Disclaimer: This is a non-commercial work of fanfiction. Anything recognizable from Newsies belongs to Disney and not to me.
Chapter 97: Out of Character
"Davey! Hey Davey, you asleep or somethin'?"
Race looked up from the change he'd been counting to see Elmer impatiently prodding Davey, who seemed to be oblivious to the fact that the newsie in front of him had finished his business at the circulation window and that it was now his turn to step up and pay for his papes.
"Sorry Elmer," Davey apologized, quickly moving forward. Race watched as he purchased his usual quota of papers, then stepped off to the side to neatly slide them into his newsboy bag before taking one copy out to methodically peruse the headlines. But this examination only lasted a moment or so before the distracted expression was there again, and Race could tell that Davey's mind was preoccupied with something other than the paper in front of him.
Purchasing his own allotment for the day, Race shoved his papers into his bag, then sauntered over to where Davey was standing, unceremoniously whisking the other newsie's cap off of his head and smacking him lightly with it.
"Hey! What's with you, Dave?" he demanded. "Ain't like you to be out to lunch this early in the mornin'."
Davey looked a little surprised, as though he hadn't even noticed Race's approach. "Oh, uh, it's nothing," he said quickly. "Just reading the headlines like always." He gave Race an unconvincing smile.
"What've we got today?"
"Well, let's see…" Davey hurriedly scanned the paper. "There's an article about - "
"If you was actually readin' the headlines like you said you was, you would've been able to tell me without lookin'," Race interrupted, flipping Davey's cap back to him. "Ain't like you to lie, either."
"I wasn't lying," Davey insisted as he settled his cap back on his head. "I was reading the headlines. I just got distracted for a moment and forgot what I'd read."
"Distracted 'bout what?"
"A lot of things," Davey answered vaguely, but instead of his hands gripping the strap of his newsboy bag or clenching nervously into fists as they normally did when he got flustered, he only shrugged a little, and Race thought he saw even a hint of a smile on the other newsie's face.
Unusual, he thought to himself. Davey was rarely in a good mood most mornings, and usually when he had a lot on his mind he'd be full of anxious energy, pacing almost constantly or sometimes talking to himself under his breath as he tried to sort out his thoughts. But he seemed almost relaxed this morning - maybe even cheerful, if a little absent-minded.
"What's got you so chipper?" Race asked curiously, deciding to shoot straight. "You usually ain't a mornin' person."
Davey laughed. "Yeah, I guess I'm not," he admitted, shaking his head even as the smile spread fully across his face. "I don't know, Race...things are just going well right now, so I suppose I'm 'drinking in the moment,' that's all."
"Your pa find a job?" Race probed.
"Not yet," the other boy answered, "but his leg is getting a little better, so hopefully he'll be able to start looking soon."
So, not the job situation, then.
"Your brother stayin' out of trouble?" Race pressed, grasping at the only other reason coming to mind at that particular moment.
"More or less," came Davey's frustratingly-banal answer. "He's been applying himself much better at school now that he has the incentive of selling on the weekend if he behaves, so his marks have been adequate."
Not the job situation, not the brother. What else could it be?
"Not trying to change the subject..." Davey ventured (while doing just that, Race noted with mild irritation) "...but I've been meaning to ask how you've been doing, Race. We haven't really talked since you got back from Brooklyn."
It was true. Race had been studiously avoiding Davey for some time now, initially because he'd been unsure of his trustworthiness when the whole unfortunate business of the Newsie Fund had been up in the air, and later because he hadn't wanted to explain the fiasco to Davey - especially not the part about him being the prime suspect in the case - but Race hadn't forgotten the dismayed look on the other newsie's face at the end of their terse parting exchange in Brooklyn, and he knew that eventually he ought to confess to his friend the reason for why he'd been so defensive during that time, but a part of him had (probably irresponsibly) hoped that things would just blow over, and that his friendship with Davey could be restored without them having to hash out all the unpleasant details.
For a while, it had seemed like a viable possibility - their exchanges had been polite (if perfunctory) the times they'd crossed paths, and Davey, surprisingly, hadn't seemed to be as troubled by the incident as he could have been (perhaps the mysterious source of his uncharacteristic good mood could be thanked for that). Race had almost been ready to sweep the entire thing under the rug and move on (and since he, Jack, and Crutchie had decided not to divulge the entirety of the incident to the rest of the newsies and had only announced to the lodging house that Artie had deemed it necessary to leave unexpectedly, Davey could have easily remained in the dark with the rest of the boys), but now as Race considered the graciously-put question and the concerned look on his friend's face, he realized that he probably ought to come clean. Davey might not be the kind to hold grudges, but he was the kind to value (and perhaps expect) honesty in those he was close to, so if Race truly wanted the friendship repaired, he'd need to fess up, as unpleasant as that would be.
