Disclaimer: This is a non-commercial work of fanfiction. Anything recognizable from Newsies belongs to Disney and not to me.


Chapter 35: Arrivals and Arrangements

To Davey's utter surprise, Irving Hall was nearly full to capacity half an hour before the rally was slated to begin. Many of the newsies present must have cut their selling day short to make it over in time or they'd just managed to have especially good luck and had finished early, but whatever the case, the event was clearly important to them, and Davey was overwhelmed by the strong show of support.

It would be premature to count the rally a success, though. Attendance was good, but allies were what they were after.

The Brooklyn contingent had been the first to arrive, Spot and his cronies filing into the section that had been marked off for them by Davey's handmade signs, and they immediately took command of the entire space around them with an air of domination that only Brooklyn could embody. Race and Davey walked over to greet Spot personally, and then Race chatted with a few of the boys he was familiar with while Davey hurried over to the front door of the theater to greet another group of newsies who had arrived. It turned out to be the delegation from Richmond; Woodside and Flushing were right behind them.

It was an interesting experience to observe the ways different leaders managed the newsies under their command. Some seemed to take a more hands-off approach to leadership, exercising hardly any control, while others were much more direct in their supervision. Brooklyn was certainly on one end of the spectrum; Manhattan (from what Davey could tell), fell somewhere in the middle, though he suspected that he hadn't seen enough of Jack's leadership to draw a definitive conclusion.

Jack...

Davey, despite his best efforts, hadn't been able to locate the newsie leader before the rally. It had rather disconcerted him; from a logistical standpoint, he needed to know if Pulitzer would be speaking at the rally or not so that he could inform Race who would be serving as master of ceremonies for the night, but putting that aside (Davey had made the program flexible enough to accommodate a last-minute addition or omission, so in some ways it didn't matter), he was concerned for Jack's safety. Had the newsie leader run into trouble with Pulitzer? Had there been some kind of foul play? Was he in danger? Did he need help?

Calm down, Davey told himself. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out. Most likely he was overreacting. Jack had promised that he'd be in touch, but maybe he'd simply forgotten to check in. After all, hadn't he said that he was taking Katherine on a date shortly before the rally? Davey had seen enough of Jack's infatuation with the former reporter to know that other things (and other people) seemed to fall to the wayside whenever Katherine was around, so the thought that he'd forgotten his promise to apprise Davey of Pulitzer's decision wasn't really too far-fetched at all.

It seemed odd that Miss Medda wouldn't know of his whereabouts, though. Davey had made it a point to connect with the owner of Irving Hall as soon as he'd arrived, thanking her for her hospitality and making sure that he was clear on the house rules so that he could communicate any pertinent information to Race. He'd asked her about Jack at that time, too, but to his surprise, the woman had only said that he'd left on an errand the day before and she hadn't seen him since. However, she admitted that she'd been away from the theater for most of that time, so perhaps they'd just missed each other. She didn't seem to be worried, so Davey had held back his questions and instead directed his nervous energy towards preparing for the rally itself.

There certainly had been plenty to keep him busy. Race and the other boys from the lodging house had helped with some of the set-up, but they'd also done a fair amount of goofing off, and Davey had found himself being forced to reign them in on a few occasions. To his surprise, they'd actually listened to him (somewhat), and he realized that what Race had said was true - like it or not, reluctant or willing, he was their leader too, and they responded to him as such. It was the strangest feeling, but he wasn't going to sit around doubting it or trying to figure it out. There was simply too much that required his attention, so umination would have to wait.

Davey hadn't said a word about Jack's absence to Race, not wanting to upset the gambler, but he knew that he would have to broach the subject soon. He wouldn't allow himself to consider the worst-case scenario - that Jack might fail to show up altogether - but they should probably have some kind of back up plan just in case.

Not for the first time, Davey was grateful for Race's collaboration over the past week and a half. They made for an unlikely pair of de facto leaders, but somehow between the two of them, they'd managed to make do. The strike hadn't faltered, the lodging house was still standing, the newsies were in reasonably good spirits...and no one had died.

