Disclaimer: This is a non-commercial work of fanfiction. Anything recognizable from Newsies belongs to Disney and not to me.
Chapter 22: Tenacity and Teasing
The unspent coins jingled in Davey's pocket, and he couldn't stop a smile from spreading across his face.
That's what a new beginning sounds like, he thought to himself.
The strike was back on.
He'd walked into the distribution center that morning with the rest of the newsies, resigned to the fact that they'd been beaten and that their protest had come to an end, and when he'd set his money down on the counter in front of Oscar, he had fully intended to purchase the forty newspapers that he'd requested.
But then he'd seen the look on Weasel's face. Even behind the metal bars of the circulation window, the man was blinking nervously as he took in the assembled newsies, his eyes darting from one boy to the next as though he couldn't let any of them out of his sight. Davey hadn't expected it, but he had recognized the sign for what it was: Weasel was afraid.
And Oscar and Morris were, too.
And that was when Davey had realized that the battle wasn't over - not yet.
So he'd taken his money back, refusing the stack of papers and walking away from the circulation window. He hadn't expected the rest of the newsies to accompany him. He'd only done what he'd had to do to satisfy his own convictions. But the rest of the group had followed him - to a man - and together they had left the distribution center behind.
The exhilaration rushing through his mind was a complete reversal of the discouragement that had weighed on him ever since the meeting at the lodging house the night before, and Davey had to stop himself from cheering. He wasn't normally one to outwardly express his emotions, but under the circumstances, he was having a difficult time keeping his elation under control.
The strike was back on. And now the rally would be, too.
The rally.
Davey grinned to himself, unreasonably excited that he would have a chance to run with the idea that he'd been intensely ruminating on for the last several hours. He had broached the subject with Race briefly the evening before and the gambler had agreed that the rally could be a good idea, but there hadn't been much to discuss further after the newsies had voted to return to work the following morning. The choice had dispirited Davey, but he'd done his best not to let his emotions show until he'd left the lodging house to return home.
It had been a rather dismal walk back to the tenement.
Sleep had proven elusive, and Davey had tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable until he'd fallen into a fitful sleep in the early hours of the morning. His internal clock had woken him up at his usual time - just as the sun was beginning to rise - and he'd decided to meet the newsies at the lodging house instead of going straight to the distribution center. It would be out of his way, but something about walking in solidarity with them felt right on this final morning of the strike. Accordingly, he'd roused Les, and the two of them had gotten ready and hurried to the lodging house, arriving just in time to overhear a messenger from Brooklyn inform Race that Spot Conlon had been duly impressed by Manhattan's tenacity and that Jack's boys could count on Brooklyn being there to back them up at the next event.
Race, Davey noted with surprise, had kept his expression neutral, never once mentioning that the strike was nearly over. He'd simply given a curt nod to the younger boy, telling him to give Spot Manhattan's thanks, then had turned away, only raising his hand briefly to acknowledge the Jacobs brothers as they followed him up the stairs to the newsies' bunk room.
The rest of the boys were similarly laconic that morning - even the ones more generally inclined to joke and tease were quiet, and it was a sober group that filed out of the lodging house and onto the street for the walk to the distribution center. The newsies had waited silently for Race to assume his place at the head of the group, and to Davey's surprise, the gambler had motioned him forward as well. He'd hesitated a bit at first, caught off guard by the sudden formality, but the boys had made the decision for him, pushing him to the front with a force that brooked no opposition.
So, along with Race, Davey had led the newsies to the distribution center, disappointed and resigned...but now he was leading them out with his hope restored and his mind eager to get back to the task of how they could leverage this situation to finally turn things in their favor. Seeing the conspicuous fear in Weasel's eyes had convinced Davey that things weren't as hopeless as they seemed; the newsies were still the underdogs, but even so, they'd sent the powerful newspaper owners and their employees reeling. If the implications of Katherine's article played out, perhaps Goliath, against all odds, would be defeated somehow. After all, the Biblical David had been little more than a boy, smaller and weaker than the others, not yet a warrior himself - an underdog if ever there was one. But he'd had righteousness on his side, and in the end, it had only taken one small stone to bring the giant down.
