Author's note:
A little messy and a bit long, but still half the length of the last chapter. The A plot actually moves forward in this one! Yay.
As always, reviews and critiques are always appreciated!
~CW
Davey sat in a dusty old rocking chair up in the Lodging House attic that next day, staring at the ceiling. A disorganized pile of letters sat scattered on the table in front of him, all delivered back from each of the boroughs in reply of a rally to be held the next day.
A pair of shoes clomped up the stairs in front of him. David sat up, expecting Jack.
"It's about time you got up here, Captain..."
A head and body emerged from the floor below. Blonde hair. Jules.
"Don't worry, it ain't Kelly. Jus' me." She walked over and handed him a folded piece of paper.
"Any luck?" He asked, setting it down with the others.
Jules gave a shaky-handed gesture. "They didn't hear if Spot was comin', but they said as soon as they heard word, they'll jump on. Asses, I tell ya."
"Not blaming you," David assured her. He stood. "Have you seen Jack? Is he still out working the morning edition?"
"Honestly, I dunno."
"Smalls?" David asked.
"She's definitely still out sellin'."
David began to make his way over to the stairs. Jules put a hand on his shoulder and he paused.
"Thanks again for doin' what you did last night."
"I didn't believe she would actually try to break," David replied. "but she was actually hard to hold back."
Jules grinned. "Yeah, she's like that."
"Let's get this over with, Dave..." Jack thundered up the stairs before Jules could remember her hand was still on David's shoulder. She dropped it and greeted Jack with a non-enthused salute.
"Afternoon, Kelly."
"A lovely afternoon to you too, Howell." There was an edge of sarcasm, but nothing too harsh. He turned to David and held up two more notes. "Boots an' Henry jus' got back from foolin' around in Queens. Let's see who we got."
David looked to Jules. He just noticed how close he was to her and backed up a bit. "We'll catch up later."
Jules was thankful he didn't dwell on or even passively remark what happened the day before. "Sure. Bye, Davey."
"Bye, Julia."
She tipped her hat and climbed back down the stairs.
Jack looked from David, to the staircase Jules just descended, and back to David. Okay, he might have been looking at it all wrong the day before, but he couldn't help but feel there was something going on. Jules seemed... Different.
David turned back, and his lingering grin melted when he met Jack's stare. Great. Did he think he'd gone soft in making friends with Julia?
"Huh," Jack initiated as soon as he inferred no one was within earshot. He sat down in the rocking chair across from David's. "Gotta girl now, don't ya, Davey?"
Wait, what?
David arched his eyebrows and jerked his thumb back. "Who, Julia?"
"Listen to yourself, Dave. You're callin' her by her full name. Got it bad now, huh?"
"What? No, Jack," David insisted with certainty as he sat back down. "It's not like that at all."
"Oh don't get your pants in a twist, would ya?" Jack asked with a brotherly pat on his shoulder. "I'm jus' playin'. I'm kinda glad you settled your differences."
"Good." David quickly referred to the stack of notes, picking up a folded-up piece of yellow paper from Woodside. "Now, Albert brought this back and said that since Brook..." He faltered. In his peripheral view, he knew Jack was smiling slyly with his arms crossed. He set down the note and submitted. "Okay, what?"
"It's jus' a little cute," Jack commented with a silly smirk. "The other day, you two were wantin' to strangle each other. An' now she's startin' ta follow you around some. I never thought of you as someone ta get along so very very well with-"
"Okay, I've been with a few before," David replied in defense. "Uh, Wendy, Georgia... Girls from school. But Julia is definitely not one of them."
Jack cocked his head back in irony.
"Jules," David corrected himself. "Is not one of them."
"Uh-huh," Jack mused, clearly unconvinced. "She's a bit outta your division, Dave."
"Sure she is," David replied, not knowing what he meant.
"Don't that make her a bit attractive?"
"No!" David snapped. "Are you kidding? She's... She's brooding and outspoken and just strange. And besides, what about you and Katherine? She's way out there, and you've been barking up her tree for Heaven knows how long."
"Katherine? Ah, well..." Jack absently shuffled up the unread notes with a tentative grin on his face. "She's certainly a different case, though I know she wouldn't really go for me if someone put a gun to 'er head."
"All right, can we please just get back to the task at hand?"
"Okay, okay, I'll stop," Jack said.
"Good."
David picked the note back up and read through its entirety silently.
"Hey," Jack whispered.
"What?"
"Davey Howell."
