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


Chapter 61: Between Brothers

There was no other way around it, Davey thought. He was going to have to do something about his shoes soon.

Previous to his life as a newsboy, his footwear had been serviceable enough and had generally lasted several seasons without needing to be replaced, but all of the walking necessitated by his new profession had worn through the already-thin soles of his leather boots in no time, and his feet were starting to ache now with every step that he took. He'd pushed through the discomfort for the last few days, but the dull pain was getting worse to the point where he could no longer ignore it.

It would be expensive to get his shoes repaired, but it would cost even more to replace them, and he wasn't sure if his family could afford it. His father's injury had continued to slowly improve, but something seemed off about how the leg was healing, and Davey had quietly agonized over the fact that his father refused to see a doctor because he feared the cost of treatment would be too much. Davey had tried to work out the numbers one evening, scribbling away on a scrap of paper, adding up the amount of his income from plus his mother's earnings from her employment at the factory and trying to weigh that against their expenses, grasping to find any kind of margin whatsoever to convince his father that they could cover the cost of his medical expenses, but in the end, he'd given up. Things were just too tight at the moment.

Davey knelt down to examine his boots, wondering if it would be possible to make the repairs himself, but he quickly realized that he lacked not just the knowhow, but the materials, and that he didn't really have the time to try to figure out a way around paying for the expense. Aching feet meant slower walking and limited ground that he could cover to sell his papers, which meant that his sales would decline and his earnings would drop and then that would mean real trouble. The wisest thing to do would be to get his shoes repaired as soon as possible. It would set him back - both in terms of money and time - but it was really the only long-term option. He couldn't afford to get hurt on the job.

It was a simple enough decision, he supposed, but complicating the matter was the fact that he still had a half-full bag of newspapers to sell. He'd have to stop by the tenement to get some more money before he could head to the cobbler's, and depending on how long it took for the repairs, he might not be able to make it back to the distribution center before it closed, which meant he wouldn't be able to sell his papers back and would have to either take the loss or else stay out late until he'd sold the last copy. He could head to the distribution center first and sell back his papers, ensuring that he wouldn't come out with a deficit, but that would also mean resigning himself to not making any more money for that day.

Deciding to take the chance, Davey turned in the direction of the tenement, calling out the headlines as he went. He sold a copy of The World to a man in a business suit, and then a few to a group of women passing by on their way to the market, and soon afterwards, a white-haired elderly lady even gave him a dime and kindly told him to keep the change. (He wondered if the pain was beginning to show on his face, or if he was starting to inadvertently limp a little, and almost had to smile wryly at the realization that he was employing one of the newsies' most common techniques to sell their papers, though in this case the discomfort was far from feigned).

He was about three blocks away from the tenement, halfway between school and home, when his attention was suddenly arrested by the sight of a familiar figure. Davey squinted, trying to make sure that he wasn't seeing things, but as he got a better look, he saw that he hadn't been mistaken, and alarm immediately surged through him even as he began to quicken his pace, shoving the newspaper he'd been holding back into his bag and ignoring the dull pain shooting through his heels with every step that he took.

"Les!" he called out, trying to catch his brother's attention. "Les!" School wasn't due to be over for another hour at least, and even if class had been dismissed early, Les should have been walking home with the Becker sisters and Margaret as he usually did, not wandering around Manhattan by himself.

At first, the nine-year-old didn't respond to his brother's attempts to get his attention, but finally he turned around, and Davey, now only a few yards away, had to stop himself from panicking even further when he saw that his brother's clothes were dirty and ragged, and that the area around his left eye looked red and swollen.

"What happened, Les?" he demanded, reaching his brother's side and immediately kneeling down to look him over. "Did someone hit you?"

"I got in a fight," Les answered, his voice a mixture of sullenness and defiance. "And if you think I look bad, you should see the other kid!"

Davey stared at him. "You got in a fight?" he echoed. "At school?"

"Where else?"

"Les, what were you thinking?"

"He called me a liar, David!" Les burst out. "I was telling some of the boys in class about how I helped Jack and the rest of the newsies stop The World, and about how we ran a city-wide rally and snuck into Pulitzer's basement and met the governor and everything, and he said that I was a lying little guttersnipe, and that I was making it up!"

"It doesn't matter what he said to you, Les! You cannot just take a swing at everyone who taunts you!"

"But he was wrong!" Les protested. "I wasn't lying!"

Davey stood up, trying his best to temper his frustration. He already had too much on his mind, and having to factor in the unexpected complication of Les' recalcitrance was only making things more difficult. "Why aren't you at school?" he demanded, perhaps more sharply than he intended. "Did you get sent home?"

