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


Chapter 57: Restoration

After dinner, Davey made his way up to the third floor of the tenement, his schoolbook and slate in hand, taking the steps slowly, one at a time.

Relax, he told himself. It's just a tutoring session with Sadie, the same thing you've been doing on and off for the past two weeks. Just get through it, and then you can have the rest of the night to yourself.

He arrived at the landlord's office and knocked on the door.

Abby answered it. "Hi David," she said, opening the door so that he could step inside. "Sadie's on her way over, but in the meantime, look at what I got my hands on at McNally's!" She scurried over to her reading chair, kneeling down to pull a stack of books out from underneath. "They had a sale - half off - and I've been saving my allowance, so I ended up coming home with a bundle!"

Davey walked over and knelt down beside her, examining the spoils. "The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood...Black Beauty...A Journey to the Center of the Earth - great selections, by the way - Tom Sawyer...The Jungle Book - Abby, I haven't even read that one!"

"Kipling's already written a sequel," she informed him.

"Guess I'm pretty behind." Davey gave her a smile. "I'll have to work on that."

"Well, you're practically an adult, so you've got other things on your mind," Abby stated with the knowing air of a nine-almost-ten-year-old.

"I'm pretty sure I'll never get too old to enjoy a good story." Davey carefully set the books back down, feeling a little wistful. Stories like these reminded him of his childhood, when things had been just a bit simpler.

Abby regarded him for a moment, then picked up The Jungle Book.

"Here," she said, holding it out. "You can borrow it. I have enough to keep me busy for a while."

Davey hesitated. It was on the tip of his tongue to refuse the offer - he really didn't have much time for reading, after all, and even if he did, he probably ought to be reviewing his schoolbooks or studying something practical - but he instinctively knew that this was an overture of friendship and not just a book being offered, so he found himself accepting it.

"Thanks, Abby." He smiled. "I'm sure I'll enjoy this. And if you want, you can come over and take a look at my collection too sometime. It's not very big, but you'd be welcome to borrow anything you haven't read yet." He gestured to the book sitting on top of her stack of recent acquisitions. "In fact, if you end up liking Tom Sawyer, I've got another one of Twain's books at home that I'd be happy to lend you. It's called - "

The door of the office opened, and Sadie appeared.

"We can talk more some other time," Abby offered quietly, giving Davey a conspiratorial half-grin. "Our remarks about reading will probably bore my sister to tears." Without further ado, she plucked Black Beauty from the pile of books and settled herself into her armchair, eager to begin the story.

Davey rose, turning to make his way over to the table where Sadie was setting down her school book and slate. "I'm sorry I made you wait, Davey," she apologized. "I had to finish up something for Papa."

"It was no trouble," he replied, taking a seat at his usual spot. "Abby kept me company."

They launched into the evening's lesson without further preamble, Sadie seemingly preoccupied and noticeably more subdued than usual, and Davey equally reserved and hesitant. It reminded him of the stilted awkwardness of their first few meetings. The lesson, however, passed by easily enough, conversation coming easier now that there was something factual and concrete to discuss, and before Davey knew it, they had covered all of the material slated for discussion that evening, and Sadie was wrapping things up.

"If you'd be free to stay a little later tomorrow, I think we should be able to get through the remaining material," she said, closing her book. "You'll be caught up in no time."

"Tomorrow will be fine," Davey answered. "And thank you. I'd be desperately behind if it wasn't for your help." There was more he could have said, but he reminded himself that the less said the better, so he too closed up his book, set it on top of his slate, and got up from the table, making sure to retrieve The Jungle Book as he rose.

"I'll see you tomorrow night, Sadie," he said, giving her a polite nod. "Thanks again." He glanced over to the corner of the office where Abby was engrossed in her book. "Will you tell Abby I said goodbye?" he added. "I don't want to interrupt her reading."

"Of course." Sadie glanced up at him, and for a moment she looked like she was about to say something, but instead she dropped her gaze, brushing at her skirt. He wondered if he ought to try to break the tension, but she didn't meet his eyes again, so he slowly made his way towards the door, and when she didn't speak, he quietly let himself out of the office.

