Disclaimer: This is a non-commercial work of fanfiction. Anything recognizable from Newsies belongs to Disney and not to me.
Chapter 98: Challenge and Consequence
"It's good to see you again, Megs!" Sadie called out as she and Abby hurried across the street towards the curly-haired girl waiting for them on the other side. "It's been a rather dull several days without you!"
"Well, Mother and Father wanted to make sure whatever I'd caught wasn't the flu," Margaret answered as she fell into step with the Becker sisters, giving Abby a little smile of greeting. "It's been going around this winter, and the weather's been getting colder and colder. Fortunately, all I had was a little sniffle, and I was already feeling better by the next day, but we didn't want to risk infecting anyone else."
"It certainly has been getting chilly as of late," Sadie agreed. There was a bite to the air that had descended over the past several days, and though there'd been no rain, the wind had picked up considerably.
"So, catch me up on everything that I missed while I was out of school," Margaret said eagerly, looping her arm through Sadie's as Abby walked ahead, eager to get to class so that she could claim her favorite seat.
"Nothing so very interesting happened while you were gone," Sadie admitted. "We've been primarily preparing for our competency exams, so it's been a lot of independent study and review drills for those of us in the older class. Mr. Crowell has been out sick the last three days, too, so we've had a substitute instructor. One of the boys in Les and Abby's class brought a frog in his pocket and let it loose in the classroom. It scared her half to death!"
"I wish I could have been there to see that," Margaret lamented.
"The poor woman nearly fainted; it wasn't nearly as amusing as it sounded."
"Did any of the boys bring their kites this week?"
"Yes, in fact there were several of them up yesterday," Sadie answered. "All of this wind has made for good kite flying weather, and James especially had good luck with his diamond. "
"Speaking of boys," Margaret none-too-subtly changed the subject, "how did your reading time with David turn out?"
"Well overall," Sadie answered succinctly. She could already sense where this turn of conversation was going, and quickened her pace just a bit. The sooner they got to school and she could curtail her friend's line of inquiry, the better. "My cookies turned out to be a disaster, but Davey managed not to die from the few bites that he did eat, so I suppose it could have been worse."
"He seemed to be in an uncommonly high spirits," Margaret remarked. "I don't recall ever seeing him smile so much or look so relaxed."
"He's like that when he's comfortable," Sadie shrugged.
"He's clearly quite comfortable with you."
"We talk almost every day when he comes for tutoring, Megs. It would be quite lamentable if he wasn't comfortable with me by now."
Margaret made a noncommittal sound. "So tell me honestly…" she prodded, "did you actually enjoy listening to him read? Or were you bored senseless?"
"The reading was enjoyable - though we didn't get through as much of it as I expected."
"Because you had too many other things to talk about?" Margaret teased. "Your rather pretty-looking coiffure, perhaps?
Sadie gave her friend a miffed look. "You forced Davey into that compliment, Megs, and I must say it was rather untoward of you. There was no other answer that he could possibly give without sounding terribly impolite."
"But you've told me before that he's very sincere and doesn't say things unless he means them."
"I was referring to important things, Megs."
"He seems to think you're quite important."
"Margaret, where are you going with this?" Sadie asked shortly, knowing the answer but wanting to put an end to the circuitous prying.
"I'm just curious to know why you'd willingly give up an hour of your afternoon to do something that you've never shown any interest in before."
"Being read to is different than doing the reading yourself," Sadie insisted.
"But not too much different - which leads me to believe that the one doing the reading was far more fascinating to you than the reading itself."
Sadie let out a huff of exasperation. "Is it really so difficult for you to believe that I could enjoy Davey's reading as well as his company, Megs?"
"I just find all of it surprising," came her friend's candid answer. "This is the first time you've shown any real interest in a boy since - "
"Davey's different, Megs," Sadie interrupted quickly. "Our friendship is completely different."
"Different how?"
"He's…" Sadie trailed off, having a bit of difficulty putting her finger on what she wanted to say. "He's thoughtful," she answered finally. "And focused. He takes life seriously and wants to make use of his time and his talents. Talking with him is...well, challenging, I suppose. I never expected that we'd get along so well, but there's something that's intriguing about him. And he's kind, too. He listens to me and takes me seriously, even though I'm nowhere near as bright or as thoughtful as he is, and he makes me feel like…" she hesitated again.
