Strikes and Ladders

Chapter Sixteen: Announcement

The next day, Davey is practically bouncing up and down while he's getting his papers. Others eye him suspiciously but don't say anything, except for Race.

"Oi, Mouth, what's got you all...weird today? You're worse than Skittery." He swings an arm around his friend's shoulders while they begin their trek to Brooklyn. A hopeful look crossed his face, but the emotion is dashed when Davey shakes his head.

"Nope, I'm not tellin' you. Gotta wait for Spot, cause I don't wanna lose the excitement by saying it twice."

"Oh c'mon Dave, please? Pleeeeeeeaase? C'mon, tell me, tell me, tell me-" This goes on in various ways until they cross the bridge and meet up with Spot. He tilts his head and silently raises one eyebrow at Davey, who shrugs.

"He's been like this since we left circulation. Won't leave me alone." He isn't actually annoyed, shown by his still grinning face.

"Yeah, cause he won't tell me his news that he's all excited about. But you're here now, so he can tell me, can't he?" Race turns to Davey. "Can't you?"

"Well, I mean, we should probably get rid of our papes first- hey!" He doesn't manage to catch the hat that's thrown at him, and it hits him straight in the face. "Well now I don't want to tell you." He crosses his arms and huffs like a child.

Spot rolls his eyes, but his smile is fond. "C'mon Mouth, I know you're just bursting to tell someone, so spill. What's the news?"

Davey sighs, false and dramatic, before handing Race his hat back. "Fine, I guess I can tell you." He can't stay quiet for long on a good day, so all of this attention causes him to talk quickly, stumbling over his words. He tries to say his news, but he can't bring himself to say a coherent sentence. It takes a minute, but eventually Spot places a hand on his shoulder and forces eye contact with him.

"Hey, c'mon Mouth. Take a breath and then tell us, 'cause this ain't gettin' you anywhere."

So he does. Davey takes a few deep breaths to calm himself down before starting up again. "So, you know how the doctor was visiting my father yesterday while we were at the docks?" Two nods. "Apparently he's all healed up, he can go back to work. And with Mamma and Sarah doin' their sewin', I can go back to school in the fall. So, next week, I'm goin' back to school! I mean, I'll still sell on the weekends, but I'm goin' back!"

"Oh, that's great, Davey-" Spot tries to say with his usual calm attitude, but it's overpowered with Race barreling Davey over with a hug.

"Woah!" Davey and Race fall back onto the ground, both laughing the whole way. Even when the impact draws a groan out of Davey, he's still grinning. They get strange looks from people passing them, but neither of them care. Once again, Spot tries to roll his eyes at their antics, but he can't manage to force himself to look discouraging.

"C'mon, up you get, assholes. You're making a scene. " He holds both of his hands out and they both take one, pulling themselves up.

Race brushes himself off and readjusts his hat. "Sorry Dave, I'm just so excited for you! You've been tellin' us wistful stories about the stuff you learned at school since we've known you. We'll miss you at circulation, though."

"Yeah, it's not awful havin' you around, Mouth."

Davey mock-gasps. "Oh my god. Not awful? What high praise, comin' from the king of Brooklyn. I can tell you'll really miss me."

Spot forces himself to smother his grin. "Yeah yeah, enough with all the mushy shit, you's gotta get to Sheepshead before the rush is over. Get outta here."

Davey bows at the waist and Race, following his lead, curtsies. They both giggle. "Anything for the king," Davey says, a smile plastered onto his face.

"Ass. That goes for both of you."

Race pretends to be offended. "Hey, you like my ass," he tells him with a wink. An exasperated groan and a push to the shoulder sends race off to the track, Davey trailing behind him.