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


Chapter 63: Seeing the Future

"So, the clever and ingenious David Jacobs thinks I'm bright?" Sadie teased as she and Davey made their way down the stairs. "Assuming my father wasn't making that up, I'd sorely like to know what would have possessed you to say such a thing!"

"What do you mean?" Davey asked, still trying to get over his residual embarrassment (though he wasn't entirely sure what he had to be embarrassed about).

"I mean, I don't believe anyone's ever called me that before," Sadie answered, still sounding amused.

Davey gave her a slightly-confused look. "You are smart, Sadie. I've never told you that?"

"You haven't," she replied. "But you certainly don't need to say so just to be polite, though I thank you for the compliment all the same."

"I'm not saying it just to be polite," Davey insisted. "I don't say things unless I mean them."

The fervency in his voice was probably out of place considering that she was taking a rather lighthearted approach to the subject, but he couldn't bring himself to regret it. It was true, after all - he did think that she was bright, and he wouldn't have said so unless it was an honest conviction. At any rate, his words surprised her, and she didn't say anything for a moment, but once they reached the bottom of the stairs and began walking down the street, she seemed to recover her wit.

"Well, I suppose there's a first time for everything," she remarked cheerfully. "And it pleases me to know that I haven't slipped in your esteem, despite the ample opportunities you've had to observe my indifference towards academic pursuits."

Far from it, Davey thought, though he chose not to disclose the sentiment aloud. "There's a difference between enjoying school and being smart," he said instead. "For some people, those two things go together, but there are others I know who don't like school at all or don't even attend it, and they're very bright. The newsies, for example. Jack's an amazing artist; he's never been to school for it, but he's taught himself how to paint, and he makes these amazing backdrops for Miss Medda, the owner of Irving Hall. Race is one of the cleverest people I know, and I don't think he's had much or any schooling to speak of. Elmer can do mental math quicker than I can, and he sometimes helps the other newsies keep track of their expenses, but he learned all of that from his dad - he hasn't been to school since he was five and has told me that he has no interest in going back. And Sniper handles his work as a newsie as well as a job at his family's laundry and has to help his parents with their bookkeeping since their grasp of English isn't as good as his. Most of the boys don't have time to go to school, and even if they did, I'm not sure that they'd care to, but they're still undoubtedly intelligent." He gave Sadie a small smile. "You're in good company."

"They all sound like such interesting people," she sighed. "I know that being a newsboy is no walk in the park, but you're making me wish that I could take a reprieve from school for just a few days to meet these friends of yours and try my hand at hawking headlines. Perhaps I'd discover a talent I didn't know I possessed!"

The last statement was said somewhat facetiously, but he could tell that she actually did want to meet the newsies, and he found himself suddenly wondering if he could find a way to grant her that wish. Before he could think through the logistics of how such a scenario could be brought about, however, Sadie changed the subject.

"Speaking of the newsboys," she said, "how have things been for all of you lately? It's been…" she paused, counting in her head, "...just over a month since the strike was settled. Have the terms you negotiated with The World brought about better working conditions the way you'd hoped?"

"Things are definitely better," Davey said. "We weren't able to get the newspaper prices back down to where they were before, but we did settle on a buyback policy that allows us to sell back the papers we aren't able to move. It's a relief to not have to take the loss if it's a slow day or if the headline's bad. And in general, I think it's helped The World's circulation more than it's hurt it, so it's been a mutually beneficial arrangement."

"Has it made you a bit more inclined to boldly rush in against the powers that be?" Sadie asked.

Davey gave her a wry smile. "I'm not any more adventurous or impulsive, if that's what you mean," he said. "But I guess I'm a little less afraid of speaking up and a little more hopeful that sometimes things can change for the better if you're willing to take a risk and fight for what you really want. The strike probably had a lot to do with that."

"I'm sure you never imagined when you moved to Manhattan that you'd get caught up in something so big," Sadie mused.

"Never in a million years," Davey agreed. "It's a good thing I didn't know what was coming; I would have run in the opposite direction."

They turned onto Broadway, and Sadie led the way to Lenzi's Drugstore, which stood in the middle of the block between a barbershop and a delicatessen. Davey had walked past the establishment often enough, but he'd never had an occasion to go inside, though he knew that his mother had stopped by a few times to pick up supplies for his father.

"Now that the strike is over, what are you working towards at present?" Sadie asked as he held the door open so that she could enter. "Surely someone with a mind as strategic as yours wouldn't be simply content to rest on his laurels. There must be some kind of scheme brewing in the back of your head at the moment."