"I haven't been feelin' my best," he admitted reluctantly.
"Are your injuries still bothering you?" There was a note of worry in Davey's voice.
"A little. But that ain't the whole of it. You got a few minutes before we head out to sell?"
"Sure," Davey agreed easily, but Race could tell that he was definitely worried now.
It was both touching to know that his friend cared so much and a little sad to think that this was closer to the Davey that Race was used to seeing, the Davey who was always preoccupied and concerned about something, who seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders (though Race supposed that in some ways they all did). He so rarely observed the other boy at ease and blissfully content (which was maybe why he was so intent on ferreting out the reason for Davey's unusual cheerfulness that morning), but if there was a way to help Davey have more of those moments of happiness, Race would certainly want to do his part in bringing that about. It was no easy task, mellowing out the serious, driven newsie, but something had done it this morning, at least temporarily…
Something...or maybe someone, Race thought to himself, an idea suddenly sparking. But better take care of business first, he reminded himself.
They walked over to a bench in front of a dry goods store several yards away from the distribution center and sat down (for there were still several newsies waiting in line to purchase their papes or loitering around to peruse the headlines before they set out, and Race didn't really want to be overheard).
"I got a confession to make, Dave," Race said after they'd sat for a moment in silence. "It ain't gonna be a pretty one, so brace yourself, all right?" He held back the urge to chuckle when Davey's hands actually gripped the edge of the bench as though he was taking the instructions literally, even though Race knew that it was just a reflexive nervous habit.
"Remember our talk about why I went to Brooklyn?" he asked, deciding he might as well start there. "When I told'ja I'd crossed the Bridge 'cause I was wantin' to see my sister?"
Davey nodded.
"That weren't the whole truth," Race confessed. "I was actually runnin' away from a mess at the lodgin' house." Briefly, he filled Davey in on the discovery of the missing money. "The worst part of it was that there was one fella we ended up peggin' as the culprit 'cause all of the flimsy evidence was pointin' to him," he continued. "We didn't want to believe it, 'cause he always seemed like an upstandin' kind of guy, but…" he trailed off, glancing over at the other newsie.
At first, Davey seemed confused, but after a moment, comprehension dawned upon his face.
"You...thought it was me?" he asked, his voice going quiet in disbelief. "You thought I would steal from the Fund?"
It sounded so completely incredulous now, and Race felt another stab of remorse, but he had to tell the truth.
"Yeah," he admitted. "We thought it was you. 'Cause we didn't have anything substantial pointin' to anyone else, and we wasn't thinkin' clearly enough to see the signs." He gave Davey an apologetic look. "Sorry, Dave," he muttered, shaking his head. "It weren't right of us to suspect you like that, but it just seemed to line up at the time - you visitin' the lodgin' house, leavin' your cap behind near the cabinet, us knowin' you was worryin' about your family needin' money...plus, you was the only fella other than Crutchie, Jack, and me who knew where the key was kept."
"Yeah, that…that makes sense," Davey said, and Race could tell that he was trying very hard not to sound upset. "You had to make your best guess."
"Should've known it wasn't you, though," Race sighed. "You's too bad of a liar to pull off that kinda thing."
Davey looked like he didn't know whether he ought to be relieved or insulted by the assessment.
"Anyway, I know I kinda gave you the cold shoulder and said some things that weren't fair to you in Brooklyn," Race continued, looking down at his hands. "It weren't right of me, and I'm sorry, Dave. You's always been an honest fella, and I shoulda given you the benefit of the doubt."
"I was wondering where those remarks came from," Davey acknowledged. "They seemed a little more pointed than normal. I - " he fell silent, clearly debating whether or not he ought to continue his disclosure. "Well, I'm glad to know the reason behind them now," he concluded, curtailing the thought.
Race could tell that there was more he wanted to say, but before he could draw it out, Davey asked quickly, "So what happened? How'd you figure out it wasn't me?"
"I paid a visit to the Bronx, and Calico helped me sort things out. Somethin' she said gave me a hunch, so I did a little more investigatin', and then I caught the thief. The clues lined up once I looked back on it; I just didn't know for sure until I'd seen the evidence with my own eyes." Race continued his story, filling Davey in on the rest of the details. It wasn't pleasant to disclose his error in judgement, but he owed the other boy a full explanation. Upon the tale's completion, Davey looked thoughtful, but he didn't say anything at first.
Race waited. He would have liked to simply end the conversation there, to get to his feet with a lighthearted quip and a word of thanks to Davey and then head off to sell, taking advantage of the other newsie's momentary silence to avoid any further awkwardness, but he resisted the impulse to do so. He knew that he needed to accept the consequences of his mistake and to hear whatever Davey wanted to say.
