Author's note:
I really try to force KONY to make sense in this chapter. I really do. Cheesy as charged.
Reviews (even crit) are much appreciated!
~CW
Specs sat alone on the fire escape, watching the sun melt on the skyline. Orange and cherry red hues exploded onto the sky and fell over the battlefield of quickly fleeing newsboys below. He knew he shouldn't have still been there. He knew he should've been back at the Lodging House cowering. That's all he'd ever been good at - sitting around while the world took shots at him.
Specs just couldn't believe this was all happening. He slammed his head back on the rusted iron rails.
The fire escape shook, and something small and wooden rolled towards him and gently bumped his hand.
Specs opened his eyes and picked it up, holding it against the dying light of the sun. It was a pure white rook figurine, a subtle smear of blood staining the bottom. He had no clue how long it had been there, but he knew who was responsible.
No, the Lodging House wasn't where he should've been in that moment. He knew he belonged in Smalls' - positive, ageless, innocent Smalls' - place, locked up in an inhumane cage like an animal. He was the reason she had come to Manhattan in the first place, and now look at all the good it did her.
He closed his fist around the game piece. He needed to at least visit. Maybe scrape up bail. Maybe turn himself in. He didn't know. He jut knew he had to get over there.
The trudge down the stairs was cautious, but nobody noticed as Specs descended and slipped out the gate.
Night soon fell over the busy city as he wandered the streets. Streetlights were being lit along the boulevard. Dapperly dressed men made their commute home after work. A group of women flagged over a carriage. The world around him seemed so calm, so peaceful. It was strange to see such a city after the events that took place at the World office that night. They paid no attention to the working children of this town. They paid no mind to their trivial conflicts. They just demanded their daily news. They didn't care at all who made it happen.
"Caught ya, ya goggled runt," a voice snarled.
Specs turned in a flash. Rudolph stood in front of him, his speckled hands grabbing onto the back of Specs' neck. "Don't think I missed ya back there. Thought ya could get away without sayin' goodbye?"
By sundown, Specs was dragged away to the Refuge with only a painful reminder in his pocket and the few scraps of dignity he had left in his heart.
…
Jules creaked open the antique, glass-paneled door of Jacobi's deli early the next morning.
"Hello?" She called into the dining room. She could clearly hear the polished floorboards squeak under the weight of her worn-soled boots. The sign in the window had said "Open," but as usual this early in the day, it was silent as a morgue. Then, in the corner, she finally found the group of boys she was looking for. They slouched at three tables pushed together next to a dusty old piano. It might as well be a morgue, Jules thought, with them as the lifeless corpses.
At the end of the furthest table, some boy sat up and said something she couldn't hear, raising a glass as if to propose a toast. When she stepped a little closer to the tables, still unnoticed by the others (who had completely ignored the encouragement), she saw it was David.
Jules sucked a sharp breath through her nose and grasped the package she held behind her a little tighter now. The paper crinkled. She couldn't believe she was actually doing this. And yet here she was, fully prepared to fulfill Smalls' stupid request of social grace. She probably ended up crashing at the Lodging House. Jules knew she couldn't be that far.
She approached the group and now heard the dull murmurs that surged around the table. They weren't quite dead. Not yet.
The young Romeo was the first one to look up and see her. "'Mornin' Sweet Cheeks. How's it goin'?"
A friend of his nudged his shoulder, and he grinned cheekily. Jules ignored him and stepped straight behind the boy in the blue and white shirt. His capped head was down and his fingers were tightly bound around his completely full glass of water.
Here was the thing - Jules didn't do formal. Or big apologies. Much less a big, formal apology, gift and all. And sure, she had her veteran friends at the Lodging House that she kept as close as she would sisters, but she sort of liked the air she projected that made most people too intimidated to approach her. At least that way, she was never vulnerable. And now, here she was, tables turned with this… This pent-up, over-coddled schoolboy.
She shook her head the slightest amount. "The things I do for you, Shortie," she muttered in barely a whisper.
Her hand hovered over David's shoulder as she took in a deep breath. Then, she tapped.
"Hey," she greeted. David's head bounced up, and he turned his chair to the side to more easily face her.
He clearly not expecting her presence here. "Hey," he automatically responded, seeming spaced-out. Then he just stared at her quizzically - and yet with no trace of hostility - for a moment. "What are you doing here?"
"I passed by Knobs on the street. He said you guys was here. So, I stopped by."
David's confusedly arched eyebrows showed he knew that wasn't a full answer. Jules rolled her eyes up to the high ceiling, striped with exposed wooden support beams.
