Strikes and Ladders

Chapter Four: Merry Meetings

They don't need to walk far to get to the small meeting room that had been set up for them. A table and some chairs, nothing fancy, but it still makes Davey's heart swell with pride for this group of kids that he has brought together. He waits for the meeting to start before he looks around and realises that is definitely his job. So he stands up, looks around, and begins to speak.

The meeting goes incredibly well, with David falling into his natural leader role exactly like everyone knew that he would. They discuss policies and argue over rules. Anyone watching would have forgotten that they were in the presence of children, the oldest sixteen and the youngest only twelve, a representative from Midtown. Despite their efficiency, the sun was setting by the time they were finished and the kids needed to get home. All of the representatives left with grinning goodbyes and reassurances of their next meeting date, and soon all that was left was Davey, Racetrack, and Spot.

"Man, that was exhausting! Who knew everyone had so many opinions ," Race exclaims, taking off his hat and fanning himself off with it. He is leaned back in his chair, only the two back legs on the ground, with his feet on the table, crossed at the ankles.

Spot scoffs. "You weren't even running the meeting! You sat on your ass watching the whole time while Mouth and me did all the work."

"What can I say? I was enjoying the view."

Davey blushes at that and stands up, not used to the casual affection of the other two boys. "Yeah uh, I've gotta be getting home. My parents are going to worry if I'm much longer. Race, you coming?"

"Yeah sure. Just gimme a sec, yeah?"

David takes the hint and leaves the room, going outside and leaning against the wall. He watches the Brooklyn newsies in their night routine, some playing poker, others rough-housing, and some of the younger ones getting ready for bed. It hits him just how similar those routines were to the ones in Manhattan and he smiles. The moment is soon broken however, as Race is soon thrown out of the door with a crash. Davey goes to help him, concerned, but sees that his friend is laughing on the ground. Spot soon follows him out, leaning heavily on his cane but smiling. From the outside, he looked fine, but Davey could tell from a million little things that he was exhausted. The droop of his smile, his vice grip on his cane, the change in his stance. When had Davey learned how Spot stood, or how he smiled? He shakes those thoughts away so that he can push himself off of the wall and hold a hand out to Race.

"What'd you do this time?" He asks, a grin creeping across his face.

Race, still laughing his ass off and probably annoying the neighboring newsies, takes Davey's hand and pulls himself up. "Ol' Spotty is kicking us out, Mouth." Upon closer inspection, the boy's collar is messed up, with the top three buttons being unbuttoned. His shirt is untucked and his face is a bit flushed and as Davey looks over to Spot, he's in a similar condition.

Oh.

"I'm kicking Racer out, Mouth. He got a bit handsy when he knows he needs to be getting home. You're free to stay as long as you want. Always welcome in Brooklyn is what you are, Dave. Racer can rot in Manhattan." Spot is in a similar way, with his clothes being slightly rumpled, not nearly as much as Race though, as he hadn't taken the same tumble. His words are harsh, but his expression is soft, and he pulls Race in to whisper one last thing in his ear. Dave doesn't hear him, but he can guess what it was due to the blush on his friend's face.

"Nah, you're right, Spot. We should be getting home. Kloppmann won't let you in if you're back later than ten, Race. And my parents are going to worry if we're gone two nights in a row. We'll see you around, yeah?"

Spot nodded. "See, Racer? You should hang around the Mouth more, his sense might rub off on ya. Now get outta here, before you're sleepin' on the streets."

Racetrack saluted, the over-exaggerated motion almost sending him toppling over again. "See ya tomorrow, Spotty!" He called as he and David started to walk away, going to make the trek back over the bridge.