"He makes me feel like I'm not just the silly girl I've come to suppose myself to be," she finished, trying to sound detached but unable to keep the wistfulness out of her voice. "He makes me feel like I might be able to do some good in the world, despite my past mistakes and obvious shortcomings. For some reason, the newsboy strike, and the fact that he had such an important role in it, has refused to leave my mind. Those boys were in such an untenable position and had everything to lose, and yet they made something out of a hopeless situation. They didn't allow the men in power or the expectations of society to determine the outcome of their stories. They defied the odds and they came out the victors - and they were young people like us, Megs!"
The conversation lapsed for just a moment as Sadie paused to gather her thoughts. "As far-fetched as the notion may be, when I think of the strike, the possibility inevitably crosses my mind that…" she nearly curtailed the thought, but forced herself to continue. "...that maybe I could be capable of something similar - not taking on a newspaper empire or inciting a city-wide strike, of course - but affecting some kind of change. Change that would help people and would make things better."
She smiled hesitantly at her friend. "For quite some time now I've believed that my life's path has already been determined, and that the best I can do is simply accept that reality, trying to find small glimmers of happiness where I can. But when I talk with Davey, I feel like the future ceases to be something so cold and unknowable that it must merely be endured. It feels more like…" she found herself once again grasping for words. "It feels more like a place where I can see the faintest beginnings of hope," she confessed, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Megs, I haven't felt hope since…"
She broke off, rummaging hurriedly through her handbag to pull out her handkerchief as tears sprang unexpectedly to her eyes.
"I'm sorry," she apologized, dabbing at the offending moisture. "I didn't mean to get so choked up about it."
"You don't need to apologize," Margaret reassured her, and Sadie felt the other girl's arm slide comfortingly around her shoulders. They walked in silence for a few moments this way, and eventually Sadie regained her composure and tucked her handkerchief back into her bag.
"I'm sorry for teasing you about David, Sadie," Margaret murmured. "I didn't realize that his friendship meant so much to you."
"In all fairness, I'm not sure I completely realized it myself until I explained it just now," Sadie admitted. "But what I spoke of is the truth. It may be that Davey's sincere manner of speaking is rubbing off on me, too - you know that I'm generally not the kind to be so disclosing or so easily touched."
"It's not necessarily a bad thing," Margaret acknowledged. "I know we don't often speak in a sober manner, but there's a time and place for it. And if your friendship with David has inspired you and made you feel hopeful about the future, then I'm more than happy to overlook his less-than-sterling qualities and to consider him a worthy recipient of your time and attention without further prying on my part."
Sadie gave her a pointed look. "What less-than-sterling qualities do you speak of, Megs?" she asked. "I'd rather have you speak your criticisms of Davey outright than only allude to them."
"He's incredibly awkward and unnecessarily anxious," came her friend's easy answer. "I suppose it's due in part to the fact that he doesn't feel comfortable with people very easily, but he'd do himself a favor if he didn't overthink things so much."
Sadie paused for a moment, considering the critique.
"I don't believe he's doing it on purpose," she said slowly. "I think his mind just works differently." She'd noticed Davey's easy embarrassment and propensity to second-guess himself a while ago, and while it hadn't made sense to her at first either, over time it had ceased to be his defining characteristic. Subtly reassuring Davey when he was anxious had become more natural over time, and though Sadie wished for his own sake that he could understand that he was accepted and wanted, she intuitively sensed that it wasn't so simple for him, and ultimately, she'd decided that if this was a part of who he was, she was more than willing to accept it alongside the other things that made up his deep and complex personality.
"Anyway," she said, "I hope you'll eventually get to know Davey better, Megs. If you could see how he talks when he's comfortable, you'd understand what I mean. He just takes some time to draw out, that's all."
"I didn't mean to judge him harshly," Margaret clarified. "I suppose it's just difficult for me to comprehend why a boy as smart as David would have anything to be insecure about."
"Most of us have insecurities, Megs. Some of us just hide them better."
"I suppose that's true - and it certainly follows, then, that a sincere boy wouldn't be the kind to put up a front, not even to make himself look good. Maybe I ought to have more appreciation for his awkwardness, in fact!"
