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


Chapter 95: Something Ridiculous

"Since when do you wear a tie to your tutoring lessons?" Les demanded, giving Davey a scrutinizing look.

"Don't you remember, Les?" Esther broke in from the kitchen. "David's having his meeting with Sadie at the Beckers' apartment today. She invited him over to meet her mother and her older sister."

Standing by the door with his book in hand, Davey shifted uncomfortably. That wasn't exactly the whole story. When he'd tentatively mentioned to his parents that he'd be going to the Beckers' to meet the rest of Sadie's family that afternoon, they'd assumed that it was for a tutoring session, just moved to the weekend at an earlier time of day for the rest of the family's convenience, and Davey hadn't corrected them (though he'd felt slightly guilty about the omission afterwards). His mother, in particular, seemed convinced that the engagement had been Sadie's doing, complimenting the landlord's daughter on her hospitality and kindness and insisting that Davey take along a freshly baked loaf of raisin bread as a small token of appreciation for the family. It clearly had never crossed her mind that her son might have been the initiator of the meeting and that the purpose behind it was not, in fact, the usual scholastic routine, but rather an ambiguous type of social call that Davey himself had second-guessed many times leading up to its advent.

He really should have thought the situation through a little better.

He'd asked to read to Sadie simply because it was an opportunity to spend time with her and to do something that he hoped she would enjoy, and when she'd said yes to his invitation, his surprise and delight had eclipsed any rational thought regarding whether or not such an invitation was actually well-advised or at all proper. It had been a rather out-of-character endeavor on the whole; he was never the kind to be led by his emotions, and he certainly wasn't in the habit of doing things merely because he wanted to without weighing the consequences and potential pitfalls first...

But it was too late to back out now.

"Here, David." His mother walked over and handed him the loaf of raisin bread wrapped in a cloth. "It's still a little warm, but it should be cool enough for you to carry. Please give our regards to the Beckers and let them know that we're truly grateful to them for their kindness."

"I will, Mom," Davey answered dutifully, impatient to be on his way before he would be forced to disclose any incriminating information. He could tell from Les' mistrustful looks that the younger boy suspected something was afoot, though he'd apparently forgotten that Sadie had mentioned the reading plans in a previous conversation a week prior and hadn't yet made the connection. Les was clever, though, and it would probably only be a matter of time before he put two and two together.

"I'll be back in an hour," Davey said as he headed out the door.

"Don't study too hard," Les snarked right before it closed.

Davey sighed, shaking his head as he made his way up the stairs to the third floor. He was already expecting to be subjected to a thorough brotherly interrogation that evening after his parents had gone to bed (if it didn't happen around the dinner table), and he found himself once again almost regretting his impulsively-made plan…

...but not quite regretting it enough for his anticipation to be at all dampened.

As problematic and slightly awkward as this meeting was turning out to be, he was looking forward to it. Reading was one of his favorite things to do, and Sadie (though he'd never really thought about it that way before) was one of his favorite people in Manhattan, so it was likely to be a good time regardless of whatever inconvenient questions surfaced afterwards. Davey was absolutely certain that there was no ambiguity between himself and the landlord's daughter when it came to the nature of this engagement, so a few speculative comments from Les or even from their parents wouldn't really matter in the long run. The important thing was that he and Sadie knew where they stood - this was simply a casual meeting between friends, and nothing more.

Though Davey wouldn't have admitted it to anyone, he was sorely in need of a reprieve from the preoccupations that had been weighing on his mind over the past several days. Things had been a bit tense at home; his parents had been arguing over Mayer's return to work, Esther concerned for her husband's health and Mayer impatient to be free of his confinement despite the fact that his improperly-healing leg still pained him. Les, thankfully, had been a bit more diligent in his studies, but Davey had been having some academic struggles of his own. Competency exams for the following year would be coming up soon, and if he wanted to accomplish his goal and finish in the Spring with the rest of his class, he would need to pass those exams. He'd been reviewing the material a little at a time over the past several weeks, but it had been difficult to concentrate with everything else going on in addition to keeping up with the new material he was learning from tutoring. He knew that he wouldn't be scoring at the top of his class, not when he didn't have the necessary time or energy to truly master the information, but he hoped that he'd at least be able to pull off passing marks, though at the moment he wasn't sure if even that was an attainable goal.

