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


Chapter 81: Racetrack's Prediction

"Are you coming, Sadie?"

Sadie looked up to see Margaret standing next to her desk, waiting expectantly. "We decided to go to the park after all," the other girl continued. "It's still a bit chilly outside, but the sun finally broke through the clouds, and James brought his kite, so some of the boys are going to see if they can get it up in the air, providing that the breeze holds."

Sadie closed her school book and set it by her slate. She'd been engrossed in trying to wrap her mind around a particularly challenging passage of the morning's reading assignment, and hadn't even noticed that the lunch recess had been called.

"I'd love to go with you, Megs," she said, "but today's the day I'm going to go watch Davey and some of his newsie friends rehearse their performance of The Jungle Book."

"That's right," Margaret acknowledged. "You did tell me about that earlier this week. Where are you meeting them?"

"At one of the empty lots down the street from the Square." Sadie rose and pushed in her chair, and together the two girls left the school room.

"I'll be curious to hear what it's like to actually talk with the newsboys," Margaret ventured as they headed towards the street. "We've encountered them in passing often enough, but I'm sure they're different when they're not having to sell their wares. You'll have to tell me if they still flirt shamelessly even when they know that you aren't going to buy a paper from them."

"I'm sure it depends on the newsboy," Sadie shrugged. "But I'll certainly fill you in on anything interesting that happens."

"Please do."

They reached the corner where they would have to part ways, and Margaret smiled. "I'll miss your company at lunch today, but I do hope that you'll enjoy your date with David. I have to say that it's just like a bookish boy to get you to come listen to him and his friends read aloud, but if that's a strong point of his, it makes sense why he'd want you to see it."

"This is not a date, Margaret," Sadie said calmly, "and I essentially invited myself. Davey wouldn't have asked me to come if I hadn't told him that I was interested; he's doing it as a favor to me, not to show off. I'm inconveniencing his group by having them meet closer to school, and they're working around the lunch recess time so that I can be there."

"It was kind of him to go through so much trouble simply to please you!" Margaret remarked, smirking a little. "You must stand quite high in his esteem."

"Perhaps." Sadie glanced down the street, affecting indifference. "In any case, it would be rude for me to show up late, so I'll be off now, but I'll see you back in class, Megs."

"Have fun!" the other girl sang out before she turned to head in the opposite direction towards the park.

Sadie watched her go, then sighed as she waited for the traffic to clear so that she could cross the street. She had years of practice putting up with Margaret's teasing, and she knew that purported apathy was a more effective deterrent than fervent protest when it came to the other girl's teasing remarks, but sometimes the incessant badgering could get tiresome. Their badinage had been more even when Margaret had been unattached, but ever since she'd become James Miller's sweetheart, the odds had turned against Sadie, who was still unspoken for and thus subject to whatever vexing suppositions her friend could come up with.

Sadie had hoped that her forthright disclosure regarding her feelings about Davey would have mitigated Margaret's goading, but it seemed that nothing had changed since that conversation they'd had the afternoon following their outing to the theater. The other girl was apparently determined to tease, and Sadie would just have to put up with it until Margaret lost interest in the notion and let it go.

Spotting a break in the traffic, Sadie hurried across the street, securing her hat with her hand as a gust of chilly wind blew through the air.

She wondered if Davey's friends had given him a hard time about inviting a girl to watch their rehearsal. From what little she'd experienced of the newsies, she could imagine them being rather merciless in their teasing, since they were professional word-mongers and likely quick with their tongues, but Davey was so grounded and respectable that they likely wouldn't jump to conclusions if he explained the situation to them ahead of time.