He was just about to start down the steps when the door behind him opened suddenly, and Sadie's voice called out to him.

"Davey, wait."

He stopped in his tracks, turning around to face her as she slipped out of the office and joined him in the hallway.

"I didn't want to put you on the spot in front of Abby," she began, looking up at him hesitantly, "but I need to talk to you. I want to apologize for what Margaret and I said on the way to the park earlier this week." Her voice was grave, and her hands were clasped in front of her as though she was trying to give herself the courage to get the words out as she added, "It wasn't kind of us to talk about you that way."

"It's fine," Davey said quickly. "I'm not upset."

"It wasn't fine," Sadie insisted. "I saw the look on your face afterwards, and I know that something we said hurt you." Her voice softened slightly. "I wish that you would talk to me about it."

Was he ready to open up to her and have that conversation? Here in the hallway? Now?

"It's nothing," he heard himself saying. "It just - it caught me off guard, that's all. But it's not important." He gave her a forced smile and was about to turn and start down the stairs when she took a step forward and lightly caught his arm.

"It is important," she asserted. "It's important to me. Impulsiveness is a fault of mine, and I know that my thoughtless words that day were just a part of that, but I'd like to think that I'm not so intractable that I cannot learn from a mistake." She dropped her hand. "I don't want to hurt you again."

He wasn't sure if it had been her gentle touch or the note of pleading in her voice that made him turn around, but he found himself reluctantly abandoning his plan of departure.

Seeing that he wasn't going to run, Sadie said quietly, "I know that Margaret and I had no reason to be talking the way we did, but I can assure you that any remarks we've made about you in your absence have not been unfavorably intended. I'd only asserted to her on an earlier occasion my belief that you had more to say than you let on, and I wanted her to concede my point. But it was a childish thing to do. I hope that you can forgive me for my insensitive words."

She looked up at him, and he felt himself wanting to respond to her appeal, but he couldn't come up with what to say, and after another moment of tense silence, Sadie looked away.

"I'm sorry for keeping you this long, and I'll let you go now," she murmured, "but I just wanted you to know that I am sorry." She looked over at the landlord's office. "I started our acquaintance off on the wrong foot with my carelessness," she said, gesturing to the door and its still new-looking coat of paint, "and it seems that I'm still learning how to not let that carelessness spoil things." She smiled tersely. "Perhaps if you'd known our association would cause you such trouble, you'd have thought twice before bringing up the first month's rent that day."

It was a lighthearted, facetious statement, and he could tell that she was trying to lessen the tension with the self-deprecating humor that he'd seen her employ before, but he could hear the touch of sadness behind it, and it distressed him. For her to even think that he could possibly be troubled by their acquaintance when nothing could have been further from the truth was intolerable...but what could he say?

Say something, he told himself. Anything!

But before he could manage it, Sadie turned away. "Goodnight, Davey," she said, stepping towards the door.

Say something, you nitwit!

"Wait!" he blurted out. Sadie paused, her hand just above the doorknob. "You haven't caused me trouble," he said, falteringly trying to get the words out before she walked away completely misconstruing how he felt. "You were my first friend here in Manhattan, and I don't think I've ever thanked you for that. You've always been kind to me, and it wouldn't be right for me to hold that one conversation against you. That's not what I was trying to do. It's just that I..."

He broke off suddenly, unsure of whether or not he wanted to explain the reason for why the comments on the way to the park had affected him so much. It was a ridiculous reason, in fact. He should have known better than to associate Sadie and Margaret's remarks with what had happened to him in the past. It had been just a fleeting incident anyway, and there was no reason why it should have affected him so much. The less that was said about it the better.

Still...if he wanted to make things right, he probably ought to give Sadie an explanation.

"I had a bad experience at one of my previous schools involving someone making a wager," he said slowly. "When Margaret mentioned you betting on me being a talker, it just brought up some of those memories. That's all." He gave her an apologetic look. "I didn't mean to be so obvious about it, or to make you feel bad. There wasn't anything wrong with what you said."

The troubled look on her face told him that she didn't believe it.