"Look. I guess I've been kinda rude these past couple 'a days, and so I…" She exhaled before she could finish the sentence.
Just spit it out and get it over with, she thought to herself.
Then, she finally finished, "I got ya somethin' to say I'm sorry." She thrust the package out towards him, attempting to be passive.
David carefully took the bundle of brown paper and twine with both hands. "…A gift?"
Jules plunged her hands into her pockets. "Call it whatcha will."
He pulled a string and the knot unraveled. "Jules, this really wasn't necessary…" He then peeled the paper away to reveal a well-preserved paperback novel.
"Well, I did it anyway. The boys are always sayin' how ya read a lot," Jules explained, not meeting his eyes. "An' I guess this looked interestin'."
"'A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court.'" He read the title aloud.
Jules snuck a peek back down at him. Did he think it was cheesy? Who was she kidding; this was the dumbest, sappiest thing she'd done in a long time.
She saw him smiling. Granted, the gratitude on his face was muted with the mask of exhaustion that possessed all of the boys at the table so early in the morning after their endeavor last night. But he was smiling, either way, gazing down at the illustration of a knight on his steed on the cover, eyes shyly twinkling with gratitude. "This is… This is great. I mean, I love Mark Twain's work, and I hadn't gotten a chance to read this one yet."
With the slightest bit of hesitation, he smiled back up at her. "Well. Apology accepted. And…" He set the book on the table and stood up, gathering his composure and getting serious. "I'm sorry for how tense I was, and how hostile I must've came off to you."
"Water off a duck," she reassured him, still a tinge shaken but relieved by the fact he actually accepted it so well.
He picked the book back up. "But really, thank you so much. This is so nice. I heard this one's a new classic."
Jules replied with a casual "Don't mention it, Jacobs." She quickly made her way over to a chair a pretty good distance from the others and flagged over the waiter. "'Ey, can I getta glass 'a seltzer over here?"
Just then, a girl about her age (maybe a year older?) with swirling brown locks and a colorfully striped dress floated into the room with a crisp, new newspaper in her clutch. Her heels clanked loudly against the floor, and the echo filled the nearly empty room. Jules was sitting just too far to hear her words clearly, but she was obviously ecstatic about something. She talked to the boys, and after something that clearly cheered them up, Albert got up and snatched the paper right out of her hands. A few others stood up and huddled around it before Race took it away, a look of awe stretching his face. Then, just loud enough for Jules to hear it, he hollered: "Can you believe it, boys? We's in the papes!"
The strike made the paper? Had she heard right? She scooted a bit closer to the newsboys that sat at her table, trying to hear the conversation.
"Not just in the papes," David added enthusiastically, standing next to Race as he read the article and pointing. "Front page! Above the fold!"
"So what?" Finch questioned from his seat. "We got a little attention. What good is it gonna do us?"
"Ya don't get it at all, do ya?" Race walked over to him and slammed the paper down in front of him. "When you's in the papes, you's famous. And when you's famous, you get whatever your scummy little heart desiyahs. The world is yer erster!"
There was some dispute about the pronunciation of the word "oyster." Jules momentarily tuned out.
"You get the point!" Race shouted. "We's the kings of New York!"
"We're on top of the world!" A voice squeaked. Jules whipped her head around to see little Les, his arm in a sling, leap up onto the table jingling two spoons in his hand. She didn't even notice he was there. "This calls for a celebration!"
This was followed by a couple "ain't-that-adorable" kind of laughs and "aw"s.
"I mean it, fellas!" He piped up. "Come on, David, play somethin'!"
David shook his head with a big grin. "Alright, Buddy." He turned and sat at the wooden piano that faced the wall and began playing a bright, energetic melody, both hands skillfully prancing across the keys. The other boys were impressed and immediately began clapping along.
Les jumped off of the table and approached a distracted Katherine. He tugged on her sleeve, and when she looked down, he asked, "Uh, Miss, can I have this dance?"
Jules smirked. A natural born charmer. How were he and David related again?
Katherine laughed and nodded. The two clasped hands and began twirling across the floor. Race, looking tipsy on the feeling of fame, took Les's previous position on top of the table.
"'Ey, fellas, getta load of this!" He began dancing himself, tapping along to the quick rhythm of the song.
"Uh, Race, what's in those cigars 'a yours?," Finch joked, still sitting.
"Come on, have some fun, wouldja?" Jojo encouraged, hopping up with Race, a broomstick in his hand. He stomped the pole to the tabletop twice before attempting to tap along himself.
"That's what I'm talkin' bout," Race said, keeping the clap alive.
