Disclaimer: This is a non-commercial work of fanfiction. Anything recognizable from Newsies belongs to Disney and not to me.
Chapter 83: No. 9 Duane Street
Katherine heard the bells in St. Peter's chiming the hour as she walked quickly across the road, making her way past several doors until she came to the establishment at Number 9 Duane Street. It was evening, and the November air had already taken on a nippiness that warned of the approaching winter despite the fact that the sun was just beginning to sink low in the sky and it wouldn't begin to get dark for another half hour at least.
The former reporter opened the door to the lodging house and let herself in. Finding the front desk unoccupied, she started up the stairs; Jack had told her that the newsies would be expecting her company and that she could come up when she arrived.
As soon as she appeared in the bunk room door, a chorus of voices greeted her enthusiastically, most of them thanking her for the candy that she'd sent with Jack the night before in celebration of the lodging house shindig. Katherine responded to as many of the expressions of gratitude as she could, smiling and greeting the boys in turn and proud of herself that she managed to remember most of their names.
She was there that evening to interview them about a rather sobering subject - their experiences at The Refuge - and while Jack had briefed the lodging house beforehand on what to expect, Katherine still felt a little apprehensive, not knowing how the unpleasantness of revisiting these traumatic memories would affect the boys.
There were a few whom Jack had instructed her to steer clear of: the two newest newsies, whose backgrounds and stories were still largely unknown, Crutchie, given his relatively recent stay, and Race. Jack had given no explanation for the gambler's inclusion on the list, but he'd stated on no uncertain terms that Race was not to be put through the ordeal of being asked to talk about The Refuge, and Katherine had promised to comply.
As it turned out, the only exempt newsies who were actually present were the two ex-scabs; Crutchie was nowhere to be seen (probably up on the rooftop with Jack, who had tactfully but intentionally chosen to absent himself from the interviews and had told Katherine he'd be working on a drawing to accompany her article instead). Race, she was told, was still out selling - he was planning to go to Sheepshead the following day and had taken a handful of extra papers to sell so that his pockets could be a bit deeper the next day at the track. It made things a bit easier.
After chatting with the newsies for a bit, Katherine took a seat at the small table at the back of the bunk room, reiterating the purpose for her visit as she did so and asking for a volunteer to come and take a seat across from her so that she could begin the interviews.
An awkward and tense silence suddenly descended.
Katherine looked around the bunk room. All of the boys, who had just moments ago been animatedly talking and laughing and lounging about, were now silent and still, their eyes trained on the ground or staring off into the middle space. They didn't look surprised...but they definitely looked reluctant, and Katherine found herself unsure of how to break the tension. She didn't want to force any of them to share, but if none of them were willing to talk to her, she wouldn't have the anecdotal evidence she needed to give her article its appeal.
"Specs," she said, calling on the first boy to move. "Will you be first?"
The newsie hesitated a moment, then nodded uneasily, climbing down from the bunk bed where he'd been lounging to take a seat across from Katherine at the table. The rest of the newsies quietly went back to their tasks, apparently relieved that they had not been the one singled out, though they were also clearly listening in while trying to appear like they weren't.
"Specs, when were you last taken to The Refuge?" Katherine asked, flipping open her notebook.
"Three years ago," the newsie replied tersely.
"And what was your offense?"
"Got caught tryin' to swipe a copper's cap on a dare."
"Hmm." Katherine jotted down a note. "And what were the conditions like when you arrived?"
"Terrible."
"How so?"
"Real dark. And dirty."
"Anything else you remember?"
"Not really…no."
Katherine resisted the urge to grimace. Maybe her interviewing skills were a little rusty. Or maybe the boys just didn't feel comfortable talking to her about their experiences, despite the fact that Jack had assured her of their willingness. Whatever the reason, at the rate she was going, she'd have very little useful information to go off of by the end of the night if the rest of the interviews ended up being like Specs'.
Deciding not to press the bespectacled newsie any further - maybe he just wasn't the kind to open up easily - she dismissed him and picked her next victim, Albert. He, and Finch who followed, were similarly reticent, answering Katherine's questions with short, simple replies, seemingly unwilling to elaborate even when she prodded them. Katherine was beginning to get frustrated as she called up Elmer for his turn. He took a seat across from her, looking tense and ill at ease, and Katherine was about to launch into her barrage of questions, when she suddenly felt a light tap on her shoulder.
She looked up and saw Davey standing behind her. "Mind if I try something?" he asked quietly. "I think it might help."
