Chapter Nine: In Which Cassie Overthinks Things and Mush Follows Suit

Word Count: 2,041

Manhattan, 1899

After her conversation with Mush, Cassie got off the chair and walked over to Davey, who was finishing up a conversation with Katherine.

"Uh, hey, Dave."

"Hi," he said, turning around; "um, Cassie, right?"

She nodded. "Okay, here's the thing. When you first became a newsie, I told Mush that I didn't know how long you'd last. And then two days later, there you were, co-leading a strike! On your second day as a newsie. So, I'm apologizing, I guess. For underestimating you. You're not half bad."

Davey smiled. "Nothing to really apologize for. I know that to you guys, who've been newsies for years, it must have seemed a little weird. But thank you."

"Yeah, a little," Cassie said chuckling lightly. "But if there's one thing I've learned from being the avid reader that I am, it's never to judge a book by its cover. Or even its first few pages."

The taller newsie nodded and then glanced behind him at Katherine and Les conversing animatedly. "Hey, Katherine and I were thinking of going to look for Jack soon. Do you wanna come?"

"Thanks for the offer, but I'm needed elsewhere." She gestured behind her at the newsies. "'Sides," she added, "he's probably off in his own Santa Fe, and when he gets that way, he is not to be disturbed. Trust me."

"Wait, you mean he's run off before?"

Cassie shrugged. "Yeah, I guess." She leaned in now, as if sharing some grand secret. "But never this long. And never when we need him most." She nodded towards the newsies again. "These punks need a leader and – no offense – though you and Racer are doing a great job in his stead, you aren't...Jack. Please, find him for us. I mean, I have no doubt you will, but..."

Davey nodded. "I understand. Oh, and you mentioned Santa Fe?"

Right, Davey wouldn't know that. She almost face-palmed for assuming he would understand that weird analogy. "Yeah, Santa Fe. Jack has been dreaming about Santa Fe, New Mexico for as long as any of us can remember. Crutchie is, like, Jack's oldest friend, and even he claims Jack's always fantasized about that place. He'll probably head there when he scrapes up the funds, but I don't think he's quite there yet."

He met her eyes. "I promise, I'll find him and bring him back for you guys. Hopefully in one piece. You're right – Jack is a great leader, and he leads in a way that Race and I just...don't. I don't know quite how we're going to do this..."

"'Skill to do comes of doing.'"

"Ralph Waldo Emerson," replied Davey, smiling.

"You'll find him. I know you will." Cassie grinned. "And if he tries to run on us again, you have our full permission to soak him." She turned and went to rejoin Mush.

As the large group made their way out of Jacobi's, thanking him by the door for the water, they passed Newsies Square, where some detritus of the fight (and newspaper ripping) still remained.

"Do you think the strike will settle soon?" Asked Mush suddenly.

Cassie, unsure what had brought on this random lack of confidence in the strike, nodded quickly. "Of course. Pulitzer will roll back prices any moment now."

Mush looked relatively unconvinced, which was, quite frankly, exactly how she felt. Maybe she'd said it more to convince herself than him. In truth, she was worried too. If Pulitzer was smart enough to know what to raise the price to so he could get more profit, surely, he was smart enough to notice that his sales were dropping and would continue to do so until he rolled back prices? So, why hadn't he? Did he really think that they were so weak that they'd give up striking just that quickly? Or was it just that in his avarice he hadn't even paid attention and assumed that they'd comply?

Whatever the case was, Cassie didn't like it. Too many unanswered questions. But try as she might, she couldn't get her mind off her worries. Pulitzer, at this point, was just making her upset.

"What's wrong?" asked Mush from beside her as they walked.

"What gives you the impression that something's wrong?"

"You're getting' that look that you get when you'se overthinkin' stuff."

"You called it cute once," she recalled.

"And I stand by that claim – overthinkin' stuff is not good because it makes everyone else overthink too. But it is adorable."

Cassie tried (and, alas, failed) to ignore the blush suffusing through her cheeks. Back when he'd first made the remark, she'd thought it tongue-in-cheek, but now...? No, she thought, pushing the notion from her head. Friends called each other cute all the time, and while Mush was certainly romantic and even mushy (hence, the nickname), he wasn't much of a flirt. That was Romeo's arena. Mush was a nice guy. He probably thought everyone was adorable. Unless he didn't.

Fantastic. More things to overthink.

"Well, I'm alright. Nothing is wrong. No need to worry about me."

"Okay, definitely not. What's goin' on?"

She sighed. She should have known she wouldn't get away with lying to Mush. Or lying, for that matter. "Just...I do have faith that the strike will succeed, but what if it doesn't? How long can we go? And how long will it take for him to lower the price, if he does? It doesn't make sense that he's still holding out. I mean, he has to at least be aware of the strike, right? In his dumb avarice, I would have at least thought we'd have reached a compromise now...maybe not, considering the trolley workers are still on strike. But still! Plus, we - "

"Cassie," Mush said gently, cutting her off. "Slow down and take a deep breath."

She inhaled deeply.

"Good. Now breathe out and tell me what's worryin' ya."

She exhaled. "What if Pulitzer doesn't roll back prices? We can't strike forever."