This continued for a while, and soon nearly all of the boys were on the floor or up on tables. Katherine had hiked up her skirt and joined the crew. Jules sat and watched. Everyone laughed and shouted and danced and made complete fools out of themselves. They still looked like they were having the time of their life; just a bunch of newsboys starting a hootenanny in a deli at seven in the morning.
David played on across the room for what seemed like days. He never left his spot at the piano bench, but he was having just as much fun as the others, looking back at his friends every so often with a huge grin. He watched them dance about with a tinge of pride in his heart. He transitioned from one piece he learned from his piano tutor to another with a few simple chords. At one point, he noticed Jules. She just sat there, observing. Maybe even she didn't even note it herself, but her lips were cinched the tiniest bit, in amusement if nothing more. It was strange. It almost seemed like it wasn't her own face.
"Jules!" He called over the music and chatter and laughter. She thrust her guard back up, automatically dropped signs of any emotion besides an artificial disdain for the foolish boys and met his eyes.
David twitched his head over to the side a couple of times. What, Jules thought,is he having a stroke?
She shook her head and shrugged to show she didn't understand. David pulled a hand away from the keyboard and pointed over to the group. He mouthed, "Go ahead."
Jules didn't want to just jump in. She was an outsider here. She made a throat-cutting gesture. This wasn't her celebration.
David mouthed something with an expression that made it look like a casual "Come on!"
Jules looked to the center of the dining room. The boys were in a close circle, loudly cheering on someone. She couldn't see who. She looked back at David, who had already continued focusing on playing, before slowly standing up and attempting to nonchalantly slip into the crowd. Each step felt out of place.
Finally, she looked over the short Romeo's shoulder. Katherine stood in the center of the circle, clicking her heels against the glossy pine floor to the rhythm of the song, kicking up high and giggling at herself. The boys called out as if a girl who could dance was the most impressive thing they'd seen in their lives. Jules offered a small piece of applause to be polite. Romeo turned around in an instant.
"Decided to join us, eh?" He slipped behind her and pushed her forward.
"Come on, Jules, whatcha got?" One boy called.
"Oh-ho no, I'm good." She tried to resist, attempting to pull Romeo's arm away. This was only greeted with more encouragement. "I don't dance," she argued.
Romeo continued to push her to the center. His hand slipped down to her hip. She leaped forward.
"Whaddya think you're doin'?" She grumbled back at him. She looked around and found herself at the center of the circle. The boys were hushed now, and even the piano music was reduced to a simple, one-handed melody.
"Gettin' ya center stage," he replied with a crooked grin.
Jules had the whole room's attention now. Thanks a bunch, David. I go out and get you a nice book by your favorite author and you throw my dancing skills at the mercy of a gang of cynical, know-nothing newsboys.
"Jules."
The newsgirl looked up to see Katherine standing in front of her, standing politely with an encouraging smile. "Throw 'em a bone. Just follow my lead." She stomped forward a few times in time with the music. Then she clicked her heels together and clapped.
Jules waited for her to finish. Then she looked to the ground and stepped in front of herself, her boots making a dull and muted yet loud sound against the floor. The music picked back up. She executed a shuffle or two, like she saw Race do earlier. A heel dig. Another shuffle. She reached down and planted her hands on the ground, pushing her body up into her best headstand. She could hear Ms. Tulipson scolding her and Smalls for exercising "unladylike behavior" in her head.
But then, she could hear the astonished calls from the crowd of newsies in her ears. It was amazing. She grounded herself once again and stepped back out to the outskirts of the circle.
Katherine nodded proudly with a hand on her hip before starting a tap again. Then she grabbed the bottom of her heeled boot and lifted her leg all the way up to the sky. The boys roared.
Jules scoffed through her nose and stepped back forward. She wasn't about to be upstaged by some upper-class know-it-all.
"The stage for a second?" She requested. Then she shuffled out her right foot, did the same for the left, kicked up a leg and slid down into a split. Claps and hoots followed. She grinned slyly as she dragged herself back up. That's just how it's done in the Bronx.
Katherine was already tapping again, creating her own slow-paced percussion pattern. Jules joined in, stabbing the ground with her heels. They stayed in one spot, standing parallel, daring the other to pick up the pace. First Katherine sped up. Then Jules. Then Katherine. Then Jules.
A clap picked up once more among the boys. They took sides, chanting names.
Finally, Jules was slamming down at almost double Katherine's speed. She ceased with a single solid stomp and looked up from the floor. Katherine's eyes were wide.
"Well… wow. Look at you!" She commented as the boys brought their attention elsewhere in the room. "That's some talent you got there!"
