a redhead's dream | a.d

Chapter Fourteen

Short recap: At the end of chapter 12, Dipper fell asleep on Albert's shoulder after their little date night on the bridge.

Dipper had watched as the girl she looked up to broke down in tears.

She'd listened as she attempted to explain what had happened back at the cathedral after she and Jojo had left.

She'd heard the utter heartbreak in the girl's voice as she'd tried to keep her tears at bay.

But she'd had enough.

Once Lane had been led off to Dipper's room—they'd pretended not to hear the ongoing weeping for her sake—Dipper stormed over to the porch and grabbed her jacket. She was not going to let this slide.

"Abby."

She turned to her father who had his arms crossed, eyebrows raised. But she only stood straighter. "He hurt Brigid."

"I don't think either 'a dem are fully themselves right now," said her father, sounding an awful lot like he was trying to prevent Dipper from going after the boy.

"Well, neither am I."

"Abigail Williams!" Her gaze shot up to his, shocked. He rarely ever yelled. "Dat wasn't a request! Lane can take care of herself jus fine."

She said nothing, only glared as she yanked the door open and stepped out.

The air was cool, and she was glad she'd brought a jacket. Her jacket... she'd forgotten to bring her jacket with her...

She clenched her jaw and refused to think about the night before.

It didn't matter how he'd talked to her, or how she'd woken up back at her house after having fallen asleep on him. None of it mattered. He had hurt Lane, and in doing so, he'd hurt her as well.

If only she'd known what he'd said. But that didn't matter. Because if he'd been telling the truth about what he said always meaning something, then that mattered. Words thrown around out of anger was one thing, but...

She practiced what she would say in her mind. She'd show him, she would, and then she'd get him to apologize face to face.

It all sounded much easier in theory.

She arrived at the lodging house cool and composed—but inwardly brimming with anger—knocking loudly.

The door opened a few moments later, revealing Jack. "Oh! Hey, Dipper."

She shot him a polite smile. "Is Albert inside?"

"Um..." he glanced behind him, and they watched as all the newsies in the room shook their heads, dimming her spark. "Don't seem like it. We'd all expected him ta be wit you."

"Well, he was." She sighed deeply. "D'ya know where he might be?"

Jack shrugged. "Like I said, we all thought he was wit you. I'd say jus ask Race, but seems he ain't he-ah, either."

"Right." Her shoulders slumped. She gazed around, losing some of the confidence she'd had when she'd first heard he'd hurt Lane. "Could I come in? Wait fa him 'til he comes back?"

"Sure, make yer-self at home." Jack opened the door wider. "Most of us is headin' back out, but if you think yer good fa tha day 'n happy wit what you've made, stay as long as ya like. Jus... think twice 'bout openin' tha door when ya don't know who it is."

Her gaze landed on the old man seated behind a wooden desk, reading a pape, remembering Jack's words about not just letting anyone in. "Does he know anythin'?"