Chapter Thirteen: In Which Brooklyn Is Here and Mush Considers His Options

Word Count: 2,204

Manhattan, 1899

It must have been a strange and funny sight, seeing tens of hundreds of newsboys all clad in red and black march across the Brooklyn Bridge with their heads held high. But that was indeed what was happening as they made their way to Manhattan to support their fellow newsies, with Spot Conlon in the lead. A rally was going to be held at Irving Hall, and they had sent over a kid just to say that they could be counted on next event. Spot Conlon did many things, but he never broke a promise. He stayed true to his word, and so he rounded up all of the Brooklyn boys and headed down.

It felt weird, but exhilarating, to have so many of them all leaving Brooklyn at the same time. Spot had been to Manhattan a few times himself, though rarely in recent years. Unless anything was super confidential, he usually sent over another kid to relay the news. With Jacky-boy, you couldn't tell. Sometimes he came, sometimes he didn't. When he did, though, it usually wasn't with anyone else, which is why it surprised Spot to see him with that Mouth kid. He wondered how he'd been holding up. Apparently, the Mouth had become something of an advocate for Jack, who'd been supposedly missing for a few days. News traveled fast among the newsies (it was their job to spread it, after all, headlines or otherwise), but Spot hadn't heard much else about Jack recently. He supposed that Jack would have to have returned in order to be holding a rally, unless the Mouth was doing it for him.

The walk to 'Hattan was long and tiring, but Spot knew it was going to be worth it when they were able to help their fellow newsies protest against the injustice that was Pulitzer. This rally was going to be something. It had to be.

Mush was dreading asking Cassie for a translation of je t'aime. He didn't know why, but he always prepared himself to ask her and then backed down at the last minute. Anyone watching would have thought he was delivering bad news.

He was not.

Just regretting zoning out when Cassie went on about French words. He definitely should have paid more attention.

He still found himself flushing when he reread the note (which he had done on a number of occasions; he practically had it memorized by now).

Mush had even planned what he would say: "Hey, Cassie, what does je t'aime mean?" It was such a simple, innocent question. Why couldn't he ask it?

He thought that their conversation might have something to do with it. He had been completely honest – he didn't know how he felt about her. Or at least, he hadn't then. But the more he thought about it, the more he thought he might be making his decision, whether it was what he'd expected or not.

He'd decide to say it, and then look over and see her deep in thought or conversation, her aquamarine eyes ablaze, and get those weird nervous butterflies before changing his mind.

Cassie, on the other hand, seemed exactly the opposite. She was fully back to her confident, non-stuttery self. If she was at all discouraged, she showed no signs. The hopefulness of the strike (and the upcoming rally) and the morale of the newsboys was constantly fluctuating, but somehow, Cassie was relentlessly optimistic. Her consistent determination and resoluteness never once wavered as they prepared for the rally that could make or break everything. If Mush knew Cassie, she was a realist – she had a logical mind, and if things were likely to have a positive outcome, she let them know. However, they didn't always, and she was never one to ignore the negative. With the rally, a lot of things could go wrong, but she never mentioned any of them. She had complete faith. It was nice.

He remembered what she'd said back on the bridge when the strike was still a new thing about all the best things being on the other side of fear. Thinking about that made Mush want to ask even more, but for some reason his feet stayed rooted to their spot.

The rally so far was going great.

True, it hadn't really started yet, but everyone who promised they'd be there was there (including Brooklyn!), and the hall was packed. Davey looked around expectantly. He would start as soon as Jack arrived.

Brooklyn, of course, had made a grand entrance, arriving to cheers and claps from the other boroughs, which Davey had happily joined. They were all, for some reason, wearing red and black. Davey didn't really care what they were wearing – he was just glad they'd showed up.

"Never fear, Brooklyn's here," Spot Conlon had said, and Davey had grinned and even, before he realized what he was doing, spit-shaken hands with him. It was sort of an odd feeling, to know that he wasn't as entirely repulsed by it as he had been when he'd first become a movie, but one could change a lot in just a few weeks.

And now he stood next to Les, proud of what he and the newsies had been able to pull together as he waited for Jack.

After a while of waiting, people started to get antsy. "Hey, where's Jack?"

Where was Jack? He was supposed to have come, right?

"Jack! Jack! Jack! Jack!" The newsies began chanting, as if Jack was just going to appear from their calling. Though a part of Davey hoped he would – he had already spoken in front of the newsies once, and even that was with Jack's help. He was not looking forward to doing it again in front of a bigger audience.

He went over to Medda to ask if she had seen the keynote speaker of this rally, but before he could, she said, "Sorry, kid, no sight of him yet. Looks like you're gonna have to be doin' a solo this time."

"No, I can't - " he started to protest, but he knew she was right. He walked into the center of the crowd and put his hands out to quiet them down. "Newsies of New York! Look at what we've done. We've got newsies from every pape and every neighborhood here tonight. Tonight, you're making history! Alright? Tonight, we declare that we are just as much a part of the newspaper as any reporter or editor! We are done being treated like kids. From now on we are being treated as equals!" Cheering. He opened his mouth to say more, when he heard Jack's familiar voice.