Silently, Davey sent up a prayer of thanks for the unexpected victory that morning. The battle wasn't over yet - the giant still stood taunting them - but the newsies hadn't given in; there was life in them yet, and Davey was going to do his very best to make sure that they made the most of this second opportunity.
Recalling the mental list of priorities that he'd made several days ago, he silently ran through his objectives again: they'd managed to keep the newsies committed to the strike, so that was one goal accomplished. Brooklyn had finally pledged its support - at least for the next event - so there was another task that could be checked off.
The only unfulfilled objective was finding Jack.
Davey's brows furrowed in determination as he silently promised himself that he would figure out a way to make this happen, too. He wasn't willing to give up on the newsie leader yet. Looking over his shoulder at the group behind him (which had loosened up its formation once they'd put several blocks between themselves and the distribution center), Davey caught Race's eye, falling back to walk alongside the other boy.
"I gotta hand it to you, Dave," the gambler remarked drolly, his good humor seemingly restored. "No offense, but you's probably the last person I'd expect to be givin' Oscar his come-uppance the way you did back there."
Davey smiled a little, used to Race's backhanded compliments. "I think, if anything, the impression we made came more from the fact that we acted as one," he said. "I was actually surprised that they followed me - the newsies, I mean. I didn't think everyone would end up walking away."
"Well, like it or not, you's their leader now, too," Race remarked. He gave Davey a sidelong grin. "Though truth be told, I ain't exactly sure what those bummers see in you."
"Probably a preferable option to the alternative," Davey countered dryly, giving the other boy a pointed look. "I'm pretty sure if it had been left up to you, we would've come to fisticuffs at the distribution center."
Race looked surprised that he'd actually been mildly insulted back, and he was positively beaming now.
"Well, ain't you just full of surprises!" he chuckled, slapping Davey proudly on the back. "Guess the newsie life is finally rubbin' off on you - that comeback ain't half bad!"
Davey huffed. "I do have a sense of humor, contrary to what you might think."
"Could've fooled me," Race replied, pulling his cigar out of his vest pocket with a flourish.
Davey shook his head. It would always be a losing battle with Race; no matter how much progress Davey made in sharpening his wit, the sarcastic and irrepressible jokester would always manage to get in the last word somehow.
Well, he hadn't come back here to banter, anyway.
"Joking aside…" he began, pausing for a moment as Race stopped to light his cigar, "...I wanted to talk to you about finding Jack."
The gambler's expression immediately darkened. "What about it?" he asked shortly, tossing the match to the ground and snuffing it out with his foot.
"Well, if it's all right with you, I'd like to start looking for him," Davey ventured as they began walking again. "If we're going to go through with the rally, we'll need him to be there. The rest of the city's newsies are going to wonder what happened if Manhattan's leader doesn't make an appearance -"
"- if they ain't already gotten wind of the rumor floatin' around that he ran on us at the first sign of trouble," Race butted in, ironically raising the same hearsay that he'd hotly refuted only moments ago at the distribution center.
"Even if they have," Davey continued, refusing to be deterred, "it's better all around if Jack's there, and I don't want to give up on that possibility before I've at least tried to bring him back. If you're okay without me, I'd like to start looking today, actually - I'll take Les, too, so he won't be underfoot." He paused, glancing at Race, who was clearly unhappy with the proposition.
"I ain't sure how I feel about you gettin' suckered into a search for a newsie who clearly don't want to be found," the gambler stated bluntly, "but if you feel like you gotta do it, Dave, then I ain't gonna be the one stoppin' you." He turned his attention to his cigar, clearly finished with the conversation.