Les scowled. "I wish."

"You mean you're supposed to be at school right now? You just got up and left?"

The younger boy folded his arms across his chest, refusing to speak...but the defiance in his eyes was answer enough.

Davey made an exasperated sound. "Come on." He put his hands on Les' shoulders and turned him in the direction of the schoolhouse. "You're going back to school. You can't just get up and leave like that without telling anyone." He began to propel the younger boy down the street, but to his surprise, Les dug his heels in and forcefully pushed Davey's hands away, turning around to face him.

"I'm not going back there, David," he said fiercely. "I don't care what you or anyone else says!"

"This is non-negotiable, Les. You're going back to school, and you're going to have to figure out a way to make it work. Your education is too important for you to be getting into trouble and starting fights like this." Davey paused, then added sternly, "You can do better than that."

He expected Les to respond with another indignant outburst, but to his surprise, tears suddenly welled up in the younger boy's eyes.

"Don't you get it, David?" he sniffled angrily. "I'm not like you, all right?" He swiped his hand across his eyes, dashing the tears away. "Maybe going to school is your idea of fun, but you knew I hated it and you still told Mom to send me back while you got to stay with the newsies! And she listened to you of course, because you're the oldest and the responsible one who's always right!"

"Les - "

"I liked selling papes, and I was good at it, too!" Les continued. "Jack said so! But you had to ruin it. You didn't even ask me what I wanted before you talked to Mom. It's the one thing I was good at, David - the one thing I was better at than you! Why did you have to take that away from me?"

"Les - "

"Everyone thinks you're so smart and so responsible and so mature for your age, and they're always asking me why I can't be more like you! And I hate it, okay? I'm not like you, and I never will be! So you can just stop asking!"

Les' assertion was accompanied by a fresh round of angry tears as Davey stood stock still beside him, trying to wrap his mind around everything that he'd just heard.

The fact that he and Les were fundamentally different wasn't a revelation in any sense of the word; that reality had been clear for years. They didn't look alike, didn't talk alike, didn't act alike, and while the discrepancy between their attitudes towards school was one of their most striking differences, Davey had never realized that Les was so aware of (or so affected by) that contrast. He knew that the transition back to the classroom after newsboy life had been difficult, but he would have never expected that it would result in the kind of frustration that would have caused Les to physically act out his anger.

Compounding the problem seemed to be the pressure (perceived or real) that Les felt to be like Davey. That, too, was surprising. Their parents, it seemed, tried their best not to compare the two boys, but perhaps there was an unspoken expectation there that Davey was oblivious to. Les had never hinted at this before - in fact, the impression that Davey generally had was that his younger brother wanted to be as little like him as possible. He seemed to admire boys who were confident and boisterous, boys like Jack and Race, and he disparaged Davey's more serious demeanor on a regular basis. Compliments were rare and mild insults were common, and given the choice, Les would always choose to go off with one of Davey's friends rather than hang around with Davey himself. But maybe there was more to the story than that.

Davey had never really thought about what it would feel like to have an older brother - particularly, what it would feel like to have an older brother whose interests and personality were vastly different than his own. He probably would have felt the pressure to live up to a precedent too if he'd been in that situation.

Glancing over at Les, Davey saw that he was rubbing his eyes with his shirtsleeve and immediately felt remorseful. He hadn't listened well when the younger boy had explained the situation just moments ago - he'd heard the words...but he'd been so caught up in his own worries that he hadn't stopped to really listen to what Les was trying to say. He'd approached the situation as a problem to be solved rather than an opportunity to understand.

"Les," he said gently, "...I'm sorry."

Les' tear-filled eyes shot up to his brother's in surprise.

"I'm sorry," Davey repeated, putting his hand on the younger boy's shoulder. "I didn't know you felt that way...about school, and about me. I didn't realize it's been so hard for you."

"That's because everything comes easy to you," Les sniffled.

"School maybe does," Davey conceded. "But...there are a lot of things that I'm not good at."

"Like what?" Les asked, sounding incredulous.

"Well...speaking up, especially when I'm around people I don't know. Selling papes. Making friends easily. And telling people how I really feel. You're better at all of those things than me."

"But you do speak up around people you don't know," Les countered. "What about the rally? And you've got lots of friends! What do you call Jack and Race and the newsies? What do you call Abby and Sadie?"