She supposed that their friendship could look a bit suspect from an outsider's perspective. Between their tutoring lessons and relationship as neighbors, they spent a surprising amount of time together (though if anyone else had been present at those meetings, they would have easily seen that there was nothing between them other than a mutual respect and easy camaraderie). Of course, things would be getting a little less clear-cut with this encounter; coming together to accomplish a task was one thing, but meeting with the newsies served no practical purpose whatsoever - Davey had simply orchestrated the arrangement so that Sadie could sate her curiosity (and, ostensibly, so that his boys could get some practice performing in front of an audience). Their pending engagement to read together felt even less utilitarian, and Sadie had purposefully refrained from mentioning that particular event to Margaret, knowing that she would have a difficult time defending something so personal and superfluous as "not a date," even though it clearly wasn't.

If Davey had been a different kind of boy - almost any other kind of boy, really - she wouldn't have agreed to his proposition. It moved their friendship into uncharted, ambiguous territory, and the expectations usually associated with that move were ones Sadie was all too familiar with and not eager to come across any time soon. She couldn't afford a misstep that would lead to an unfortunate falling-out or grist for the gossip mill, for as much as she tried to remain unaffected by others' idle remarks, the fact was that she did care a little.

But Davey was different. He'd always been different - thoughtful and sincere and most of all focused. He didn't merely skim through life; he seemed to take it in instead, always thinking and processing and grappling with something, weighing and fashioning his thoughts and words like a craftsman (though she secretly enjoyed observing him in the moments where his control slipped and his rambling got the better of him). Everything he did, he did with intentionality, and everything he said could be taken at face value. And that was why Sadie knew that his invitation to read together was simply that and nothing more. His solicitation had held no ulterior motive or hidden agenda; he was simply asking her to do something with him that he enjoyed in the hope that she would enjoy it too.

She probably should have cared more about propriety - it wasn't exactly respectable to spend time with a boy like this when she had no intention of attaching herself to him (and he had no intention of pursuing her), but from the very start, their friendship had never fit into any of the prescribed boundaries of how a young man and a young lady should interact, and Sadie wasn't willing to give up their association merely to assuage the possibility of hearsay. Davey was different and their friendship was different, and that was just the long and short of it. They both knew where they stood, and if Margaret (and any other far less good-natured observers) chose to speculate, then that was their concern.

Turning the corner, Sadie walked a few yards down the street towards her destination. The empty lot stood between a cobbler's shop and a printer's, and it was small, only around fifteen feet across and less than twice that deep, but it was clean and clear of debris and provided some shelter from the wind, and when Sadie arrived, she saw that there were three boys sitting on several crates they'd upended as makeshift stools, though there was no sign of Davey.

They appeared to be in the middle of a game of cards, but one of them noticed her and quickly got to his feet. "Good afternoon, Miss," he greeted her, and at his words, the other two put down their cards and followed suit. "You ain't Davey's friend by any chance?" the same boy asked.

"That's me," Sadie smiled as she drew near. "I'm Sadie. It's a pleasure to meet you…"

"Elmer," the boy beamed. "And this bummer next to me is Jojo, and the other one's Tucker. Davey just went down the street to see if he could spot'cha, but he oughta be back any moment." He motioned to the crate that he'd been sitting on. "You's welcome to have a seat if you like - sorry it ain't a proper chair, but it's the best we could do in a pinch."

"This will be perfectly fine," Sadie assured him, "though I wouldn't want you to have to stand on account of me."

Elmer waved off her concern. "Ain't a problem; all of us is used to standin' and walkin'. Besides, Davey told us we gotta treat you proper on account of you bein' a lady and all - "

"He also told us not to tell her that he told us that," Jojo muttered. "But it figures you'd go and blow it only two minutes into the thing. Surprised you even held out for that long!"

"At least I'm bein' hospitable!" Elmer retorted. "I don't see you offerin' up your seat."

"That's 'cause you ain't lettin' anyone else get a word in edgewise!" Jojo scoffed. He elbowed the boy sitting beside him. "Am I right, Tuck?"

The other newsie nodded.

Elmer threw up his hands in exasperation. "Why you gotta always side with Jojo, Tucker? He ain't always right, you know."