"You wanna be treated like an adult? Start acting like one – don't just run your mouth, make some sense."

"And here's Jack!" Davey mostly ignored Jack's sharper-than-usual tone of voice, relieved to not have to speak. He had no idea what he would say.

There was an abundance of cheers for perhaps the most well-known of the Manhattan newsies, which Jack evidently didn't appreciate. "Alright," he said to get them to calm down. "Alright!" he shouted. "Pulitzer raised the price of papes without so much as a word to us and that was a lousy thing to do. So's we got mad, and we told him we ain't gonna be pushed around. So, we go on strike, and then what happens? Well, Pulitzer rolls back the price of papes, so's we go back to work." More cheering, but Jack put his hand up. He wasn't finished. "But then, a few weeks after that, he hikes up the price again, and don't think he won't. What do we do then? And what about when he raises them again? And again after that? Fellas, we gotta be realistic here! If we don't work, we don't get paid! How long can you go without making any money? Believe me, however long, Pulitzer can go longer. Now. I have spoken to Mr. Pulitzer..." He paused, as if he was debating something. He might have been. Something was off here, but Davey couldn't place his finger on whatever it was. "He has given me his word that if we disband the union - "

"Disband the union?"

Davey's stomach sank. Jack couldn't be serious. This was a joke, it had to be. A cruel joke, sure, bur even that would be better than the reality of this situation.

"He will not raise prices again for two years! He will even put that in writing - " Jack was yelling now, but he still go drowned out by the protests of the newsies. Jack turned to leave again, and stumbled right into the way of a snickering Seitz, who handed him a stack of cash.

"He's a sellout!" Finch yelled.

Chaos broke out.

Davey couldn't say anything, do anything. He could only stand there, disbelieving and watching the scene unfold in front of him. Spot Conlon pushed Back and he stumbled backwards; Les tapped him on the shoulder and Jack raised a hand as he whipped around. Davey started. No one hurt his baby brother.

Fortunately, Les scrambled away in time and everyone else made their way out. Medda shook her head and walked off. Davey still refused to believe what his eyes were seeing. This couldn't be happening. His mouth was hanging open and he could only stare as everyone cleared out. Eventually he regained his senses and turned away, shaking his head.

The rally so far was not going great.

Cassie looked up at the sound of her name to see Mush standing above her. Of course, she was in the library, so it wasn't all that surprising. She hoped Mush couldn't tell she'd been crying.

"Hey," he sad sitting down next to her.

"How'd you know I was in here?"

"Hm, let's see. 'I'se Cassie Anderson and I'se really upset, so where do I go? Certainly not the one place with literally hundreds of books at my disposal!'" Mush said in a cheeky imitation of her.

Despite herself, she laughed. "You got me."

"Yeah." Mush's expression shifted to one of concern. "You alright?"

"'I have never known any trouble that an hour's reading didn't assuage.' Baron de Montesquieu."

"Oh yeah? Well, I hope this Montesquieu guy was right, 'cause ya seemed pretty troubled out there."

"He is, mostly. And I was troubled. Weren't you?"

"Well, yeah, but you seemed really upset. Like, more so that I'se ever seen ya, I think."

"Oh, no, you've definitely seen me worse than this. But I was really upset. I guess it's just…I've never done anything like this before. Of course, I don't think any of us have, but my point is that it's a risk. I don't take risks. There's just so much that could go wrong. I mean, I've always stayed on the safer side, even after I became a newsie. But with the strike, I wasn't as averse to it as I thought I'd be. I went along with it. I had so much Faith and now it's just…falling apart. Again."

"Cassie…"

"I'm sorry. I realize how weird that sounds and I don't know if it made any sense but - "

"Cassie. Look at me."

And she did.

"You have nothing to apologize for. I think...I think we's all feelin' a little betrayed after what we just saw. But if I know Jack, and I do, it was a sort of a 'lesser of two evils' type thing. This is probably what he thought was the better option."

"Really? I admire your trust in him, Mush, but maybe it wasn't. What could be worse than selling us out? If it was that bad, the other option would probably involve him. Maybe he was trying to save his own skin. Which is fine, but I think that was a choice that he made, not one he was forced into making."

"You might think that, but Jack wouldn't do that to us. I know he wouldn't."

"I know. I'm just angry. Whatever his reason, it wasn't cool."

"You're right. We'll figure this out. We always do."

And for some unexplainable reason, she started crying again.

"Oh, don't cry," said Mush softly. "Here. Tell me about the book you'se readin'."

Cassie sniffed. "Um, it's called Emma, and it's written by Jane Austen, and it's about a rich, well-off girl who believes that she matched two people together who later got married..."

And she explained the plot and read the book with him. When she calmed back down, she smiled brightly.

She really did love Mush Meyers.

A/N: I usually don't put four different sections of characters in one chapter, but I'm quite happy with how this one turned out. I would love if you could review and share your thoughts!

-mouse :)