It had certainly helped to have Race present to welcome the visiting newsies and their leaders. No one knew who Davey was, but almost everyone knew Race, and Davey seemed to be unquestioningly accepted by association, though he didn't miss the curious glances that were shot in his direction. He wasn't exactly sure what gave him away as different - he'd quit wearing a tie a while ago - but there really wasn't anything that he could do about the scrutiny, so he'd shrugged it off as best he could, and by the time the majority of the newsies had arrived, he had done more spit-shaking than he'd ever want to do again in his life.

"So, we missin' anyone?" Race asked, coming over as he scanned the crowded auditorium.

"Just the Bronx," Davey answered, having already double-checked his list. "We've made contact with each of the other neighborhoods who said they were coming."

Race gave a dry chuckle. "Leave it to Gar to show up late. Wonder what kind of excuse he's gonna give this time."

"Gar?" Davey echoed. "Is that the leader of the Bronx?"

Race grinned as though the question amused him. "Guess some here would say so," he shrugged, "but I wouldn't call him that myself."

Davey was about to question the rather oblique answer, but before he could, he felt a tug on his shirt sleeve and turned to see Elmer at his elbow.

"Hey, Davey," the newsie piped up eagerly, "you said you was gonna be stationin' some of us outside of the theater to watch for any trouble. Is it time for me and the fellas to head to our spots?"

Davey smiled at the younger boy's enthusiasm. "Yes, now would actually be a good time," he answered. "Can you round up Specs and Henry for me? I'll meet you in front of the stage." Elmer nodded and took off.

"There goes a newsie on a mission," Race remarked with a grin. "You sure got a knack for motivatin' these bummers."

"I'm just grateful that they've been willing to help out," Davey replied. "The rally wouldn't have come together if everyone hadn't pitched in."

Race shook his head. "You sure ain't the kind to take a compliment lyin' down, are ya?" he sighed. "Gonna have to work on that, Dave - can't be a proper newsie if you ain't willin' to toot your own horn every once in a while or at least let someone else toot it for ya."

"Maybe if tonight ends up being a success I'll let you tell me that I did all right," Davey answered. "But I should go check on a few more things now if you're feeling fine about everything."

"Pretty sure I got all the details squared away," Race affirmed, "'cept you never told me if Pulitzer's gonna be speakin' tonight or not."

Right.

"I'm actually not sure about that," Davey admitted. "I'm still waiting to hear from Jack, but I haven't been able to find him." There was no way of circumventing the issue now. "My best guess is that Pulitzer won't be coming, so let's proceed without leaving a spot for him in the program, but if anything changes, I'll let you know. We'll still have some buffer time to confirm everything even after the rally begins, since Miss Medda's entertainment will take a while."

Race didn't look at all surprised that Jack hadn't shown up, and he didn't bother to hide the disgruntled look that crossed his face.

"Oh, Race, just a reminder," Davey added, purposefully moving the conversation along, "later I'll be stepping out for a bit to take Les' date home. It's going to be too late for her to stay for the entirety of the rally, and I promised her parents I'd get her back at a reasonable hour, so she'll stay for the opening of the rally and a few numbers of Miss Medda's show, but after that, we'll be heading out. I shouldn't be too long - but if I get held up for whatever reason, Miss Medda said she's available to assist you, and I've got Elmer and Specs in charge of rotating the boys on lookout duty so that none of them have to miss the entire rally. Things will hopefully run themselves for the first part of the night, and I'll definitely be back before it's time for the question and answer period."

Race nodded, seemingly unconcerned. "Sure, Dave, ain't a problem." He gave a meaningful nod over at the corner of the theater where a handful of girls - the newsies' dates - were sitting. "I think you might need to have a word with your brother about bein' a little more attentive to his girl, though," he remarked. "The little lady ain't lookin' too happy."

