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


Chapter 55: Late-night reflection

Sadie absentmindedly worked her hairbrush through a particularly stubborn knot, thinking to herself that it was probably time for a haircut soon. It wasn't so bad during the day when her slightly unruly mane was braided or pinned up under her hat, but when she had to take it down at night, she found her long hair tangling far too easily.

Once she had worked the last snarl free, Sadie set her hairbrush down on the vanity she shared with Abby, then pulled on her dressing gown. She'd already prepared for bed and had briefly contemplated trying to turn in at her usual time, but she found her mind not quite ready to rest yet, so she decided that she would take a candle out to the sitting room and write a letter to Judith instead.

The rest of the apartment was still, and Sadie closed the door to the bedroom quietly so as not to wake the already-slumbering Abby. She made her way over to the writing desk, set the candle down, then pulled a piece of stationery and a pen out of the little drawer before settling herself into the chair.

It had been a very full day, and normally she would have been more than ready for a good night's rest, but she found herself needing to get her thoughts out somehow. Years ago, she would have crept over to Judith's bed and would have gently (and then eventually more persistently) prodded her sister until the older girl woke up, but Judith wasn't here to talk to now, so writing to her would have to do instead.

Sadie nibbled her bottom lip, thinking for a moment before she began scribbling away.

Dear Ju,

You must be wondering why I've eschewed our sisterly protocol and have written to you without waiting for your response to my last letter (I know how you dislike it when things 'pile up' before you can attend to them). Rest assured that this is not an indirect nudge for a more timely answer - I simply find myself missing my wise older sister this evening and am in need of a listening ear.

I've made a bit of a blunder, Ju, and I'm at a loss for knowing how to fix it. You know how impulsive I am, and that I have a rather bad habit of speaking first and thinking later; you also know that I'm not particularly adept at the kind of discourse that requires me to be serious and sober rather than my usual teasing self. If I had an ounce of your natural prudence or Abby's natural reticence, I'm sure I'd land myself in far less trouble than I do, but it seems I'm only the possessor of an overabundance of lighthearted conversation and a knack for meaningless banter rather than anything particularly useful. (Please refrain from nodding sagely when you read this - I know my disclosure is no great revelation to you, but it does tie into my point, which I'll elaborate on forthwith).

Do you remember David, the boy I wrote about in my last letter? Without expounding unnecessarily so as not to exhaust your patience or my supply of writing paper, I must confess that I think I may have spoken amiss in a conversation with him and as a result have inadvertently offended him. He hasn't done anything to indicate anger or hurt on his part, but he's drawn back somehow, and I find myself dismayed to find that all of the progress I've made at winning his trust and drawing him out has been undone by my careless words.

I spoke with Papa at length about my dilemma, and he, as usual, listened patiently, then recommended that I simply apologize to David and then ask specifically what upset him so that I may avoid repeating my mistake again. It seemed to be a sensible approach, and I had no objections to adopting it at the time. But I find myself reluctant to follow through now that I've had the opportunity to think about it (and second-guess my ability to carry it out, I suppose). I wonder if I'm making too much of the situation; as I mentioned, David hasn't acted offended or done anything resentful in response; my unhappiness stems from a loss of openness in our friendship rather than from any kind of unpleasant reaction on his part. Margaret suggested that if he's sensitive enough to be hurt by the type of innocent (if untimely) remark I made, perhaps he's not the kind of friend worth keeping, but I can't bring myself to agree with that assessment (though she's usually a perceptive judge of character).

I suppose what I fear most is making things worse. I know that the fault of the matter lies with me, and I wish that I could give a good answer for why I said what I did, but I can't come up with a reasonable defense for myself. It was simply carelessness, throwing out words without first thinking about them. And it just so happens that David's approach to speaking is exactly the opposite of mine. He is careful and deliberate and intentional. He doesn't prattle on the way I do. And I suppose I'm afraid that if I try to broach the subject of our unfortunate conversation and my insensitive remarks without being able to give a reason for them, it will only highlight how truly thoughtless I am. If I say nothing, we can continue our friendship civilly enough, and I'll simply try not to repeat my mistake in the future. But if I bring it up, there's a chance that it will only confirm whatever dubious opinion he may have formed of me since the incident took place.

Ju, you know how much my friends mean to me and how much I (probably inordinately) strive to maintain my closeness with them. If you were in my situation, what would you do? Would you let the situation pass, and simply determine to do better the next time? Or would you confront the issue head-on at the risk of appearing even more careless than before in the hope that perhaps you could reach a greater understanding and heal the rift you unintentionally caused?

