Hi everyone,
First of all, thank you so much for reading this story, and being patient through my ridiculously slow updates, and empty promises to write more often. It's been about four months, I think, since I've last posted, which I apologize for: some stuff happened over the past few months and I just kind had to put this away for a little bit. Recently, I've wanted to come back to this story and to fan fiction in general, because I guess I've sort of realized that it's kind of therapeutic for me, in a way, getting to work with characters I love and putting them through the things that I need to see them go through, if that makes sense. Not to mention the fact that people actually READ MY STUFF which is honestly still crazy. I know I say that all the time but its true. I can't believe people like what I share and leave reviews telling me to keep going. I can't believe I have over 30 people following this-to me, that's huge.
I love Newsies and will always love Newsies. I love Davey and Jack and Les and even Crutchie (I know, I know, not loving Crutchie is very unpopular, but I can't help it- go check out Ostrichonarampage if you want to read some incredible Crutchie stuff) and I love the story and what it stands for. I love that I'm a part of this community. So this story is for all of you, all of the Newsies fans who are, in my opinion, "forgotten heroes". And I promise that I'll try my hardest to actually finish it. (Don't worry, I will :))
Thank you endlessly for all the support. I hope you enjoy this chapter and let me know what you think!
- HPNewsie
Les stood next to Jack, looking up at his hero with desperate hope. After a few days, they were finally confronting Davey about the note Les had found under the pillow, and Les was nervous to say the least. Davey hadn't been Davey at all lately, so Les had no idea how this was going to go. Jack hadn't even wanted Les to be here for this, but Les had insisted. Davey was his brother, after all.
"What do you want, Jack?" Davey asked, leaning against a nearby streetlight and running a hand over his face. His bruises had healed a lot, but they were still there, and Les noticed them every time he looked at his brother's face. He wanted to hurt Sam Gates. Les knew he was a shrimp compared to Sam—Jack called him a midget all the time and Sam was even bigger than Jack was—but Les didn't really care. He bit his lip nervously as Jack opened his mouth to speak.
"Dave, Les here found somethin' of yours and I ain't gonna beat around the bush about it, 'cause we's all worried about ya and you ain't helping us understand. So pal, you wanna explain this?" Jack held up the piece of paper and raised his eyebrows. Les felt at least a little bit relieved. Jack was still the same old fearless leader, taking control and leaving no room for argument.
Davey's eyes narrowed and Les saw his jaw clench. "Les, so help me God—"
Les looked down at the ground, trying to avoid his brother's anger at all costs. He couldn't take Davey being mad at him, not really mad. Annoyed, worried, exasperated, sure, that was all normal. But Les could count on one hand the number of times Davey had been truly angry with him. And he most definitely did not want to suffer through a Davey explosion ever again.
"Hey Dave, this ain't the kid's fault. I told him to scout around and see if he could figure out what was buggin' ya. And besides, you really should'a picked a better hiding spot." Jack put a hand on Les's shoulder and smirked slightly at his last comment. Davey rolled his eyes.
"Jack, just mind your own damn business, okay? It's fine, I didn't mean any of that stuff I wrote. Forget about it. Please."
"No you idiot, I ain't gonna forget about it. We know what's wrong now! Those guys that worked you over? Wasn't just a random bunch'a kids. How about that Sam Gates guys, making you do all his work for him? Roughing you up? Yeah, we know, Dave. So why don't ya be a pal and admit that you's got a lot goin' on and need some damn help!"
Jack finished his thought, breathing heavily through his nose. And Les, standing small beside him and feeling like only a pawn in Davey and Jack's epic game of chess, (Davey had long ago taught him to play) looked up at Davey hopefully, wondering if things would ever be the same.
Davey felt a little like he'd been punched in the face. The atmosphere was so incredibly tense, what with the tears squeezing out of Les's eyes and Jack breathing heavily and Davey himself feeling so recklessly angry and just done. Done with all of this. Done with trying to support his entire family all on his own and taking care of Les and being invalidated by the newsies and Sam Gates and his father's obsession with his sons' educations and hating and missing school at the same time and worrying about whether or not he meant as much to Jack as Jack did to him. He was done, and he was aware, in some separate sphere of his mind, that it was all about to come out.
"All right then, Jackie, you wanna know what's wrong?" Davey sneered, putting as much sarcasm he could into the affectionate nickname that he had adopted during the strike. "Let's see, where should I start? Maybe with the fact that even after weeks of selling with you guys, after I played a significant role in the strike's success, after I've brought you all jars of my mom's homemade soup and old clothes of mine and done everything I possibly could to belong, it's still not good enough for me to be considered one of you. I know I'm not an orphan and I'm not sleeping on the streets, but here's a headline for ya Jack! I'm poor too! No matter how hard I try, I can't change the fact that I got folks. And I'm sorry my injuries aren't as good as yours, and I'm sorry that, as Race so eloquently put it, "I ain't never known the kind of pain you have". But I got a wagonload of problems I gotta deal with. All this Sam Gates crap? I know it's not quite as important as, you know, the Refuge or anything like that, but it kinda stinks, Jack. The jerk's been roughing me up since I was barely a kid. I haven't ever been to school without him picking on me. School isn't the glamorous wonderland you think it is. It's been hell for me, with the teachers treating me like a rat because my family didn't pay their salaries, and the kids, not just Sam, but others too, making my life miserable. You know something? I've never even had a real friend. I know you and the newsies have got your perfect family of brothers, and that's great Jack, really, but in all my years at school, I've never gotten to have what you all have. I hate it there, Jack. I love learning, sure, I love reading and history and being informed, but I hate that damned place, it never taught me anything I couldn't have learned myself from a book. My dad getting laid off is the best thing that ever happened to me, 'cause Les and I got to be newsies and I felt like I had friends for once. But I guess I was wrong, because I'm clearly not a newsie, not really, I'm not good enough for you guys, and when my dad's leg heals I'm going straight back to that prison where I get beat up at least three times a week and sit in the back of the class while the rich kids get everything and we only learn what the tyrannical teachers want us to know! I'm alone Jack, all alone. So yeah, I got some stuff going on, and I know I'm always the forgotten hero next to you, Jack Kelly, you and your charming audacity and your bold loyalty that made me think you were my best friend, but if that's the way it's gonna be, then I guess I'll have to get used to it and figure out how to damn well live with it!" Davey was screaming now, really, truly, screaming. A couple crossing the street looked at him with shocked expressions on their faces, but Davey only glared back at them.
Jack, it seemed, was speechless for once, his eyes narrowed and jaw clenched. Les was sobbing; tears were pouring down his face, and Jack was halfheartedly rubbing his arm in an attempt to console him. Of course, Davey thought sardonically. Les gets the comfort and attention. It's not like I've ever had someone take care of me like that.
Davey scrubbed a hand over his face and realized that he, too, was crying, hot, angry, violent tears. He didn't meet Jack's eyes or even acknowledge Les's distress; it was all he could do not to throw himself at Jack and start attacking him out of sheer desperation. So Davey did all he could think to do: scoff loudly (which, he was well aware, came out sounding more like a pathetic wet sob than a disdainful criticism) and storm away, the angry tears like blood as they seeped into the corners of his mouth.