"Now you're teasing, Megs," Sadie chided.
"Perhaps. But this time it's good-naturedly meant."
They arrived at the schoolyard and walked into the classroom without saying anything more, but Sadie found herself pondering the conversation (and her surprisingly emotional reaction) as she situated her slate and schoolbooks in their places and prepared for another day of class.
She'd never had to put to words before what made Davey's friendship so important to her, and she realized now how truly unique their situation was. Under other circumstances, the two of them would have never struck up a friendship. Their personalities and interests were far too different, and they seemed to have so little in common by way of life experiences, goals, and family situation.
And yet, now that they'd fallen into it, their camaraderie was balanced and easy and comfortable, and while Davey remained an enigma in many ways, Sadie realized that he'd also become a very familiar part of her daily life, like Margaret's easy laugh, or the sound of Abby flipping through the pages of her book, or their father's cheerful whistling as he went about his work. They were unobtrusive, simple things that didn't seem like much at first...but life would feel strangely silent and empty without them.
Class was suddenly called to order, and Sadie opened up her book and forced herself to attend to the words of the schoolmistress, putting all thoughts of her neighbor aside.
She hoped that the headlines had been good for him that day.
Esther Jacobs ladled a spoonful of cooked carrots onto her husband's plate, then placed the dish in front of him with a little smile.
"You must be hungry, Mayer," she said. "It's not like you to ask for seconds on carrots." The root vegetable wasn't her husband's favorite, but near-beggars couldn't afford to be choosers, and carrots had been on sale at the market the day before, so accordingly, carrots were the produce being served.
"I didn't eat much for breakfast," he answered simply, spearing one of the orange vegetables with his fork.
Esther took a bite of her own meal, wishing that she'd been able to splurge for a better cut of beef at the butcher's - the stew meat was tough and stringy, and though she'd managed to hide some of its texture under the sauce that she'd cooked up, it was a far from satisfying meal.
Her work at the lace factory had been taxing, but it had provided some much-needed income which had helped to ease things considerably. The hours were not ideal - workers were constantly being shifted around, so her schedule wasn't consistent - but she took whatever she was offered, knowing that her family needed the money. Today, she'd covered the early shift, rising before sunup to make her way to the factory in the waning darkness of night. It was tiring, but at least this way she'd been able to finish her shift and come home in time to serve her husband his lunch.
"David was unusually chipper this morning," Mayer broke into Esther's thoughts as he finished up his carrots.
"Was he really? Well, that's welcome news!" she exclaimed. "He's been so busy lately with exams coming up at school, so if he's managed to find some joy despite all that, I'm happy for him."
"You don't think it's a little unusual?" her husband wondered aloud.
Esther considered the question for a moment. "It is unusual," she conceded. "But quite frankly, I wish that it wasn't. David is too young to be as serious and preoccupied as he is. I wish that we could see him lighthearted a little more often, though I know that the burdens he carries are primarily those we've placed upon his shoulders."
It had been a mild point of contention for years, David's role in the family and the responsibilities he was expected to fulfill. Mayer maintained that it was never too soon for his sons to grow up (though the implementation of that sentiment was applied more heavily to David than to Les) while Esther inwardly worried that David's obedient determination to prioritize the family's needs had left him little time for his own diversions and interests. Before Mayer's accident, things had been a little more balanced - David had occasionally helped his father with smaller jobs, but most of the time he'd been free to attend school and to focus on his studies. His primary duties had been to excel in his classes and to watch out for Les, both things he'd been more than proficient at.
But with the move to Manhattan and the subsequent loss of Mayer's job, that balance had shifted, and David had taken on the role of primary breadwinner, setting aside his academic pursuits and his reading time and all of the things that seemed to excite him in favor of working two jobs that occupied nearly all of his waking hours. He'd seemed to settle into selling papers much better after the strike, finding good friends amongst the newsies, and from what Esther could tell, her son's job at the tenement was physically taxing but not disagreeable. He'd been taking advantage of the opportunity to learn from Philip Becker, and had even applied some of his newfound skills to their own apartment, installing a set of shelves to maximize storage space and attending to some repairs himself when they'd unexpectedly come up.
