
Yet, Nathalie Listin was a relentless woman. "Still. His mother is not Italian."
"Mother, you are not Italian, either. You are French," Julie sharply stated.
Nathalie Listin's jaw dropped, yet it was scornfully shut as she spooned a helping of gruel into her mouth.
Lunch was filled with tension that could have cut through iron. Luxy inhaled her food as quickly as she could so that she could be excused as quickly as she could.
After she had managed to stomach the last of the gruel, her spoon landed with a clatter into the wooden bowl. "May I be excused?"
Her mother's fierce blue eyes met hers. "You certainly may not be."
"Oh, Mother, what use will she be at the table? Let he go," Julie caustically said.
Nathalie Listin's eyes filled with fury, but she dropped them to the bowl once again. "Yes, you may be excused," she said in a quiet but hard tone.
Luxy happily pushed her chair back and rose to her feet. As she passed Anastacia, her sister caught her and whispered, "Happy Birthday, Luxy."
A quiet smile formed on her lips. "Thanks, Annie."
She was out the squeaky-hinged door and down the stairs and finally pushed open the door to be greeted by the smoldering sunlight. She was about to trot over to The Park to find Benji, who was relaxing, maybe asleep, under the old elm, when she heard the apartment door next to hers creak open.
She cocked her head, and what she saw made her roll her eyes and shake her head and smile at the same time. It was Benji, who had traces of spaghetti sauce smattered on the corners of his mouth.
"I thought that you were hanging dinner, Benj?" she asked, as they made their way to The Park.
He shrugged. "You can't argue with ya stomach, even when it is hot out."
Relief rushed through them both as they found the glorious shade of the sentinel once more. In a matter of moments, Benji lay lazily once more with his back against the thick trunk of the tree as Luxy was sprawled like a cat once more at his feet, one eye partially opened, observing the area around.
"Luxy?" Benji asked, fighting off the reoccurring drowsy effects of the heat.
"Um?" Luxy murmured the side of her head resting on his crossed ankles.
"Didya git me Julie like I asked?"
She gave a snort of laughter as she rolled onto her back, her neck fitting with his ankles. "Sorry, Benj, I didn't. But I could get you a few good rats, though."