counterfeit [newsies x reader]

chapter fourteen

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CHAPTER FOURTEEN

"NIGHT MEETING"

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THE NEXT MORNING all the boys had gathered back at the gates, including you and Davey. You hadn't mentioned being turned down by Spot yet, and weren't going to until someone asked. The strike had seemed to be going great, all up until now.

You stood, hands around two bars and chin rested on one of the horizontal ones, with a glum face. If there was one word to describe how you felt, it would be hazy. The world around you seemed dull and sound appeared to just bounce right back out of your ears.

In fact, you were dazed, you didn't even hear Davey calling your name.

"Frank!" He has grabbed your arm this time.

You flinched, shaking him off.

"Oh, hey Davey." You said, realizing it was him. You resumed your position, clutching the gate.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

In all reality, you knew you weren't okay. So much had happened in the last twenty-four hours, so much that it clouded your brain. At this point there was a running list of all the things that could go wrong. First, you had no place to sleep. Second, the strike wasn't going anywhere, and thus no pay. Third, if anyone found out about you being a girl, then who knows what could happen.

"If I'm being honest, Davey, not really." The words felt like a relief after holding them in so long. You'd been "fine" or "okay" for a while now.

Davey stared at you, his mouth slightly opened, unsure of what to say.

"But it's not like it really matters," you added. "we have a lot of other stuff we need to get done."

"Shortstack, are you sure?"

"Yep."

"You don't need to talk or anything?"

"I'm fine, David."

Davey's senses immediately spiked. You never called him David, at least after becoming friends you didn't. He grabbed your sleeve, and felt your hair raise with tension.

"Shortstack, if there's anything you need to talk about, you can just let me know."

You knew you could. In a matter of days, Davey had become your best friend and brother. It was refreshing to have him ask you that question. However, it wasn't as easy as Davey made it. You had more on your shoulders right now than you ever had in your entire life.

"My mom's dead, Davey."

His eyes widened, and you felt his hand loosen on your sleeve. His mouth hung slightly open. He was startled. You'd told him before that your mom was sick but he had no idea it was this bad.

"When- when did it happen?"

When handling a fresh wound, you apply pressure gently.

"Last night."

He nodded.

"Do you know why?"

"Small Pox."

Of course it had been. He knew it had been growing more common.

"Are you and your dad gonna be okay?"

"Don't have him anymore either."

Davey sucked in a breath and your eyes continue to focus on the ground, hands tightening on the gate.

"I'm so sorry." He assured you.

"Don't be." You quipped, "It's not your fault."

He exhaled and released your sleeve.

"Well, you can stay at my house if you need to." He offered.

"Thanks Davey."

Silence returned in the spot of conversation and the two of you stood, awaiting orders from Jack.

In a matter of minutes, Jack Kelly strolled up, hands in his pockets.

"So strike's on for tomorrow, how's the turn out looking fellas?"

A few of the boys offered up several of the boroughs, but only to tell you that they'd join if Brooklyn would. At the end of the disappointment of a roll call, no one had earned a dedication from any of the boroughs.

You exhaled, and knew this was all going to go downhill from here. There was no promise in sight.

+•+

You had taken Davey up on that offer. You needed somewhere to sleep, and sleeping in a house with two boys was far better than sleeping in a house of about thirty.

Davey, Les, and yourself were making the trek back to the Jacobs' house, the lights dim and town sleepy. Your back had begun to hurt considering your bag was far more full and your head had been throbbing all day. The silence was odd but assuring.

Then like a crack of thunder, a garbage lid made a thud sound before falling off of it's can and began clattering in a circle until it ceased. You swallowed. Everything was fine. You had Davey and Les, who knew their way around.

"Who's there?" You called out.

A chucked was heard as a lanky boy exited the shadows. His smudged face seemed familiar. It was almost as if you'd seen him at thus exact time the night before.

"Only the best from Brooklyn!" He chucked. "Conlon sent me." Greaser chuckled out. Everything seemed to be hilarious to him.

"He didn't want to speak to Jack?" You asked, unsure of whether or not you wanted to speak with Conlon.

"Nah," he swayed back and forth of feet before coughing. "He's heard enough of what Ponyboy has to say, its all the same stuff, but you," he looked dead at you. "He liked what you'se had to say."

"And so he sent ol' Greaser to give the message." He guffawed for a little bit, reminding you a little bit of a drunken pirate.

He took such small steps for someone of his stature before placing the letter in your hand.

"If I was you, I'd read it soon." He began to back away. "But not in this company."

"The walls have ears." He harshly whispered.

And then he was gone, leaving you, Davey and Les alone in the street.