Davey rubbed the back of his neck, trying to figure out how he could convince her that she wasn't at fault. "My family's moved a lot, Sadie," he elaborated, the growing desire to relieve her distress causing him to override his fear of self-disclosure. "Six times total over the past several years. I've always been the quiet new kid, and it's always been hard for me to fit in. The last school I was at - the one before my family moved here - was the worst."

"Was that the school where you had your bad experience?" she asked, almost timidly.

He nodded. "Yeah." The memories were still fresh, fresher than he wanted them to be. Fresher than they should have been.

"What happened?" She sounded almost afraid of the answer, but clearly something had made her ask it. "You don't have to tell me if you'd rather not...but I just want to understand."

Davey hesitated.

"I'm sorry, that was an impertinent question," Sadie said quickly, noticing his discomposure. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

He'd never told anyone about what had happened. He'd built a wall around the memories, bottled up the feelings as much as he could, and had moved forward. Even if he'd wanted to talk about it, he doubted he could have communicated his thoughts in any kind of coherent fashion, so he'd kept quiet and had reasoned that, with time, the unpleasant memory would fade and the pain would resolve itself. But clearly something about it must have stuck with him if it still managed to unsettle him so much.

She would probably think him ridiculous if he told her. But if she knew...would she finally realize that she wasn't to blame for his irrational reaction? Was the risk of appearing completely absurd worth it if it would make her feel absolved of the guilt that she was unfairly carrying?

"It was during my second week of school," he heard himself saying. "My family had just moved, and I was still adjusting to things. I hadn't made friends yet, so during the lunch recess I would read out back behind the schoolhouse."

He could picture the place as vividly as if he'd seen it yesterday - the quiet coolness of the spot that he'd found on the side of the building, the worn wooden bench he'd set his lunch on, the bright green patches of ryegrass blowing in the breeze, the muffled sound of his classmates socializing in the schoolyard out front...

Despite the fact that he'd been the perpetual new kid in class for most of his life, at all of the previous schools he'd attended, he'd always found a few friends. It usually took him a little longer to feel comfortable (he'd often envied Les' ability to immerse himself in a new social setting with no apparent effort), and sometimes the adjustment was difficult, but eventually, he would find two or three classmates whom he enjoyed and whom he would contentedly spend the rest of his short time with before his family inevitably pulled up stakes to move again.

But for some reason, he'd had more trouble than usual at this particular school. Maybe it was because the pupils in his year were already close friends and didn't feel the need to get chummy with an outsider. Maybe it was because he and Les, with their clean but worn clothing and simple lunches were noticeably poorer than the others in their class. Maybe it was because he had been too quiet and reserved, and his shyness had been misconstrued as something else. Or maybe it had been for another reason altogether. At any rate, he'd overheard more than a few uncharitable remarks being made about himself (spoken as though he was not present but clearly loud enough for him to hear), and these remarks were enough to remind him that he was different, more different than he usually found himself to be at a new school, and that those differences weren't going to help him any.

So he'd defaulted to his tendency to clam up whenever he was uncomfortable, and had shifted his aim from making friends to not ruffling any feathers. He'd reasoned that it was better to go unnoticed than to make enemies, and he knew that he could get by until the next time his father's job situation necessitated another relocation. With any luck, he'd hoped, it would be sooner rather than later. And though the comments had stung, things could have been worse - an early growth spurt had made him taller than the majority of his classmates for most of his life, so he'd been bullied less than he might have been under other circumstances, and by contrast, a few unkind remarks shouldn't have mattered (at least, that was what he'd told himself).

Such was the uneasy equilibrium he'd found himself settling into on that day behind the schoolhouse. Reading had become an escape for him, a temporary relief from the challenges of real life, and he'd looked forward to it every day.

"Anyway, " he continued, reminding himself that he needed to speak aloud for Sadie's benefit, "one day I was out there, reading my book, when a bunch of my classmates showed up, and one of them - this girl - came up to me. I didn't realize it until later, but they'd been talking beforehand, and I'm not really sure why, for some reason they'd made a bet with her that she wouldn't…" the words caught in his throat before he forced them out, "that she wouldn't kiss me." His voice lowered in embarrassment. "I guess they underestimated her, because...well, she won that bet."