David threw down the note as his friend rocked back in laughter. "Jack, focus!"
...
"The mornin' news! Rivetin' stuff right here from the White House!" Smalls shouted, waving around a copy of the New York World on the street. She started wandering down the sidewalks, continuing to half-heartedly pitch with a squeaky, child-like voice. People were scattered and few, but she didn't really care - she only bought twenty that day, and she was on her last two. And she was still reluctant to the whole "Put it off a day before the rally" idea and didn't want to sell at all, but it gave her an excuse to break away.
"Extra..." She snuck around an empty corner where nobody else dwelled when she confirmed no one was paying much attention to her. Jules, Jack, and Davey were all occupied. Snyder was up and around still, but probably not in the bedroom.
The Refuge stood in front of her, the narrow window to the second floor all the way open. A boy sat on the ledge, looking out. It... It was Specs! But without the Specs. Why wasn't he wearing his glasses? Why wasn't he noticing her? And what were those bruises all over his face?
She knew she couldn't call too much attention to herself. She grabbed a sheet of paper out of her bag along with a pen she swiped from Katherine and kneeled on the concrete sidewalks to write something really quick. She wasn't going to let him think he was going to rot in there forever.
...
Specs sat on the inside windowsill of the dormitory for a long while. His stomach moaned for food and his eyes ached, absent from his glasses since he woke up this morning. He tried to focus out into the misty blur of street below, contemplating what would happen to his friends now. Crutchie at least was safe from the unknown here. Specs knew where he was. Elmer and Albert were still out there. Jack would keep them in line, though, and the rest of the boys, too.
That just left Smalls.
He put a hand to his forehead. Oh, God, Smalls. She was too bold for her own good. And of course, even when it wasn't in worry, Specs couldn't stop thinking about her.
It was a silly little kid's crush back then, but now, there was a new feeling for her. Specs was used to hearing the name enough to start to realize what it was.
What he still wasn't used to were the butterflies in his stomach when they touched, or when he made her laugh.
Anyway, it was still juvenile. She still thought of them as friends, and friends wouldn't be such a bad way to end up. And either way, the concern of her security never changed. He'd failed her time after time in their past. He knew he had to get out of here and find her again the first chance he had.
"Ya okay over there, Newsie?" Sam approached Specs, barely more than a blob of a humanoid figure in his vision.
"Hi Sam," Specs replied.
"Lookin' for these?" He lifted a hand that dangled a pair of round glasses between two fingers.
Specs snatched them up and slid them on, the world regaining clarity around him. "Where were they?" He asked.
"Some kid stole 'em for a laugh. Watcha doin' here?"
Specs turned his back on the street. "Thinkin', I guess," he answered. "Thinkin' about home."
"Ain't that somethin' ta think about," Sam reflected. "I like ya, Specs. Dang shame a nice guy like you got wrapped up in all this."
"I would still do it again," Specs decided. "I would still move with the strike. I did it ta help the boys."
Sam's face had a strange sort of tenderness to it as he took in a breath, studying the poor guy in front of him. "I don't wanna come off intrusive. But here's the thing. I don't got a family no more. But you found your own one."
Specs peered down the row at Crutchie, who was sitting up on the side of his bed, enthusiastically telling the next chapter of the strike story to little Tim. "CRASH! The carriage knocks right over!"
"Crutchie," Sam continued with names Specs had mentioned in passing. "Smalls. Albert, Elmer, Jack. All of 'em. If ya love your family, you know what you gotta do for 'em. You gotta get back to 'em, and ya know what that means."
"I know," Specs agreed. "I jus' dunno how in the world I would possibly do it."
"I do."
"What?"
Sam tugged his cheek into a mischievous smirk. "Remember how I told ya I was always plottin' ways outta here?"
"Must be a pretty risky way out if you haven't tried it yourself an' got nothin' ta lose."
"A reputation," He replied. "And no one likes gettin' their ass kicked by Big George and company. So it all depends on how much nerve ya got. But I think you could pull it off alone."
Specs thought for a second. He thought of the strike. He thought of the boys. He thought of his family. A breeze from outside the window picked up and grazed his arm.
"I dunno... What about Crutchie?"
Sam winced, considering the variables. "Crutchie might make it, but it would be tricky."
"I'm not sure I'm ready for that kinda thing," Specs said, feeling overwhelmed with a wave of hope but not knowing whether or not to take it. The wind blew hard against his back. "It's a lot to think about."
