I walk down the street from the Jacobs' apartment, trying to remember which direction David came from so I could avoid him. It's not that I don't want to see him; it's just that I've had my fill of people for the day. I can't shake the feeling of wanting to cry with Sarah, and the front of my head still feels heavy and clogged.

I choke up my pathetic sentiment and even try to squeeze out a few good tears. Maybe I could get a really good show going and then run back up to Sarah and please beg her to accept my apology. But then I realize I'd have to beg, and there's something else I don't do. I don't cry, I don't make other girls cry and I don't beg for forgiveness. I sure as hell do not cry while I'm begging for forgiveness from other girls that have cried because of me. Does this make sense, a street kid getting worked up over relationship bullshit? No, it does not.

I keep walking… keep thinking about how David and I don't ever discuss where we're going. We just go. I'm trusting my legs to carry me somewhere, anywhere, so I can lie down and indulge myself into spongy sleep and let the soupy evening burn away. I feel terrible for what I did to Sarah, but I don't regret anything. I wish I had never met David; I want to run away with him to New Mexico. I'm so exhausted I'm about to pass out, and yet my mind's never felt so alive and jumpy. The Lodging House is four blocks and at least two unbearable guilt trips away. I keep walking.

When I finally traipse towards the building, a few of the other boys are standing around outside, puffing cigarettes and flipping cards in the failing sunlight. Blink calls out to me, pinching his cigarette between two fingers and watching the ash powder the ground, "Long day, huh Jack?"

I shake my head tiredly and tug my face into a smile that would've made even the most acclaimed actor jealous, "You're telling me."

David is sitting quietly, reserved from the group. As tired as I am of dealing with Jacobs who won't speak, I slide over towards him anyway, my mind drained from small talk.

"She knows, Davey."

He looks up at me with an over-done expression of surprise stretching his slender face, "Who knows what?"

"How many 'she's' do you know that we're keeping a secret from?" I ask. "Your sister," I try not to snap, but the rubbing irritation is like sand against the inside of my head, making hot frustration boil in my stomach.

"Oh, Sarah," he shrugs, casually flicking the dirt from under his fingernails. He ejects a clear, airy sigh without any tint of regret to it, "Yeah, I know."

"Les tell you?"

"Nope."

The frustration is slowly beginning to lick the inside of my throat, making my mind itch furiously, "How'd you know?"

"'Cause, Les," David turns to me, a smile grasping at the corners of his mouth, "didn't tell anybody anything."

"What are you talking about?" Calm. Stay calm. Get it together. It's over, I tell myself, sucking in deep breaths to douse my exasperation, "Les told Sarah about… I guess you know. The… y'know," I can't bring myself to say it in front of the other boys standing near us, "thing."

David shrugs again and against my own will, I admire the evening's shadows that are shading in his jaw line. "If you're going to talk about it, Jack, don't cover it up. I got kind of tired of that. So," he takes in a deep breath of his own, either to mount his courage or for the sake of drama, like his sister, "so, I told Sarah."

The pounding my in heart stops, the rush in my ears silences, and the stewing frustration in my stomach freezes, dropping with the rest of my intestines. All I can manage to choke out is, "Oh."

"Yeah."

I'm quiet for a moment, thinking of a way to pose my dire curiosity. At last I ask him, "Just… how come?"

"Because," David stretches leisurely, as if we're just discussing the paper that day instead of his unreliability and his sister's fragile emotions, "you weren't going to."

"Well, I probably would have," I argue, even though I know that I could have gone on forever volleying between the two Jacobs.

"When? When you and Sarah were married and I'm living in the guestroom? I didn't feel like waiting. And I didn't feel like listening to Sarah rave about how great you are for another night."

"Rave, huh?"

"Jack," David sighs, "the point is, my sister would wake up and say how great you were, and then make dinner and say how great you were and then go to bed saying how great you were. And all the while, I'm going behind her back."

"That makes it your fault too, Dave," I point out.

"No arguments. So, I told Sarah, and then told Les to tell you that he told her, so you'd have to talk to Sarah."

For a moment, I just nod dumbly. My neck has already been stiff with tension for a while and all of the confounded shaking is only making it sorer. The gears in my mind are spinning now, greased with David's deviousness. I'm trying to make sense out of his actions and they keep jumbling themselves together, forcing the "whys" with impulsive answers to create a clear conclusion.

"Well, didn't she get mad?" I finally inquire.

"Yeah."

"And didn't she scream and cry and all that stuff?"

"Oh, yeah. And she threw something at me."

"And you still thought you were doing the right thing," I can feel the jigsaw pieces of the story begin seal together in my head, "So, Dave, let me get this straight. You told Sarah that I kissed you, and then told Les, to tell me, so Sarah could yell at me and then I'd report back to you?"

"Yeah," He leans back even further, overtly pleased with himself.

I'm dizzy. I don't think I've ever had to make sense of such swirling, over-lapping facts and even though I think I have it figured out, I'm still confused. I don't know if I want to hit David or kiss him. Instead, I just nod again, "Well, your sister hates me."

"Hates me too. One more thing we have in common."

Which brings the list to what, three? I think with an inward laugh, amused again at the striking contrast between the two of us.

"It makes sense," I realize, "why she didn't scream or hit me or nothing. She'd already wasted all of her energy on you."

"Yeah, I told her right after we'd finished with the afternoon edition, and then came back to tell Les. So she had time to calm down."

"I don't know if you're brilliant or just stupid," I pause for a moment, rethinking the situation. Finally, "Do you think Sarah is gonna get over it?"

"It's likely," David replies airily, "give her a week. I was a little worried she'd be upset, too. And she is, she definitely is," Of all the things David could do, he laughs. He stops in mid-sentence and laughs, a bittersweet, sardonically cheerful laugh, "But she'll get over it. Besides," David gently covers my hand with his, shifting so our hands are just out of sight of the other boys, "I usually get Sarah's things when she's through with them, anyway."

"I was the one who got through with her."

"And still," it's David's turn to shake his head, "I was the one who had to speak up."

The irritation in my stomach melts away along with all of my thoughts about Sarah, leaving a clean, cool sensation of relaxation and soft happiness. For the first time in almost two hours, breathing becomes easy and my head slows down. The shadows are back on David's face, and I realize again how handsome he looks in this moment, in a moment I have to savor because he might never look quite that way again. I want to tell him, "Today wasn't so bad after all," I want to lean in and kiss him again now that my head is lighter and my conscious is floating, finally un-snagged from the guilt of Sarah.

David doesn't lean in to kiss me, though, and I know that he's thinking of the other newsies that are still standing outside. Instead, he makes a reference to the day, "So, that line today," he says, smiling in the darkening light, "that was some scandal, huh?"

I smile back, "You're telling me."

A/N: I certainly hope that you guys enjoyed this. I sat down a few nights ago and started sketching out another story inspired by this one. I'm kicking around the idea of writing a longer story from David's point of view, picking up before "Scandal" and concluding after. I want to throw in a good amount of Sarah as well; I'm definitely beginning to develop a taste for Sarah angst. Anybody interested?

Very special thanks to stress, Maddiecake, Braids21, guiltytexan, Purple Rhapsody, HotSpotSlingShot, midnight1899 and Total Havoc for their wonderful reviews!