The words sounded so simple coming out of his mouth, but it really hadn't been that simple.

He'd been surprised by the arrival of his peers, and hadn't known what to make of the poorly-concealed smirks on their faces. The girl had sidled over, coming to sit beside him on the bench, and had asked him what he was reading. He'd hesitantly replied, trying to reconcile the seemingly polite inquiry with the mocking look in her eyes, and had found himself nervously rambling about the book in question, pushing past the uneasy feeling that the query hadn't been sincere in the first place.

She'd interrupted him mid-sentence, shoving the book aside. "Looks like the quiet new kid can open his mouth after all," she'd taunted before grabbing him by the collar and leaning in.

He could still remember the dull thud of his book hitting the ground, the split second of confusion as her lips crashed into his, and the feeling of utter shock and bewilderment followed by the racing thought that no, he didn't want this! and the urge to push her away, which was checked only by the vaguely-recalled principle he'd been brought up with: that he should never, under any circumstances, raise his hand against a girl.

The kiss had been rough and thorough and its conclusion had been marked by enthusiastic shouts from the onlookers as the girl rose and returned to her friends to be applauded for her audacity. Davey had been frozen, sitting there on the bench watching it all unfold, his mind trying to make sense of what had just happened and what he was hearing...

...and then he'd seen the money change hands. And that was when her actions and his classmates' remarks suddenly all fit together, when he'd realized that she'd done it for a bet, a bet involving him that he'd had no say in. A bet that she'd easily won. A bet that had left her with a handful of pocket change and had left him feeling confused and ashamed and even more alone than before.

After all accounts had been settled between his classmates, they'd left with barely a look in his direction, and he'd been the only one behind the schoolhouse again, sitting in stunned silence with his forgotten book at his feet. His thoughts had been jumbled and his emotions had been roiling and above all he'd been desperately trying to make sense of what would have caused them to do it...but he'd never come to a satisfactory conclusion.

It had taken all of his courage to return to the schoolroom when the lunch recess was over, to walk past his classmates and slide into his seat, head down, trying not to let his emotions show on his face even as he struggled to focus on the lesson. He'd had an exam that afternoon which he'd thoroughly prepared for but ended up failing miserably, and the sting of his poor performance had only compounded his anguish.

It had all just been a joke to them, a way of making their lunch recess a little more entertaining, something that they would forget about in a matter of days, if they hadn't forgotten about it already...

...but did they know that the quiet new kid who'd been on the receiving end of their insensitivity - who was already so painfully aware that he didn't fit in - wouldn't be able to forget, no matter how much he wanted to?

He'd gotten even more quiet after that, rarely speaking in class unless he felt that there was no other option, continuing to endure his classmates' verbal barbs without a word, and simply trying to make it one day at a time, pouring himself into his studies and attempting to ignore the rest. When his father had finally announced that the family would be moving to Manhattan, Davey had been immensely relieved. A new neighborhood meant a new school where he could start over again. And while moving was never easy and change always brought about a degree of unsettledness, he had tentatively hoped that it would be a turn for the better.

And that was where he now found himself, in a far different situation, facing a girl who might have been careless and impulsive at times, but who he knew in his heart would never have done something so callous as his former classmates, even on her worst days.

"So yeah, that's what happened," Davey said quietly. "I never figured out why they did it. And I probably should have gotten over it a long time ago. But I just..." he paused, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I guess it just hurt a little," he concluded. "To know that I was so different that they didn't even see me as someone who had feelings. That I was just a joke to them."

He abruptly shook off the memories, forcing a laugh. "Anyway, it's ridiculous, right? None of that has anything to do with you. There's next to no connection between what happened to me and what you and Margaret said, and that's why you have nothing to apologize for, Sadie. It was just an irrational reaction on my part, and I shouldn't have let it get to me. It's past now, and it really doesn't matter." He gave her a hesitant smile. "Does that clear things up a bit?"

He'd hoped that the explanation would make her feel better, but instead she looked even more troubled than before.

"Sadie, what's wrong?" he asked quickly. "You know I'm not angry at you, right? Especially now that you know how absurd I was being."

"You weren't being absurd," she protested.