It would have distressed him more if his unpreparedness had been due to a lack of poor planning or a general slothfulness, but as high as Davey's standards were for himself, he knew that he was doing the best he could under the circumstances. He hadn't set foot in the classroom in months, he was juggling two jobs, and he simply didn't have the time or the energy to study the way he had when his only responsibilities had been that of a student.

He'd briefly considered rescheduling his appointment with Sadie to use that hour of time to study instead (as it would have been the industrious thing to do), but the thought had barely crossed his mind before he'd summarily dismissed it. It was probably a bit irresponsible of him...but the old adage that "all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy" had to apply somewhere, and Davey was fairly certain that an hour of doing something enjoyable would do more to offset his anxiety at this point than an hour of focused study would.

Reaching the third floor, he walked down the hall, bypassing the landlord's office and stopping in front of the Beckers' apartment instead, where he paused to carefully balance the loaf of bread on his book so that he could adjust his tie before knocking on the door.

Sadie answered, and as she greeted him with the warm, friendly smile that he'd grown so accustomed to seeing over the past several months, Davey could already feel the weight of his worries beginning to lift as he followed her into the apartment.


"Mama, Davey's here," Sadie announced, ushering her guest into the kitchen where Miriam Becker was beginning her preparations for dinner. "His mother sent us this delectable-looking cinnamon raisin bread."

Miriam dried her hands on a towel and gave Davey a tired smile. "Welcome to our home, David. It's nice to finally meet you."

"It's a pleasure to meet you too, Mrs. Becker." Davey shook her hand. "My parents send their regards and wish to express their appreciation for all of the kindness your family has shown to us."

"It was thoughtful of your mother to send over the bread," Miriam said, receiving the loaf from Sadie and placing it on the table. "Please thank her."

"I will, ma'am," Davey promised. "And while we're on the subject of baked goods, I probably should mention that I really enjoyed your apple pie last week. I'm sure it was the best I've ever tasted."

"Really, David, flattery isn't necessary," Miriam replied, and Sadie could tell that Davey was a little caught off guard by the brusqueness, for a faltering look crossed his face, and she could tell that he was struggling to find the appropriate words to respond.

"Davey wasn't flattering you, Mama," she broke in gently. "He doesn't say things unless he means them." Giving her guest a reassuring smile, Sadie added, "I'm warning you, Davey, my baking's nowhere near as good as my mother's, so I'd advise you to lower your expectations now."

Before he could reply, the door to the girls' bedroom opened, and a moment later Abby and Margaret appeared.

"You look so pretty, Abby!" Sadie exclaimed, walking over to examine her younger sister. "I see that Megs has managed to work her magic with the curling tongs again!"

"It feels funny," Abby said, wrinkling her nose a little. "Like my hair got all puffy and short."

"Imagine how I feel all the time!" Margaret joked.

"It is ironic that you're better with the curling tongs than me, seeing as you're the one with the naturally curly hair that doesn't need styling," Sadie observed with a smile. "I've always envied you a bit in that regard."

"But your hair's so thick and glossy, and it's got the nicest color when the sun hits it just right," Margaret insisted. "Even if it doesn't hold a curl, it's lovely in its own way. Wouldn't you agree, David?" She turned abruptly towards him, and Sadie could see the almost-smirk on her best friend's face.

Davey was clearly caught off guard by the leading question. "I - well, I'm not really the best person to ask about those kinds of things, so I'm not sure my opinion is all that important," he hedged, "but...yeah. I agree. It's pretty." Sadie could tell that he was embarrassed, but surprisingly, he held his ground. "You look nice too, Abby," he added, nodding at the younger girl. "Is there a special occasion? Something you're heading off to?"

"I'm going to Samantha Taylor's birthday party at the Bougainvillea Tea Room," Abby answered. "It's going to be a fancy party, so Mama said I had to dress up, and Margaret offered to do my hair."

"Any chance I get to doll up you or your sister is a welcomed opportunity," Margaret replied, "though Sadie's sense of style is a bit too understated to benefit much from my expertise." She sighed dramatically. "If only Providence had seen fit to give me sisters of my own! But I suppose that being friends with sisters is the next best thing." She smiled. "Anyway, I hope that you'll enjoy your party, Abby - I'm sure you'll be the prettiest one there."

"It's going to be dreadfully boring," the younger girl said mournfully. "I wanted to bring my book along, but Mama said that I couldn't."

"You know very well why I said that, Abigail," Miriam chided, but she gave her daughter a thin smile nonetheless. "Now come along; I'll walk you over to the office so that your father can take you to the party."