"Jus' think it over real hard, Specs," Sam requested as he began walking away. "'Cuz you could do it."
Specs sighed and stayed sitting alone. His mind buzzed with a million thoughts. He looked up for comforting words from Sam, but he was already across the room.
"Then, the Cowboy heroically scales the prison walls!" He heard Crutchie declare. "He sneaks past the guards lurkin' in the shadows an' stares inside. But alas, the enemy took captives!"
"How does that story end, huh?" Specs called down to Crutchie's cot. He turned around in an instant.
"However you want it ta end," Crutchie responded. "Does the blind and battered captive save the day, or will the strike be avenged by the crutched boy wonder?"
"I'm not actually blind."
"Dramatic enhancement," He explained. "Improvin' the truth, right?" Specs smiled, and Crutchie returned to describing the Cowboy's narrow escape to Tim.
The wind whipped Specs' arms again. Suddenly, a piece of paper slapped against his back. He grabbed it and brought it out in front of him. It was folded like a triangle for aerodynamics, and there were words hidden within the creases. He pulled it out flat and scanned the messy handwriting.
"I'm coming for you tomorrow. And tell Sam I said hi. -S"
He twisted around to see a short figure running away on the street. Did that really just happen? How? Why?
Specs knew he had to keep his mouth shut, but what did she think she was doing?
Too bold for her own good.
He scanned the words in from of him once more.
No. Not this time. Not again.
He stood up with a start.
"Sam?" He called. "Sam, come back."
The black-haired boy appeared soon after. "Yeah?"
Specs shoved the paper to Sam to read. "I'm listening."
...
"All stand at attention!" Snyder snapped behind the door of the bedroom that night.
Boys up on bunks and sitting on the floor leaped up frantically to get to their feet by the side of their beds. Specs, who had been talking to Crutchie by his cot, followed suit in holding his hands behind his back and standing up straight. Crutchie struggled for a while to stand up.
"Specs!" He whisper-yelled in a panic, and his friend pulled him up by both arms and positioned his crutch. He nodded gratefully and kept a hand on the bunk ladder to stay up straight.
Snyder swung open the door at that very moment. He slowly walked down the line of boys who refused to meet his eyes. "Adequate," he muttered as he took a mental count of the lot.
At the end of the line stood the two newsies, the crippled of the pair wobbling a bit before fully clamping his arm around the ladder.
"What's the matter, Little Man?" Snyder scowled. "I said attention!"
"Mistah Snyder," Crutchie squeaked. "Eh, Sir, Your Majesty..."
"I said to stand," Snyder commanded, striking Crutchie's arm with his walking stick. He braced the ladder tighter.
Crutchie swallowed and grumbled, "I can't."
"I can't hear you..."
"I can't!" Crutchie spit.
"Come on now, Little Man, give us a shot." Snyder prodded Crutchie's arm with the walking stick once more.
Specs was sick of this. He stepped in front of Crutchie and stared down the warden. "He. Can't." He stated firmly.
"Get down, Boy," He warned. "Unless you want to see your friend here get hurt real bad."
"Why not me instead, huh?" Specs argued. "You're a coward."
All heads turned to them. Whispers surged around.
"I'm forty-eight, Kid. I don't need you tellin' me-"
"Well, what are ya gonna do about it?" Specs shouted. "You can't take it out on Crutchie. An' no beatin' you do on me will work! You're a coward 'cuz all you do is bully the weaker. You break 'em down bit by bit jus' ta feel superior. Most of us here haven't even done nothin' wrong! We don't belong under your dictatorship, but ya yank us in for the dough. You broke plenty a guys around here, fair, but we can still be strong again. You thought you broke Crutchie that night you cut 'im up, but he got back up, and he can do it again."
Specs offered a hand back to Crutchie. He tentatively accepted and stepped forward to stand beside him. The other hand stayed gripped hard on the ladder, but he stood tall. Specs' voice leveled out a bit, but it still stabbed.
"Ya thought you broke Sam over the years." Specs looked over to the boy across from him, right behind the warden. He nodded, though his eyes twitched nervously from Snyder to the boys.
"But you were wrong," Specs continued. "You couldn't have been more wrong."
Sam glanced at the floor, as if deciding something. Then he strode to Specs' side and took his hand. Specs squeezed it in a gesture of gratitude.
"Ya thought you could try to break me, but now you're learning..." He shook is head. "It ain't gonna do no good. And we can hold a mutiny jus' like the newsies because we can be stronger, an' the law would look our way."
