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Chapter 132: Anything to Offer

Davey shut the door of the lodging house behind him, making his way slowly down the street. He knew that he couldn't go far - Les was still upstairs with the other newsies, and eventually a return to the bunk room would be necessary - but at the moment, he needed some space to clear his head.

Sticking his hands in his pockets, he took a slow, measured breath, trying to find his focus in the sounds of the foot traffic hurrying by, in the sight of the shadows stretching across the sidewalk, in the smell of something spiced wafting through the air from a vendor's cart trundling past... The setting sun was at his back, but he couldn't feel any of its warmth, and as he began walking, he felt a familiar loneliness settling upon him like the grime of the streets that seemed to coat everything passing through them with an unavoidable layer of film.

He wished that he'd articulated his position more clearly back at the lodging house.

His reaction to Romeo's advice had been instinctive, the words tumbling from his mouth before he could stop them, and while from a conviction-related standpoint, he didn't regret speaking up, a part of him wished that he'd thought his statements through a little better before giving voice to them.

This kind of thing always seemed to happen just when he'd started to get comfortable with people: something would come up in conversation that he'd feel strongly about, and he'd suddenly find himself rambling aloud, letting the thoughts that he normally kept so tightly wound unspool in a faltering attempt to explain his position. The end result was rarely as coherent as it had sounded in his head, yet he couldn't seem to stop himself from repeating the same impulsive behavior the next time his convictions overrode his reticence. It was a constant push and pull between the sense that he needed to say something and the fear that if he did speak, he'd speak amiss.

In the past, disclosure had generally led to a negative reaction of some kind from the party that he'd been addressing, whether it was contemptuous disdain or a more tepid sort of dismissive indifference. He'd rarely managed to convince anyone of anything, and the incident at the lodging house had been no exception, though he probably shouldn't have been surprised there, given the circumstances.

The only question now was whether the newsies would overlook his awkward interjection or not…

Of course, Davey reasoned, they were probably used to his idiosyncrasies by now, and in the past, they'd always responded with affable (if uncomprehending) good humor and occasionally some mild teasing. They hadn't grown exasperated with him yet, and there was no reason to assume that this latest incident would be what finally caused them to do so…

…but it was difficult to quell the doubts that surfaced in his mind, telling him that he was, at heart, still too different to be truly accepted as one of them.

Your role is to be useful, remember? That's what you're good at - getting tasks done and helping people figure things out. They don't need to hear you talk about your past or your feelings.

Why hadn't he just gone home after dropping Les off at the lodging house? This entire mess could have been avoided if he'd simply absented himself from the proceedings in the first place. It wasn't as though he had any advice to offer when it came to the subject of love, anyway.

"No wonder you ain't got a girl! You's a prig, you know that?"

Romeo's insult was far from the worst descriptor that Davey had heard in reference to himself, but still, it had stung.

He found himself wondering if it was true. He certainly was more inhibited in general, cautious and wary of letting anyone in, and given this reticence, his past experience of being kissed for a bet would probably not have affected the other newsies in the same way that it had him. If Romeo's reaction was anything to go by, attention from a girl - regardless of the circumstances, and sincerely meant or not - should have been something to boast about, not something to be troubled and distressed by. The younger newsie's point of view had its limitations, of course…but Davey certainly couldn't claim to be an expert on the subject of girls, either, not when he'd had so little experience with them.

Before moving to Manhattan, he'd fancied someone only once before in his life, and that had been when he was twelve. She had been in the year above him at school, clever and smart, and when she'd stopped to talk to him one day, complimenting him on some remark that he'd made in class and carrying on a stimulating conversation about the matter that had been discussed, he'd felt something strange and wonderful begin to stir his heart.

