Wow, chapter six of Sixth Sense. I should probably do something special. Hmmm...
Roses are red
Violets are blue
You may not know this
But I love you.
Without my fans
Who read to the end
I'd be really boring
And you'd be snoring.
So put up with my
Period-between-updating time
And then we'll all be happy!
Haha, crap, I know. But whatever.
Shoutouts!
Nosilla: YAY! Not for a LOOOONNNGGG time. I've got this thing planned, but I have to be blind, and it's not going to happen for a while, so...
HAZZAGRIFF: I know, isn't it great?
hpcrazy: I'm having so much fun with this. YAY!
koodles4you: Wow, thanks! I love this story so much!
Dreamless-Mermaid: I know, it should prove to be VERY interesting...Muahahahahahaha...
"Look who opened her mouth," Boomerang said, unenthusiastically, pushing open the door to Tibby's with a slight jingle.
"Who?" Dutchy asked, and judging by his muffled words, he said it around food of some sort.
"Me!" I said, cheerfully. He started coughing. "Hey, don't kill yourself, Dutchster," I added, laughing.
"She talks?" Jack asked, incredulously. I rolled my eyes.
"What, did you think I was blind and mute my whole life?"
"Yes," Specs said, simply. There was silence.
"Oh. Well, I wasn't. Now gimme food, 'cause I'm hungry," I said, reaching into my pocket. "How much does a sandwich cost?"
"Fifteen cents. Hey, Joe! Get this girl a sandwich, will you?" Race said. I felt the coins in my hand, and picked out a dime and a nickel.
"Thanks," I said, as someone took the money out of my hands. A few minutes later, a sandwich was placed in front of me. Eagerly, I began to eat, humming to myself.
"What're you singing?" Snitch asked. I swallowed.
"A song," I said, evasively.
"What song?" Snitch asked. I grinned.
"A song I wrote." I grinned, knowing I was annoying him.
"You write songs?" Jack asked, sounding interested. I nodded.
"I play the guitar, too."
"Well, are you any good?" Race demanded. I shrugged my shoulders.
"Yeah, kind of."
"Well, let's hear you! Go on, sing us something!" Jack encouraged. I shook my head.
"No way!"
"You were singing four minutes ago, and you wouldn't shut up!" Kid Blink argued, irritably. I rolled my eyes.
"That's different. You didn't ask me to," I said.
"I hear that," Boomer muttered.
"Shut up, Boomer," I replied, automatically, as if I had said it a thousand times.
"Maybe we could get you a job at Medda's," Davvy said, thoughtfully.
"Over my dead and brutally beaten body," I replied.
"Why not? I mean, you're good!" Mush exclaimed. I shook my head.
"Not good enough to be in a Vaudeville show!" Nor is Medda, for that matter. "Besides, I'm not going to turn this into a clichéd Mary-Sue. No one will want to read it!" I said, matter-of-factly. There was more silence, and I knew they were all staring at me.
"What the heck are you talking about?" Race asked. I rolled my eyes.
"Never mind. Anybody know where I can get a notebook?" I asked.
"Yeah, I do. There's a shop right by the statue of Horace Greeley," Specs said.
"How much will it cost?" I asked, reaching into my pocket and counting up my money, feeling the edges of the coins for identification. I had twenty cents left, minus board tonight, that made fifteen.
"I dunno. Maybe four bits," he replied. I frowned. Damn. My fingers were itching to write, but I didn't hae enough. The fact that I positively sucked at selling today didn't help my cause, or my mood. I would have to make due with extra papers. I had plenty of those.
I sighed, forlornly, having finished my sandwich. I was still hungry.
"We should go to Medda's," Jack said, thoughtfully.
"What for?" I replied, grimacing at the idea of going and listening to Medda sing.
"To listen to Medda!" Race exclaimed, like it was obvious. I snorted, but said nothing.
"Tomorrow's Sunday. We could do it then. Irving Hall's not to busy on Sundays," Kid Blink continued. "We can get Spot, too." My stomach did a flip. I didn't really want to go to Medda's, but I did want to meet Spot, just to see if he's nice, or if he's an ass.
The fact that he's a total hottie has nothing to do with it. Nope, not a thing.
Except, I can't see. But I can still imagine him, which is better than nothing, I suppose.
I sighed, heavily. I was sorely hoping I would regain sight soon. I was going to die if I didn't see my beautiful newsies soon.
"Uh, I hate to break it to you, but you suck," Dutchy informed me as I failed to sell yet another paper. I rolled my eyes.
"Thank you, Captain Obvious," I replied, shortly. "Gve me a headline."
"Um…Let's see…Somebody knocked over a candlestick in the church. Set some woman's hem on fire." I nodded.
"PSYCHO GOES BERSEK! CRAZED MAN TRASHES THE CHURCH! FALLEN CANDLES ENGULF THE SANCTUARY! FIFTY PEOPLE DIE!" I yelled, waving a paper. Two people bought papers, but that was all.
I sighed. I had only sold ten papers, half of mine. "Let's hit Central Park," Dutchy suggested. I nodded, eager for a change in scenery. Hah. Yeah right. Dutchy took my hand, leading me through the crowd toward Central Park.
We hawked headlines for an hour, but the day was drawing to a close early, and people were retreating indoors.
"Come on, let's go home," Dutchy said, after we managed to sell the last of our papers.
"There you guys are!" Jack said, as we came in. "Hurry up!"
"Where are we going?" I asked, oh-so-brilliantly, might I add.
"Medda's, remember?" I groaned. I did not want to go to Medda's. Forget Spot, after a crap day of selling, I just wanted to sleep.
"I'm gonna stay here, Cowboy," I said.
"Naw, c'mon. You gotta see Medda," Jack insisted.
"Right now, I can't see anyone," I said, testily.
"You should come, though."
"What's wrong?" someone said from behind me. I jumped, startled. It was Racetrack.
"Two-Bits doesn't want to go to Medda's," Jack answered.
"Why not?" Race demanded, sounding surprised. I sighed.
"Because I' tired, I've had a shitty day selling, ad I want to sleep." I felt someone grab my wrist and place a hand on my back, pushing me toward the door.
"Come on. Medda will cheer you up," Race said from next to my ear, and I shivered. Be still, my heart, I thought, praying I wasn't blushing.
"I highly doubt that," I said, sardonically, but inside I was thinking, At least the trip to Medda's will be enjoyable.
Of course, I couldn't say that out loud.