"Have fun, Abby," Sadie admonished gently as her sister reluctantly made her way to the door. "The tea and sweets are sure to be good, even if the company isn't to your liking."

"I'd rather stay home with you and hear David read instead," the girl pouted.

"It's not going to be very exciting, Abby," Davey said consolingly. "But…if you'd like, I'll leave the book here after Sadie and I finish reading, and you can look through it whenever you want. I'd be interested in hearing your opinion on it."

"Really?" Abby asked eagerly.

"Really," Davey smiled. "I'll leave it right here on the end table." He set the book down.

"Sadie, please be mindful of Lilly," Miriam said as she ushered the now slightly less reluctant Abby out the door. "She's resting, and I'll be back in a few minutes, but if she gets up, please make sure that you help her out of bed. She was a little unsteady on her feet this morning."

"I'll keep an eye out for her, Mama," Sadie promised.

"I suppose I'll take my leave now, too," Margaret said as the door closed behind Abby and Miriam. "My work here is done, and I wouldn't want to hold up your reading time." A sly smile crossed her face again, but this time only Sadie was in a position to see it. "Enjoy trying to get my friend into a book, David," Margaret added, turning around to face him. "I've never seen Sadie show much interest in reading or in thinking any more than she has to, so you've got your work cut out for you."

"I'll do my best," he replied, "though in all fairness, I have to add that Sadie might be a lot more thoughtful than you give her credit for."

Margaret stared at him for a moment, noticeably surprised by his mild rebuttal, but Davey only smiled disarmingly and stuck his hands in his pockets, saying nothing more.

"Well...it seems I may have misjudged the situation considerably," Margaret said finally, and though it was a generalized concession, Sadie easily caught its underlying meaning.

She was going to have a lot to answer for the next time Margaret got her alone.

"In any case," the other girl added cheerfully, "I'd better make myself scarce. Goodbye, Sadie. Goodbye, David. Enjoy your reading time!" And with a little flounce in her step, Margaret exited the apartment, shutting the door behind her.

Sadie gave Davey an apologetic look. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you ahead of time that Megs would be here," she murmured. "I only found out that she was stopping by to do Abby's hair half an hour before you came over, and I was so preoccupied with baking cookies at the time that I didn't think to warn you. Speaking of which…" she smiled hesitantly, "would you like to get the worst of it over with?"

"I'm ready to pay off my long-standing debt, but I'm still skeptical that your baking is really that bad," he opined as they made their way to the kitchen table and sat down.

"Don't say anything more until you've tried it," Sadie advised, removing the covering from the plate of cookies that she'd set on the table shortly before he'd arrived. She hadn't had time to try the baked goods herself, but they appeared to be perfect, and she'd carefully and methodically followed all of the steps in the recipe (including softening the butter the right way), so by all reasonable assumptions, the cookies should be perfectly fine.

"Would you like something to drink?" she asked. "As a safety precaution, should you need to wash anything down?"

"Thanks, but that won't be necessary," Davey said, and the confidence in his voice warmed her heart a little. He took the cookie that she offered him with a word of thanks and, without hesitation, bit into it.

"So...what do you think?" Sadie asked, her eyes trained on his face as he chewed.

Davey covered his mouth with his hand. "They're…very crunchy - er - crisp," he answered.

A bit dismayed at his reply, Sadie snatched a cookie from the plate and took a bite. The stiff, dry confection made a dull snapping sound between her teeth, and she was horrified to find that the dough was hardened to the point of being completely unpalatable. She chewed and swallowed quickly, then held out her hand. "Davey, give that to me!" she exclaimed. "They're terrible - I won't let you eat another bite!"

"They're not that bad," he protested weakly. "They just take a little getting used to..."

"You're a terrible liar, Davey Jacobs." She held out her hand again, giving him the sternest frown that she was capable of, and he finally surrendered the half-eaten cookie, looking guilty.

"The flavor was fine," he hedged as Sadie swept the plate of cookies off of the table and carried it over to the garbage bin. "For a first attempt, it's nothing to sneeze at."

"This was my fourth attempt."

His ears turned red. "Well...I'm sure it was a much improved fourth attempt, then."