"What are you thinkin', Dave?" he asked eventually when the other newsie failed to break the silence. "I know that big brain of yours is workin' overtime - I can already smell smoke."
(All right, so maybe he wasn't capable of cutting out the quipping completely).
"I'm just trying to wrap my mind around it, that's all," Davey responded, but Race could hear the uneasiness in his voice.
"Ah, come on," Race goaded him gently. "You can tell me. You don't haf'ta hold it in, all right? I know you ain't the kind to say how you's really feelin', but that ain't always good for you. And I'm tellin' you right now, you don't haf'ta do it."
Race could see the conflict written on Davey's face as he struggled to formulate his reply.
"Okay, if...if you want to know how I'm really feeling, then...I'll tell you," he said falteringly, clearly trying to drum up the courage to speak his mind. "I'm...upset. Angry. I - " he let out a frustrated breath, then looked Race in the eye. "I would never steal from the newsies. I wouldn't take something that wasn't mine. And I wouldn't talk about how important honesty was if I wasn't willing to be honest myself. That would be - " he stopped for a moment, as though trying to gather (or perhaps reign in) his thoughts.
Race waited patiently.
"I guess I'm just disappointed, too," Davey continued soberly. "Those remarks you made in Brooklyn...I had no idea where they were coming from, and I thought that maybe I'd said or done something to make you think that I wasn't sincere. Knowing what I do now, it's not so bad. But at the time…" he trailed off. "I just thought you knew me better than that," he finished quietly.
"I know it's not right of me to think that way," Davey added quickly, as though he regretted his earlier statement. "We've only known each other for a few months, so it makes sense that you and the newsies wouldn't know whether you could trust me or not. I guess it just hits differently for me because it's been a while since I've really had a group of friends to belong to. The last neighborhood my family lived in - and the last school I attended - wasn't…" he trailed off again.
"It wasn't easy for me to fit in there," he eventually continued, "and when I became a newsie, I thought that it was going to be more of the same, but somehow you and Jack and everyone else made me feel like I was accepted and important and one of you, even if I was different. And that meant a lot to me. But knowing that maybe you didn't see me that way after all feels…" he stopped himself again.
"Sorry." He gave Race a terse smile, the frustration in his voice suddenly giving way to an almost nervous hesitation. "Sorry, I'm rambling now. We don't have to talk about it anymore. We should probably get to selling."
"If you got more to say, then say it."
"It's fine. Really." Davey bent down to pick up his newsboy bag. "I was just overthinking it, that's all."
"Pretty sure you ain't overthinkin'," Race asserted, "just actin' the way any normal fella would."
Davey glanced over him, and Race could tell that he was surprised by the validation.
"When Jack talks about us bein' brothers, it ain't just throwin' around words," Race went on. "He's sayin' it cause we's a family. And that means we have each other's backs, that we trust each other. It ain't a small thing any time that trust gets broken." He looked Davey in the eye. "So there ain't anything you need to apologize for, Dave - it makes sense why you's upset and disappointed. I didn't have your back, and I should've."
"I'm not blaming you for any of this - " Davey began, but Race silenced him with a wave of his hand.
"Nah, let me finish. I got somethin' else to tell you, too." He settled himself back on the bench and pointedly waited until Davey once again set down his bag of papers.
"It weren't just the circumstantial evidence that was goin' against you," Race confessed. "If I would've only looked at the facts, I probably wouldn't have been so quick to suspect you. But the truth is, Dave, I'm the kind of guy who don't take much stock in believin' that folks is gonna do what they say they's gonna do. I ain't seen much in almost seventeen years of life 'cept people lettin' me down one way or another, and after a while, it stopped makin' sense to expect anything else, you know? I thought you was basically an upstandin' guy, sure...but there was always that part of me just waitin' for the other shoe to drop, 'cause that's what always happens."
He paused for a moment, then continued. "And that's the problem. I ain't used to believin' the best of folks, even when they ain't done a single thing to make me suspect 'em. Or maybe in this case my problem was believin' the best of a fella who didn't deserve it and doubtin' a fella who did."
He was surprised that he'd disclosed so much, but he supposed it was due to the unusual effect that Davey had on people. Despite the fact that the latter wasn't particularly forthcoming about his own thoughts, he had a way of drawing others out before they even realized what was happening.
"I know you's probably still thinkin' this through, and that maybe you ain't gonna want to deal with me for a while," Race acknowledged when Davey once again maintained his thoughtful silence, "but I am gonna try to make it up to you, Dave. Next time we's at Jacobi's, lunch is on me, okay?"
"You don't need to do that," Davey said quickly.
"I know," Race cracked a grin. "But I'm gonna anyway. I'll even let'cha bring a friend if you want, and I'll spring for their sandwich, too." It was a slightly-probing offer, the kind he normally would have set aside in favor of a more direct line of good-natured interrogation, but he wanted to tread carefully, still unsure of where he stood at the moment.