The feeling had grown slowly but in ever-increasing measure each time they'd spoken after that, and Davey had mulled over the sensation for months, debating whether or not to say anything to the subject of his regard. Eventually, he'd drummed up his courage and had confessed his feelings to her one day after school. His twelve-year-old self hadn't really thought about the long-term implications; he'd only sensed that he needed to say something, and had hoped that he could somehow get across in his shy and faltering attempt the fact that he thought she was very special and that he admired her very much.

His admission had been met with an uneasy (if not unkind) laugh, and in that moment, the realization that he'd made a big mistake had fallen upon him in full force. She'd been quick to assure him that he was a nice boy, very smart and, as she'd put it, "perhaps even a bit charming in his own way," but she'd also made it abundantly clear that he was "not her kind of boy," and in her words, he'd caught the unspoken meaning that he was different somehow from the rest of his peers, and that this differentness was, for whatever reason, enough to preclude him from any kind of romantic consideration (a fact that was only underscored when the girl he was sweet on attached herself to another boy from his class a week or so later).

He'd decided not to say a word about the incident to anyone, but had quietly pondered it in his head, trying to ascertain exactly what had been meant, and what he ought to learn from it. He'd recalled the remarks that others had made about him in the past, observed the behaviors and attitudes of his peers as comparison, and had tried to make inferences from those findings, slowly cataloging bits of evidence away in an attempt to understand.

Over time, some commonalities had emerged, and this was what had then led him to conclusions: that his way of thinking was often too convoluted for others to understand, that his rambling quickly grew tiresome, and that on the whole he was an anomaly, odd and ungainly and far more sensitive than a typical boy of his age. He longed for the easy camaraderie that others shared, but whenever he found himself in a group, he could never manage to form such close connections quickly or easily. And he was awkward-looking, too, taller than the rest of his classmates with large hands and a long face and features that did nothing to offset his clumsy appearance. A combination of these traits, he'd assumed, must have been what his classmate had meant when she'd said that he was not her kind of boy. And maybe they'd been the reason why he'd been slow to make friends in the past as well.

For some time after that, he'd made a concerted effort to change, praying silently each night that he would become less shy and awkward and more confident and easy-going like other boys. He'd studied the casual aplomb of his classmates, and had tried, on a few occasions, to mimic it, forcibly squelching his rambling and attempting to carry himself as boldly and breezily as the others did. But in the end, it had never felt right, and he'd ended up dropping the act. He'd settled into a reluctant acceptance of his anxiousness and sensitivity, had tried not to mind his gangly appearance too much, and had eventually figured out some ways to cope internally and to downplay externally those things that made him different, practices that he'd continued to hone as the years had passed and his family had moved from place to place, each relocation requiring him to start anew.

To say that he'd made peace with himself would have been an oversimplification. There were good days and bad days. Rejection from his peers, direct or indirect, was never easy to take, but he'd also come to accept that, while there were certain things that he could improve, there were also certain things about himself that he could not change. He could wish to be confident and carefree and magnetic as much as he wanted, but the fact remained that he was who he was. Putting up a facade wouldn't hide the facts.

This reluctant acknowledgement - and the foregone conclusions stemming from it - had never left his mind after that, but all of it had been abruptly shoved to the side in the wake of his father's first accident. Life at that juncture had become so disrupted that there hadn't been time for the usual worries about fitting in or making friends in yet another unfamiliar city, and Davey's focus had been entirely consumed by helping his family and learning the ins and outs of peddling papes.

In the midst of this upheaval, however, friends in the form of Jack and the newsies had found him, and with the genesis of the strike, Davey had unexpectedly fallen into a role that he had never occupied before: the role of the new kid who actually had something to offer. Suddenly, someone had wanted to hear his ideas, no matter how complex or convoluted. Suddenly, it hadn't mattered how awkward or ungainly he looked. Suddenly, his words had taken on a life of their own...and instead of evoking disdain or indifference, they had inspired action and had galvanized hope.

It was something that he'd never experienced previous to that moment, and even the mere recollection of it still sent chills running down his spine.

