Chapta Twointy One
Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies. I do own Natalie, Ali, their family members, Christine, Dana, and Hetello. Mwahaha.
A/N: Thanksgiving. Also, I start mentioning neighborhoods in the Bronx, but don't start stalking them or anything creepy like that, because I don't live there anyway!
Hahaha, I'm typing with gloves on. We finally got snow over here and baby, it's cold outside. Been prayin' for a snowday all week, and Friday's my birthday. Huzzah!
Racetrack decided he did not like kids.
There he was in the early hours of the morning, all nice and peaceful, with not a care in the world, having a very time-killing and inappropriate dream about Ali, when who comes storming in but Arthur himself, marching around and shouting, "Wake up! Wake up! You gotta get up!"
Race's eyes snapped open and he spun around to see a little kid with one of those whirling hats on, prancing around. Looking at his watch, courtesy of Ali, he saw it was five in the morning, and just as his head thumped back on the pillow, Ali's voice rose from her room, "Racetrack Higgins, get the hell up! It's Thanksgiving Day!"
At first, he didn't remember that he had agreed to go to Dawn's house, or whatever her name was, but it occurred to him that maybe, just maybe, there was some reason he was being tortured like this.
Just maybe.
Forcing himself from his dreamlike state, he rolled off the bed, like he did every morning, but this time, he had been prepared - last night, he left an extra blanket under his bed so if, by chance, he did fall off, he'd be padded.
Ten minutes later, as he pulled his vest with the gold watch over his suspenders, Ali stomped up.
"Hurry up," she hissed, "You're making us late!"
"Ok, ok, I'm comin', hold yer horses..." He began buttoning each button incredibly slowly.
Ali had no patience. Not caring whether he had packed or not, she yanked his sleeve and dragged him down the stairs and outside and flung him into the carriage. Racetrack thumped against the tiny seat, still trying to clear the sleep from his eyes, and seconds later, dodged a flying suitcase that near took his head off.
Ali jumped in after that, slamming the door behind her. It was a clear day, so Victoria and Arthur sat outside next to William, who was once again steering the horses. They had all thrown their bags into the back, so the two teens were up to their eyes in luggage.
They listened to the clip-clop of the hooves on stone, and sat in awkward silence, before Ali said, "Sorry about the rude wake up."
Race laughed nervously. "Heh."
"...But we had to go, y'know?"
"Yeah."
Another silence.
"Dove abita la cugina di tu?"
Ali stared at him."...What?"
"I had a feelin' ya wouldn't undastand dat."
"Well, what does it mean?"
"I said, 'Where does your cousin live?'"
Ali sighed. "Sometimes I feel like everyone knows Italian but me... Dawn lives in Locust Point."
Racetrack chuckled. "Ah," he said, pausing slightly, "Dat's an... appealin' name."
"Isn't it?"
"It'd make me wanna go dere any day."
Ali laughed. "At least it's not Englewood," she said, shrugging.
Racetrack, who was not familiar with the neighborhoods in the Bronx, raised his eyebrows curiously. "Err, right," he said. "An', wheah do we live?"
Ali's mouth dropped open, and she did not say anything for a few seconds.
"Uhh, Ali?"
"...You don't know where I live!"
"...Nope."
Ali shook her head.
"Riverdale, Race, Riverdale! How can you not know that!"
"I dunno... Ya neva told me... Ya just said yer street name aw sumthin... Anyway, I don rememba places by names, just seein' em's fine."
"I'd like to see you get through life with that attitude."
"I'll try."
Davey awoke with water on his nose.
The eighteen-year-old newsie awoke with a start as he felt water dripping down his nose. He sat up, half his body wet from the hard pavement, removing his arm from around Christine's waist. Sleeping under a bridge was not his thing, but when you're miles away from a safe shelter, you can't be a chooser.
Jack was next to him, curled into a little ball, legs tucked near his chin. Mush lay ungracefully sprawled out, shirtless, but that was okay, because he had been cuddling with... Blink. Christine had gotten permission from her parents to 'go on a vacation with her friend', so she was able to join the boys on their trip... but she had no reason to fear, because another girl had joined them on their trip - someone named Dana, Jack's girlfriend.
Mush sat up groggily, before shoving Blink off of him. Seeing Davey was the only other one awake, he asked, "Where's Hetello?"
"I'm here."
They turned to see Hetello leaning against one of the cement support beams, holding up the bridge. His arms crossed and hair out of it's ponytail, he glared at them - he wasn't exactly angry, but, you couldn't forget this guy was a murderer.