Davey glanced in the direction Race was indicating and saw that Les, who was off chatting with Buttons in another corner of the theater, had indeed left a rather irritated-looking Abby to fend for herself. That wouldn't have necessarily been a problem - Davey had caught sight of the book the girl had brought along with her to pass the time, seemingly prepared for the possibility of sitting alone - but unfortunately, the fact that she was the only girl unattended meant that she was also a prime target for Romeo's flirtatious advances.

"Better go put out that fire," Race drawled, giving Davey a not-quite-sympathetic pat on the back before sauntering away. Davey sighed, heading in the direction of Les and reminding himself as he did so that his brother was only nine and that getting angry at him wouldn't help. It occurred to him as he was making his way over that he'd forgotten to discuss a contingency plan with Race if Jack didn't show up to give the opening speech for the rally, but Davey pushed the thought aside. He had enough to deal with right now. He just had to trust that Jack would show up and would come through for the newsies when it counted.

Reaching Buttons and Les, Davey quickly apologized to the former before corralling the latter and taking him aside. Normally, he wouldn't have abruptly ended the conversation like that, but he didn't have time to be polite at the moment.

"Les," he said, trying to speak as patiently as possible, "did you mean to leave Abby sitting by herself while you went off to socialize?"

Les cocked his head as if he hadn't really thought about it. "She doesn't look like she's by herself," he observed, glancing in the girl's direction. "Romeo's talking to her now."

"Romeo's probably flirting with her now," Davey corrected. "And even if he's not, you really should be there with her. You invited her to this rally, and it's your job to make sure she feels comfortable. She doesn't know any of the newsies or any of the other girls she's sitting with, and you're the only one here who's her own age. Think of how you'd feel if you were in her place."

"If I was in her place, I'd go around meeting people instead of sitting in the corner with my nose in a book," Les contended.

"Yes, but not everyone's as outgoing as you," Davey admonished. "If you weren't willing to spend time with Abby at the rally, you really shouldn't have invited her to go with you in the first place. This is why you have to think a little more before you ask a girl on a date. She's not just something you bring along to make yourself look good. She's a person, and she came here expecting to spend time with you. You might want to go off to talk with other people, and that's fine, but you should at least invite her along, and if she doesn't want to go, you should stay with her. You're the one who asked her out, so you owe her that courtesy."

Les was quiet for a moment, and Davey waited, knowing that he'd spoken the hard truth but unsure of whether or not the younger boy would receive the correction. With Les, it usually was a toss up: sometimes, he was vehemently opposed (seemingly on principle) to anything that Davey said; other times, he would evade responding, tossing back a flippant remark and simply walking away...but sometimes he would actually listen.

This turned out to be one of those times.

"I guess you're right," Les admitted, sounding slightly remorseful. "I didn't mean to leave Abby by herself - I just wanted to tell Buttons this joke that I heard from one of the boys in my class."

"And there's nothing wrong with that," Davey said assuringly, "but next time just invite Abby to go with you, or save the joke for later, all right?"

Les nodded in agreement. He looked over for a moment to where the youngest Becker girl was sitting, then up at Davey. "Are you disappointed in me, David?" he asked suddenly. "For being a terrible date to Abby?"

Davey stared at him in surprise. "Disappointed?" he echoed. "No, Les, of course not." He put his hands on his brother's shoulders, bending down to look him in the eye. "I know that it's exciting to be out at night and that you've made friends with the newsies and want to talk to them, too. But I also know that you'll be able to figure out a way to enjoy the rally and still be an attentive date to Abby." He straightened up, ruffling Les' hair. "After all, weren't you the one telling me that it is possible to focus on the strike and a girl at the same time?"

Les laughed. "That is true - for some of us. You might be the one exception, David - though after that lecture you just gave me, I'm starting to wonder if maybe you're not as completely clueless about girls as I thought."

"Well...I guess I'll take that as a compliment," Davey answered ruefully. "Glad you could find it in yourself to trust my expertise every once in a while."