"That's true." Sadie brushed the rock-hard cookies into the trash, then set the now-empty plate by the sink. "But it's still a complete failure." She let out a sigh of frustration. "I don't understand what I did wrong this time," she lamented. "I followed the recipe, I let the butter sit, I didn't over-bake the cookies, I even rolled out the dough multiple times to make sure that everything was combined properly!"

Davey gave her a curious look. "How long did you spend rolling it out?"

"At least a quarter of an hour, if not more. I didn't take any shortcuts this time."

His expression was sympathetic. "That might have been the problem. My mom used to let me help her bake cookies when I was younger, and she'd always tell me not to overwork the dough. Rolling it out was my favorite part of the whole process, but she said that if I kept doing it again and again, the cookies would come out hard. And they did, the one time I didn't listen to her."

It's official, Sadie thought irritably to herself. The boy who can't boil a pot of water is still better in the kitchen than me. The fact that the one thing that had undermined her attempt (taking too long on a certain step of the recipe) was the opposite of what had sabotaged her previous efforts (cutting corners and trying to speed things up) only added to her frustration.

Belatedly remembering her determination to keep the mood light and the conversation pleasant, Sadie felt even more chagrined. She wasn't doing a very good job of fulfilling the role of hostess and making sure that her guest felt at ease - first had been her mother's blunt remark, then Margaret's probing insinuations, and now a perfectly unpalatable cookie to top it off!

As if sensing her dejection, Davey gave her a little smile.

"It's okay, Chare," he said gently.

"It's not okay!" Sadie retorted, wrapping her arms around herself. "It's not okay to feed inedible cookies to your guest!"

"I meant that it's okay to be frustrated," Davey clarified. "I know you worked hard on those cookies. And I appreciate it. It means a lot that you put so much effort into making something for me, regardless of how they turned out."

Sadie dropped her gaze, not wanting him to see her embarrassment. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "I didn't mean to be such a killjoy. It's not like me to get upset like that. I just wanted everything to go well today."

"You weren't being a killjoy," he assured her. "And I'm still going to have a great time." She looked at him in surprise, and he admitted, "I'm actually really excited to read to you, Chare. I've thought about what book to pick for a while, and I'm kind of anxious to find out if you like it."

The eagerness in his voice was irresistible, and Sadie found herself smiling in return.

"Shall we get to it, then?" she asked as her dejection began to melt away.

"If you're ready."

She led the way to the sitting area in the front room, and he picked up the book he'd left on the end table.

"We can sit in those armchairs near the window," Sadie indicated. "If Lilly wakes up, she'll probably want to come out here, and she usually lies on the couch."

"Did she have a lot of seizures today?" Davey asked, settling himself into the designated space.

"They were no more numerous than they usually are, but one of them was a long one," Sadie answered as she took a seat across from him. It was part of the reason why she'd been slightly rushed in her cookie-making attempts and hadn't had time to try one before serving them to Davey. "These drawn-out episodes tire her out, which is probably why she took her nap earlier than usual."

"I'll make sure not to read too loud," he promised. "No taunting mongooses or threatening snakes this time. Our story today will be significantly more subdued."

"I am curious to see you bring to life a completely different tale," Sadie smiled. "It seems that there's not only a hidden orator in you, but a hidden thespian as well."

"I wouldn't go that far."

"I'm simply calling it like I see it," she shrugged. "I know that by necessity you spend most of your time working and studying, but someone with a mind as inventive as yours must have an artistic side as well as a pragmatic one. I wouldn't be surprised if you were writing your own book, in fact."

"I don't write original prose very well, actually," Davey confessed. "My rambling's as bad on paper as it is when I talk."

"But you've tried?" Her earlier statement had been only half-serious, but it delighted her to realize that perhaps she'd intuitively hit closer to the truth than she'd expected. "You have written your own stories?"

"The last time I attempted to write a story was years ago," he hedged. "I've come to the conclusion that it's not really my medium. But sometimes I - " he stopped himself abruptly. "Nevermind," he equivocated. "I should probably just stick to reading the people who do write prose well." He opened up the book in his hands and began flipping through it.

"You don't mean to say...that your medium isn't prose...but rather verse instead?" Sadie conjectured, trying to ascertain what his curtailed statement had meant. "You're a poet, Davey?"

"I've written some things in verse," he answered dismissively, not looking up from his book. "That hardly makes me a poet." She could tell that he was embarrassed. "And none of it's very good, anyway," he added quickly. "It's just how I get my thoughts out sometimes. I don't plan on doing anything with it, and I hardly have the leisure for any kind of writing these days."

