Author's Note: I suppose one might think that this is the last chapter, as it is the title chapter. It isn't. Aren't I tricky? This is the penultimate chapter (Isn't penultimate a fantasic word?)... I'm the process of editing the final chapter, and it should be out sometime this next week. It's sort of weird, being so close to finished. I've never finished a multiple-chapter story in my life, so it's a big deal... Uh yeah. Enjoy.
--Schroe Dawson
Lunch Money was already drifting in that curious place between waking and sleeping. Her thoughts were starting to blur into premature, half-formed dreams, but a noise pulled her back to consciousness. A tapping sound. She was reminded fleetingly of the night Feivel had chucked rocks against her window. The tapping was followed by a loud clanging sound. Lunch Money sat up, looking toward the noise. The bars that usually gated the window were lying on the floor. She sprang from her bunk, shaking Feivel and Nix awake as she passed their beds. Lunch Money reached the open window, finding herself face-to-face with Jack.
"Hey, Lunch." He said, "Ready ta go? Get Nix an' Feivel."
"Nix! Feiv!" Lunch Money hissed excitedly to the girls, who were both rubbing their eyes, annoyed at been awakened. "Jack's heah! C'mon, we'se bustin' out!"
This brought Feivel to life immediately, she bounded right out of bed to meet Jack at the window.
"Whoa…" She murmured, awestruck. She wasn't looking at Jack though; she was looking past him, and the courtyard below. Lunch Money followed Feivel's gaze. Her eyes widened at the sight. Street rats, newsies, crawling all over the grounds, baiting the guards and generally running rampant in a selfless diversion.
Nix reached the window, taking in the situation silently. Jack wasted no more time now that the girls were present. They were on a clock; there was only so long before the bulls wised up and trapped more street rats.
"Lunch? Wanna go foirst?" Jack held out his arms for Lunch Money to climb into. She obliged; she gingerly stepped onto the window ledge and then shifting her weight so that she fell into Jack's arms. For one terrifying moment, she thought she might fall, but Jack adjusted their position and called up to the boys on the roof.
"Okay, bring us up!"
"Wouldn't it be easieh if we just climbed ourselves?" Lunch Money whispered, as they were raised higher and higher toward the roof.
"Maybe." Jack shrugged, "But it was the only way we could get Crutchy outta heah. And ya know Crutchy. He ain't gonna be carried fa' nuttin. Davey planned ahead, and insisted that everyone have ta be carried up ta the roof, includin' Crutchy. It's safeh this way anway."
"Dave's heah?" Lunch Money was startled by this information.
Their conversation was cut short however, as they reached the roof. Hanging just over the edge of the building, Jack gave Lunch Money a boost and she stretched to grab hold of the eaves. She swung herself up, thinking she had enough momentum to pull herself up. But she miscalculated. Lunch Money Let out a frightened cry as her grip slipped. The boys waiting for her on the roof rushed to her aid. Mush steadied her quickly, and Spot grabbed her free hand. The two newsboys pulled her onto the roof; where Lunch Money was happy to be standing solidly on her own two feet once again.
"I could a' made it meself." She claimed indignantly. Mush just rolled his eyes and went to help David reel in Jack, who was now cradling Feivel below them. Spot rolled his eyes as well, but didn't let go of her hand. Instead, he brought it up to his lips and kissed her knuckles softly, a slight smirk playing across his mouth.
"No ya couldn't a'."
"I know." Lunch Money admitted grudgingly.
They waited with baited breath as Jack and Nix hoisted themselves onto the roof. They were all out of the building. Now it was just a matter of getting over the walls without being caught. Twin flashes of light grabbed Lunch Money's eye, and she could see Specs and Dutchy, each stationed at opposite ends of the roof, holding lanterns aloft in a signal to the Brooklynites below. The boys on the ground heeded their signal and pulled back, dodging the cops and disappearing into the night.
"Come on!" David whispered, leading the newsies away from the roof's edge. They reached an iron ladder, like that of which found on a fire escape, leading down to a lower level. The newsies scurried down the ladder, trying to find the balance between the desire to move quickly, and the need to go silently. Lunch Money realized halfway down the ladder that she'd stopped breathing. She exhaled, trying to calm her jittery nerves. It might have been the bitterly cold January air that had her shaking, but Lunch Money doubted it.
Lunch Money was surprised to see who was waiting for them at the base of the ladder. It was Snitch. Even in the dark, there was no mistaking his silhouette. He waved the other newsies toward him.
"Heah," He had just finished securing the end of a long length of rope to one of the metal gutters. "Heah, Jack, just straight down, then it's about a seven yard sprint t'rough the back entrance."
Snitch handed Jack the rope. Jack didn't even hesitate before beginning his hurried descent. Kid Blink went next, followed by Mush, then Boots and Dutchy. The tension in the atmosphere redoubled when Crutchy stepped forward.