Around the same time, someone else had befriended him, too, overlooking his deficiencies and deciding (for whatever reason) that she wanted him to be a part of her life. This enthusiastic acceptance had been even more puzzling to Davey, for with the newsies, he'd at least been able to provide some know-how and perspective as it had pertained to the strike. With Sadie, there hadn't been (and still wasn't) anything helpful that he could offer her.

But she'd befriended him anyway, and had set about the business of tutoring him besides, and in the process, an unexpected but wonderful thing had happened, similar, in many ways, to the camaraderie that Davey had fallen into with the newsies: a friendship had emerged that had quietly challenged his preconceived notions about himself. Over the last several months, he'd realized that there was a side of him that could be spontaneous, that liked to have fun, that could even take (reasonable) risks on occasion, despite the fact that he'd always seen himself as serious and careful and uptight, a perception that had only been supported by the remarks that others had made about him in the past. It had felt good to discover these sides of his personality that had rarely been given quarter before, and to realize that he was actually capable of playfulness and mischief and lighthearted emotion when given the right circumstances.

Maybe this was why he'd reacted so strongly to the words back at the lodging house - because they were a reminder of the David he had been before coming to Manhattan, an unwanted (if not unkindly meant) pigeon-holing that had stuck him back into the identity of the odd one out, painting him as the boy who was so inherently different that his words could be written off as the perspective of an anomaly - in this case, because he was apparently too serious and too stuffy to know anything about love.

He didn't want to be seen that way. If the last few months had taught him anything, it was that he was more than capable of falling hard for someone who had captured his mind and his attention, of being swept up in delight to a degree that even Romeo wouldn't have been able to decry. The difference was that it didn't happen quickly or easily. The rest of the newsies could catch sight of a pretty girl and go after her without hesitation and without a need to know much more about her before becoming interested, but Davey couldn't seem to do that. It was as if he was incapable of feeling even the smallest romantic draw until some kind of emotional connection had been formed first.

It had been that way with his former classmate, and later on, especially, with Sadie. It wasn't that attractiveness didn't register at all; he'd known in some part of his mind that the landlord's daughter was pretty the moment he'd first laid eyes on her. But it hadn't mattered a single bit to him at the time, because he hadn't known her. Now that he did, it was certainly a different story...but it had taken him several months and many hours spent in her company to come around.

He wasn't sure what that meant, or why his mind worked that way...but he supposed that it did make him a little odd.

The sound of the bells in St. Peter's tolling the time suddenly pulled him out of his rumination, and Davey reluctantly slowed his footsteps, turning around to head back to the lodging house. He'd already covered some distance by this time, and it was beginning to get dark.

He spent the return trip thinking through what he was going to say if he was questioned about his absence, weighing whether it would be better to admit to his discomfiture or to simply brush past it. Before he could decide on a course of action, however, he drew near his destination, and saw that Jack was lounging on a stack of crates not far from the entrance of the lodging house.

"Nice night for a walk, huh?" he greeted Davey with a half grin. "The stinkin' streets of New York ain't so bad lookin' when it's too dark to see 'em real closely!"

Davey mustered up a smile. "I just came outside to get some fresh air," he prevaricated. "I'm not much of a poker player, and I didn't want to hold up the game. I guess I probably should have mentioned that to someone before leaving, though - I didn't mean for you to have to come down."

Jack gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "Ain't a problem. It gets kinda stuffy in there sometimes with all of the fellas spoutin' off their opinions and such."

It was a clear invitation to deeper conversation, but Davey wasn't sure if he wanted to talk. Before he could come up with a suitable deflection, however, Jack motioned to an empty crate beside him.

"If you ain't feelin' like headin' upstairs right away, why don'tcha have a seat? I ain't got nowhere to be."

So much for sidestepping the conversation.

Davey gingerly sat down on the crate next to Jack's, leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees as he felt a weariness come over him, and for a moment, the two of them sat in silence, looking out towards the street as they watched the pedestrians and carriages trundle by.

