Strikes and Ladders

Chaptet Twenty-One: Apologies

The rest of the party is fine. The Jacobs kids leave pretty early, relatively, because Davey has school the next day, so they don't get to see the boys newsies get kicked out. The day after, Davey gets to school and goes through his day exhausted. He doesn't exactly have a regular sleep schedule at the best of times, but the party and emotion of the night before drained him. He attends his classes like a zombie, almost falling asleep at his desk twice. When his final class ends he finds it in himself to thank whatever God is listening, and quickly collects his things to leave. As he steps out of the main doors, he looks up and once again sees a familiar figure leaning on the fence and waiting for him, an uncharacteristically hesitant smile on his face.

"Hey Race." Davey walks outside of the gates and claps his friend on the shoulder. "Where's Spot?"

The smile drops. "Ah, I uh, Brooklyn. We can head over there if you wanna, but I wanted to talk." Race is fidgety, nervous. It isn't like him, and it worries Davey, who tries to play it cool by shrugging.

"Yeah, it'll be good to hang out. Might head home early though, today was absolutely unbearable."

"Oh, if you wanna go straight home, that's totally fine!" Race quickly assures him, concerning him even more.

"Race, I'm fine. You said you wanted to talk... we can talk on the way there. Let's go." Davey pulls his friend gently by the arm to get him moving and they're off. It's awkward for a while, with Race having several false starts, where he seems for a moment like he's about to say something, but aborts before any words come out. It isn't until they're almost at the docks that he grabs Davey by the wrist and stops them both. They're standing on a nearly empty street and Race has a wierd look on his face, like he's at war with himself. "Are you... alright?"

"I just don't do this very often, on account of the fact that I'm never wrong ever, but I just wanna... apologise. I'm sorry. For uh, how I acted last night. You were feeling rough and I made it worse. So, yeah."

"Oh." There's a bit of an awkward silence before Davey snorts, and then laughs out loud, head thrown back. Race stands there dumbfounded, hand still around his friend's wrist and jaw dropped almost to the floor. The laughing begins to wane, but then Davey catches a look at Race's expression and the giggles redouble. A few minutes later, he stops, still grinning, and takes stock of a very pouty Racetrack Higgins.

"That wasn't very nice, Mouth. I was bein' all vulnerable and shit, and you fucking laughed at me!" The tall blonde protests, arms now crossed in front of him.

"I'm sorry Racer, I just never heard you apologise before. You almost cut Jack's arm off once and blamed it on him somehow. But this? Raising your voice, not at me, but around me? It's just funny."

Race rolls his eyes. "Yeah, well you ain't Jack. I actually care what you think about me." Davey raises an eyebrow. "...and Spot told me to." He starts walking away and his friend follows him, a fond smile painting his lips.

"That boy has you on a leash."

"Mouth. Be real. If Spot Conlon tells you to do something, you do it. I ain't as smart as you, but I'm smart enough to know that."

"Also you're madly in love with him and do whatever he says."

"You do what he tells ya more than I do, what's your excuse?" Davey sputters a bit, causing Race to eye him. "You alright?"

"I- yeah! I'm fine." He smiles as best he can, collecting himself. "And I do what Spot says because he's scary."

"Hm. Sure."

He doesn't have the time or energy to argue with that, because they're at the docks, the main haunt for the Brooklyn boys. Spot waves them over and Davey once again gets home later than is reasonable.