"Pretty sure it ain't hospitable to be bickerin' in front of a lady either, Elm," Jojo childed jokingly. "Try and show some manners, why don'tcha?"

"That's exactly what I was doin' before you butted in!" the affronted Elmer shot back.

"Only 'cause you was sayin' exactly what Davey told us not to say, ya coot! If you thought about what you was doin' every once in awhile, maybe I wouldn't - "

"Have you read The Jungle Book before, Miss?"

Everyone suddenly turned to stare at Tucker, who was looking calmly at Sadie, waiting for an answer.

"I haven't," she said, taking a seat on the crate that Elmer had offered her and hoping that this timely interjection would help the conversation move past the verbal scuffling. "I confess that I'm not much of a reader, though I'm certainly eager to see your performance! From the little bit of it I caught from Davey, it seems like a riveting story."

"It's one of the best chapters in the whole thing," Elmer declared. "But all of the stories is good." The other two boys nodded their agreement.

"How long have you been practicing for the event at the lodging house?" Sadie asked.

"Only about a week or so," Jojo answered. "But we've been meetin' almost every day. The shindig's comin' soon, so we gotta get everything down perfect so we can surprise the rest of the fellas. We's hopin' that when some of 'em see how much fun we's havin', they'll want to join us, too."

"And Jojo is learnin' from Davey so one day he can read as well as Davey does, and then maybe he can take over readin' to us every once in awhile," Elmer said proudly, seeming to have forgotten his brief spat with the other newsie only moments ago.

"Speakin' of that, ain't you the girl that's been tutorin' Davey while he's out of school?" Jojo gave Sadie a curious look.

Sadie nodded. "Yes, that's me." It was on the tip of her tongue to add that it would be more accurate to say that she attempted to tutor Davey since he was already so intelligent that he barely needed her assistance, but she remembered the incident with the laundry basket and checked the impulse. "We're classmates and neighbors too, so it was a convenient arrangement," she said instead.

"And did'ja really spill a can of paint on Davey when you met him?" Elmer asked eagerly.

"Elmer!" The younger boy jumped as Davey himself suddenly appeared behind him, the wind having masked the sound of his approaching footsteps. "I told you it wasn't necessary to bring that up. I only mentioned it because you asked me how we met."

"Davey will never let me forget that little mishap," Sadie sighed in mock resignation. "It seems that I'm fated to be known by that unfortunate first impression wherever I go."

"Ah, don't worry; he said lots of good stuff about'cha too!" Elmer offered consolingly. "Like - "

"That, um, won't be necessary," Davey interjected awkwardly, clearing his throat. "We should get on with the reading."

The boys eagerly scrambled into position, and Sadie looked on in fascination as they quickly began their rehearsal. The practice time had clearly paid off, for each of the newsies knew his lines well and embodied his respective character with a flair that was everything she'd expected to see from a group of boys who made their living through a form of exaggerated storytelling.

In a matter of minutes, she was completely caught up in the excitement of the narrative, listening raptly as the tale of Rikki-Tikki-Tavi unfolded and came to life before her very eyes.


"Hey Racer, you seein' what I'm seein'?"

Race looked up from the handful of change he'd been counting to see Henry at his shoulder, staring down the street with a quizzical look on his face.

"What'cha talkin' about?" Race asked, turning in the direction the other newsie was pointing. "Don't see nothin'."

"Over there, next to the shoe-maker's."

Race squinted, trying to figure out exactly what Henry was talking about. "I see Jojo and Elmer headin' down the street," he ventured, "and looks like they got Tucker with 'em, too. It's probably just Davey's readin' group finishin' up, nothin' special."

"Look behind them," Henry insisted. "There, goin' in the opposite direction!"

Race looked, and his eyes widened in surprise as he caught sight of Davey walking down the street next to an unfamiliar figure - a rather smartly-dressed young lady wearing a boater hat with an apricot-colored ribbon.