But David had very little time for himself, and this was what Esther quietly mourned, for she hadn't forgotten the crushed expression on his face when he'd dropped out of school and had turned his attention away from his studies and towards selling papers instead.
"Our son seems to be doing well for himself, despite the burdens you speak of," Mayer said, again breaking into Esther's thoughts. "He's bringing in consistent money from his job as a newsboy, and it seems like he's been given more responsibilities here at the tenement, which means he must be doing good work."
"David is industrious and adaptable." Esther didn't bother to hide the pride in her voice, though she knew that her husband wasn't the kind to boast about either of their sons. "He's made the most of the opportunities he's been given - his job with Philip Becker especially has been providential."
"It has indeed," Mayer agreed. "But under ideal circumstances, I would prefer us not to be so beholden to our landlord and his family."
It wasn't the first time he'd expressed such a sentiment, and Esther braced herself, suspecting where the conversation was headed. "There's little we can do about it now," she responded. "We wouldn't be able to pay the rent if David didn't have that job - "
"And David wouldn't need that job if I was back at work," Mayer countered, just as she'd expected him to. "I've been telling you for weeks, Esther, I can't keep sitting around like this!"
"Mayer, you're in constant discomfort because of your leg! How are you going to be able to stand for hours on end, or move around well enough to do your work? You can't start a new job already looking worn out like this - they'll dismiss you on the spot! But if you just wait for your leg to heal - "
"How long do you expect me to wait?" Mayer demanded. "It's been months!"
"It might have been faster if you'd rested and let it heal properly in the first place!" Esther retorted, unable to keep her voice even.
"It's as good as it's ever going to get," her husband grumbled. "I can't wait any longer - our financial situation is hanging in the balance."
"But we're stable enough for now," Esther pleaded, knowing that he wasn't going to capitulate but determined to make another attempt to get him to see reason. "We've managed this long, and we can certainly manage a little longer!"
Her husband shook his head.
"You're wearing yourself thin - don't think I don't see it, Esther. I know those long hours at the factory have been hard on you. And David's wasting his potential, spending all of his time working when he should be finishing his education and starting his own career, a career that will get him ahead in life. We haven't scrimped and pinched to prioritize his education just for him to end up with the same limited prospects that we've struggled against. We wanted to give him a future, yet here he is, selling papers and begging our landlord to give him the most menial of jobs, just so that we can come up with the next month's rent!"
"He's picking up life skills as a newsboy that will be useful later on and will predispose him to empathize with those whose circumstances are more dire than his own," Esther insisted. "And he's hardly groveling for jobs at the tenement. I've run into Philip several times, and he's told me that David's been a great help to him."
"Our landlord and his family are uncommonly benevolent," Mayer admitted grudgingly. "But David's close association with them is not ideal. It's risky enough that he's already working for Mr. Becker, but he's receiving tutoring from Miss Becker as well. That's never been an advisable situation."
"It's also the only thing that's giving him a chance to finish school on time."
"Which is why I haven't said anything to him about it," Mayer acquiesced. "But I'm beginning to wonder if David ought to be spending so much time with our landlord's daughter."
Esther pursed her lips. She knew that her husband had a point. It wasn't the most proper of arrangements. But the slight indecorum of it all seemed to pale in comparison to the situation's benefits. The academic advantages were obvious, but beyond that, Esther suspected that David's tutoring sessions were one of the only bright spots in his otherwise busy and stressful rhythm of life. He regularly returned in good spirits, not saying much, but with his shoulders relaxed and his mind seemingly at ease, the weariness of another long day melting into a calm if slightly-tired look of satisfaction...and Esther was loath to take that simple but meaningful happiness away from him.
"We've raised David to be sensible," she said aloud. "I'm sure he's aware of the complexities of the situation and will comport himself accordingly. More importantly, the Beckers appear to be amenable to the arrangement."
"Even still, it would be better if I was back at work," Mayer muttered, seemingly deflated but not without a trace of irritation in his voice. "Then David could go back to school, and we wouldn't have to worry about the complications of these connections."