"I didn't say you were an expert," Les corrected him. "I said you weren't completely clueless. There's a big difference." He sighed. "Well, I guess I'd better go apologize to Abby...and tell Romeo that he needs to find his own date for the rally."

Squaring his shoulders as only a precious nine-year-old could, he walked off, leaving Davey to silently congratulate himself for not having botched the first unexpected hurdle of the night.

Catching sight of Elmer, who had managed to find both Specs and Henry, Davey hurried over to meet them. After giving them a quick briefing of their instructions and making sure that each of them knew which newsie was on deck to relieve them, Davey deployed the boys to their spots, then returned to the front of the theater where Race was standing among a large group of newsies.

It looked like the Bronx had arrived after all.

"Hey, Davey," Race called cheerfully, beckoning him over. "Look who finally decided to show up!"

Davey drew near, expecting the gambler to introduce him to the aforementioned Gar and wondering which one of the boys standing around Race was him, but instead, Race slung his arm around the girl at his right hand, saying with easy familiarity, "You was askin' about who runs things in the Bronx, and you's about to meet her." He grinned. "Dave, meet Calico - the real leader of the Bronx. Cal, this here is Davey - he's the brains behind the rally."

The girl gave Davey an appraising glance. She was tall - almost tall enough to look him in the eye - and dressed in muted colors like the rest of the newsies, her hair tied back with a bow of brightly colored (calico?) fabric which drew the eye rather than hiding from it. Her expression was openly curious and her bearing commanded attention, yet there was something surreptitious about her as well.

Davey had run into girl newsies before even before becoming a newsie himself, but he'd never crossed paths with one who carried herself like this.

"This must have been quite an undertaking," Calico finally spoke, looking around the theater. "You Manhattan boys certainly know how to throw a party."

Hold on a moment. Here was one more thing that didn't seem to fit.

Race grinned at the startled look on Davey's face. "You's tryin' to figure out why Calico don't talk like a regular newsie, aint'cha?"

"I - well - yes," Davey answered, caught off guard by the question and hoping that his honest answer hadn't been offensive.

"Ain't a person who's met her who don't wonder the same thing," Race said assuringly. He glanced at Calico, "and ain't a person I know of who knows the answer to that question either, right, Cal?"

She gave him an enigmatic smile.

"How do you two know each other?" Davey asked when it seemed that Calico had no intention of elaborating.

"Ran into this gal a few years ago when I used to sell over by the track near the Harlem River," Race answered. "Got into a little bit of a misunderstandin' with some low-lifes there who was lookin' to pick a fight, and things almost got ugly before Cal here showed up. We gave 'em a soakin' they wouldn't forget, mostly 'cause they got beat by a girl - and a girl who weren't pretendin' to be a boy, either." He grinned proudly. "That's the mistake most folks make, underestimatin' her 'cause of the hairbow and everything. They think she's gonna be some kind of weakling because she don't put up a tough front, but they always end up regrettin' it."

"People seem to misjudge me on a regular basis," Calico shrugged. "And regretfully, it falls to me to set the record straight."

Her rapacious smile left no doubt in Davey's mind that there was, in fact, very little regret felt on her part, and he was suddenly struck by a feeling very similar to the one that he'd gotten from Spot when the Brooklyn leader had visited the lodging house: that disconcerting unease that set in when someone was saying one thing, but really meant something else altogether.

"Anyway," Race continued, "we kinda saw each other here and there after that. Got into a few scrapes together. Cal's the one who got me my first cigar. And," he added, smirking a little at Davey, "she can pick a pocket like nobody's business."

The girl held up something small and shiny between her fingers, and Davey's eyes widened as he recognized the object.

It was Sadie's thimble.

"Interesting item for a newsie to be carrying around," Calico mused, giving Davey a searching look.

"It's not mine," he said quickly, still bewildered as to how she'd managed to pilfer the tiny item from his pocket without his notice.