"Come on!" Race shoved the change into his pocket, then took off at a trot, motioning for Henry to follow him. "Let's tail 'em and see what they's up to." The two boys hurried after their quarry, following as closely as they dared for a block or two and then ducking down behind a parked carriage on the opposite side of the street where Davey and his companion had come to a stop at the corner.

"Can ya see anything?" Race demanded, realizing belatedly that he'd situated himself at a rather suboptimal angle.

"Yeah." Henry nodded. "They's talkin'. Come on, switch with me." The two boys exchanged places, and Race cautiously peered out from behind the back of the carriage.

He could see the pair easily from his vantage point, and Davey's back was to him, so he could observe without fear of discovery. The girl's face was clearly visible, however, and though the ambient noise of the wind made it impossible for Race to pick out exactly what she was saying, he could tell by the cadence of her voice that it was something lighthearted.

As she spoke, Race sized her up. There really wasn't much of her, all told - she barely reached Davey's shoulder where height was concerned, though she appeared to be around the same age. Her features were pleasant-looking, and her expression had an openness that seemed to invite conversation, though Race knew that he was conjecturing there. At any rate, the exchange between the two at the corner seemed to be fairly even; the girl had finished speaking, and now she was looking up at Davey, her head tilted slightly and her lips curving into an almost-impish smile as she listened to his reply.

What surprised Race most was the casual familiarity of their interactions. He could tell that Davey was comfortable and relaxed, not stiffly formal the way Race would have expected him to act around a girl, and from the looks of things, the girl was equally at ease with him.

Who was she? And why hadn't Davey ever mentioned her before?

Race had years of experience reading people's tells at the card table, and he applied that skill now as he attempted to piece together the nature of the relationship between the pair at the corner. He hadn't known Davey as long as he'd known the other newsies, but he'd been around him enough to observe certain things that the older Jacobs brother did with almost unvarying regularity. This included maintaining a certain margin of personal distance whenever he was around other people. With Race and Jack and the boys from his reading group it was different; Davey would occasionally clap them on the back or nudge them in the arm, and he didn't object to them jostling him in return, but generally speaking, he held himself slightly apart, as though he was almost wary of letting others get too close.

This girl, however, was most definitely in his space. And he didn't seem to mind in the slightest.

There was the additional indicator of Davey's hands, too, which were often in his pockets or anchored to his newsboy bag. Now he was using them rather expressively as he spoke. It was still on the understated side, but it was a clear signal that he was deeply engaged in the conversation and didn't feel the need to hold back.

Before Race could ponder the situation any further, the girl suddenly glanced in his direction and caught his eye. She gave him a curious look, then said something to Davey, and before Race could duck out of sight, the dark-haired newsie turned around and saw him peeking out from behind the carriage.

"I just got caught, Henry," Race murmured to his friend who was still crouching behind the carriage undetected. "Gonna go cut my losses now, but you can stay here if you want and I'll circle 'round and catch ya after I'm done talkin' with Davey. I'll see what kinda information I can dig up." So saying, he got to his feet and dusted off his knickers, then made his way across the street.

"Heya, Davey!" he greeted his friend, flashing a smile and acting as though he hadn't just been caught in the act of spying. "It's a beautiful day, ain't it?"

"A little windy for my taste," Davey answered dryly, and Race could tell that he was slightly annoyed. "What are you doing here?"

"Just hawkin' headlines like usual," Race shrugged. It wasn't the first and wouldn't be the last time he'd skirt around the truth. "Speakin' of which," he turned to the girl, "could I interest you in a pape, little lady? We got some great headlines this afternoon." He pulled a copy of The World from his bag and snapped it open with practiced ease. "My personal favorite's this one about a stray dog who rescued fifty folks from a burnin' building, but there's also the latest obituaries for V.P. Hobart, if that's more your style."

The girl smiled politely. "Thank you, but I've already purchased a paper."

Race gave her a look of mock surprise. "What, you mean you bought a pape from this bummer?" He hooked a thumb in Davey's direction. "He couldn't sell water to a man dyin' of thirst!" Another lie, but a calculated one this time - he wanted to see how she'd respond to the insult.