"But even if you only do it for yourself, that's remarkable!" she exclaimed. "Not everyone has a knack for the turns of phrase that verse requires. You should be proud of your ability!"

"I suppose so…" He stopped paging through the book and looked up at her. "But...don't you think it's a little strange?" he asked quietly. "I mean, it's already different enough that I like to read so much, but writing poetry, too? That's…" he trailed off again. "Well, it's not the kind of thing you admit to doing if you know what's good for you," he finished.

"What makes you say that?"

He smiled, but the expression didn't reach his eyes. "Experience." It was only a word, but it was laden with silent emotion.

"Anyway," Davey continued briskly, "I guess it just stuck with me - writing in verse, I mean - because it was one of the few things I could keep doing regardless of how often we moved. Most other pastimes require people to do them with, and it seemed like every time I finally made friends at school, we'd move again. But anywhere we went, I could always write. It was a way of sorting out my thoughts without having to bother someone else to listen. And sometimes it was fun, too."

"What did you write your first poem about?" Sadie asked curiously.

Davey ducked his head. "Snakes," he admitted. "It was terrible. But in my defense, I was only ten years old."

"You were writing poetry at ten years old?"

"Terrible poetry, Sadie. Don't forget that part."

"Did you ever write anything that you were proud of?"

"Not really. I mean, nothing that I'd want to share."

"But you said that it was fun on occasion."

"It was." Davey shrugged. "But having fun and producing work fit for someone else to read don't always go hand in hand." He looked up from his book again and gave her a tiny, hesitant smile. "That being said...I think you just became privy to one of my most closely-guarded secrets, Chare. I've hardly told anyone about my poetry. Not even my family. Les would balk if he found out; he already thinks I'm odd enough."

"I won't speak a word of it," Sadie promised. "But I don't think that it's something to be embarrassed about."

"Well...I'm glad to hear that," he said, "even if not everyone shares your opinion."

Before Sadie could say anything more, the door opened and Miriam returned from dropping off Abby at the landlord's office.

"Has Lilly stirred?" she asked, closing the door behind her.

Sadie shook her head. "I haven't heard a thing." Noticing the drawn, weary look on her mother's face as she nodded in acknowledgement, Sadie added impulsively, "If you'd like to step out for a bit to call on Mrs. Gerlach or go shopping, Mama, I can keep an eye on Lilly."

"You have a guest, Sadie," Miriam chided.

"I don't mind, Mrs. Becker," Davey interjected. "This - " he tapped the book, " - is the kind of thing that you can drop at any time, so it's not going to be a problem if we need to take a break so that Sadie can assist Lilly."

Sadie watched as her mother debated internally. Miriam generally didn't like people outside of the family to be inconvenienced by Lilly's care, but the look on her face showed that she was in need of some respite, and after a moment of silent deliberation, she capitulated.

"Perhaps I'll go downstairs for an hour or so to call on Deborah, then," she said. "She's been wanting me to stop by. Thank you both for looking after Lilly." After a few additional instructions, she took her leave, and the apartment was once again quiet.

"Thank you for being so understanding, Davey," Sadie murmured, giving her guest a grateful look. "I'm sorry that I didn't ask you beforehand if it was all right, but I thought that you wouldn't mind."

"Not at all," he assured her. "I'm glad that you and your mother felt comfortable enough to go ahead with it."

Sadie had been surprised by her mother's relatively quick agreement; Miriam Becker wasn't usually the kind to accept help easily, especially if it meant putting out a visitor, so it was a mark of her comfortability with Davey that she'd made that small concession. Even more notable was the fact that she'd shown no qualms about leaving Sadie unchaperoned in his company. It wasn't necessarily improper, what they were doing - they were in a common space, Lilly was in the next room, and Philip was always coming in and out of the apartment throughout the day - but it wasn't exactly practicing model decorum either, and the fact that Miriam - who usually cared about those things - hadn't given it a second thought was a little surprising.

Just another reason why their neighbor was in a class by himself, Sadie mused before saying aloud, "I think I've held us up long enough, and I'm eager to hear the story that you've picked out, Davey." She smiled, then gestured to the book in his hands. "Shall we?"


A/N: This chapter got so long that I ended up splitting it into two parts so as not to bog you down, as I know my installments tend to be on the longer side anyway, but part two will pick up where we've left off. Thanks for reading - I'd love to hear your reactions to this chapter!