Katherine nodded, relinquishing her seat across the table from Elmer and sliding into the last available chair at Elmer's right. Davey took her place, leaning forward and resting his hands on the table, giving the younger newsie a reassuring smile.
"I'm going to guess that you'd probably rather not have the rest of the lodging house listening in, right?" he asked quietly. Elmer nodded, and Davey got up to open several of the windows, letting the noises from the street below filter in. It wouldn't cover the sound of their conversation completely, but it would make it a lot harder for the others to overhear what was being said.
Davey slid back into his chair. "Elmer, I want you to tell me about The Refuge," he said casually, resting his hands on the table again. "Anything that comes to mind. I'm still basically a brand-new newsie who's wet behind the ears, and I have no experience staying out of trouble on the streets. Fill me in on why I should watch out for Snyder, and what might be waiting for me if I don't take your advice seriously."
Elmer gave him a half-smile. "Well...I guess I'd have to start out by sayin' Snyder's got a whole posse of flunkeys who works for him, so you gotta keep your eye out for them, too - they's all over the city, tryin' to haul in boys anytime they sees the smallest thing you done wrong. Like me, for instance - the first time I got caught I was seven, just taggin' along after my brothers at the grocer's, and I was hungry, so I swiped an apple from one of the fruit stands, not thinkin' anything of it...
As the newsie's tale unfolded, Katherine found herself listening raptly, caught up in the story, but when Davey gave her a subtle look, she remembered that she ought to be writing these details down, so she began taking notes, listening in fascination as Elmer continued to speak for the next half hour. She was amazed; somehow, Davey had been able to draw out exactly the kind of information she'd been looking for, the harsh, grim, undoctored realities of what a stay in The Refuge could entail. By the time Elmer finished sharing his story, Katherine already had several lines that she wanted to use in her article, and her enthusiasm for the project had returned.
"I think you may have a future in the reporting business, Davey," she said, giving him a grateful look while they waited for Elmer to pick the next newsie to be interviewed. "That was exactly what I was looking for but couldn't seem to get out of them."
He smiled modestly. "I've gotten to spend more time with the boys, so they probably feel a little more comfortable with me, that's all. And they'll never pass up an opportunity to tell me exactly how much I don't know. I wasn't sure if it would work or not...but I'm glad it did. It was just finding a different approach."
"Do you mind repeating it?" Katherine asked. If Davey was willing to take the lead on interviewing the boys, she could simply listen and take notes, which would make things much easier.
"I don't mind at all," he answered. "It's the least I can do when you and Jack are working so hard to get this article published."
"How much has he told you about it?"
"He's mentioned some of his frustrations to me a few times...it seems like things move a little slower than you'd expect when the government is involved. I would have thought that after Roosevelt's statement, The Refuge would have been investigated right away, but I guess that was wishful thinking."
"Politicians aren't always the quickest to make good on their promises," Katherine opined, "even if they're well-meaning."
"It's good that you and Jack are taking steps to address the problem. Stories like the ones Elmer told us need to be out there for other people to read." Davey paused for a moment, then added fervently, "I don't see how anyone with a heart could not be moved by what he shared, and I'm sure that the other boys have equally powerful memories. Your article and Jack's illustrations are going to bring all that to light, and I know it's going to have a profound impact on everyone who sees them."
"Don't forget to add yourself to the list of contributors," Katherine reminded him. "The stories that I get from these interviews are going to be the heart of what I write."
"I'm just glad to help however I can," Davey shrugged. "I don't miss the pressure of being a strike leader, but I do miss tangibly working towards something that's going to help people. To use my words to make a difference - even if it's just asking the right questions. It's something I didn't realize was so important to me until the strike happened, but now I don't think I could live the rest of my life without trying to work towards positive change whenever I have the opportunity."
He grinned, then remarked a bit jokingly, "I guess the fight to change the world for the better never ends, does it?"
"Never," Katherine agreed. "But that won't stop us from throwing fists."
"Or words," he added.
The setting sun was at Race's back as he made his way briskly down the street, his empty newsboy bag hanging at his side and his pockets pleasantly full of change. He'd just sold his last pape to a well-to-do lady who had given him a nickel for the sob story he'd fabricated on the spot, and now he was eager to get back to the lodging house so he could relax and prepare for his trip to the Sheepshead the following day.