"He seems to be doing all right," the girl observed with a shrug, "and perhaps a bit better than you, judging from the significantly smaller stack of papers in his bag."

Race glanced down and saw that she was right; his bag was noticeably fuller than Davey's, which was unusual (though not entirely unexpected - sometimes you had a good day, and sometimes you had a bad one).

"You got me there, Miss," he grinned. "Guess I oughta work on my headline hawkin' technique a little."

"Or you could actually sell your papers instead of hiding behind carriages," she suggested playfully. "That can't be good for business."

Race chuckled, shaking his head. He hadn't expected her to be so quick on her feet, but he liked her the better for it. Before he could say anything further, Davey broke in.

"Speaking of business, I think we all have somewhere to be, so we should probably get on with it."

"Aw, come on, Dave," Race wheedled. He wasn't about to be put off that easily. "Don't tell me you's too busy to introduce me to your friend!"

"She has to get back to school," Davey insisted.

"A little less book learnin' ain't gonna hurt her. It's clear she's plenty smart."

"I really should be going," the girl interjected, "but I'd be happy to introduce myself before I do." She held out her hand. "I'm Sadie Becker, Davey's neighbor."

"And I'm Racetrack, Dave's second-favorite pest, after his brother," Race shook her hand. "You can call me Race. Pleased to meet'cha, Beck."

"The feeling's mutual," the girl answered, seemingly unfazed by the nickname, "and I hope we'll be able to become better acquainted at another time, Race; it's not every day I get to meet a second-favorite pest." She smiled cheekily, then turned to look up at Davey.

"Thank you again for the invitation to the reading, Davey," she said. "It was lovely to meet your friends, and you all did an excellent job. I'll be heading back to school now, but I'll see you tonight?"

Davey nodded. "Yes, tonight, at the usual time." He smiled. "Have a good rest of your day at school, Sadie."

"See ya around, Beck!" Race added as she started down the street. She turned over her shoulder and gave him a little wave before continuing on her way. Soon, she had rounded the corner and was gone.

It was silent for a moment. Then Race gave his friend a look. "Never thought that Davey Jacobs had it in him," he murmured. "And here you was, goin' around with a girl this whole time, right under our noses."

"What?" Davey stared at him in disbelief. "No! We're not going around - didn't you hear her? We're neighbors, Race. It's not like that!"

"Care to explain what you'll be doin' tonight with the little lady, then?"

"Tutoring," Davey answered in a clipped voice. "Tutoring. It's always, only tutoring. She's been helping me keep up with the assignments I've missed at school."

"Ah, I see," Race tucked the newspaper he'd been holding back into his bag. "Sure sounded like a date at first."

"Well, that should teach you a lesson about jumping to conclusions," Davey answered priggishly. "And about spying on people, too." He started down the street.

"What're you so uptight about?" Race probed, jogging to catch up. "It was an honest mistake."

"You assumed things, Race." Davey sounded uncharacteristically defensive as he pulled a paper from his bag. "You should know better than that. There's nothing going on between me and Sadie."

"You sure is gettin' awfully flustered up over nothin'," Race observed. "You absolutely sure she ain't gotten to ya?"

"I'm sure."

"You don't fancy her at all? Not even that pretty smile of hers?"

Davey faltered in mid-stride. "N-no," he answered, almost anxiously, and if Race hadn't known better, he would have thought that something like panic descended for a moment, but almost as quickly as it came, it was gone, and Davey was quickly walking down the street again, his shoulders tense and his hands clasping the strap of his newsboy bag.

"Why does it matter to you, anyway?" he asked tersely once Race had caught up again.

Race shrugged. "Just curious to know what kinda girl could turn your head." He might as well tell his friend the whole truth. "We was arguin' about it last night at the lodgin' house, and most of the fellas think you's gonna end up with the bookish, serious type, but I told 'em you's such a stick-in-the-mud already that you's better off with someone who could get'cha to have a little fun instead. Thought maybe I was on the right track after what I saw today, but I guess we'll have to wait and find out, since Beck ain't your type."