"I'm thankful that I was able to give that speech at the rally and that I've been able to make friends with the newsies and the Beckers," Davey conceded. "But none of that came easily to me. When I walked out there in front of the crowd in Irving Hall, I was pretty scared - terrified, actually. And when I met Jack and Race, I wasn't sure if I could trust them - I thought that Jack was trying to steal my papers and that Race was a complete nuisance at first. I didn't want to have anything to do with either of them. With Sadie I was just as bad. I was so annoyed at her for ruining my shirt that I didn't even try to get to know her. I wrote her off from the start, and it wasn't until later that I realized I'd misjudged her. I had to change my first impressions about all of them, because I was wrong." It was a little embarrassing to admit, but it was the truth.

"So yeah, there's a lot I'm not good at," Davey reiterated, smiling a little ruefully at Les. "The same goes for the other things I mentioned, too. They're not easy for me. I have to try really hard to do them well, and even then I don't always succeed."

The younger boy didn't say anything in response, but Davey could tell that he was mulling over the disclosure.

"Les," Davey said, kneeling down to look his brother in the eye, "I do expect you to go back to school and to try your best...but I want you to know that I don't expect you to be like me. We may come from the same family, but we're different people. And you've got talents and abilities that I only wish I had. You're great at making friends, you pick up on things quickly, and you're the bravest almost-ten-year-old that I know." He gave Les a small smile. "Don't let other people's doubts tell you who you are, all right?" he said softly, setting his hands on his brother's shoulders. "They might not believe you when you tell them about the strike, but you know it's true, and the people who matter know it's true, and that's what's important."

Les sniffed loudly and wiped his nose with his shirtsleeve, but he nodded.

"Good." Davey got to his feet and immediately felt the dull ache returning. He wished that he could spare some money to buy Les a small treat on the way back to school, but he knew that he would already be spending several day's earnings on his shoe repairs, so he regretfully dismissed the thought.

"Are you ready to go back to school, Les?" he asked.

"I'll never be ready," the younger boy sighed. "But I guess you're right - I'd better go back to make sure Sadie and Abby aren't worried when they can't find me after class."

"You'll need to explain to the schoolmaster, too," Davey reminded him. "He's probably wondering where you disappeared to."

"He's the one that sent me to wait outside in the first place," Les muttered. "He said he was going to come and have a talk with me, but I figured I'd save him the trouble and skip out before he got there."

"Well...you're going to have to have that talk with him," Davey said as the two of them began walking in the direction of the school house. "He probably just wants to know what happened and to make sure that it doesn't happen again. It'll be good if you can explain your side of the story. I'm sure he knows that you don't usually react like this."

Les shrugged, but he was keeping pace without complaint, so Davey took it as a good sign and said nothing further.


The majority of the relatively short walk back to school was spent in silence. Les plodded along next to David, subdued and thoughtful. He was reluctant to return to the classroom, but he knew that there was no way around it - his punishment would likely get heavier the longer he put it off. And despite the fact that he cared very little about upsetting the schoolmaster, he really didn't want to make Sadie and Abby worry.

What will Mom and Dad say? Les thought to himself, kicking at a few stray rocks. If there hadn't been any visible evidence of the fight, he would have been sorely tempted to plead or bargain with David for his secrecy, but even if the older boy agreed not to say anything about it, the proof was there on Les' face. He couldn't hide a swollen eye.

The fact that he'd clearly bested his opponent - who had been both a year older and slightly bigger - had felt more gratifying in the heat of the moment, and Les, full of adrenaline, fury, and righteous indignation, had initially thought when he'd defiantly left school that he would hit the streets to find Jack to tell him about his victory...but he'd forgotten that David, the one newsie who wouldn't be impressed by his derring-do, was roaming the very same streets as well, and it had been just Les' luck that David had been the first one to spot him.

He hadn't meant to fly off the handle at his brother like that. He did hate the pressure of people expecting him to be like David...but he certainly didn't hate David, and David was probably the only authority figure in Les' life who had never voiced or even hinted at the idea that Les ought to be more like him.

The fact that David had readily admitted to struggling had surprised Les, mostly because he'd always assumed that David was good at everything...or, at least, everything that mattered. The one exception had been selling papes - that had been the very first time that Les had observed a crack in his brother's otherwise-unwavering competence, and by contrast, selling papes had come easily to Les...so maybe that was part of the reason why being forced to give it up had hurt so much. That, and the fact that going back to school meant he couldn't spend time with Jack and Race and the rest of the newsies. Les liked having a built-in group of friends, and the fact that they were older only made it more exciting. The newsies had welcomed the Jacobs brothers into their ranks, and Les had settled in among them without a second thought. He hadn't even considered the thought that David's adjustment process might not have been so easy.