Finally, Jack spoke.

"Romeo didn't mean nothin' by it," he said quietly. "I know it don't excuse him runnin' his mouth like that, but he just gets stuck on certain things. He ain't the type to put another fella down on purpose."

"I know." Davey massaged the back of his neck. "It's partially my fault. I didn't explain myself very well. But I didn't take what he said personally."

"You took it to heart, though, didn'tcha? That last bit about bein' a prig, especially."

Davey examined the scuff marks on his shoes. "It's not really that inconsistent with other things I've heard before," he deflected. "I know I'm different from the rest of you - in a lot of ways, that one not excepted."

His attempt to close the subject quickly by calling a spade a spade had the opposite effect.

"Whaddaya mean you's different?" Jack wanted to know. "I ain't challengin' you on it, 'cause if that's how you feel, that's how you feel - but 'different' can mean a bunch of things, and I ain't sure I get what you's after."

If Davey hadn't spent the last several minutes thinking through that very topic, the answer might have been simpler, but as it was, he was no longer sure how to succinctly phrase it.

"Stumped?" came Jack's mild jab.

"No," Davey replied. "Just trying to figure out how to explain things without taking up too much of your time."

"Like I said, I got all night."

"It could probably go that long if I let it."

Jack chuckled. "'Course it could," he responded. "You ain't the Walkin' Mouth for no reason."

The note of fondness in his voice was so apparent that Davey couldn't even manage to get irritated at the nickname, and he felt a bit of his reluctance to talk dissipating. He wondered if this was how the younger boys felt with Jack, and if this was why they opened up to him so much. On the outside, the newsie leader was full of bluster and bravado, but there was a softer side to him, too, and he did have a knack for drawing people in.

"I guess I've always felt different," Davey elaborated. "It's probably a combination of my personality and the fact that my family's moved so much. It's never been easy for me to find my footing or to fit in."

"You said somethin' about that before," Jack acknowledged. "On our way back from Brooklyn, near the beginnin' of the strike. You said you was always the new kid who had trouble makin' friends."

Davey nodded, surprised that Jack had remembered.

"That don't really answer my question, though," the newsie leader added. "It tells me why you feel like you's different, but it don't tell me what you think's so different about'cha."

"Isn't it obvious?" Davey asked wryly.

"Other than the fact that you got a home and a family and more book learnin' than the rest of us, I don't really see much difference," was Jack's reply, and the observation took Davey aback for a moment, because he realized that, while those distinctions had felt alienating at first, over time they'd ceased to serve as viable points of aberration. In fact, those differences had provided opportunities for him to form closer connections with the other newsies: he'd been able to help Race by being a bridge to the solution of Sophie's temporary housing problem, his education had allowed him to tutor Jojo, and his love of reading had catalyzed the the now-tight-knit weekly reading group. The things that had initially made him an outlier had become resources that he'd been able to offer, once he'd felt comfortable enough to extend them.

"The way I see it, you's a lot more normal than you think you is, Dave," Jack continued. "Sure, you got a brain that works a little differently than the rest of us...but that don't mean you ain't one of the boys - or that we don't need ya. Fact is, we'd be missin' out on somethin' if you hadn't come along."

"Big words and big ideas?" Davey quipped, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

Jack acknowledged the self-deprecating jab with a little inclination of his head, but his demeanor remained uncharacteristically earnest. "I was actually thinkin' about the strike," he clarified. "There ain't no one in that lodgin' house who'd question me sayin' that we wouldn't have won the fight without'cha."

I don't know if I'd go that far, Davey thought, but even so, it was gratifying to hear the affirmation.

"I guess it was just one of those things that I could speak into," he allowed. "It happened to coincide with my dad's accident, so I'd been thinking about the issues already."