"You're right, but we'll figure somethin' out. We always do. We'll come up with a compromise that everyone can live with and go back to work. We'll be makin' money again in no time." He paused. "Was it me askin' that made ya nervous?"

"...A little."

"Aw, sorry, Cassie. The question just sorta popped into my head, and I didn't even realize I was askin' it until I'd asked it." He shrugged.

That sounded like what she'd done – almost done – earlier. What had she been thinking, about to tell him? Fortunately, she'd realized what she'd been doing and stopped herself. It was so frustrating, this...infatuation with Mush.

She wished she could just tell him and have it all be over and have everything go back to normal.

That wasn't going to happen though, at least not now, so she focused instead on walking back to the lodge with everyone else, with one new, singular question turning itself over in her head:

Had Mush really just called her 'adorable'?

Mush looked at Cassie as the group got closer to the lodge. She looked like she'd resumed her overthinking of things, but he didn't say anything else. He didn't want to worry her again. In truth, he'd just seen the remains of torn newspapers and remembered how quickly it'd gone downhill.

He looked up ahead and say that Romeo was leading Davey, Katherine, and Les in front of the other newsies. He was eagerly chatting up Katherine, who looked genuinely interested in whatever he was saying. Les was talking to one of the younger newsies, nicknamed Gears, and Davey was conversing with Race (which was somewhat surprising to Mush; it seemed like, from what he'd seen, their personalities would clash, but it wasn't as if he was complaining).

It was when they arrived at the lodge that they realized - they didn't know what they were planning on doing once they got there. Actually, they never did, but Katherine, Davey, and Les had never been there either, and they always figured something out. In the end, Katherine went around asking the newsies various questions about themselves, the lodge, their daily routine, and each other. She said she wanted to write another article anyway, even if it never got published. It was a nice thing to hear – at least one person was behind them and their cause.

Maybe more, actually. Obviously, they hadn't delivered papers that morning, so he didn't know who'd gotten them, but someone had to have gotten ahold of one. Someone had to have seen that headline with their beaming faces on the front page. Hopefully, more people were with them than not.

Eventually, after getting a grand tour of the Newsboys Lodging House - which really just involved Race pointing at things (and people) and saying their names really loudly - Katherine, Davey, and Les left, and the newsies were left to their own devices.

It was oddly quiet. There were a couple of short conversations here and there, but for the most part, everyone was just doing things. Lots of the newsies appeared to be thinking; Buttons was sewing something, and Cassie looked like she was drawing in the back of one of her books. It was, without a doubt, a stark contrast to the usual activity of the lodge, but a peaceful one as well. It was nice, being able to hear his own thoughts for once, but the lack of chatter had a rather somber air to it as well.

They'd been striking for almost a week now, and Pulitzer still hadn't even made an effort to talk with them or compromise, like Cassie had pointed out. Was his solution really just to shut down strike news completely in the hopes that no one else would hear about it? It didn't make much sense, but whatever Pulitzer felt he had to do...

The main goal of raising the prices was to make more money. Not only was he not making money, he was losing the money he already had. Mush would have thought that someone like Pulitzer would have realized that quickly. He had no doubt that the newspaper mogul had, but he also hadn't acted on it, which was what was confusing. Being a newsie could be tiring, but Mush had no idea that striking could be so exhausting, too. When the idea had first been suggested, his first thought was that they could end up like the trolley workers, which he didn't want to happen. That was practically his only worry, though, and so when Jack quickly dismissed it by saying that the cops wouldn't care about of bunch of kids (which was false, as they'd learned), he'd been put to ease.

And then there was the matter of the injuries they'd sustained fighting. Thankfully, everyone's were healing, and it could have been much worse – at least no one else was in the refuge – but some people were definitely more beat up than others and it would take time for their wounds to heal.

He tried not to think of Crutchie in the refuge, which of course, just made the thought more prominent. He bet that if they went back to selling soon which, honestly, they might have to, Oscar and Morris would lord it over their heads as if it were some great honor to abuse and seize someone.

But now Mush was overthinking stuff, which he didn't want to do – Cassie did enough of that for the both of them.

He looked up just in time to see Specs walking over with a note in his hand. "Crutchie wrote something for Jack, and I actually wasn't gonna read it, but then I did, and he says to tell us to look out for each other. I'se told pretty much everyone else and...well, I'se glad he's okay, ain't you?"

"Of course! Do ya know when he wrote it?"

Specs shrugged. "Obviously, not too long ago. Probably at night and not this morning, which is when I went – just now."

Mush sighed. "Poor Crutchie. He's pretty strong. I mean, most of us have been to that place before, but I don't think he has, in all his years of bein' a newsie. It's gotta be tough."

Specs nodded. "But he wouldn't want us to sit here mopin' about it, would he? We've gotta win this strike – if not for us, for him."

Mush smiled slightly. "For Crutchie."

A/N: Hello! I hope you're having a great day and you enjoyed this chapter of By Words the Mind is Winged. It was really amusing to write, especially that little scene with Cassie and Mush. I'd love if you could review and tell me what you liked or want to see!

-mouse :)