"That's a nice offer," Davey answered slowly, "...but I'm not sure I'd want to subject anyone else to your company, Race - especially not someone I'd consider a friend."
Relief flooded through Race at the unexpected if mild insult, and he broke into a grin. "Ah, there's the Davey Jacobs sarcasm!" he exclaimed, jostling the other newsie in the arm. "I was startin' to miss it!"
"Yeah, well," Davey scoffed lightly, "you told me to speak my mind." Almost immediately as it had come, the anxious tension in his voice was gone, replaced by a wry incisiveness that Race knew was a sign that things were already beginning to mend.
"You oughta speak your mind more often," he quipped.
"I don't know about that, Race." Davey bent down to gather his papes. "If I were to unleash the fullness of my invective, I bet even you'd have a difficult time keeping up." He stood, hoisting his newsboy bag onto his shoulder.
Race chuckled. "Ah, finally the truth comes out!" he crowed as he, too, got to his feet. "You's just as sharp-tongued as the rest of us, the only difference is you's better at hidin' it!" He smirked. "After all these months, maybe you's finally turnin' into a respectable newsie after all, Dave!"
Davey didn't dignify the jab with an answer, but Race could see an almost-smile threatening at the corners of his mouth, and it was a welcome sight after all of the self-disclosure and seriosity they'd been dealing with that morning.
Race was almost feeling bold enough to risk interrogating Davey further about his unusually good mood previous to their conversation, but before he could say anything, there was a commotion by the circulation gate, and Race looked over to see Jack burst onto the scene, grinning from ear to ear as he waved a newspaper high in the air and hollered for the newsies still in the vicinity to assemble.
Was everyone off their rocker today? Race wondered as he and Davey exchanged perplexed looks and then walked over to join the rest of the group. First an absent-minded, relaxed Davey and now a giddy, slap-happy Jack? Next thing they knew, Crutchie would be clambering up to the top of the circulation gate to rain down prophecies of doom and gloom!
"Fellas!" Jack's voice rang out as the newsies crowded close. "I got some real good news to share!" He unfolded the paper he'd been waving in his hands, and Race saw that it was a copy of the New York Sun.
"Kath's article about The Refuge ran today, and the newsie I just bought this pape from said the story's been sellin' like hotcakes! Folks is really takin' notice, which means there's a good chance the gov'nor's office is gonna take notice, too."
Exclamations of excitement were heard all around.
"Maybe we should've worked for The Sun today," Mush joked. "Couldn't hurt to help get the word out."
"I think the fellas hawkin' The Sun have it covered, but it's a good idea, Mushy," Jack acknowledged. He thought for a moment, then said, "I know we's usually jostlin' for sellin' spots with those boys, but maybe clear out and let 'em do their work today, all right? They's spreadin' our story; the least we can do is walk a little further and give 'em the space to do what they need to do."
There were murmurs of agreement.
"I don't wanna get our hopes up too much," Jack continued (though Race could see that he was having trouble hiding a smile), "but this is somethin' to celebrate, 'cause it's hopefully gonna mean the end of The Refuge and the Spider once and for all!"
The newsies cheered.
"All right, let's get to work," Jack grinned. "Move those papes, and when you's done, let's meet at Jacobi's for lunch, all right? Those of you who's got a little more to go around can help pay for the others. Let any of the fellas who ain't here know about it if you see 'em on your route, got it?"
The newsies chorused their agreement, then immediately dispersed, heading off in all directions to sell their papers.
"Guess I'll be makin' good on that lunch offer sooner than I thought," Race joked before he parted ways with Davey. "Don't forget to bring a friend - this is a free sandwich we's talkin' about, plus the pleasure of my company!"
"I fail to see how that adequately incentivizes compliance on my part," came the other newsie's blunt reply. "I think I've already mentioned that I'd rather not put any of my friends through the ordeal of your company, Race, and a paltry sandwich won't be enough to offset that, I'm sorry to say."
And with that, Davey headed down the street, leaving Race to grin and shake his head as he turned to walk in the opposite direction. He felt a lot better now about where things stood between him and the other newsie (for a sarcastic Davey was a comfortable Davey), and Race was glad that he'd chosen to come clean, even if it hadn't been easy to do so. Their friendship was already on its way to being restored, and on top of that, Katherine's story was gaining traction, and they had lunch at Jacobi's to look forward to later on that day…
It was certainly shaping up to be a first-rate kind of morning.
A/N: Not the most riveting chapter, perhaps, but Race and Davey needed to talk it out. :) The next three installments are going to be very important plot-wise for different reasons, so things will get more interesting soon - hang in there! Thanks for reading this chapter - I'd love to hear your reactions to it!