Davey laughed. "Actually, right now I'm just trying to figure out what my role is supposed to be with the newsies now that the strike is over. I want to support Jack and the other leaders somehow, but I don't really have any experience to offer - I have a hard enough time just selling my daily quota of papers as it is! But hopefully I'll figure that out eventually." He paused, then added, "I also want to finish school with the rest of our class, if I can. It's only one more year."

"And after that?" Sadie prompted as they sat down at the lunch counter.

"After that, I'm not sure," Davey admitted. "Find a job, I guess. Try to figure out a way to work for positive change wherever I end up." He shrugged, giving her a small smile. "Sorry if that's a disappointing answer. I do want my work - and my life - to count for something, but I don't know what that something is supposed to be yet. The strike was...empowering, I guess you could say. It gave me something clear to fight for. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be fighting for now."

It was one of the most honest disclosures he'd ever made regarding his struggles to adjust after the strike, and he found himself once again amazed that he'd confided in her so readily. But he shouldn't have been surprised - she had a way of drawing him out that was so natural and easy that he didn't even realize how much he was divulging until the words had already left his mouth.

"Sometimes the simple tasks of each day can be challenging enough," Sadie offered, breaking into his thoughts. He looked over at her, and her smile was kind. "It's probably ill-advised to go looking for battles to fight; they're sure to come along in due time, and when it's your battle, you'll know. Moments of peace and simplicity are rare enough without us rushing to leave them behind. We shouldn't feel bad for enjoying them."

He remembered her expressing a similar sentiment before when he'd been disclosing his concerns about the strike, and he felt the same odd sense of reassurance settling upon him as he reflected on her words. The anxieties of both the present and the future continued to hum in the back of his mind...but somehow the simple reminder that it was perfectly fine to enjoy the moment kept those concerns from feeling so overwhelming, at least for the present.

"On that note," Sadie said, bringing him back once again, "you now have a difficult decision to make." She gestured to the letter board on the wall. "The ice cream options are there on the right, but if you'd prefer a soda, they've got quite a selection as you can see."

Davey scanned the menu. There were so many choices that he wasn't sure how to sort through them all, and he still felt a little uneasy knowing that he was spending Mr. Becker's money on something as unnecessary as a treat, but if the landlord was going to be generous, Davey knew that he ought to put aside his scruples and savor the unexpected gift.

Finding himself a little thirsty, he made his decision. "I'll take a Coca-Cola," he told Sadie.

"Are you sure that's all you want?" she asked. "They've got lots of flavors, some that you can't get just anywhere, and you can order your soda with ice cream, too. You don't want to try something different?"

"Not adventurous, remember?" Davey smiled. "Just getting to have something cold to drink will be enough of a treat for me. And Coca-Cola's nostalgic, I guess you could say." He'd only had it twice before in his life: the first time was when he'd been seven and his father had shared a sip of the soda with him when they'd gone out to eat lunch to give Esther (then pregnant with Les) some much-needed time alone to rest. The second time was when they'd just moved to Queens and he and Les had been given some change to go to the drugstore after school, their parents perhaps sensing that the move had been hard on them and that a little treat could offset the burden, even if only for an afternoon.

"If you're sure," Sadie nodded. She hailed the soda jerk who came over to assist them.

"What can I get you two this afternoon?" he smiled.

"One Coca-Cola and one large cold custard, please," Sadie answered, setting some coins on the counter.

"Coming right up!" The young man swept the money into his hand and opened up the cash register to set it inside, then washed his hands briskly at the sink behind the counter. He picked up a glass and poured some syrup into it, then turned the spigot of the soda fountain and filled the glass with carbonated water.

"One Coca-Cola," he said, setting the beverage down between Sadie and Davey. "And…" he bent low and reached into the long icebox that sat behind the counter, "one large cold custard." Out came a shallow glass dish with a creamy-looking concoction resting in it.

"You want one or two straws for the drink?" the soda jerk asked.

"Just one," Sadie answered before Davey had time to get flustered by the question. "But may we have an extra dish and spoon for the custard, please?"

"Not a problem." Another dish and spoon appeared.

"Anything else I can get you folks?" the soda jerk asked, setting down some napkins.

"That will be all, thank you," Sadie smiled.

He gave her a little salute in return. "Well, just call if you think of anything. Enjoy!"

"Here Davey," Sadie said, enthusiastically spooning half of the custard into the extra bowl. "You have to try this. It's heavenly." She set the dish in front of him, giving him an eager smile.

"Are you sure? I don't need to eat half of your dessert," he protested (though he had to admit that the custard did look good).