As he turned the corner, he noticed a familiar-looking figure walking some thirty or forty yards ahead. Race quickened his pace, wanting to make sure that he'd recognized her correctly before calling her name, but as he got closer, he saw the telltale straw boater hat with its distinctive orange ribbon, and he knew that his eyes hadn't deceived him.
"Hey there, Beck!" he called out, breaking into a jog. "Hold up!"
The girl turned around, looking a bit confused as she shaded her eyes from the glow of the setting sun, but when she recognized Race, her face broke into a friendly smile. "Hello, Race," she greeted him as he drew near. "Are you on your way back to the lodging house?"
"Yup, took some extra papes to sell today, so I'm makin' it back a little later than the rest of the fellas," he disclosed, falling into step beside her. "You headin' home too?"
Sadie nodded. "I'm usually back by now, but my employer had to leave unexpectedly a few hours ago, so I stayed behind to keep the shop open until closing time."
"Where do ya work?" Race asked curiously as they walked down the street.
"Not far from here - at Gorham's Tailor Shop over on Chambers."
"Ah, so you's in the business of sewin' and such!" Race grinned. "You oughta meet Buttons - he's the one of us who's handy with a needle - always fixin' up the holes and snags we get from sellin' all day. Saves us a bundle of money not havin' to buy new clothes so often."
"He sounds like an invaluable member of your company," Sadie smiled.
"Well, we each got our parts to play, ya know? Makes life interestin' havin' so many different kinds of personalities all livin' in the same place, and it ain't ever borin' or lonely."
"I'd imagine it isn't!" she exclaimed. "You must have some amusing stories to tell."
"I could talk your ear off for the next hour just tellin' you 'bout all the pranks we've pulled on Davey in the last few days," Race confirmed.
"I hope that was an exaggeration, Race." Sadie looked amused, despite the seriousness of her words. "It's slightly concerning to hear that you've taken it upon yourself to antagonize my neighbor while he's under your roof, though I suppose that your esteemed position as his second-favorite pest does obligate you to a certain level of good-natured trickery."
Race was surprised that she'd remembered him mentioning that, but he was pleased, too. "I told Davey it was just our way of showin' him we's glad he's stayin' with us for a while," he asserted. "But you got another good point there, Beck - I got a quota to fill. Can't have him thinkin' I've misplaced my sense of humor, ya know?"
"No indeed," she agreed. "Those of us blessed with a convivial nature and a penchant for fun must do our duty to impose such diversion upon those who do not naturally appreciate its merits. I'll readily admit that I've done my fair share of beleaguering Davey in an attempt to mellow him out, though I'm sure that my own humble attempts would only qualify me for the distinction of junior pest - certainly nothing as grand as the title that you rightfully hold."
"All that matters is that we's on the same team," Race maintained. "Gonna take more than one person to get that uptight bummer to loosen up."
A thought suddenly crossed his mind.
"Hey, speakin' of Davey, you wanna stop by the lodgin' house and say hello? He oughta be back from sellin' already, and you could meet some of the other boys, too. It's just down the street a few doors from here, and it'd only take a minute."
He could tell from her hesitation that she was tempted (whether by her curiosity about the newsies or her desire to see Davey, he wasn't sure), but in the end she shook her head regretfully. "I wish I could, Race, but I ought to head home directly. I'm already late as it is."
"Well, you's welcome to drop by some other time if you want," he said agreeably. He didn't fault her for wanting to head home; it was a chilly evening, and the sun had almost fully set now, so she'd be making most of the trip back in the dark if she lingered any longer. "Be careful goin' back," he warned as they reached the door of the lodging house. "These streets ain't so friendly after the sun goes down."
"I've headed home later than this before," she assured him. "But I'll keep my guard up." Smiling, she added, "It was pleasant running into you again, Race. I hope that you enjoy the rest of your evening."
"Yeah, you too, Beck," Race answered, feeling a little uneasy as he watched her turn and continue down the street. It really wasn't the best time for a girl to be roaming Lower Manhattan unaccompanied, despite the fact that she'd done it before. The part of the neighborhood that she'd have to pass through on the way back to the tenement wasn't terrible, but there were a few streets that housed some slightly seedy establishments, and even this early in the evening you never knew whom you'd run across. For someone like Race, it wasn't anything to worry about as long as he kept his eyes open and his hands at the ready, but for a girl like Sadie…
Race hurried inside the lodging house and dashed up the stairs.
Davey massaged his temples, feeling the beginning of a headache coming on. He knew that he should probably take a break - stop to drink some water or go outside for a few minutes of fresh air - but he and Katherine had just gotten into the swing of things, and he didn't want to disrupt that, especially not when they'd had such a rocky start interviewing the newsies.