This letter will not reach you before I've had to make my decision; David is coming for tutoring tomorrow evening, and I've only the next several hours to determine what my approach will be, but I would still be eager to hear your answer, as I'll want to know, even in retrospect, what my thoughtful older sister would have done (though of course you would have never gotten yourself into such a predicament in the first place).

Thank you, as always, for humoring your silly second-youngest sister and for patiently dealing with all of the scrapes she seems to get herself into on a regular basis. She is much better now than she was in years past, but there is still ample room for improvement, and she is thankful to have both a listening ear and a worthy example to emulate in you.

With appreciation,

Sadie

Setting down her pen, Sadie carefully blew on the letter, then folded it up and placed it in an envelope, sealing it up and setting it on the little end table by the door so that she could take it to the post office the next day. She returned to the writing desk to claim her candle, then slowly made her way back to the bedroom, mulling over the decision that she would have to make for the following night.


It was late in the evening as Davey made his way home after the celebration at Jacobi's. The moon was high in the sky, the streets were nearly deserted, and as he drew near the Becker tenement, he saw that nearly all of the windows were dark, most of the residents having retired for the evening. A light was still on in the landlord's apartment window, however, and Davey found himself wondering why the family would be up so late, but he supposed that when you were in charge of the entire complex, there was always something that needed to be taken care of, regardless of the time.

A light was flickering in the window of his family's apartment, too.

Climbing the stairs to the apartment on the second floor, Davey pulled his key from his pocket and quietly let himself in. A single lamp was glowing in the kitchen area, its flame slightly dimmed, and as expected, his mother was seated at the table reading by the light of her tiny flickering candle.

"Did you have a pleasant time with the newsies?" she asked, marking her spot and closing up her book.

"It was...interesting," Davey answered truthfully. Pleasant wouldn't have been an applicable word. He took a seat at the table by his mother, knowing that it had been a few days since they'd really talked and that she would want to check in (and furthermore, he found himself wanting company, though he didn't really want to talk about the gathering with the newsies).

"Are you glad you went?" came his mother's follow-up question.

Davey gave her a wry smile. It hadn't been an entirely voluntary decision. The plan had been to stay home that evening and to get to work on another one of Mr. Becker's projects, but when his mother had caught sight of the newsies outside the apartment, and when she'd heard Davey's reluctant explanation for why they were waiting for him (despite the fact he'd clearly informed the group that he wasn't planning to return with them), she'd urged him to take the night off and to go enjoy himself, pressing some money into his hand and giving him a little push towards the door. He'd gone out unenthusiastically, still unsure of what he was going to do, but the instant he'd stepped outside the apartment, the door had clicked shut behind him, and that was all the encouragement Race and the rest of the newsies had needed to force him into coming along with them to Jacobi's.

"I'm glad I went," he answered finally. He was glad he'd been there to help Crutchie offset the one-sided tension between the irritated Race and the tardy Jack, but it hadn't been the most enjoyable experience, and he'd found himself feeling slightly apprehensive of how things would play out now that the strike was over and any resentment that had been suppressed for the sake of the cause could surface freely.

His mother must have sensed his unwillingness to discuss the matter further, for she didn't pry, but instead reached across the table to squeeze his hand. "I know it's not in your nature to rest on your laurels, David," she said gently, "but I do hope at some point you'll take the opportunity to celebrate what you and the newsies have accomplished. It's no small thing, and you were a large part of why the strike was a success."

"It was all of us, Mom," Davey said quickly, uneasy at the praise.

"Yes, but don't sell yourself short," she remonstrated. "They couldn't have done it without you." She took her hand away, smiling at him. "You've made both your father and me very proud."

"How's Dad doing, by the way?" Davey asked, jumping at the chance to change the subject. The last few days had been so full and he'd been out so much attending to the business of the strike that he'd hardly spoken to either of his parents. "Is he feeling better at all?"

"The last few days have been hard," his mother admitted. "You know how stubborn your father is; he wants to be up and about, but I fear he's making his leg worse by not resting as much as he should. He's also concerned about Les' performance in school - we both are, in fact."

"Did something happen?" Davey asked apprehensively. He knew that his brother wasn't happy about being sent back to the classroom, but he hadn't realized that the younger boy's academic output had been suffering.

