Thistle ~ I know, I'm such an equal opportunity provider, right?
Twitchy ~ *huggles* Go ahead. Squeal like a fangirl. It'll make me very happy.
Falcophie ~ Hee. Thanks for Beta-ing. Which really does need to be a verb...
Alarice ~ Thanks for reviewing!
Sita ~ Thanks for betaing! And... *returns freakishly huge amounts of love*
B ~ I'm sorry! *whimpers* It's just... I picked a random boy, I swear. Keep reading, I swear... I'll... make up for it?
Gothica ~ Aw, thanks babe. :) I hope I inspired people to write some B/S (*coughs* it was too tempting to pass up...). Or I hopefully will have by the time I'm done.
JustDuck ~ There are a lot of good SlashFic out there. As soon as I'm done typing all of these up, I'm going to go read more of StilleNacht. I'm looking forward to it. :) But I recommend "Outkasts" by Lute.
Shortie ~ Congratulations on being seventeen. And having your name in my fic. Rare experience.
Anyway, enjoy the chapter. This was a good one for me; very introspective in a way. Wow. Inspiration rocks. Seriously.
~~~
All I Want For Christmas
by froggerNObaka
Chapter 1: Confusion and Elusion
Disclaimer: If you don't like slash and just plan to bash me at the end of this, please don't read it. I don't own the megaconglomerate that owns Newsies, I just bash it in my spare time.
At 15, it sometimes felt like he was one of the younger newsboys. And when he was around those his age, it even felt worse. He hadn't really gone through puberty, so his voice was still pretty high. And he was pretty short. And when it came to his face, there wasn't even peach fuzz. So he always felt like he was an odd man out.
And then there was that whole racial thing. Sometimes at night, he would go up to the roof and just cry. And usually somebody came up, hearing his sobbing, worried, and comforted him. It was usually Bumlets. The two boys were close in age and went through the same problems with race as each other. Bumlets would just sit there and watch him cry. He'd go for a long period without saying a word. And that was okay for Boots. Sometimes you just needed to know you weren't alone, even if you felt like you were. To know that somebody, someone out there, cares about you. Because his parents sure didn't care about him. His dad left New York the day he was born. And his mother, well she would drink and abuse him. Yes, she drank. It was hard being black. Even in the North.
Boots was pondering all of this as he stared at the mirror in the washroom. Race was next to him shaving. Of course. More ways to lower his self-esteem. Boots sighed and decided to make it early to the distribution center. Perhaps he could get a headstart on the day and finish selling early.
Jack put a hand on Boots' shoulder before Boots exited the lodging house. Boots looked up at the older boy curiously. Jack had always been an older-brother figure to Boots, and Boots tended to listen to his advice until he got a meticulous detail.You see, Boots had never had an older brother. Or a younger brother for that matter. He had small memories of a younger sister, but chances are he had made that up. People had said he was strange before, he wouldn't disappoint them nowf.
"...And it would mean going to see Spot down in Brooklyn for me. But before you do, you have to realize that Spot is a very dangerous man. It's probably best if you... hm. Give him a gift or something? And do you know how to swim? I'm pretty sure you do, but if you don't, you should learn in the time it takes you to get to Brooklyn. Because people swim there. But perhaps if you talk to Spot, he'll let you stay a while and talk things over? Get on his good side. You know, see how that goes. And when you're on his good side, well, come back to me. And that's when I'll tell you what you need to know."
And it occured to Boots that he had no idea what Jack was talking about. "I'm pretty confused, Jack. I'm supposed to go to Brooklyn and see... some Spot?" Boots blinked a bit.
"Not just 'some Spot', Boots. This is Spot Conlon. Even I'm scared of him."
Mush, as he was walking down the stairs, snickered as he overheard this. "That's not saying much, is it?" He laughed as he scampered out the door. Boots watched, amused, as Jack scowled after the absent Mush. After several curses, he turned back to his present conversation.
"You need to do anything you can to get on Spot's good side, Boots. Or it could be dangerous. For me. For you. For anyone. Understand?"
Boots nodded slowly. He still had absolutely no idea what was going on. But how hard it could it be to talk to some guy named "Spot"? Jack was probably overreacting. But that was a life skill for a newsie. Overreact and overexaggerate when you overestimated. That was a newsie's motto. And that motto sure helped Boots make it through some tough days.
Oh, he shuddered thinking about all of the crazy headlines he ran into. He laughed as he walked down the street and remembered the tornado in January. The best piece of news on that was the damage done to the food crops. Of course, once you turned it into starvation for the masses, it wasn't too bad...
[[scene]]
Next Chapter: Boots in Brooklyn (OR something like it)
Yay. This was fun. Fun fun fun fun. I love this fic. I really really do. Even though it's somewhat more spontaneous than I would have liked in terms of how I'm writing it. I'll try and write more over break.
I would appreciate reviews of all kinds. Suggestions, comments, critiques. Helpful stuff or various crap. Flames, even; I take them with a bit of sugar. Just be justified. :) Yep. Happy holidays.
SongoftheDay: Nickelback's "Someday"