Helping Katherine gather information for her article had been rewarding, but it had also been draining to hear story after story of neglect, abuse, and cruelty, and Davey was beginning to feel the weight of it. They were barely halfway through the group (since they'd had to call back Specs, Albert, and Finch for do-overs), and though Katherine seemed to be pleased at their progress, at the rate they were going, it would be well into the evening before they would finish working their way through the entire group.
Davey was definitely going to look forward to a good night's sleep - provided, of course, that he could set aside some of the disturbing images that the newsies' stories had evoked and actually get some shut-eye.
Giving up his attempts to massage away his growing headache, Davey leaned forward again in his chair as the next interviewee, Henry, took his seat.
Davey launched into his introductory spiel, adjusting it a bit so that it was fitting to his experience with Henry, the words coming easily now that it was his fifth or sixth time delivering them. As Henry began to speak and Katherine began taking notes, Davey relaxed a little in his chair, letting his thoughts wander for just a moment in an attempt to give himself a short mental reprieve so that he'd be able to last until the end of the night.
He wondered how his family was getting along and if Les was feeling better. The agreement had been that Davey wouldn't return to the tenement at all for the week unless Mayer or Esther contacted the lodging house to let him know that there was an emergency. They didn't want to run the risk of him getting sick if he came by the apartment to check in, especially not when precious money was being spent to put him up at the lodging house specifically so that he could reduce his exposure to Les' germs. So far, no calls had been made, so Davey assumed that things were more or less in hand, but it was still hard not to be concerned. Their family had already experienced enough setbacks for the year without everyone being stricken with illness, too.
Four months, he thought. It had been four months since his father's accident. Recovery had been slow (due in part to Mayer's inability to completely rest) but it seemed to be nearing its completion. The intent had been for December to mark the beginning of his attempts to find a new job, but Davey wondered if that plan would be hastened in an attempt to offset the unexpected expense of the lodging house fees he'd incurred for the week. In the end, everyone had agreed that staying with the newsies was a worthwhile investment - the losses would be greater if Davey got sick and couldn't work altogether - but it had still been a significant cost, and everyone was likely feeling the strain of it.
Sometimes, Davey thought, it would be nice to not have to worry about money.
Telling himself that he ought to bring his attention back to the conversation at the table, he did his best to push aside the financial concerns that always lingered at the back of his mind and attempted to focus on what Henry was saying. He'd just begun to get back into the flow of the conversation when he suddenly felt an abrupt tap on his shoulder.
"Hey Davey, I gotta talk to you for a minute."
Davey looked up, trying to hide his irritation at the poorly-timed interjection. He was already having trouble paying attention due to his headache and other preoccupying thoughts, and the last thing he wanted at the moment was another distraction. "Can it wait, Race?" he asked, giving his friend a look that said now wasn't the time.
"Not for long."
Davey held back a sigh, then gave Katherine and Henry an apologetic glance. "Sorry," he said, getting up from the table. "Keep going; I'll be back in a minute." He then followed Race over to a corner of the room where they could talk without disrupting the interview.
"What is it?" he asked shortly, not having the wherewithal at the moment to mince words.
"Just thought you might wanna know that I ran into Beck on my way over here," the gambler answered, "and she's walkin' home right now."
"She has a job that she works at after school," Davey replied dismissively. "Walking home is probably what she normally does at this time of night. Why did you deem it noteworthy enough to interrupt what I was doing?"
"It's late," Race answered simply. "And it's gettin' kinda dark for a little lady like her to be out walkin' alone."
"The tenement isn't far," Davey said uneasily, even as anxiety began to pool in his stomach. "I'm sure she'll be fine."
"Maybe. But a pretty face like that can attract the wrong kinds of attention. And she don't look big enough to fight anyone off if it came to that."
"She's done this countless times before," Davey insisted. "And clearly she hasn't needed any intervention."
"Yeah, but those times before she didn't have her neighbor nearby who could easily do some escortin' if he'd just get off his high horse and think about somethin' else besides his big ideas and high-falutin' projects for a second," Race answered sarcastically.
"It's not my place to interfere." The words came out more defensive than Davey had intended, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He really didn't want to get caught up in this right now. "Why don't you walk her home yourself if you're so concerned about her safety?" he added.
"Because she's your friend, and I thought you'd want the chance to show her some courtesy, maybe impress her a little."