He couldn't tell which part of the statement unsettled Davey more - the fact that he'd been the subject of discussion at the lodging house or Race's half-insulting assessment. At any rate, his response was somewhere between an exasperated sigh and a growl.

Race decided to back off; he'd provoked his friend enough for one day.

"Not to change the subject, but how's Les feelin'?" he asked, steering the conversation towards a less controversial subject. "Last I heard, he was doin' kinda poorly."

"He's coming down with something, that's for sure," Davey answered, looking troubled. "We're just hoping it's not the flu. My parents have tried to keep him isolated as much as possible so that he doesn't spread around whatever he's coming down with, but it's a little hard when almost everything in the apartment's in one space. We've all stayed well so far, but if he gets worse..." he trailed off.

"You oughta come stay at the lodgin' house for a while," Race suggested. "Can't have you gettin' sick with your pa still bein' out of work."

"That's what I'm worried about," Davey admitted.

"Well, think it over," Race repeated. "Only costs six cents a night to stay and six cents more to eat, and it'd be a lot of fun to have ya. We ain't supposed to board boys who've got families to go home to, but Kloppman, the superintendent, don't mind bendin' the rules every once in awhile. He knows a few of us have got blood relatives still around, but sometimes they ain't actual family to us, ya know?" It was more personal of a disclosure than he'd intended to make, but it was the truth. "Anyway, I'm sure if we explain the situation, Kloppman won't mind ya bunkin' with us for a week or so. We've got a few empty beds, so it's only makin' him a little more profit."

"I'll talk to my parents about it," Davey answered. "It would be an expense to have to pay for lodging, but losing my income would be a lot more detrimental." He gave Race an appreciative nod. "Thanks for the suggestion."

"Sure thing, Dave." Race glanced over his shoulder, suddenly remembering that he'd left Henry behind at the carriage and that he needed to circle back. "Hey, I gotta get goin'," he said, grinning at Davey, "but I'll catch ya tomorrow at the circulation gate. Have fun with Beck tonight." He slapped the other newsie on the back, then hurried off before Davey could come up with a retort.

Jogging down the street for a few blocks, Race kept his eyes peeled for Henry in case the other newsie had gotten impatient and had decided to move from his hiding spot, but it turned out that Henry had remained near the carriage after all and had begun peddling his papes while he was waiting. He was in the middle of making a sale when Race arrived, so the latter found a spot off to the side and pulled out his cigar, thinking that maybe he'd treat himself to a quick midday smoke before getting back to work.

Before long, Henry joined him.

"Sorry I made you wait," Race apologized.

Henry waved it off. "Wasn't bad - sold a few papes." He gave Race a curious look as the latter struck a match, carefully cupping his hand around the flame to shield it from the wind. "So, what'd you find out?"

Race lit his cigar, then pulled the roll of tobacco from his mouth so that he could answer. "She's his neighbor, and Dave says there ain't nothin' goin' on between them, but I'm willin' to bet two to one that brunette half-pint's got him wrapped around her little finger by Christmas."

Henry chuckled. "Well, I ain't bettin' against you on that one. They sure was lookin' friendly with each other from what I saw." He paused for a moment, then added, "She like what we thought? Serious, and into readin' like Davey and all that?"

"Ain't sure," Race admitted. "Didn't talk to her long enough to find out, but she don't seem too serious. Got some wit to her, too." He grinned at Henry. "I'll find out soon enough," he promised. "Davey's pretty riled up right now, but once he's settled down, I'll try again and see if I can get anything else outta him. That bummer couldn't lie to save his life, so we ain't gonna be in the dark for long."


A/N: Watch out, Davey; Race is on the case. ;) Thanks for reading this chapter - I would love to hear your reaction to it!