"I won't let the search drag on," Davey promised. "One day - maybe two - and then I'll quit if I haven't found him." He glanced at the clock in the town square as they passed, noting the time. "I'll head off now, but I'll come to the lodging house tomorrow morning to give you a report, and we can talk more about the rally and the strike then. Sound good?"
Race only grunted indifferently, and Davey took the noncommittal sound as permission to commence the search, so accordingly, he collected Les, and the Jacobs brothers bid farewell to the newsies before splitting off to head down the street towards the office of the New York Sun.
They had a reporter - and then a missing newsie - to find.
A breeze stirred through the branches above Sadie's head, making the tree's leaves rustle and murmur as she leaned back against its trunk to take in the soothing effect of the dappling of green against the bright blue sky. She'd almost inadvertently broken her promise to Davey not to climb anything dangerous - save for a few of her friends, the park was deserted, and she'd wanted to get away to be alone with her thoughts for a while - but she'd remembered in time, and had reluctantly settled down at the foot of the tree instead.
She hadn't been able to focus on the lesson in class that morning - her mind was already preoccupied with other thoughts that her schoolmaster's lecture simply couldn't compete with. Thankfully, she probably wouldn't need to re-teach the lesson that day - Davey had been so busy that he hadn't had time for tutoring, and Sadie had eagerly embraced her temporary reprieve from all of the focused study that she'd been doing over the past several days. She did find herself generally paying better attention in class (much to the satisfaction of her schoolmaster, who had remarked dryly that if she would only apply herself the way she'd been doing recently, she could be excelling in class rather than simply skimming by), but she would probably never be academically-inclined no matter what anyone said.
Sighing, Sadie unwrapped the slice of meat pie that she'd packed for lunch. Mrs. Gerlach, a friend of her mother's who also lived in the Becker tenement, had dropped by the day before with the toothsome pastry, and both she and the pie had been heartily received by all. Abby, in particular, had been rather vocal in her appreciation; Miriam Becker would be returning from Boston soon, but the food that she'd prepared for her husband and daughters had run out two days ago, and though Sadie had cooked a large pot of soup (the one culinary feat she could be counted on to accomplish without incident), the rest of the family was getting a little tired of eating the same dish over and over, so the arrival of the meat pie had been rather timely.
"That looks good," Margaret remarked, coming over to sit beside Sadie. "Is it mutton?"
"Beef," Sadie answered, breaking off a chunk and handing it to her friend. "The crust is buttery and perfectly flaky. Mrs. Gerlach from our tenement made it, and she confided to me that everyone's always hounding her for the recipe, but she never gives it out - this pie is her signature dish."
"Mmm," Margaret agreed, finishing her piece. "I can see why; that was divine." She dug into her lunch pail and pulled out a sandwich and a little canning jar. "Pickle?" she asked, unscrewing the lid and offering the jar to Sadie. "They're the ones you like, and I brought extra."
"Thanks, Megs." Sadie popped the gherkin into her mouth, then licked her fingers, an unfortunate habit that would no doubt have earned her a reprimand from her mother had she been present.
"No tree climbing for you today?" Margaret asked, unwrapping her sandwich.
Sadie shook her head. "Not today," she murmured, glancing wistfully at the canopy of green above her.
Margaret gave her a slightly concerned look. "You don't seem to be yourself," she noted. "Is everything alright?"
Sadie picked at the fabric of her skirt, noticing a tiny snag in the indigo blue cotton. She would have to get to Mr. Gorham's shop a little early that day so that she could mend the run before the it got any larger.
"Everything's fine, Megs," she said finally, smoothing her skirt. "There's nothing calamitous or tragic that's befallen me, so I'm not in any distress worth mentioning. I was only preoccupied by one of the little tests brought on by life, the kind that aren't anything out of the ordinary, but do have a way of overrunning my thoughts with surprising alacrity."