"I don't need to impress Sadie," Davey answered flatly. "I need to help Katherine finish her interviews."
Race gave him an incredulous look. "Walkin' Beck home would take less than half an hour of your time!"
"And that's time I don't have to spare, Race," Davey shot back. "I've already got too many responsibilities weighing on my shoulders right now, and I'm not going to take on another one!"
"All right, all right!" Race held up his hands in surrender. "Whatever you say, Dave." He took two steps back, then turned and headed to the washroom, but Davey could feel the disapproval emanating from his retreating form.
He let out a breath of frustration.
Why couldn't he catch a break for once? Of course Race wouldn't understand the importance of what was taking place at the table - he'd probably just laugh the whole endeavor off. Who cared about all of the injustice in the world anyway when you could just start a song and dance and pretend it would all go away instead!
Davey rubbed the back of his neck. He knew that he was being irrationally reactive and that Race had meant well, but the timing had been extremely poor, he was already stressed enough as it was, and he disliked the implicit assumption that he was somehow responsible for Sadie. He supposed that he had a duty to her as a neighbor and as a friend, and under normal circumstances, he wouldn't have minded walking her home at all if it had been a decision he'd made on his own initiative. But when he was already dealing with so many things and in the middle of an important task, the last thing he wanted was another expectation, another responsibility, another person to look after when he was already having a hard enough time as it was looking after his family and himself.
Was it wrong to feel that way?
He typically responded willingly whenever someone asked him to do something: Of course he could help Les with his schoolwork after he came home from selling papers! Certainly he could take on a few more tenement jobs to help his family make the rent for that month! It was no trouble to make a run to the grocer's so that his mom could rest after a long day at the factory!
He'd asserted that he didn't mind doing those things, and he'd meant it every time…but he was only now beginning to realize that the cumulative burden of saying yes to so many extra things had taken a greater toll than he'd let on.
He shouldn't have been so curt with Race, though. It wasn't the gambler's fault that Davey's home life was an occasionally overwhelming mess of expectations and responsibilities that he was having trouble handling at the moment. Race had only been trying to help, and it hadn't been right for Davey to snap at him. He ought to apologize and clear the air, and he needed to get back to helping Katherine, too…
And then there was the additional factor of Sadie. Davey initially hadn't realized how late it was, but as he glanced out the nearby window, he noticed with dismay that it was, in fact, fairly dark. He should make an attempt to catch up with the landlord's daughter and offer to walk her home, even though he knew that by this time she was probably more than halfway to her destination. Even if he couldn't overtake her, he could at least make a quick trip back to the tenement, knock on the Beckers' door, and reassure himself that Sadie had arrived safely.
But wouldn't that be overstepping just a bit? By the time he arrived, the family would likely be eating dinner, and he'd probably just be interrupting them unnecessarily. He hadn't planned to see Sadie at all that week since he'd be at the lodging house, and it wasn't as though she'd asked him to accompany her, so he wasn't doing anything wrong by choosing not to do something that hadn't been his job in the first place…
Davey squelched his own uneasiness as best as he could and set the thought of Sadie aside. Going after her wasn't practical at this point since it wasn't likely that he'd catch her, and he had two other pressing matters to attend to, so he would just have to hope that she made it home safely.
Returning to his place at the table, Davey sat down and somehow managed to immerse himself again in the newsies' testimonies, finding some unexpected reserve of concentration to draw from and not even feeling his headache again until they finally finished interviewing the last of the boys nearly two hours later.
Katherine was extremely pleased with the information she'd collected, and she thanked Davey and the rest of the boys appreciatively before she left for the night, hinting that she owed the group another box of candy for their trouble and that she'd send some along with Jack soon. The newsies were all enthused by the prospect (not that a butterscotch stick or a peppermint drop could offset the terrible things that some of them had shared with her, but it was still some compensation for having to dredge up those unpleasant memories), and Katherine left the bunkroom the same way she'd entered it - amidst a chattering of excited voices thanking her for her generosity. She would be meeting Jack on the rooftop before he walked her back to her apartment, and that casual remark that she'd made before leaving reminded Davey that he still had one more important thing to do.
He found Race playing a game of cards with Artie and was going to retreat and come back later when Race looked up from his hand and said cooly, "You have somethin' you wanna say, Dave?"
He didn't particularly want to have it out in front of Artie, but if Race wasn't going to budge, then so be it.