Jules thought of her Lodging House friends sneaking into the local vaudeville theater to catch a few mind-blowing dance performances when they were younger. A smile cracked back onto her lips. Miss Tulipson would blow her top over that, too.
"Katherine, right?"
The girl nodded. "Right."
"Thanks."
…
"You're welcome, Shortie." A young Jules with her neck wrapped in a scarf stood in front of Smalls. A flurry wind picked up her golden hair. "Jus' try not ta drink all the cocoa in one shot."
Cocoa? What cocoa?
Smalls felt a warm ceramic mug between her hands shortly after, as if it has magically materialized. The heat somehow stretched up her arms and into her chest, sending warm shivers through her entire body. She looked back up at Jules, who was now opening the snow-glazed door of the Lodging House with a fingerless-gloved hand.
When the door swung out, Smalls didn't hear the usual teasing from Snaps, yelling from Ruby, or laughing from Patty that usually echoed from the floor above. She heard the whipping sound of a leather belt being used for torment, the shouting of middle-aged men, and the hushed whimpering of children. This wasn't the Lodging House. And yet the soundtrack was familiar
Jules smiled as if everything was normal, gesturing into the door. Nothing made sense. Smalls couldn't see anything past the empty desk in the lobby and the only object set on top of it- a pair of cracked lenses in a round, mangled pair of glasses.
"Jules?" She looked back up to see Snyder standing in the spot where her friend once was, wearing the exact same clothes, cap, gloves, and all. Wait, what?
The sound of a carriage bumping down the road interrupted the scene, and all of a sudden, a shush of ice slipped off of the Refuge roof several stories above and fell directly on Smalls. She collapsed to the ground.
When she opened her eyes, she found she had been asleep on the side of the street. Her soaking clothes clung to her body in the humid morning, and she could only guess that the wagon that shortly rolled past her had splashed water from a nearby puddle onto her. The sun had just risen past purple clouds.
The world around her was out of focus in all aspects, and it took her a minute to sit up and remember what had happened the night before. She had passed out in that alley that was now a stone's throw behind her. She somehow rolled out here. She must've slept through some rain. And she wasn't locked up. Not in jail. Not in the Refuge.
She brought a hand up to her head. Her hat. Where was her hat?
She patted the rest of her body, checking that she hadn't gotten mugged in the night. She hadn't. Good.
"Anyone else you'd recognize?" She heard a vaguely familiar voice ask. She slowly turned to see a pair of cops crossing the street.
"There's this kid with a cigar and red cap. Curly hair. Maybe… eighteen? And then there's a short girl with a green cap. Dirty. Should have big ol' scars on her face. Can't miss her."
Smalls immedietley scrambled to her feet and ducked into the alley before either of the officers noticed her. They got to the other side of the street and turned left without the tiniest bit of suspicion.
"And then there's this little squirt in a bowler hat and his Jewish brother…"
Small let out a sigh, a hand on her pounding heart. She realized it might be best for her to hide out for a while.
A cool breeze picked up, and ripped newspapers caressed her feet. She didn't see the end of the scene. Maybe they all got hauled away.
Maybe Specs did. She did what she did to save him, but who knows what could've happened to him? Maybe the cop did come back for him and -
No. He couldn't have.
But when she told herself that, she could only hear the words in his voice.
She knew Specs was stronger than his demeanor revealed those years ago. But his heart was pure and soft.
Sadly, so was Smalls', and the thought that Russell was being held anywhere only made it ache. But she couldn't know for sure.
She sank to the ground with a sigh. She couldn't show her face out on the streets until the heat cooled off. She just had to wait it out.
…
"Any requests?" Asked a youthful worker in a plaid suit. He had come in, introduced himself as a waiter at Jacobi's, and insisted on playing for their only customers. He sat at the plush piano bench, fingers curled over the keys.
"Anything fast," David answered as he headed towards the main floor. A bright tune picked back up with a swinging tempo.
A circle reformed. Two at a time, newsies jumped into the center and showed off. First Jojo and Albert with their broomstick brides. Then Les and Finch were pushed in. Jules got high off the energy in the room, and this time, when she was tapped on the back, she cartwheeled into the center. Cheers surged through the circle.
Jules' head swiveled in an instant upon hearing someone step closer. When she did, the first thing she saw was a eager Romeo sliding up to her.
"Say, how's about a dance with my lovely Jules-iette?"
Jules had to admit she was a tiny bit glad to see this thirteen-year-old pain in the ass offering her a bent arm.
"Fine," she relented with a shrug and maybe even a sideways smile.