Crutchie looked down beside him to see little Tim holding his hand.
Sam's hand was soon in Red's.
Snyder stood fuming as the line grew and grew until all but a few reluctant boys were present in front of him.
"Are you quite done?" Snyder demanded of Specs.
"I think so, yes," Specs replied.
Snyder snatched his collar and pulled off his shirt. Then he began dragging him out the door of the dormitory, picking up his whip from the stool in the corner on the way out.
Before he knew what was happening, Specs was thrown onto the bare and dusty basement's cold concrete floor and slashed across the back with the nine leather tails. Fire danced across his skin. Another strike set his entire spine ablaze. He bit his lip hard to not let the pain show, but it was no use. He pushed to get back up, but the third blow made him collapse onto the floor once more. The fourth finally brought hot tears bubbling from his eyes and a sob of "Stop! Stop!"
Snyder shut the door and sealed Specs into near complete darkness, save for a pathetically flickering candle by the wall.
Great. From down here, how was he supposed to initiate Sam's plan for tonight?
He was foolish for trying to stand up to Snyder. You can never outsmart a lion by putting your head in the lion's mouth. But be had to do something, or Crutchie would be beaten even worse. He didn't mean for it to get as big as it did.
His back still hurt like hell. He whispered the worst cuss he'd ever learned from Race as he tried to sit back up.
He could still do this. He still had to do this. There was no way he was going to lose tonight.
The attic. Had to get to the attic.
Specs slowly rose again. Enough talk. Time for action.
In his pocket sat a rusty black skeleton key that Smalls had given Sam a few years ago. He pulled it out. It was long forgotten. No one would suspect a thing.
After putting on his shirt and waiting until it had been ten minutes past lights-out, he ran to the door and silently unlocked it. The door began to squeak, but behind it was only the empty stairwell to the main floor.
The front office was near pitch black. Specs dove for the stairs, just where Sam said they would be. They towered up to the floor of the boys' room.
Now was the tricky part - he had to go through the bedroom to get to the next stairwell up on the other side.
His hands trembled as he fit the key into the lock and gently tapped the door open.
Every boy was in his bed. Besides some unconscious tossing and turning, there was barely any movement.
Specs gingerly stepped in, but the floorboards beneath him began to squeal. He shot his foot back up and looked around. No one would notice if he was quick.
Tiptoeing briskly down the line of bunks, Specs had just made it to the door to the staircase, until -
"Mistah Rudolf?" A nasal voice shouted. "Mistah Rudolf!"
Specs looked to the source behind him. A familiar skinny kid sat up in his high bunk. Ricky was ratting him out!
Specs' hands fumbled into his pockets for the keys, but they were shaking too much.
Footsteps rumbled up the stairs like an oncoming storm.
The key was out. He tried five times to jam it into the lock until it finally clicked.
"The hell is it now?" Rudolf asked. He was almost all the way up.
Sam was awake by now. He watched as Specs finally turned the key and yanked it out. Rudolf was coming too quick, though. He rushed to shove the blankets off of him and reach under the mattress for his secret stash of cigars.
"I got Rudolph. You go get 'er, Newsie," Sam called in a whisper-shout. Specs looked back for barely a second to smile before racing up the stairs.
Tim hurried over and shut the door. "Go Specs!" He whooped in a hushed voice.
Sam tossed the smokes all around his bunk just as Rudolph barged in. His eyes went directly to the boy, as he was one of the most notorious for midnight shenanigans.
"Smugglin' cigars again, huh?" The man questioned. "That's a night in the basement for you, an' jus' wait 'till Mistah Snyder comes back an' gets a lookit ya."
"Can't wait," Sam sneered proudly.
Specs was already up past the girls' floor, up to the attic, and up to the roof. The fire escape down was a fast flight down, and in the dead of night, he shot down to the Lodging House.
He grinned as he ran. He grinned so wide you could see it from Long Island. He was out. He was out! He, Russell Woodspeck, made it out! The blind and battered captive had just busted out of the cold prison walls alive. He may have just beat the famous Jack Kelly in the race of bravery - Man, if the boys could see him now...
Jack Kelly he might as well have been. The Lodging House doors were locked, but he was so relieved to be home, he climbed up the fire escape to the roof and fell fast asleep up there. He didn't care. He was back. He was with his family. He would see the boys again tomorrow.
He would see her again tomorrow.
Everything was going to be okay.