"I just wanted to apologize for snapping at you earlier," Davey said, his declaration sincere but coming out a bit stiff. "I was feeling under pressure at the moment, but I shouldn't have let that get to me. I'm sorry."
"What're you so stressed about?" Race asked, giving him a probing look.
"Money, mostly," Davey answered, trying to keep his response succinct so that he wouldn't hold up the card game longer than necessary. "My family's still in a pretty tight spot, and I'm just worried that if anyone besides Les gets sick, we might have trouble getting by this month." There were other things on his mind, too, but he left it at that.
"You sure that's all that's eatin' you?" Race prodded. "Seems like you've been dealin' with your family's situation for a while now, and I ain't ever seen it get to you, not even when we was on strike."
It was true; those two weeks had been intense, but the thrill and excitement of standing up for what was right - of being caught up in something greater than himself - had offset much of the stress that Davey had been feeling during that time. Now he didn't have anything like that to take his mind off of his worries. Getting to briefly revisit what working for a greater good had felt like earlier that evening had only driven home the point that there wasn't anything like that for him to work towards right now. And as much as he'd tried to push away his dissatisfaction with that fact, it had lingered.
"I guess I just have a lot on my mind," he said aloud, not in the mood to elaborate at the moment. Maybe he'd fill Race in later, but he already felt uneasy having Artie listening in as well as who knew how many other inquisitive ears eavesdropping around the lodging house.
Race shrugged. "Well, you know what I always say, Dave: there's a time for stowin' the seriosity and drinkin' in the moment. I know you's the kind that likes livin' in your head, but sometimes you gotta step away from all of your big plans and schemes and just walk your girl home, all right?"
"Davey's got a girl?" Romeo piped up before Davey could contradict Race's statement. "How come you ain't ever told us about her before?"
"Because she's not my girl," Davey muttered, already knowing that he was fighting a losing battle. "She's my neighbor, and I think I've told you that multiple times before, Race, so I'd appreciate it if you'd use the proper descriptor in the future so that there's no confu- "
"Is she pretty? What's she like?" Romeo interrupted, bouncing over to join them.
"Yeah, what's she like?" Elmer echoed.
"You've already met her, Elmer!" Davey exclaimed, beginning to get flustered by the series of questions. "Remember Sadie?"
"Sadie's your girl?" The younger newsie looked confused. "I thought you said she was your neighbor."
"Yes! No! I mean, no, she's not my girl, and yes, she's my neighbor." Davey gave Race an accusing look that said See? See what you did?
"Ah, leave him alone, fellas," the gambler grinned, waving Elmer and Romeo away. "He's probably just cranky 'cause he's missin' the little lady."
Davey opened his mouth to say something, then abruptly decided against it. Engaging any further in this discussion with Race would be futile, and the longer they went at it, the more newsies would overhear and get involved, which could only lead to greater misunderstanding and conjecture.
Instead, he simply turned away and walked back to his bunk, dropping down on it and draping his arm across his eyes in what he hoped was a clear signal that he didn't want to be bothered. His headache throbbed in protest at the sudden movement, but he ignored it as best as he could, needing to think out his frustrations.
It had been naive for him to hope that he could keep his life at the tenement and his life as a newsie from intersecting. That one chance meeting with Race the day Sadie had come to watch the reading group rehearse had foiled all of his carefully-made plans, and now he would just have to live with the consequences…
But still, it grated.
He knew that he'd done the right thing in apologizing to Race for his rudeness earlier that night, but he wished that they could have had a civil conversation about it instead of devolving into teasing. And though Race's mildly chiding remark - that Davey should try to enjoy what was in front of him and not live in his head so much - had been a lighthearted one, there had been a note of criticism in it too, and that had stung.
It was probably somewhat deserved, Davey admitted grudgingly to himself. At least the part about walking Sadie home. Not because she was his girl, but because it would have been the courteous thing to do. She'd inconvenienced herself on his behalf more times than he could count, and he should have been willing to do the same for her.
But he'd missed the opportunity. And there was no getting it back.
Davey sighed, rolling over on his side to look out of the nearest window.
Chare… he thought, I'm sorry I was such a stubborn fool. I should have walked you home to make sure you were safe. I hope you're all right...
His rational side knew that worrying wasn't going to help anything, and that in the unlikely chance that some harm had befallen the landlord's daughter, her family would no doubt have already responded to the situation...but the thought didn't bring him any comfort.
He tossed and turned for hours that night before he finally fell into an uneasy, restless sleep.