"It ain't just true about the strike, though," Jack asserted. "You's the kinda fella who gets folks to see the bigger picture and think through the details at the same time. Us newsies ain't good at either of those things - comes with havin' to survive day to day and only livin' for the moment - but all of us is gonna have to face up to the future findin' us eventually, and you's helpin' us be ready for her when she does."

Jack gave Davey a meaningful look. "I'm guessin' you ain't realized it yet…but you's actually makin' a big impact on these boys. The fellas in your readin' group is always goin' on about the things they's pickin' up from the stories you tell 'em, and a few of them is even sayin' that they want to get some schoolin' themselves one day. Jojo's 'specially keen on learnin' as much as he can, and he told me earlier this week that he's been thinkin' about what kind of jobs he could get once he's too old to peddle his papes. That weren't somethin' he ever talked about before you came along. Even the boys you ain't teachin' is learnin' things from you - don't think I ain't noticed that Racer's been a lot more responsible ever since the strike. Pretty sure at least some of that's you rubbin' off on him."

If the circumstances had been different, Davey would have been tempted to respond with a wisecrack at Race's expense, but he refrained. He was still trying to wrap his mind around the small but significant distinction that it wasn't just the resources he offered but the way of thinking he embodied that could be useful to the newsies. He'd been spending the last half hour entirely focused on how he was failing to fit in…but if Jack was to be believed, he was actually bringing more to the table by being different.

It was a foreign but heartening thought.

"You taught me somethin', too," Jack continued, breaking into Davey's musing. "As much as I hate admittin' it, you's right: love is a big responsibility. A fella can't just skate along on the feelin's and the fun of it, at least not if he's serious 'bout keepin' his gal around. It woulda taken me a lot longer to figure that out if you hadn't said somethin' on our way back from Brooklyn. And I'm sure Katherine woulda gotten real upset with me in the meantime."

Davey once again resisted the urge to respond with a jab, but he couldn't stop himself from smiling slightly, and Jack grinned in return, seemingly pleased that he'd finally gotten his point across.

"You know…it don't make a lick of sense for a fella like you to be so hard on himself," he chided, giving Davey a playful rap on the head with his knuckles. "If you could just get it through that thick skull of yours that we like you just fine without you havin' to change nothin', maybe you wouldn't haf'ta skip out on us so often to 'get some fresh air.'"

The words were sincere, stopping just short of being truly scolding, and Davey couldn't help but feel a little better, even as he batted Jack's hand away and made a perfunctory show of grumbling. He wished that it was as easy as simply thinking away his irrational fears - but the reminders that he was accepted and valued despite all of his differences (by Jack, at least) did help.

Giving Davey one last good-natured cuff to the head, the newsie leader leaned back, settling himself into a comfortable position.

"I know you ain't the type to accept words like that easily, Dave," he acknowledged. "But I'm speakin' the truth. Don't go disappearin' on us just 'cause you's foolin' yourself into thinkin' you ain't got anything to offer, all right?"

"I guess someone has to make sure that the lodging house doesn't burn down," Davey conceded, finally succumbing to a bit of badinage.

"That's right," Jack agreed with a chuckle. "'Specially when you got boys like Albert who's got an unhealthy interest in fire, and bummers like Racer who's always eggin' him on. Ain't a walk in the park keepin' those rascals in line, that's for sure."

Davey couldn't help but smile at the remark, and Jack let the conversation dwindle for a moment, a comfortable silence settling between them as they sat there watching the intermittent foot traffic pass by. All of the street lamps were on now, and their lights flickered dimly across the sidewalks and streets, bathing Lower Manhattan in a familiar glow.

"Hey, speakin' of that big brain of yours," Jack ventured, "I got somethin' I need your help with. I know you's good with logistics and such since you pulled together that rally, and I got to plan a real important event at Irving Hall. Was hopin' maybe you could think through some of the details with me to make sure I ain't forgettin' anything important."