"Oh!" Calico's look was sly. "So I just pickpocketed another pickpocket?" She gave Davey a deliberate once-over as though she didn't quite believe it. "Well, you know what they say in our line of work: if you can't hang on to it, you don't deserve to keep it."

And the copper thimble disappeared somewhere on her person.

Davey blinked in consternation, began to say something, then quickly thought the better of it. It was just a little scrap of metal, he told himself, and Sadie had told him to throw it away, anyway. It shouldn't matter to him if Calico wanted to keep it. But even so, he found himself wanting the thimble back, though he knew that he would sound rather absurd if he said so. Before he could decide if his irrational desire to repossess it was strong enough to override his common sense, however, Race stepped in.

"Aw, come on, Cal," the gambler wheedled. "Give it back. You made your point, and what are you gonna do with somethin' like that anyway? You don't sew."

"I'm willing to bet that he doesn't either," Calico said shrewdly, looking at Race but inclining her head in Davey's direction.

"Well, who cares whether he do or don't," Race replied impatiently. "He ain't one of your regular-type newsies - ya can't just go pocketin' his stuff."

Calico turned her curious gaze on Davey, raising an eyebrow. "I'll give it back to him if he tells me why it's so important."

Before Davey could answer, Race interjected yet again. "You's gonna have to get it back from me first, then." Two sets of eyes stared at him, and he grinned mischievously, then held up the thimble, tossing it to Davey who recovered just in time to catch it. "Looks like ya taught me too well, Cal."

"It looks like I did," the girl agreed, sounding surprisingly pleased at having been outwitted. "You win - this round."

She gave a little nod to Race, then turned her gaze upon Davey again, pausing for a moment as though she was still trying to make him out. Then without another word, she turned and sidled off, the rest of the Bronx newsies following in her wake.

"Thanks, Race," Davey said, giving the other boy an appreciative nod as soon as they were alone. "I didn't want to offend her."

Race waved him off. "I ain't gonna pretend like I don't want to know why you's carryin' around a thimble two sizes too small in your pocket," he remarked dryly, "but we got more important things to think about right now, and Calico ain't exactly the kind to make a good first impression." He shook his head. "Pretty sure she likes ya, though. She wouldn't have been so interested in tryin' to get an answer outta you if she didn't think you was important enough to be worth her curiosity."

"Can we trust her?" Davey asked, still having trouble wrapping his mind around the enigmatic de facto leader of the Bronx.

"Trust her?" Race echoed. He nodded. "Yeah, we can trust her." He paused for a moment, then added, almost as an afterthought, "But still...you gotta watch yourself. She ain't the kind you want to mess around with."

"So, who's Gar, then?" Davey asked, still not understanding the convoluted chain of command. "If he's supposedly the leader of the Bronx, then why is Calico running things, and why didn't he come himself?"

Race snorted a little. "You ain't ever heard of such a thing as a figurehead, Dave? Even with all the readin' you've done?"

"Well, yes, - but I didn't think that kind of thing happened with the newsies."

"Guess it ain't so much a formal figurehead situation as it is Cal just bein' ten times more competent than the fella they've got in charge," Race clarified. "She oughta be the leader of the Bronx, no two ways about it. But of course, things can't ever be that simple."

"I guess not," Davey conceded, still bewildered but unsure of what questions to ask to clear his confusion.

Race patted him on the back. "Don'tcha worry. There's still a lot of things you gotta learn, but you'll catch on eventually." Before Davey could reply, Race jerked his thumb in the direction of the stage. "Enough chit-chat, though," he said with a grin. "Everyone's here now, and time's wastin'. I think it's about time we got this rally started."


A/N: "So's the Bronx!" I elected to write an all-male band of Manhattan newsies for this story in keeping with the cast of the live capture, but I didn't want to miss out on a chance to write a girlsie too, so Calico's my little venture into that character type, and this won't be the last we see of her. Thanks for reading - I'd love to know what you thought of her and of this chapter! [Update 10/2021]: And if you're curious to see an illustration of Calico, please feel free to check out my fanfiction instagram account at pjean19.