"Of course I was. It happened years ago."

"Davey, what happened to you - " she bit her lip, and he was surprised to see that she was so upset that she was struggling to complete her sentence. "It wasn't right," she finally finished, her voice heavy with emotion. "It doesn't matter how long ago it happened. It doesn't matter how different they thought you were."

He shrugged uncomfortably. "There's nothing that can be done about it now." This wasn't where he'd intended for the conversation to go. He'd only meant to show her how uncalled for his response to her remarks had been; he hadn't intended for her to fixate on the incident from the past or on how it had made him feel.

An uneasy silence settled between them. Sadie continued to quietly brood, while Davey found himself conflicted over his impulsive decision to elaborate.

After what felt like hours, Sadie finally broke the silence.

"It makes sense why the careless words that were spoken on the way to the park would have affected you," she said slowly. "You had every right to be off-put by them, and you had every reason to be wary of Margaret and me after that. But I want you to know that we never meant to be unkind or to put you down, and that we didn't actually bet on anything concerning you." She looked up at him, serious and sad, and the compassion in her eyes touched something in him, made the protective wall he'd built around the memory crumble just a little.

"I didn't really think you had," he answered honestly. "And I understood why you said it. I know I'm different - quiet, I mean. Except for when I'm not." He gave her a slightly-embarrassed smile. "That's probably why most people don't know what to do with me, and why it takes me a while to make friends whenever I move to a new school. It's actually been a lot easier this time, though. And that's because of you."

"I can't take credit for that," Sadie shook her head. "I may have introduced you to some of my friends, but they do like you for yourself, even though they haven't gotten to know you well yet. You and Les are both well spoken of at school, though perhaps our classmates are a bit more shy about approaching you than your brother." She gave him a tiny smile. "You might not realize this, Davey...but you're actually rather intimidating. It was quickly apparent that you were one of the brightest among us even after you'd only been in school for a few days, and after that you helped to lead the newsboy strike and had your picture in the paper..."

The possibility had never crossed his mind before. Intimidating? Him?

"I guess I never thought about it that way," he admitted.

"I'm just fortunate that I got to know you outside of school first," Sadie said, her smile growing slightly. "I'm sure I would have been just as awestruck as the rest of our classmates had I come to know you only through your academic performance and sudden rise to fame. I probably would have been equally incapable of approaching you and forming a coherent sentence for fear that I might say something foolish! But," she added, a bit teasingly, "since I had the advantage of meeting you before all that, I've managed to remain immune to your prestige. I know what the rest of our classmates don't: that Davey Jacobs gets occasionally outwitted by his little brother and does laundry when he's preoccupied and looks completely ridiculous in a paint-stained shirt." Her smile was practically a smirk now. "All of that extra knowledge has humanized you just a bit."

The playful impishness that he'd come to associate with her was back, and it made him happy to see it, even if she was poking fun at him.

"I doubt you would have looked much more dignified if our roles had been reversed and I'd spilled the paint on you," he remarked wryly.

"But you'd never do something as irresponsible and ridiculous as that," she pointed out. "You're much too sensible."

"That's what you think, Sadie." He gave her a small, tentative smile. "But I wouldn't bet on it."

The significance of his word choice was not lost on her, and he could feel the last bit of tension between them melting away.

"You are a conundrum, Davey Jacobs," she murmured, suddenly sounding serious again, but he didn't miss the grateful look that she gave him or the way she visibly relaxed at his lighthearted statement. He was thankful that he'd finally managed to relieve her distress, and he realized that the uneasiness he'd been living with for the past few days seemed to have dissipated as well.

Clearly this friendship and its restoration meant more to him than he'd thought.

The conversation came to a lull again, but this time it was not an uneasy one.

"Well, I guess we should both be on our way," Davey said eventually. "You've got a full day of school ahead of you, and I've got a full day of selling."

"You're right, I suppose we should," Sadie agreed.

But neither of them moved.

