...
once spot had finally come back to his senses the next morning, he realised amara couldn't walk, and so he made her stay at home - well, it wasn't home, per se. she was kept in the lodging house with the very young newsies - most of them under five. she wasn't too thrilled about staying back, the main reason being she hadn't sold in three days and she knew that the very little money that she had saved up wouldn't last long.
the little kids weren't bad, amara told them some over-the-top story that she remembered from when she was little - something about a girl who ran away with a boy who stayed forever young - and then they ran off. amara didn't move from her spot on 'her' bunk all day, her leg taking a while to heal. when day turned to night, however, she escaped out the nearest window and took off.
as much as she didn't want to, she ran to manhattan, since she didn't have anywhere else to go, really. and by ran, it was more of a stumble-walk run thing with frequent stops because there were shooting pains up her leg. she didn't really care - that was the first lie she told herself - as she just wanted to run away. she needed space and air and not to be confined in such a small room. it felt like a prison to her, being locked in a room that actually had all she needed, but nothing she wanted.
scratch that, she wasn't sure what she wanted.
amara's breathing was rough as she finally reached the lodging house, her fist knocking lightly on the wood. she leaned up against the door, exhausted, and practically fell through it when it was opened. she landed on a boy who was not at all prepared for her to come crashing down on top of him, and he hit the wall with a soft 'thud'.
" 'ey, easy there," he said quietly, shifting so he could stand up. he wrapped her arm around his shoulder, calling out to someone. "jack, help," amara heard him shout, dragging her through into the house.
that was the last thing she heard before the scene faded to black.
...
when amara woke up, her head hurt like hell, and it took a second for her eyes to adjust to the light. "fuck," she mumbled, rubbing her forehead. seated around the bed was six-wait, no, four boys, three of them not even looking at her. the one looking at her smiled softly, his elbows on the bed and his chin resting in his hands.
"mornin', sleepin' beauty," jack teased, poking out his tongue as he grinned.
amara rolled her eyes, ruffling up his hair. "what happened?"
"you passed out," a boy who she hadn't met yet explained, now making eye contact with her. "you seemed pretty exhausted when you fell through 'ta door."
"oh god," amara shook her head, looking down as she remembered how helplessly she fell on him. "i's sorry."
"don't be," he smiled a little, holding out his hand, the other twirling a slingshot around his fingers. "m' name's finch, by 'ta way."
"amara," the girl shook his hand firmly, wincing a bit as she sat back up. "god, i's feel like hell."
"what'cha get for runnin' away," a blonde boy with his back to amara said, not bothering to turn around. amara immediately recognised who it was from his voice, and there was a pang of guilt that ran through her veins. there was also a spark of anger than ran through at the same time, and she acted on that instead.
"or maybe for standin' up for what's right," she shot back, her words sharper than she intended. she didn't know if she was talking about standing up to oscar, or race. she didn't think it mattered much.
race swivelled around, catching her gaze. "what's right?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow. "tell me, actually, what's right. i's actually want 'ta know."