She grabbed Romeo's hand and set a hand on his shoulder, tango-style. He followed, nodding cockily.
"Ah, now this is more like it, Gorgeous."
Jules rolled her eyes and the two began a quick-paced foxtrot around the inside of the circle. After a couple counts of eight, she whipped her arm out and twirled Romeo as a gentleman ballroom dancer would his elegant lady. He struck a feminine pose. She laughed and reeled him back in for another brief foxtrot.
Finally, she whispered something into Romeo's ear and he nodded. She stopped dancing and Romeo leapt up into her arms, one holding right under his shoulder and one hanging his leg passé-d against the other. He reached forward with one arm as if he were a majestic deity.
Jules, the complete foreigner, stood confidently in the center. It was hard for David to recognize her now. The girl of stone looked around at the clapping newsboys with a wide, proud grin, clear as day. She was lit up like a revived candle, and collective warmth was shared everywhere in the room.
He barely noticed when the music cut out.
"Pardon me!"
All eyes turned to the man at the piano. Mike stood by him as he waved some cap in the air.
"This gentleman has announced a lost item. Does this belong to anybody?"
Jules froze and dropped Romeo on the floor.
"Gah!"
"Sorry," she said, eyes glued to the green cap in the man's hand. "Where the hell didja find that?" Though her tone showed an attempt at anger, it was clear she sounded more scared than anything else.
The newsboys cleared the area between her and Mike as she made her way over.
"It was out on the sidewalk," he explained. "I dunno how it got there. Why, does it look familiar?"
"Does it look familiar," she muttered, taking it from the man at the piano. "It's Smalls'. Isn't she back at the Lodging House?"
"No. Haven't seen 'er anywhere," he admitted.
She looked closely on the back. There was the tear in the corduroy that had always been there. Yep, it was Smalls' all right.
"Thanks, Mike," she replied, impliedly relieving him from attention. He nodded and joined in with the others, who were already back into separate conversations.
Jules walked to toward the nearest window. She crossed her arms and laid them on the bottom of the wooden frame. Through the old, stained glass, it was easy to see that the pavement was soaked dark. If it rained last night… why didn't she come in? Or was she locked up in jail?
Shortie? In jail?
She had no clue where she was supposed to start looking. Some responsible big sister she was turning out to be.
She knew she was being watched. Someone was probably right over her shoulder, wondering who this blonde creep was who just performed a whole acrobatics routine before suddenly turning over here to sulk. She didn't really care. It was probably bubbly Katherine, trying to comfort, or childish Romeo, trying to make drama over the barely-bruises she caused him.
But eventually, curiosity tugged at her like a little kid on a mother's skirt. Her eyes glanced up to the reflection of a boy not too far away from her. He was just saying something at that exact moment.
"Hey, Jules, are you okay?"
David.
She turned.
"Uh-huh."
Okay, he deserved a little more than that.
"I guess I'm jus' worried about Smalls."
"She's…missing, missing?" He asked.
Jules' eyes trailed back down to the hat for a split second. "Yeah. Last I saw last night, she was teasin' some cop."
"Oh, God," he said with real concern. "Do you think they could've actually caught her?"
Jules just shrugged. She honestly had no clue.
David knew he wasn't helping the situation at all.
"I'm sure she'll turn up soon," he offered.
Jules acknowledged the attempt at optimism, but something behind her eyes was losing focus, fixed on containing her emotions.
"Okay, listen," he said in a new tone, "In the five minutes it took me to find Les after he fled, I was a bit of a wreck. Ask anyone."
An eavesdropping Buttons called, "A bit? You'da thought the guy had left a thousand bucks in 'is other pants."
David gestured with a "See what I mean?" expression. "I know it doesn't really relate, and I don't really know Smalls that well, but what I guess I'm trying to say is that I might know a bit more about how you're really feeling than anyone else here."
Jules softened her grip on the cap. He was repeatedly trying to reach out to her, even after the episode the day before. The forgiveness was refreshing, and he just seemed so genuine.
"I appreciate it," she said. "I'll probably go out an' look for 'er in a little while now. Might wanna wait. Cops might recognize me."
"We're wanted criminals now, you know?" David replied, half jokingly. "The halt of a whole company, destruction of property…"
"Oh yeah, we're a force to contend with," she joked back. "A gang of angry kids with no money ripping up newspapers. Hide your families. No one is safe."
This time when Jules used sarcasm, David laughed.
"I could join you," He said. "Finding Smalls, I mean."
"That'd be great," She replied. "Really. Thank you."
He shrugged. "Water off a duck."