Strikes and Ladders

Chapter Fifteen: Swimming, finally.

August is good. The breakup happened on the second and Davey is seemingly over it by the third. Everyone walks on eggshells around him for about a week, avoiding discussing Jack for any reason. It's hard though, because being so popular makes him a gossip magnet. He and that girl stay together for about a week before Jack moves on to someone else. Davey however, couldn't care less. He starts selling with Race and/or Spot every day, sometimes taking Les with him and sometimes not. This results in various different things, including becoming closer with the king of Brooklyn and his boyfriend. Chaos ensues.

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About a week after the breakup, the three of them are hanging out on a roof, watching other newsies, including Les and Hotshot, swim near the docs. Spot sits with his bad leg out straight in Race's lap, who mindlessly massages it as they talk. The three of them lean against a crate with Davey sitting cross-legged. They all gaze down at the other newsies, mostly younger kids, and think a bit about when they were younger.

"Yeah, we moved over her when I was a bit younger than Les is now, about Boot's age. Les was only a baby."

Spot nods. "Yeah, I was about Hotshot's age when we moved. I don't still got the accent, but she does."

Race tilts his head. "Ain't that weird? She was really young, wasn't she? So if anythin', you should have the accent and she shouldn't, yeah?"

"I guess. I just really wanted to fit in here, so I forced myself to lose the accent real quick. She didn't, and spent more time with our Ma cause neither of 'em worked. So I guess her accent stuck more than mine. What's with the third degree, Racer? Mouth don't have an accent from where he's from either."

A shrug from Davey. "I don't know. I go to school, and they say that it ain't 'professional' or somethin'. You've gotta talk normal or else you get smacked with a ruler."

"Damn, and we know our Davey is definitely a rule follower ." Race teases as he nudges Davey's knee with his. He deepens his voice, mocking a teacher. "So Davey, what did you do over the summer?" He raises his voice to imitate Davey, making Spot fold over sideways. "Oh, nothin' much mistah, just organised a strike that shut down the entire city for weeks. No big deal."

Davey rolls his eyes and taps his friend's hat down over his eyes. "Shut it, Racer. You had just as much to do with that strike as me."

"Not true, and even if I did, I don't go to a school ." Race dramatically drapes himself over Davey and grins up at him. "Fancypants."

This earns him twin eyerolls from his companions. "Jesus Racer, you're like a cat." Davey chuckles but doesn't push him off. Spot pulls his leg out of Race's lap, which allows him to fully lay on Davey's. "Why don't you lay on your boyfriend? Why's it always gotta be me?"

Race sighs as if the answer is obvious. "As much as I love cuddlin' with him, it's August and Spot runs warm. You, sweetheart, have impossible to explain cold hands all of the time. Trust me, when fall hits, you'll see. He sells in short sleeves in the snow."

"Hey, that was one time. I gave my coat to a kid."

Davey reaches over to pat Spot's shoulder sympathetically. "There there Spot." He pulls his hand back when Spot snaps his teeth and they all laugh. They sit together on that roof until the sun starts to set and Davey, Race, and Les need to go back to Manhattan.

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Two weeks after the breakup, Davey and Race are at the theatre. It's one of the few times that they're a duo instead of a trio, so they try to enjoy it while they can, but Race can't stop worrying. Davey took him to the show to distract him, but it didn't work.

"Racer, he's fine. Spotty's real capable, give him a chance to deal with it himself." He places a gentle hand on Race's knee, but his friend just sighs and leans back in his seat.

"I know he'll be fine, but those challenges just keep gettin' scarier and scarier. They almost never get to the real fightin' stage, but if they do... well you see what happened to him the first time." His hands fidget and he picks at his cuticles, staring blankly at the show beneath them.

Davey sighs and grabs the hand closest to him. "You're gonna fuck up your hands," is all he says, but Race snaps out of his staring and looks over at him. His eyes are glistening with tears, illuminated by the stage lights below them. "Oh." Davey didn't realise he was crying.

"Dave, what if he gets hurt? More hurt, I mean. He already has bad days with his knee and I don't know what I'd do if I had to see him like that." Even with Davey holding on to one of them, Race's hands shake. His voice wavers and the tears in his glassy eyes threaten to fall.

Speaking of Davey, he's usually much better at this, comforting family and friends. It's like his second job now, with Les, his mother and sister, and the younger newsies often coming to him with their problems. He was opposed to it at first, but then he took it in stride and accepted it as just another presidential duty. But this is Racetrack. Normally so upbeat and happy, but today scared and crying.For some reason, it's different. It takes him a moment to respond and when he does, his voice is softer than he means it to be. "It'll be fine. You know your boy. He'll come out on top. Always does."

Even crying, Race can't resist. "Well, sometimes I come out on top," He says tearfully, sniffling. Davey laughs and they get shushed from the main crowd.

"See? It'll be okay. He'll be okay."

He is, of course. They find out when Hotshot comes sauntering in like nothing happened and tells them as such. Spot gets a little beat up, a cut on his face and a few days of extra knee pain, but he's okay in the end. Davey and Race get over to Brooklyn right away to see him, and he notices something in them. Something changes. Race, always touchy, but standing even closer than normal and Davey, often more reserved than the rest of them, opening up more and more.

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Three weeks after the break-up, summer is nearing an end. The Brooklyn newsies, Race, Les, and Davey are at the docks in the late afternoon soaking up the last few weeks of summer sun the best that they can. Les is off somewhere with Hotshot, definitely causing trouble, Race is in the water with a bunch of other boys, and Spot and Davey are sitting on the edge of the docks. Davey has just gotten out of the water, his shoes, hat, and overclothes off and his hair hanging in wet, stringy curls across his face. Spot however, refuses to even touch the water.

"C'mon Spotty, you're a Brooklyn boy, I know you can swim. It's hot as hell out here, come in!" Race calls, splashing water at his boyfriend's pants.

"Oi, stop that! I'm not in the water 'cause I don't wanna be in the water, and that's that. Mouth, back me up here."

Davey sighs and flops backwards, the wood warm on his skin from the sun. He ignores the nickname, used to it by now as he crosses an arm over his eyes to shield them from the sun. "Race, Spot don't need to swim if he don't wanna. Spot, you're having a good day with your knee and layin' in the water is good for it. You should swim." His normally pale skin has tanned a bit over the summer, swimming and selling forcing him to spend more time outside than he otherwise would have.

Race rolls his eyes, hard. "Hate it when you use all your fancy 'logic' on us. It's rude." He says, but he's grinning and the words hold no bite. Spot looks down at the boy laying next to him and knows he's right. Davey doesn't even need to look to know that his friend is going to start preparing to swim, suspenders coming undone.

A few hours later when Spot and Race come out of the water to an already-dry Davey grinning at them, they know he was right. The two of them have a great time swimming together with Davey coming in and out of the water periodically. The sun is setting now, and Davey needs to find Les and go. They say their goodbyes and head out, not knowing the good news that they're going to receive when they get home.