"Is this really about David and our landlord's family," Esther asked quietly, "or is this about you and your unwillingness to be patient?" She didn't often speak so bluntly to her husband, but - to his credit - he had always told her he preferred to know what was on her mind. It had led to some heated arguments, but it had kept them honest with each other through the ups and downs of nearly two decades of married life.
"It's about both," Mayer said candidly. "But I don't think that the emotional underpinnings of the latter should negate the very valid concerns of the former."
"Once David finishes school, the tutoring lessons will end," Esther said appeasingly. "And I'm sure you'll be back to work in the next few months, which means that the jobs at the tenement will eventually be set aside as well. It's not worth disrupting things at the moment; David's been through enough as it is."
Mayer didn't answer, and Esther sensed that he had his own ideas about the subject but wasn't willing to disclose them any further at the time.
"I'm going to lie down in the bedroom for a while," he finally said, and she could tell that his pride was pricked a bit by having to admit that the simple act of eating lunch while engaging in a spirited conversation had wearied him. "But I don't plan on sitting around for another few months, Esther. It's time for me to take the reins again, even if I have to do it with only one working leg."
Esther chose not to say anything in reply, silently rising to help her husband back to their room. Once he was comfortably settled, she returned to the kitchen area to clean up the lunch dishes and brood. Mayer was a man of his word, so she had no doubt that he would make good on his promise to return to work whether or not he was physically ready to do so.
The question was how soon he would make the attempt...and if there was anything she or anyone else could do to stop it.
The school bell rang, and Les eagerly snapped his book shut and got to his feet, more than ready to leave learning behind for the day. He got all of two steps towards the door before remembering that he'd left his lunch pail and slate behind, but quickly procured the forgotten items and then joined the stream of pupils filing out of the classroom into the warmth of the afternoon sunshine.
The wind from the morning had subsided to a much gentler breeze, and Les was happy to be out of the stuffy schoolroom. Waving goodbye to Martin, his closest friend, and blowing a kiss in Sally's direction, he opened the schoolyard gate and sauntered through, heading down the street to the corner where he routinely met the Becker sisters and Margaret for their walk back to the tenement.
The other three were waiting for him when he arrived, and Les immediately stationed himself next to Abby, keeping pace with her as the little group started down the street, the younger ones in front and Sadie and Margaret already deep in conversation behind them.
"What do you want, Les?" Abby asked shortly. "I know you're only walking with me because you have something to ask - out with it!"
Les considered his answer for a moment before replying. He did have something he need to ask the youngest Becker sister, but he knew he had to tread carefully, both because he didn't want to upset Abby, and because he'd basically promised David that he wouldn't say anything to anyone about the reading date with Sadie (though Les felt completely justified broaching the subject with the youngest Becker sister since she was family to one of the parties involved).
Should his indiscretion be discovered, Les knew that retribution would be swift; David had promised on no uncertain terms that he was going to spill the beans to their parents regarding Les' ongoing "relationship" with Sally if Les so much as breathed a word about the details of the reading date (which David kept insisting was not a date) to anyone. Knowing that the older boy hardly ever employed blackmail as a tactic, Les was even more intrigued, and his brother's attempts to divert attention away from the situation only made Les more curious to ferret out what exactly had taken place that day at the Becker apartment, for he knew that being in possession of such information could work to his advantage in a number of ways.
Accordingly, he'd determined to ask Abby what she knew. But compliance wasn't a given.
"I wanted to know if you enjoyed David's reading last week," he hedged, lowering his voice a bit so that Sadie and Margaret wouldn't overhear.
"I didn't hear the reading," Abby answered curtly. "I was away."
Not very helpful, Les thought to himself, wondering how to pivot his approach.
"If you're so interested in finding out, you could ask my sister yourself," Abby suggested. "She's right there. And she was the one your brother came to read to, after all."
"I'm just surprised she let him," Les said, speaking whatever came to mind in an attempt to simply keep the conversation going. "I thought your sister was a lot more fun than that. She doesn't seem like the type who would go for someone like my boring older brother."
"Liking books doesn't make you boring," Abby sniffed, and Les gritted his teeth. Of course she'd pick up on the most unimportant part of his audacious statement and would only address that, completely ignoring the rest.