After a moment, Sadie took a step towards the door. "I'll say goodnight, then," she offered. "I'm grateful that our temporary misunderstanding has been resolved." Her hand came to rest on the doorknob, but instead of opening it, she turned, and her eyes came up to meet his. "Thank you for trusting me enough to disclose what you did," she said quietly. "I'm sure it was difficult to revisit those unpleasant memories...but I know that you did it to help me understand." She paused for a moment, then added, "I know you probably don't want to discuss this further, and I don't want to press you...but I do want you to know that you didn't deserve what happened to you, and that you weren't ridiculous at all for feeling the way that you did. You may be a bit of an enigma, Davey...but you are not a joke. Not in any sense of the word."

There was a gentle fierceness in her voice as that steely side of her - the one that he'd only glimpsed briefly on one or two occasions - showed itself for a moment, and Davey ducked his head, not knowing what to say but touched by her fervency on his behalf. "Thank you for caring enough to listen," he answered simply. He'd never told anyone about that day behind the schoolhouse, and he never would have imagined that he'd end up telling her (or that she would care so much about it), but though it had been painful to recall the past, he found himself actually glad that he had done it. Someone else finally knew. He wasn't carrying that secret alone anymore.

Sadie smiled. "I'm glad you came to Manhattan," she said softly, and he wasn't sure if it meant that she was simply grateful he was no longer at the school that had caused him so much grief or if she had intended to convey something else altogether, but it didn't matter at the moment.

He knew that she cared. And that was enough.

After bidding Sadie goodnight, Davey walked slowly down the stairs and back to his family's apartment. He let himself in quietly, not sure if the rest of his family was already in bed for the evening. His parents had retired and were nowhere in sight, but Les was still up, already in his pajamas but sitting on the side of the bed, playing with a slingshot Finch had loaned him.

"Sure took you long enough," he remarked as Davey closed the door behind him. "Were you and Sadie canoodling? There's no way you were reviewing the lesson this whole time."

If it had been any other night, Davey probably would have responded to the rather inappropriate question with a stern lecture or a sarcastic remark, but he found himself too pensive to make a sharp retort that evening.

"We just had a lot to talk about, Les," he said, hanging his cap by the door and setting his slate and the books down on the kitchen table.

His brother gave him a disappointed look. "You're hopeless, David," he declared. "You spend multiple nights a week, every week, practically alone with the girl you're sweet on, and you can't even make a move! You should at least try to impress her with all of that useless knowledge you have in your head. I'm not sure what else you have going for you."

"Sadie and I aren't alone," Davey reminded him. "Abby's always there, and Mr. Becker comes in and out all the time getting things from his office. Even if we were, that's not what our tutoring sessions are for, and I'm not sweet on Sadie - it's possible to just be friends with someone and to respect them and enjoy their company without having any romantic feelings attached."

"But you're always hanging around her, and you said she has a pretty smile!" Les protested.

"I do spend a lot of time with Sadie because she's tutoring me and we have some other things in common," Davey said calmly. "But that's all. And I was sleep-talking when I said that she had a pretty smile. I didn't know what I was saying."

"So you don't think her smile's pretty?" Les demanded.

"That's irrelevant to our discussion," Davey replied. "Look," he continued, "I know this may be hard for you to understand, but I'm just telling you the truth. I don't want you to have the wrong idea about what's going on, all right?" He gave his brother a pointed look.

"You're hopeless," the younger boy repeated, flopping dejectedly onto the bed. It was far from the agreement Davey had been aiming for, but he could tell from Les' defeated tone that he knew his older brother's disclosure had been honest and that there was nothing for him to do now but to accept the truth. There was a difference between appreciation and affection, after all, and Davey knew exactly what he was dealing with here.

Les would just have to get over his disappointment.


A/N: A lot in that chapter. Thanks for hanging in there with this plot point, gracious readers - resolution was a long time coming, but it's here now, and hopefully this additional context makes Davey's earlier reaction to Sadie and Margaret's words (and his hesitance in general) a little easier to understand. As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts if you're willing to share! Your feedback is an invaluable source of encouragement and inspiration to me.

And if anyone reading this is having one of those days where you're feeling discouraged because you're different, please know that you are important and valuable despite what others may say to the contrary. You are not a joke. You are not a mistake. You are here for a reason, and the world needs the good of what you uniquely have to offer.