"Sure, Jack," Davey agreed quickly, curious as to what the newsie leader had in mind. "I'll do my best. What kind of event are you preparing for?"

"Well…" Jack scratched his head, suddenly looking a little hesitant. "It's actually a dinner to celebrate me and Kath gettin' engaged."

Davey's mouth dropped open. "Jack, I - " He floundered, trying to gather his thoughts. "That's - I mean, that's great! I didn't realize that you'd proposed, but I'm happy for you, and I'm sure that Katherine's overjoyed to be - "

"Woah, woah, slow down," Jack interrupted, holding his hands up. "I ain't had a chance to ask her yet."

"Oh." Davey gave him a flustered look. "I thought..."

"Guess I could've explained that a little better," Jack admitted, as though he'd only just realized how his earlier statement could have possibly been misconstrued. "I'm plannin' to have the dinner soon after the proposal so that all of the boys and our other friends can celebrate with us. I ain't gonna pop the question right away, 'cause I still got some things to work out, but I figured I oughta rope you in now so you can think through some things with me."

"What did you have in mind?" Davey asked.

Quickly, Jack filled him in on the plethora of details that had yet to be ironed out: the guest list and distribution of invitations, a menu and a schedule for the night, the set up of the space as well as the decorations, and some kind of budget plan to make sure that he wasn't overspending, especially since money was going to be tight now that Pulitzer had cut off Katherine's financial support (here Davey interjected with a few sympathetic words, which Jack waved off, saying he was actually relieved to be out from under Pulitzer's thumb, as long as Katherine didn't mind a simpler life).

They talked through several of the items at length, Davey asking more questions and eventually offering a few suggestions, and Jack alternating between enthusiastic agreement and an almost-rueful acknowledgement that this event was going to be a lot more complicated than he thought.

"It's going to be worth it," Davey consoled him. "Getting engaged is a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence for most people. You might as well go all out. I know that Katherine will appreciate the effort."

"Sure hope so," Jack agreed, looking a little more heartened at the mention of his sweetheart. "I know it ain't gonna be anything like the fancy dinners she's used to, but that's why I want to try to spiff the place up a bit."

"You said you were thinking about painting some backdrops," Davey said, returning to the logistics of the matter. "Were you planning to decorate with anything else?"

"Well, Miss Medda's got some fancy lights she puts up sometimes for her shows, so I'm plannin' to ask her if we can use 'em," Jack elaborated. "And I was thinkin' if I could manage it, I'd like to put some flowers on the table. I ain't sure how I'd go about gettin' that many unless I buy out the whole florist's cart, but Kath loves 'em."

"There has to be a flower wholesaler somewhere," Davey mused. "There are several florist carts all over the city, so they must be purchasing their wares from a larger supplier, similar to how we get our papers from the distribution center. If we could figure out where that supplier is located, quantity wouldn't be a problem, and maybe we'd even be able to cut down the cost since we'd be buying in bulk."

"Never thought of that," Jack admitted.

"I'll look into it," Davey offered. He hadn't had occasion to think about flowers before, but now that the subject was on his mind, he realized that he'd seen Lorina carrying sizable-looking bouquets on more than one occasion when she'd stopped to buy a paper from him. Maybe she knew a reputable vendor who could be of assistance.

He was about to ask Jack if he'd thought about how he was going to procure the tables and chairs to accommodate the guests, when the sound of the church bells rang through the evening air.

"Gettin' late," Jack grunted. "Probably oughta save the rest of this for later. At least you's given me some more things to think about in the meantime."

Davey nodded in agreement. It was a weeknight, which meant an especially early wake up call for everyone the following morning, and he needed to get Les home.

"Hey, thanks for helpin' me out," Jack said as they got to their feet. "Feels a lot better knowin' I got you in my corner."

"Anytime, Jack," Davey responded. "This is a big step for you and Katherine, and I'm glad to do anything I can to help you celebrate."