Les had always figured that his older brother didn't have more friends because he didn't want more friends, preferring to stay close to a few rather than socializing with as many as possible. This was, in all likelihood, still true...but Les hadn't realized that maybe David's social circle was more select because he didn't easily trust people or fall into camaraderie with them the way Les did. Les was outgoing and enthusiastic and he wore his heart on his sleeve, but David's heart was probably buried somewhere beneath layers of responsibility and cautious concern. If he had stronger personal feelings about anything - hope or fear or disappointment or joy - he rarely showed it...but now that Les thought about it, it seemed reasonable to think that his brother would probably want to express these things...at least on occasion.

Why did he hold back so much? Les wondered. He glanced up at David and saw that the older boy was deep in thought, his hands shoved into his pockets and his brow furrowed into a look of concentration. His newsboy bag, Les noted, was half-full, so he wondered if David was worried about being able to sell all his papes. Maybe being preoccupied and worried was part of being the oldest. If that was the case, Les certainly didn't envy his brother one bit.

All too soon they arrived at the school yard.

David slowed to a stop in front of the gate. "Do you want me to go in with you, Les?" he asked. The question was a generous one; Les knew that his brother in all likelihood wanted to walk him into the classroom to make sure that things got smoothed over in a satisfactory manner with the schoolmaster...but the fact that he was giving Les the choice showed that he was trusting him enough to do the right thing.

"I've got it from here," Les answered. He didn't want to be escorted back like a little kid if he could help it.

David nodded. "Make sure to talk to Mom and Dad about what happened today when you get home," he said. "I have to stop by there to pick up something before I get back to selling, but I'll let you be the one to talk to them first."

Another unexpected boon.

"Oh, and Les?" David added, just as the younger boy was about to head through the gate. "You'll probably have to ask Mom to help you with your assignments tonight. I might not be home in time to look them over with you."

"Are you going out with the newsies?" Les asked, a bit enviously.

David shook his head. "No...I think I might just need a little more time to finish selling. But if I don't make it home before you go to bed, I'll see you in the morning, all right?"

Les nodded and walked through the gate, trudging slowly towards the schoolhouse. Before he got to the door, he turned to look over his shoulder and saw David standing there at the gate. And it suddenly dawned on Les that, as much as he was reluctant to go back to school, he wasn't the only one stuck doing something that he didn't enjoy. It wasn't even a matter of enjoyment alone for David - their family's survival and well-being rested on his shoulders in the form of that bag of papers, and he was bearing the burden alone, carrying the weight of The World so that Les didn't have to.

The older boy had turned and was just beginning to walk away when Les called out, "David, wait!" He sprinted back towards the gate, ran through it, and barreled into his brother with enough force to make David stagger back a few steps, his arms pinned to his sides by Les' exuberant hug.

"Love you, David," Les muttered into the older boy's shirt. "Even if you're a complete stick-in-the-mud."

David chuckled. "Love you too, Les," he replied. "Even if you're more than a handful sometimes."

"You mean I keep your life interesting," Les corrected, unable to resist getting in the last word. He stepped back. "Without me, you'd probably be really boring."

"Well...I guess you could say that." David smiled. "But without me, you'd probably be really reckless."

"How's that a bad thing?"

"You'll understand when you're older," David replied, grabbing Les' bowler and ruffling his hair. "And maybe…" he held the hat overhead, "...when you're a little bit taller."

"Hey!" Les scowled, jumping and failing to retrieve the target. "Give it back! I have to get to school."

David lowered his arm with a grin, and Les snatched the bowler, settling it back on his head indignantly.

"All right, no more playing around," the older boy said. "It's back to school for you, and back to selling papes for me."

Les obligingly made his way back through the gate, a little more lightheartedly this time, and when when he turned back at the door of the schoolhouse to look for David, his brother gave him an encouraging nod and a small smile, then raised his hand in farewell before turning to head off down the street.

Les watched until he had disappeared...and then he squared his shoulders and entered the schoolhouse. He wasn't looking forward to what awaited, but he would man up and face it head on.

He, like David, had a job to do.


A/N: It's a rare occasion when Les isn't fulfilling his familial obligation to torment Davey's life out, but I think there's a side to him that can be a little more sensitive, even if it rarely shows itself. :) Thanks for reading, friends! I'd love to hear what you thought of this chapter even if it's just a word or two, and I hope that you'll join me next week as Davey and Sadie team up to solve an unexpected problem. Until then, take care and stay safe! :)