"Whaddaya doin' up so oily?" cried Mush, surprised. Hetello made a face that, up until this point, everyone thought only Racetrack could do.
"I was about ta ask you that."
Davey looked at Mush, who apparently wasn't feeling so great about having an ex-killer guard them in their sleep. "There's no rest for the wicked, eh?" he asked. Hetello snorted.
"Somethin' like that, yeah," he agreed, "Now, if we're all done with the yappin', I'd like to get goin'. Time's a passin'."
The O' Rourke household was, well... hell. Easily put.
At the last minute, John and Molly had offered to hold a dinner party for Natalie's relatives, since many of them had no where to go anyways. Natalie grudgingly agreed, with some persuasion from Spot.
"All dinna parties suck," he said, "But it's gotta be maw interestin' den sellin' papes."
Natalie laughed. "You worked on Thanksgiving?"
"Yeah, ya had to. Unless ya'd ratha starve, o' course. When ya need money, dere ain't any passin' it up. But we only woiked faw an hour aw two hours 'fore we'd get ta come inside an' eat."
"Ah..." she said, "Well, that sounds better than not celebrating at all."
"It was... But den again, ya have ta rememba, it's Brooklyn, so it wasn't dat good. A lotta my boydies would skip woik all togetha and go ta Manhattan. Now, dey had a party."
But their conversation was abruptly ended as Molly came rushing down on them and told them both to get to work or they'd be eating bones for dinner. Spot was to go outside and chop wood for the fire, and Natalie was sent to the kitchen to make her famous creamed onions.
When all housework was finished, and the last thing to do was get dressed, Natalie took the Brooklynite upstairs and handed him some freshly pressed outfits, clean and new. Spot climbed up the stairs into the attic, only to stop - all his stuff was gone.
"O'Rourke!" he barked.
"What?" Natalie called.
"Where's me–"
Natalie climbed up after him and looked around, before grinning sheepishly. "Oh, I forgot to tell you, didn't I?"
"Yeah, I guess ya did, whateva dat may be," he said, annoyed. "Wheah are my clothes?"
Natalie motioned for him to follow her, and he did, down the hallway, past her room, to the last door, one he had never payed much attention to. But she opened it, and he could barely stifle a gasp. It was the guestroom that she hadn't let him stay in, for whatever reason she had.
But it was all his now.
Walking inside, he muttered in awe, "A Dhia dhilis..."
Natalie smiled. "Didn't quite catch that," she laughed, putting a hand to her ear, "But, yeah. You can have it. Which, I think, answers the question if you can stay longer than two weeks."
"I... Wow. Buiochas. Nil a fhios agam ce' acu ba choir dom glacadh leis no nar choir."
Natalie stared at him like he was a piece of poo.
"...Yeah, what you said," she said, raising her eyebrows.
Spot chuckled. "I don know whetha ta accept aw not."
Natalie paused, then shook her head. "No, really," she said, "Take it. Please. My parents are okay with you staying in here - God knows they don't want you in my room, especially after yesterday's..." She groped for the word. "...'Shenanigans.'"
"...Shenanigans?" he asked, and Natalie would've found this funny, but his tone was a serious one, with rising panic, "How'd they find out? Did you tell them? Do I have to leave?" He himself didn't know why he was so scared of leaving this home...
Natalie gazed at him and put a hand on the side of his jawbone, rubbing the smooth skin. "No," she cooed, "But you can't say they haven't been expecting that sort of thing to happen all along. We'll just have to be more careful, y'know?"
Her hand gently kneaded his cheek, and this time, it was her leaning in to kiss him. They held it like that for about four seconds, before Natalie pulled away and sighed. "You have to get dressed," she said, "And so do I. Meet me downstairs."
LANGUAGE Translation and Pronunciation
Italian -
"Dove abita la cugina di tu?" (Doe-vay ah-bee-ta la coo-gee-na dee too) Where does your cousin live?
Gaelic -
"A Dhia dhilis..." (Ah Dee-a deel-ees) My God...
"Buiochas." (Bway-oh-kahs) Thanks.
"Nil a fhios agam ce' acu ba choir dom glacadh leis no nar choir." (Neal ah fee-ohs ah-gam chay a-coo bah core doh-m gla-cad lays no nar core) I don't know whether to accept of not.
Newsie Vocab
oily - early
woiked - worked
A/N: In the next chapter, the second, and more interesting, part of the Thanksgiving Dinner Disaster.