Heya! I'm on a writing spree right now, since I'm currently at Butterflywriter's house, and we're on the second round of Newsies tonight, and I'm feeling very creative with a red bandanna around my neck. I'm a dork. And I'm sorry if I made Spot fluffy in the last chapter, but I'm getting bored with "Jack Jack Jack Jack Blink Jack Jack Mush Jack Racetrack Jack Jack Jack Jack…" Though, judging by reviews, you liked it? *shakes head* I don't understand it. Moving on…
WARNING- More minor swearing.
Disclaimer: While this should still be assumed, I don't own the Newsies.
"So you'se mind tellin' me what dat was 'bout?" Racetrack asked as he dragged me through the dark streets of Brooklyn. Bear walked a few paces behind us to make sure we made it safely out of Brooklyn.
"I'e got in a li'l fight. No big deal." I stopped to rest, since my knee was throbbing, and Racetrack was panting under my weight.
"No big deal? I'se get sent ta fetch ya home, 'nd I find ya topless wid da King o' Brooklyn!"
"Aw, you'se blowin' dings way outta propoahtion. I'se was wrapped up. 'nd he's me uncle, for cryin' out loud. 'nd you'se missed me punchin' him when he reset my nose."
"You'se punched da guy dat fixed ya nose?" Racetrack asked cynically.
"Yeah… sohta like a knee-joik reaction."
Racetrack just rolled his eyes. We reached the foot of the bridge and turned to say goodbye to Bear, but he'd all ready faded away into the night. Race turned his back to me and crouched a little so I could get on his back.
"Okay. Get on. I'se only gonna offah dis foah tonight. Jist 'cause you'se walking so slow, 'nd I'se wanna go ta bed."
I climbed up, and Racetrack straightened up and headed across the bridge. I started to fall asleep with the rocking motion of Racetrack's gait. He let me down in the entry way of the lodging house.
"Danks, Racetrack." I stood on my tiptoes and gave him a peck on the cheek. I ascended the stairs, leaving Race standing dazedly in the hall below.
I slipped in the bunkroom quietly and was greeted by the soft rumble of many boys snoring. Slinking over the bunk, I climbed up and flopped down next to Jack. Or rather, on Jack, since he was hogging the bed.
"Oof!" He groaned. "You'se was out late."
"I'se got inta a li'l trouble in Brooklyn. It's fine."
"Trouble in Brooklyn? Dat's not fine." He argued.
"I'se not talkin' 'bout it tonight." I stated, trying to find somewhere on the bed that Jack wasn't occupying. "Move over!"
He obliged, but barely. He carelessly flung an arm over me like normal. The heel of his hand hit my nose. My eyes started to water, and I bit back a yell.
"Jack! Me nose is broken! Cahful!" I whispered. He rolled over and propped himself up on one elbow.
"What weah you'se doin' tahnight?"
"A fight! I'se got in a fight!" My voice was muffled from my hand being held over my nose as I rocked, trying not to scream.
"Wid who?"
"Wid you'se if ya don't shaddup 'nd let me sleep!" Blink growled from his bunk. Jack flopped back on the bed dramatically.
"Mm." Jack sighed as he snuggled closer to me the next morning. "Good mornin', beauti—ahh!"
Jack gave a yell of surprise and toppled off the bunk. I leaned over the edge and looked down at him.
"I'se toldya I'se got inta a fight." I reminded him. He nodded mutely. I swung down from the bunk and headed off to the washroom.
I looked in the mirror, and decided that it wasn't all that bad. A few scrapes here and there. A swollen nose. Two faint black eyes. Nothing to fall out of bed about. I shrugged and finished my morning routine.
I was trying to sell my papers, but Jack wouldn't stop following me and hounding me about last night. I finally got sick of it and rounded on him, pinning him against a wall.
"Leave me alone!"
"Tell me what happened!"
"I got jumped by some Queens boys. Beah pulled me off 'nd took me ta Spot. Spot reset me nose, I punched Spot. Spot gave me a cigarette ta calm me down, and checked for broken ribs. Dat's it."
"You'se hit Spot? What's dat make, two times? Why hasn' he killed you'se yet?"
"Actually, I'se dink it's been dree times. 'nd it's cause I'se his niece, ya moron."
"Huh." Jack huffed. That was his frustrated noise. He only made it whenever someone was being really argumentative. I heard it a lot.
"C'n I'se sell me papes, now?"
Jack looked down and smirked. "I'se like's a goil dat's a li'l rough."
I realized that I still had him pinned to the wall, my hands gripping his upper arms to hold him there. I let him go and stomped away.
Gah! Why did Jack always know the wrong thing to say? Or maybe it was the right thing… but he always could say just the thing to make me stammer, or blush, or just simply stop thinking. That boy knew what buttons to push to get me to do anything. I sold my papers with a vengeance, snarling out the headlines, slapping down papers and snatching pennies.