"You'll want to eat every bite of it once you've tried it," she promised. "I ordered a large for a reason. You may not be venturesome by nature, but I did promise that I'd do my best to make an impulsive boy out of you, so getting you to at least sample a new dessert would be progress in the right direction."

She motioned to the custard. "Please, just give it a try."

He did as she insisted, and immediately found that she was right - the custard was delicious, sweet and creamy and cold with just a hint of vanilla layered into its velvety texture, and before Davey knew it, he'd devoured his entire portion and looked up from the empty dish to see Sadie regarding him with an amused expression.

"Was it any good?" she joked.

He set down the spoon. "I don't remember the last time I ate a dessert that tasty," he answered. "Thank you."

"See, Davey? Branching out can be fun sometimes." Sadie took a bite of her own serving, looking a little smug. "Anyhow," she continued, "where were we before we got sidetracked on the important business of sodas and custard and the like?"

"We were talking about the future," Davey said, taking a sip of his soda. He wondered, belatedly, if he should have offered her some of his drink since she'd split her dessert with him and it was only polite to return the favor, but he hadn't thought about asking for another glass.

"What about you?" he asked, pushing aside his uneasiness and hoping that he wasn't being rude by not offering to share. "What are your plans after you're done with school? Will you take on more hours at the tailor's, or are you hoping to pursue something else altogether?"

To his surprise, the question seemed to trouble her, and she didn't say anything for a moment, taking another deliberate bite of custard before answering.

"It's possible that I could continue to work at the tailor's and perhaps take on further responsibilities there," she answered vaguely. "Mr. Gorham has hinted at the opportunity before, and the thought has crossed my mind."

"But it's not what you really want?" Davey asked, surprising himself with the follow-up question. He normally wouldn't have pressed her - he could see that she wasn't entirely comfortable discussing it - but the sad look that had crossed her face only moments ago had tugged at something in him, and he'd found the candid question leaving his mouth before he could stop it.

Sadie, from what he'd observed, seemed to have an unwavering demeanor of cheerful optimism and good humor when it came to discussing matters of her personal life. She often laughed off subjects before they could turn too serious or steered the conversation away from herself with the adroitness of someone who was truly interested in others, but also knew how to parry. She was more than adept at drawing Davey out...but he hadn't been able to get her to disclose much about herself in return (the conversation they'd had about Lilly earlier in the afternoon was one of the few exceptions).

And so, instead of retracting his question, he waited. He could tell that she hadn't expected him to be so forthright, and that she was weighing how to answer.

"I'm grateful that I have a reliable work situation available to me after I finish school," she finally said, speaking with a hesitance that seemed almost out-of-character. "It's a relief to know that someone would want my services, and it's very generous of Mr. Gorham to keep a position open in case I'd like to assume it..." she trailed off. "But I suppose...if I'm being entirely honest with myself...it's not necessarily what I'd really want." She gave him a small, almost guilty, smile. "It sounds terribly ungrateful and foolish, doesn't it?"

"No, not at all," he answered quickly. "There's nothing wrong with having hopes and dreams that don't fall in line with your present reality." Before the strike, the statement would have been ironic coming from him, but in the past month and a half he'd gotten a taste of what could be, the tantalizing rush of grasping the near-impossible and actually attaining what had only been an aching thought or a fleeting hope before. And even though his pragmatic self knew that this wouldn't - couldn't - be the case in every circumstance, and even though he had no idea what he even wanted at the present moment, he couldn't help but wish that she could experience what he'd been fortunate enough to have walked through already - the exhilarating and gratifying thrill of a dream that, against all odds, had somehow crystalized into reality.

"So, setting aside the practical considerations and the expectations of other people, if you could do anything, what would it be?" he prompted.

Sadie looked away, scraping her spoon lightly against the almost-empty custard dish. "I'm sure any scenario I could dream up would be rather absurd," came her deflection.

"I've heard some pretty outlandish wishes," Davey persisted, thinking of the newsies. "Just because they're a stretch doesn't mean that they're not important."

She didn't say anything, and he wondered if he'd overstepped, but he was intrigued by this suddenly serious side of her, a side that he'd only seen fleeting glimpses of in the past. She'd brushed over those moments of gravity quickly at the time, and he'd been too hesitant and too slow to investigate further...but now that he'd caught her, he didn't want to let the moment pass without at least putting up a little resistance. At the very least, he wanted her to know that he cared about what she had to say.

Before he could give voice to his thoughts, Sadie broke the silence.