"Crutchy, are you sure--?" Dave began, looking worried.
"Yes. I can do it." Crutchy answered shortly. He tossed his crutch to Mush, who caught it deftly, and he grabbed the rope. The gimp eased himself over the side, rappelling using only his good foot; the crippled appendage hung helplessly. No one spoke through the entire, slow, cautious decline. There was a collective gasp when Crutchy neared the ground; he slipped, losing his rhythm. Blink and Jack ran forward to assist him, and between the three boys' efforts, Crutchy was safely delivered to the ground.
"Hey, Lunch," Spot said in an undertone, as they waited for the newsies ahead of them to climb down. "What changed ya mind?"
"What?"
"I neveh got a chance ta ask ya: what changed ya mind?" Spot asked nonchalantly, "Why'd ya come back?"
"D'ya really think this is the time to discuss it?" Lunch Money said, glancing at their surrounding significantly. A desperate flight for their freedom didn't seem like the best time to pause and have any sort of conversation.
"Theah's still more than a dozen boys that haftah climb down. We got a little time." Spot shrugged, looking around at the group of newsies still waiting on the roof.
"Nix an' Feivel an' the otheh goils came ta get me." She said slowly, "An' they told me that all a' ya were in trouble. I couldn't leave you'se ta Snydeh." Spot nodded, like that was a satisfactory answer. But Lunch Money wasn't done.
"I was scared sumptin' would happen ta ya. That scared me more than anything I eveh was scared about befoah." Her dark eyes roved over his face, "I love you, Spot. I had ta tell ya in case sumptin' did happen."
They were both quiet for a time, while Double Time lowered himself to the ground. They didn't need to say anything else. Neither had any secrets about how they felt about the other. Everything was finally out in the open. Spot and Lunch Money had come to terms with their hearts, and they were both happy with their choices. Once and for all, they were in it together. No more hiding or lying or running away.
It was Lunch Money's turn to make the descent to the ground. Looking down at her destination, Lunch Money felt a little woozy. It was awfully high. She noticed most of the boys had already run for it. Only Jack and Kid Blink remained to help. Jack had directed the others to meet in a locale far away from the refuge.
Lunch Money, Spot, David and Racetrack were the last four on the roof. Lunch Money took the rope of David, and edged toward the perimeter. She felt a hand on her shoulder. It was Spot. He leaned into her ear and whispered, so only she could hear:
"I love you too."
And he kissed her on the cheek, before letting her go. She spared him a small smile before disappearing over the edge of the building.
"When did all this happen?" David muttered to Racetracked, grinning. The last time David had seen Spot and Lunch Money together was the very first time they'd met. The day when it took Jack, David and Racetrack to keep Lunch Money from pounding Spot into the ground. It was no wonder Dave was bemused by this turn of events.
Racetrack groaned at the question. "Dave, ya got no idea what I've been t'rough the last coupla' months. It's been hell."
David laughed. Spot and Racetrack didn't.
It had been a long time since all of the Manhattan newsies had held council. Breathless from outrunning the bulls, the newsies finally came to rest in a dark, hidden alleyway across town from the refuge.
"This is great!" Jack cried, once he'd caught his breath. No one had seen him so enthused since the strike of '99. "Now that you boys is back, we can really take Pulitzeh! With our numbehs, we'll be unstoppable!"
Dave and Itey looked at each other; Jack was reacting exactly as they'd feared. The other boys looked uncomfortable too.
"Jack," David began in a very patient tone, "We can't fight Pulitzer anymore. We can't help you. We've all got jobs now." At this, Jack glared at Skittery, Snipeshooter and Snitch, who looked guilty.
"But what about the newsies?"
"Jack, there aren't newsies anymore, you've got to let it go." David said firmly. The other newsies watched, looking concerned. Everyone hated when Jack and David fought. It as if they were watching their parents fight. It was never fun for anyone.
"So nuttin's changed wit' any a' ya?" Jack asked, looking disappointed. The disappointment was very brief, and instantly replaced with anger.
"Fine." He spat, "Then we'se betteh be off ta Brooklyn." He looked hopefully at the handful of Brooklynites and the few Manhattan newsies who were still willing to fight for Jack. For their rights.
It seemed amazing to Lunch Money that after all these weeks, after being arrested, after escaping the refuge, that they were now right back at square one. It was just like the day in early November, when the seven Manhattan newsies had trekked into Brooklyn, without the aid of anyone else in the world. If anything, they were further from their goal than they started. They weren't any nearer to eradicating newsstands. The delivery service was still going strong. And now they were escaped convicts, with the bulls after them. That was sort of a step backwards.
But there was no point in bemoaning their misfortunes. Before they could truly evalute the damages, they had to have a meeting with Brooklyn.