"Geez! You'se suppose'ta dank dem!" Racetrack reprimanded me, before tipping his hat and murmuring thanks to my last customer for me. I just gave Racetrack a nasty look.
"What's gotten inta you'se?" He questioned when I nearly threw a paper at a kid.
"Jack."
"Oh boy. Now I'se see's why I'se gotta be da one ta tell ya. Danks, Jack." Racetrack grumbled to himself.
"Tell me what?" I continued hawking my papers without looking at him.
"Dat you'se can' go ovah ta Brooklyn tahnight."
"I'll go wheahevah I damn well please." I said, oddly calm. Racetrack watched me nervously.
"It's not me dat's sayin' it. Dat's all Jack." Race held up his hands.
"Well den tell Jack dat I'se goin' ovah dere. Now scram. You'se messin' up my sellin'."
Racetrack shook his head and disappeared around a corner, hopefully to go tell Jack my answer. Apparently Racetrack did as I hoped, because twenty minutes later, Jack came storming around the corner, unsold papers in hand.
"Why are you'se goin' ta Brooklyn tahnight?" He growled at me, standing nose to nose.
"Why are you'se tryin'a stop me?" I growled back.
"It's not safe for you'se dere!"
"It's not safe for me anywheah! It's da same boys dat jumped me in 'hattan."
"But heah I'se can look out aftah you'se."
"Spot can too."
"Yeah, he's doin' a real good job." Jack said sarcastically.
"I'se looks bettah dan when you'se got me outta da last fight." I cocked an eyebrow, which I had finally manage to perfect after hours of watching Jack and practicing in shop windows. Jack let his eyes rover over my face.
"Huh. You'se do." He sighed. "Ah. I'se knows what it is. Ya nose is straight.
"Yeah, no danks ta you'se!"
"Why? Why dya wanna go ovah dere?"
"Spot said he'd teach me to fight." Okay, so Spot didn't say that, but he would still teach me… I think. Jack snorted.
"You'se knows how ta fight, it's da protectin' yaself dat you'se needs help wid."
"Den Spot c'n show me dat."
"If I'se teaches ya dat, will ya stay in 'hattan for tahnight?" Jack asked me softly.
I cocked my head to the side and set the tip of my index finger on my chin, thinking. "Yeah. But you'se gotta show me tahnight."
"Awright. Deal." Jack held out his hand, not spitting in it for my sake. I shook it.
"Mush!" Jack called from downstairs when we got back to the lodging house. Mush came obediently. "C'meah. I'se needs some help." Mush just shrugged and followed Jack and I out into the alley behind the lodging house.
"Okay, so you'se knows how ta hit, right?" Jack asked me. I gave him a nasty look.
"You'se wanna find out?"
Jack held up his hands and continued. "I'se jist guessin' heah, but you'se seems ta take a lot of hits when you'se fightin', even dough you'se hit back. You'se give as good as you'se gets. But see, da trick is ta give bettah den you'se gets."
"So hit hahdah?"
"No, don' get hit!" Jack sighed. "Mush, c'mere."
Mush pushed off the wall that he was leaning on and stepped over to Jack.
"Okay, watch. When Mush takes a swin' at me, I'se can eiddah duck," Mush swung at Jack, and Jack ducked under his fist, "Or I'se can block da hit." Mush sent a jab at Jack's ribs and Jack tucked his arm to his side, so Mush couldn't hit his side.
"Now you'se try. Don' break her, Mush."
"I'se dink Queens beat me to it." Mush said under his breath, afraid to spark the temper I had inherited from Spot. He stepped in front of me, holding his hands up in front of him like a boxer.
"Yeah. Jist watch her ribs'nd her nose."
"You'se watch your nose." I growled under my breath, before facing Mush and assuming the same position.
Mush made slow, wide swings and gentle jabs at me as I learned how to block. He made sure to pull his punches, in case I messed up. He started swinging faster and faster the quicker I responded, until we were sparring at a normal speed. Mush sent a jab to my face, but forgot to pull it. It landed square between my eyes, dropping me to the pavement.
"Geez! Hambone, I'se sorry!" Mush crouched beside me and wiped at the blood trickling out of my nose. "I'se din't mean ta!"
"It's okay. You'se just don' know ya own strength!" I groaned.
"'nd anuddah ding," Jack said lazily from his spot against a wall. "You'se gotta keep ya hands up, 'nd ya chin tucked, so dat doesn't happen."
"Danks for tellin' me dat now." I moaned. I held out a hand to him. "Help a lady up?"
Jack barely stifled his laughter as he pulled me to my feet. He wrapped an arm around my head and chuckled as I squirmed trying to get out of it.
"I'se dinks ya got it, Ham. Mush, danks for helpin'."
Mush tipped his hat and disappeared in the back door of the lodging house. Racetrack leaned out the back door.
"Hey, Charley! Up for a game a' pokah?"
"As long as you'se up ta losin'."
Yay, more mushy (hee hee, Mushy.) stuff. Thanks for all the reviews and favorites, and keep up the good work! (|:)