"I suppose," she said slowly, "that if I was to apply myself seriously to the question, I would like to do something to help families with people like Lilly. Not with her specific condition, per se. But families who have chosen to keep their disabled loved ones at home. To make more resources and support available to them so that they wouldn't feel so isolated." She brushed at her skirt. "I'm not sure what that would really look like, or what I could do to offset the problem...but it's been on my mind for several weeks now. It's not really all that exciting or realistic, but - " She stopped abruptly. "Well, as you can see, I haven't thought it through very well," she finished.

"Anyway, I can't even manage to boil potatoes without ruining them, so I doubt I'll be able to come up with any grand plans for improving a system that's been around for years," Sadie continued. "I suppose I ought to be thinking more about the future, though - it's coming, whether we like it or not, and we can certainly have a say in shaping it, as you and your fellow newsboys have proven!"

The brightness in her voice was clearly forced, and Davey found himself wishing that he could come up with the words to dispel the sadness that was behind it, but as usual, Sadie was too quick for him.

"One day, when I've had more opportunity to reflect on my own scattered thoughts regarding this matter, perhaps I'll have to consult with you on how one goes about changing the world," she said, a bit of her lightheartedness returning. "In any case, it was kind of you to humor me on the subject." She turned back to her custard.

"I wasn't humoring you, Sadie," Davey said quietly, finding himself unable to return so easily to blithe conversation. "I really wanted to know. And I think it's a good idea. There's clearly a need for the kind of resources you mentioned, and you know the reality of that better than most people. It makes sense that you'd want to bring about the kind of change that would help not just your family, but others struggling with the same things." He paused, then added gently, "Don't sell yourself short."

He saw her falter just a bit as she set her spoon down.

"Well...thank you for your assurance," she said. "I…" She trailed off again, biting her lip.

Davey waited silently.

Finally, Sadie looked up at him. "I'm sorry," she said frankly. "I was just caught off guard by the question. My...family went through a rather difficult season a little over a year ago, and I confess that I haven't thought so much about my future plans or dreams since then." She gave him a small smile. "But perhaps now that you've brought them again to my attention, I'll need to think on them further - "

"Aaand how was the custard, folks?" the cheerful voice of the soda jerk interjected. He cleared away the empty dishes and spoons and set them in the sink.

"Lovely as always," Sadie said, recovering quickly from the interruption. "It never disappoints."

"Happy to hear it," he grinned at her. "If you need anything else, just let me know." After giving the counter a quick wipe-down, he went to attend to another customer.

"Davey, you've hardly touched your soda," Sadie observed. "Is there anything wrong with it?"

"No, not at all," he said quickly. The Coca-Cola was exactly how he remembered it, and he'd been drinking it slowly, savoring it because he wasn't sure when he'd get to have it again, but now he realized that at the rate he was going, they'd easily be sitting there another half hour before he finished his beverage. He'd also been preoccupied with trying to wrap his mind around Sadie's disclosure and had, at moments, even forgotten that the drink was in front of him.

"There's no rush," Sadie said teasingly as he took a long sip. "You won't enjoy it if you gulp it down that way."

"We should be heading back," Davey answered. "I know your father said he was fine taking care of things for the time being, but it would probably help if we were there."

"True," Sadie sighed. "He certainly knew what he was doing, sending you along with me to make sure that I didn't merely loaf around and neglect to return at a reasonable hour." She gave him a cheeky grin. "Perhaps you'll make a responsible girl out of me before I manage to make an impulsive boy out of you."

"You got me to come here," Davey pointed out, returning the smile. "So if I get you to go back, we'll call it a draw."

"Fair enough," she agreed.

The conversation after that was lighthearted and easy, and eventually Davey finished his drink and they left the drugstore, turning their steps in the direction of the tenement as the sun began to sink low in the sky. Sadie didn't say much, seemingly content to walk in companionable silence, and Davey found himself similarly contemplative and thankful to have some time to reflect.

He'd stumbled upon another side of Sadie that afternoon that he hadn't expected, and it had been both surprising and gratifying somehow. He hadn't managed to truly get to the bottom of what had troubled her, and the brief disclosure she'd made about her family's difficult time made him wonder, but he sensed that now was not the time to press the issue. She'd let him in - if only for a moment - and perhaps in time she would feel comfortable enough to share the rest of the story with him and reveal how it intertwined with her dream. When she did, he hoped that he'd be able to find a way to help her untangle things. After everything she'd done for him, it was the least that he could do.


A/N: There's a lot more to Sadie Becker than meets the eye. Thanks for reading, friends! I'd love to hear what you thought if you're willing to share.