"The schoolmaster sent a note home," his mother answered soberly. "He said that Les has been scoring poorly on his assignments and is falling behind the other students in his year. It seems that he hasn't been applying himself in class ever since you two dropped out to become newsies, even though Les has been back in school for several days now." She hesitated for a moment, then added, "We were going to discuss this with you tomorrow, David, but since we're on the subject, I might as well tell you. Your father and I strongly feel that it would be best for Les to remain in school rather than return to selling papers as we'd initially planned for once the strike settled. I know that losing his income will hurt a little, but your job with Mr. Becker will help offset that, and I'll take on a few more hours at the factory to compensate as well."

She gave him an apologetic look. "I know how much it's disappointed you not to be in school, David, and I'm sorry that you'll need to keep working for a while, but you've only one more year left and you've kept up with your studies so well that your father and I just thought it would be best to prioritize Les' academics right now. He needs the consistency."

"I understand, Mom," Davey assured her. "I didn't expect to go back to school until Dad went back to work, anyway, and I'd rather not have Les work either if he doesn't have to."

She gave him a grateful smile. "Your brother may not express it, but he's fortunate to have you. We all are. You've really helped to carry this family since your father's accident, and you've carried it well."

"I've had help, too," Davey insisted. "I couldn't have done it on my own." It was true. The events of the past several weeks had brought to the forefront the importance of coming together and learning to accept assistance when it was offered.

"You have made several providential connections," his mother agreed. "Both with the newsies and with our landlord's family. I never thought that when we moved into the Beckers' tenement we'd end up forming such a quick association with them. They seem like such kind people, and you were right to make their acquaintance."

"That was Sadie's doing," Davey admitted, thinking back to how he'd stumbled into an unlikely friendship with the landlord's daughter despite his initial misgivings and their inauspicious start. "She's not the kind to give up quickly on making friends, I guess. I didn't make it easy for her at the beginning."

And you're not making it easy for her now, came the unbidden thought.

Davey grimaced. He'd tried his best to be civil and friendly when he'd run into Sadie on Newspaper Row, but he had to admit that their exchange had been stiff and awkward, and though he could sense that she was uneasy about the current state of their friendship, she hadn't said anything about it, and he hadn't felt comfortable enough to broach the subject either. He knew that he was holding her at arm's length, and that she knew it too, but he couldn't discern why she seemed to be so affected by it.

Truth be told, Davey missed the easy simplicity of their friendship as well, and his mother's remark had brought to mind what he'd lost sight of over the past few days: that Sadie Becker had been his first friend in Manhattan, that she'd eased his transition into a new school and a new community, that she'd willingly sacrificed her time to help him on multiple occasions, and that he really, truly was indebted to her in so many ways.

He shouldn't have let her offhand remark get to him. He'd jumped to conclusions, and it wasn't fair to do that to her, especially not when she'd been so consistently kind to him all this time. He'd made the mistake of writing her off too quickly when they'd first met, and he didn't want to make that mistake again...

But still, the past was hard to shake.

Remembering his mother, Davey gave her an apologetic look, realizing he'd lapsed into silence as he'd been ruminating. She was used to him getting lost in his thoughts, however, and gave him an understanding smile.

"Even if you were a bit stand-offish with Sadie at the start, you seem to be getting along fine now," she remarked.

"More or less," Davey shrugged, shifting uneasily in his chair.

It hadn't been a lie...not exactly.

"Well, I'm glad you've been making friends in Manhattan," his mother said, tactfully changing the subject. "I know all the moving has been hard on you, David, but maybe this time it will turn out for the best. It already seems like there was a purpose for us being here at this time, and even though it's been difficult with your father's accident, there's good that's come out of it as well."

Davey nodded his agreement. It was true. The transition to life in Manhattan had been chaotic and full of unexpected surprises, but there had also been a number of unexpected boons that, as his mother had implied, were nothing short of providential.

"Well, it's late, and I know you've got to get up early tomorrow morning to get to the distribution center," his mother said, reaching over to blow out her candle, "but I'm glad you were able to spend some time with the newsies this evening." She rose from her chair, then leaned over to plant a gentle kiss on his forehead. "Sleep well, David."

"You too, Mom," he replied.

Instead of rising from his place to get ready for bed, Davey sat at the table for a while longer, settling into the silence and letting the time pass until he felt the first signs of weariness begin to creep in. A myriad of thoughts were still running through his head, but he did what he often found himself doing at the end of a very long and very full day: reminding himself that nothing productive came from staying up late to think, and choosing to lay aside the many unknowns that were currently preoccupying his mind as best he could.

Answers would come soon enough, perhaps even on the following day, and in the meantime, he ought to try to get some rest.


A/N: Answers are coming soon, I promise. :) Hang in there with me a bit longer, gracious readers, and I promise that Davey and Sadie will talk it out. In the meantime, please let me know what you thought of this chapter!