"Is your preoccupation of the kind that you'd like to share?" Margaret asked, setting aside her sandwich for a moment to focus her attention on Sadie. "I'm sure that any distress you're feeling is perfectly reasonable no matter how insignificant you claim that it is."
Sadie gave her a small smile of thanks but shook her head. "I appreciate the offer, Megs, truly. I think I just need some time to think right now, though I wouldn't mind the pleasure of your company, if you don't mind my inhospitable silence."
Margaret nodded in understanding. "Think as much as you'd like - I'll be quiet as a mouse," she promised, setting the open jar of pickles in between them. "And whenever you're ready to talk, you have my ear."
Not for the first time, Sadie was thankful for her friend's sensitivity. Margaret had an animated disposition and could occasionally be a tease, but she knew when her friend needed space, and rarely pressed for an explanation until Sadie was ready to give it.
Crunching absently on another pickle, Sadie let her mind wander back to the thoughts that had troubled her all morning. She hadn't been lying to Margaret when she'd said that nothing calamitous had taken place, but she nevertheless found herself unsettled and ill at ease.
Lilly had fallen that morning. It wasn't the worst fall that she'd ever had - not even close - but it had shaken Sadie and Abby up badly, and by the time their father had been summoned from his office and had hurriedly made his way back to the apartment, all three girls were in rather unfortunate shape. Thankfully, Lilly seemed to have sustained no major injuries, and once she'd been moved safely to the couch, she had eventually settled into what seemed to be a restful sleep. Philip Becker had insisted on staying with her, so his younger daughters had reluctantly left for class, their walk to the schoolhouse unusually silent.
There wasn't anything they could have done, Sadie consoled herself as she reflected on the incident for probably the hundredth time that morning. They always tried to be as conscientious and attentive as possible, but sometimes you just ended up being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Blame was never cast about whenever Lilly had a fall - everyone in the family knew that some accidents were inevitable despite their best efforts - but that never assuaged the guilt that Sadie felt, or the nagging conviction that she was somehow still responsible, whenever Lilly had a fall on her watch.
At least they had been able to tend to her promptly, and now she was in good hands, receiving the most attentive care. Sadie was grateful that her family had been able to keep Lilly at home rather than sending her to an institution; it had been an unconventional choice, and they lived with the unpredictability and occasional disruption of that choice every day, but in return they had the assurance of knowing that Lilly was safe and well-cared for. It wasn't something they would have traded for anything.
And yet, this seemingly straightforward choice made them the odd ones in their circle of acquaintance. As a child, Sadie hadn't realized for several years that her family was atypical. They didn't have many visitors over at the apartment, since her father conducted business in his office, and because Lilly's condition made her rather indisposed to venturing out, most of their friends and neighbors were unaware of her presence. Eventually, though, people did find out - it wasn't a secret that the Beckers kept, after all - and it seemed that everyone who found out had an opinion of some kind - an opinion which most of them didn't refrain from sharing.
Apparently, the choice wasn't so straightforward after all.
It had initially puzzled Sadie that keeping an unwell family member at home should cause such controversy, but as she'd gotten older and more aware, she'd started to understand that it was, in fact, a delicate matter with a myriad of factors to consider, none of which made the decision easy either way. She'd learned from her parents' example not to fault anyone who had chosen to institutionalize a disabled family member, but she wondered if there could be a way to make things easier for those who wanted to take a different approach. Maybe if more support was available for these families, the endeavor wouldn't feel so daunting...or so isolating.
"Megs," Sadie said suddenly, breaking the silence. "Do you ever wish that you could just speed up time?"
Her friend gave her an odd look. "It's not a thought I've had lately - but I take it you wish you could?"
"I'm not sure," Sadie admitted. "I just can't help but think that it might be nice to live at a point in history where someone's figured out the answers to all of the perplexing problems that we're struggling through right now."