The newsie leader grinned. "Well, I'm grateful for it. And whenever it's your turn, you can count on me returnin' the favor. I ain't any good at strategizin', but I know a thing or two about winnin' over a girl, so if you ever need any advice, I got'cha covered."

He winked, and Davey forced a smile. "Thanks, Jack. I'll keep it in mind."

He had already taken two steps in the direction of the lodging house, when Jack suddenly added, "You ain't got any interest in goin' after someone right now...do ya?"

Davey stopped in his tracks, thankful that the other newsie couldn't see his face.

"No," he answered quietly. "There's no one like that. Not right now."

"Huh." Jack sounded a little bemused, but before Davey could wonder why, he added casually, "Just thought I'd ask. Figured it weren't too far-fetched an idea, even if it makes sense that you got your standards and ain't the kind to be easily impressed." He drew even with Davey, clapping him lightly on the back. "Someone's gonna be lucky to have you, though, whenever you's ready to give away that heart of yours."

That's not happening anytime soon, Davey thought. He was in no hurry to repeat the experience of falling in love, not when the ache inside still felt very real.

But despite the melancholy feelings that Jack's words had evoked, the affirmation had been reassuring in its own way, and as Davey made his way back to the lodging house and up the stairs with the newsie leader at his side, he found himself feeling far less downcast than he had been when he'd left.

The return to the noisy bunk room was slightly jarring, but Davey surprised himself by easing back into the chaos without too much difficulty. A few of the boys clapped him on the back in wordless encouragement, as though they wanted him to know that he was welcomed and seen, and he appreciated the reassurance as he settled in among them, looking on as Race and several of the other newsies traded barbs and bluffs in an intense game of poker. Les had somehow wormed his way in among them (Davey decided that he wasn't going to ask who had taught his younger brother the game) and was clearly having the time of his life, though the beginnings of fatigue were beginning to show on his face.

When the next round of cards came to an end, Davey reluctantly interjected with the news that it was time to head home, a declaration that incited more than a little bellyaching from Les, but Race quickly smoothed things over by promising that they'd have a continuation of poker night soon so that they could finish their game. Jack backed up his second-in-command's suggestion, stating that it was time for the newsies to get some shut-eye as well.

Thus the evening came to a close, and with several cheerfully-called farewells, the Jacobs brothers were sent off to begin their short walk home to the tenement.


A/N: Relational angst/anxiety spiral mostly averted, thanks to Jack's quick intervention. :P Even though Race and Davey's friendship gets the most page time in this story, there are certain things that Jack's just better at, and one of them is being sensitive to others' feelings and being willing to talk about them rather than brush them off with humor or distraction. Everyone needs a friend like Jack. :)

Thank you for reading this chapter! Up next, we'll learn a little bit more about Davey's past from the perspective of a character who hasn't spoken much so far, and we'll also meet a very important gentleman. I hope that you'll join me then. In the meantime, please leave a review on your way out - your engagement means a lot to me! :)

Also, if you haven't checked out my newest one shot, "Blue," on Interstices yet, I invite you to do so! It's a short, semi-fluffy early-stage Savey story that I wrote to celebrate SWW turning 4 years old this past month. :)


Guest review response:

BroadwayFan51: Hey there! :) Thanks so much for taking the time to review! It made me happy to know that you're still around - it means a great deal any time someone reviews, whether what they share is long or short. Thank you for doing that. :) I'm glad you were looking forward to this chapter, and I hope that it answered some of your questions!

(I'm going to respond to your Interstices review here, too, since I'm not sure when I'll be updating that collection next and I don't want you to have to wait very long. ;) I'm so glad that you enjoyed "Blue" and that you found Sadie's thought process interesting! I enjoyed going back to write early-stage SWW Sadie, and I'm happy to hear that you enjoyed the end result. Thank you so much for your encouragement - it means a lot, and I really appreciate it! Have a blessed day as well! :)).