"Besides, I could say the same," Abby said suddenly. "I don't understand why someone as smart and interesting as your brother would want to hang around my sister. Usually when a boy likes Sadie, it's only because he thinks she's good-looking, but David seems deeper than that."
Les was about to snark back, when Abby added, almost as if thinking aloud, "He did admit that she was pretty, though...so I guess even the most mature boys aren't immune to that sort of thing, despite the fact that they - "
"He said she was pretty?" Les squawked, forgetting for a moment to keep his voice down. Thankfully, when he stole a glance over his shoulder, he saw that the two older girls were still in conversation and apparently hadn't overheard his outburst.
"Under duress," Abby amended. "Margaret forced him. But he didn't seem to be too upset about it." Her eyes narrowed as she turned to look at Les. "Why does it matter to you, anyway?"
"Under duress or not, he admitted it!" Les muttered to himself, ignoring Abby's question. Something was going on, he was sure of it now. There was no way David would have disclosed such a thing in front of other people unless he was either losing his mind or else so enamored with Sadie that he couldn't help but talk about her good qualities to whoever would listen. Of course, he'd been doing that for weeks - as Les himself could attest to - but the fact that he was now saying so in front of people outside of the family seemed to indicate that the degree of infatuation had markedly increased. David wasn't the kind to tell untruths, but he only disclosed full truths when he was either completely comfortable or else so passionate about the subject that he couldn't keep his mouth shut.
"What does your sister think about my brother?" Les asked quickly, wanting to get an idea of where the other half of the party stood.
"How should I know?" Abby shrugged indifferently.
Les bit back his frustration at her persistent obtuseness. "Don't you eavesdrop on their tutoring lessons?" he demanded. "You have to have heard at least some interesting tidbits! I know they don't spend that whole time studying."
"I don't eavesdrop," Abby answered primly. "I read. And as I said before, my sister is right behind us; if you're so interested in knowing what she thinks about David and what they talk about during their tutoring lessons, you could just ask her yourself."
"Come on, Abby," Les wheedled. "Don't tell me that you've never listened to what they talk about. And don't pretend that you aren't at least a little interested in figuring out whether or not they're sweet on each other!"
Abby's haughty expression flickered just slightly. "It's...none of my business," she sidestepped, looking away.
"It's none of mine, either, but that doesn't stop me," Les pointed out.
"Well, that's where we differ, then." Abby looked him dead in the eye. "And this is where our conversation ends."
"But, Abby - "
"If you can come up with a good reason for why I should bother divulging what I've overheard, I'll consider it," Abby interrupted. "But if your only motivation is to satisfy your juvenile curiosity, you won't be getting any help from me."
"But - "
"That's final, Les." Abby stuck her nose in the air and stalked ahead, putting several feet between herself and Les, who was left to mull over what he'd just discovered.
It wasn't exactly the information he'd hoped for, but the conversation hadn't been a complete loss. Abby, despite her general taciturnity, had let one juicy piece of information slip, and that was all the incentive Les needed to investigate further. He'd have to think through some reasons for why his questions merited an adequate response, but he was confident that he'd be able to come up with something eventually to win Abby over so he could find out exactly what was going on during those tutoring sessions. And in the meantime, maybe he ought to follow the youngest Becker sister's advice and talk to Sadie directly. He'd have to figure out an angle of approach that wouldn't look too suspicious, but a subtly-executed interrogation could yield some important information, which would only mean more leverage over David that could be useful later on.
Satisfied, Les smiled to himself as the little party turned the corner, bidding farewell to Margaret and then crossing the street and walking down the block to where the Becker tenement was situated. As they drew near, he squinted in confusion, sure that his mind must be playing tricks on him, for he thought that he saw a familiar figure hobbling stiffly down the stairs from the second floor to the street.
But that couldn't be right...
Almost as soon as the thought crossed Les' mind, he felt a sickening feeling in his stomach as the man on the stairs suddenly lost his footing and tumbled down the remaining steps, landing in a heap at the bottom with his leg twisted at an ugly angle.
A scream tore itself from Les' throat.
"Dad!" he cried out, bolting towards his father as fast as his legs could take him. "Dad!"
A/N: Yikes. Lots going on in this chapter. If you'd be so kind as to share your reactions to it with me, I'd be most grateful. :) Thank you!