"That's a rather futuristic sentiment for someone who generally lives in the moment," Margaret observed, sounding a little surprised. "What brought this on?"
Sadie shrugged. "Just thinking…"
"About what you'd do to solve the perplexing problems of our time?" Margaret pressed. "Or about how you plan to approach avoiding them until someone else does the job, since you can't wish yourself into the future?"
"I'd like to say the former," Sadie answered, "as it would make me sound quite noble. But I must admit that my thoughts tended more towards the latter." She smiled at her friend. "I suppose that makes me a bit of a loafer, doesn't it?"
"A bit," Margaret agreed, crumpling up the paper wrapping from her already-consumed sandwich.
"Anyway," Sadie said lightly as she too tidied up the remains of her lunch, "I really don't think I'm the kind of person who should be attempting any sort of problem solving on that large of a scale. If I can't manage to pull off a brownie recipe or pay attention in class, I doubt very much that I'd be a good candidate for any kind of world-changing, especially when there are others more well-suited for the job."
"Others like a certain classmate of ours, perhaps?" Margaret asked, raising an eyebrow.
Sadie gave her mildly irritated look, displeased at this sudden turn in conversation. "I can't imagine whom you mean," she replied as she brushed a wayward leaf off of her skirt.
"Really?" Margaret closed up her jar of pickles. "I would have thought that you'd be well-acquainted with all of the world-changing - or perhaps I should say, World changing - that David's been up to lately."
"Is that what he's been doing?" Sadie asked indifferently, refusing to acknowledge the pun or the good-natured insinuation. "I hadn't noticed."
"You haven't read the papers?" Margaret asked in disbelief.
"It's been rather difficult to get a paper lately," Sadie responded, "seeing as the newsboys are on…" she trailed off, realizing her blunder.
"Hm," Margaret gave her a smug look. "So you do know about the strike. And I'm willing to bet you knew that David got his picture on the front page of The Sun, too."
"It wasn't just him," Sadie pointed out, unsure of why she felt the need to clarify this point. "The rest of the newsboys were featured as well."
Margaret only smirked.
Sadie crossed her arms. "I really don't understand why you deem it necessary to bring Davey up so much, Megs," she said, giving her friend a miffed look. "Last I checked, you'd already set your cap at someone."
"You know very well that's not why I'm doing it," Margaret replied, ignoring Sadie's attempt to deflect her. "I'm looking out for you. I know you don't need any help catching someone's eye and that you're uniformly charming to everyone that you meet, but I've never seen you be willing to set aside your aversion for schoolwork in order to help someone out with their studies."
"I told you, Megs, it was an impulsively-made decision," Sadie said firmly. "And I've since regretted it several times over - "
"But seeing that you're stuck following through with it," her friend countered, "haven't you thought about how you could possibly leverage all of this time that you've been spending with David in your favor?"
Sadie gave her a frosty look. "I confess that I haven't."
"Well, why ever not?" the other girl asked, managing to sound both frank and teasing at the same time.
"Margaret, I really can't imagine what you mean."
"I mean," Margaret grinned, "just think of all the loafing that you could do with a clean conscience if you had a sweetheart who was handling all of the world-changing for you!"
"You're insufferable!" Sadie exclaimed, tossing the crumpled-up wrapper from her meat pie at Margaret, who cried out in surprise.
"Now I've got crumbs in my hair, Sadie!" she protested, brushing at her curls in dismay. "Whatever possessed you to do that?"
Sadie stood up, satisfied at having finally derailed the conversation. "You had it coming, Megs," she said smugly. "And I'm sure that the extra adornment will do much to recommend you to James when he sees you in class."
Margaret scowled darkly. "You'll pay for that, Sadie," she declared, getting to her feet.
"Another day, Megs!" Sadie grabbed her lunch pail and smiled impudently at her friend. "We'd better hurry back, or we'll be late!" And with a spring in her step, she set off in the direction of the schoolhouse before the other girl could answer.
