Strikes and Ladders

Chapter Two: President Davey Jacobs

David wakes up in an unfamiliar bed with his brother's foot in his face. He groggily pushes his brother away and surveys his surroundings. He and his brother had stayed overnight in the newsie lodge, after they had won the strike. A soft smile spreads across his face when he realises that, despite being one of the last to go to bed, he is the first to wake up. Getting out of bed however, is a more complicated ordeal, but he manages to stand up and stretch without waking his brother or anyone else. Trusting that his brother is safe inside, he walks out into the still-dark street.

He startles slightly when he sees someone standing, awake among the other newsies who had fallen asleep on the street during the party the night before. A relieved sigh leaves his lips when he realises that it's only Jack, smoking a cigarette that he definitely stole from Racetrack's stash.

"Shit Jack, you scared me! What're you doing, standing out here like a creeper?" Davey questions him, keeping his voice down so that he doesn't wake the newsies up before he needs to.

"Nothin' Dave. Jus' thinkin'." Jack looks down at the ground and exhales a puff of smoke, which Dave scrunches his face at.

"Gross, Jack."

"We's outside, it don't matter."

The taller boy sighs and leans against the wall next to his friend. "Care to share? What you're thinking about so early in the morning, that is."

A silence cuts through their conversation, the sound of snoring newsies and the beginnings of a summer day in New York city the only noises that surround them.

"I can't be the president of the union anymore, Dave."

This time, he forgets to be quiet. "What?!," he yells, and upon seeing some of the kids around them begin to stir, he covers his mouth with his hands. "What?," he repeats, quieter this time. "You have to! We voted you in."

"That was before all of the stuff I did. I scabbed, I took a bribe, I was gonna leave you all behind. Not to mention, I'm gonna age out in a few months. Better to have someone who has more time. I can't be smart when bad things happen, all I can do is try and run away."

Davey is baffled. He can't believe it, that this boy that he admires, likes even, is seemingly just running away from his problems. "You- you can't! We need a president. Someone who knows newsies, and business, is charismatic, and has good ideas! Someone like you, Jack."

"And you. Davey, you know us, you know more about business than I do, the whole strike was basically your idea, and everyone likes you. Even Spot Conlon, which is basically a miracle. I want you to be president instead of me."

Stunned silent. That's what Davey is at this moment. But only for a moment, because if there's one thing that the Walking Mouth of Manhattan knows how to do, it's talk.

"You can't. I can't. I'm not meant for leadership, Jack. I'm meant to stand behind someone loud and important and whisper into their ear. My words in your mouth. Without you. . . I'm just a whisper in the wind."

"Not true." A voice cuts into their conversation that isn't Jack's or David's. Racetrack walks up to them from his previous position in the doorway, focused on Davey. "You ain't a whisper, Mouth. When Jackie-Boy here scabbed on us, you yelled louder than he ever did. You might not believe it, but people listen to ya, and it's the right thing to do."

Davey is silent again, for the second time that day. Luckily for him, Jack isn't. "He's right, Dave. If it makes you feel any better, we'll hold a vote before you go down and see Spot. Everyone'll finish sellin' and then we'll ask the membership, alright?"

David fiddles with the untucked hem of his shirt, biting his lip. "Fine. If you're gonna drop out of being the president, elections are the way to go I guess. I still think this is a bad idea, but we're gonna be late if we keep arguing instead of waking everyone up."

And so they do. They walk through the lodging house and the street outside of it, waking their friends up and walking to the gates of The World. They buy and sell their papers and end up right back where they began. When Jack Kelly announces the retirement to his short-lived career as the president of the newsboy union, Dave expects an uproar. He doesn't get it.

Sure, some of the newsies are pretty bummed, but they get it. He's aging out, and a lot of the newsies, especially the older ones, just don't trust him as much as they need to.

"Alright, as my last act as president of this union, I say that Dave is president after I leave. Everyone who agrees, raise ya hands!" Jack shouts, and a sea of dirty, ink-stained hands fly up. David Jacobs is, for the third time that day, shocked into silence as he watches people that he really hasn't known for that long endorse him to be his leader. There is some celebration, which includes Racetrack somehow calling dibs on being the vice president and Les handing yet another pencil to someone and cementing his standing as their secretary of state.

All good things must come to an end, however, because as soon as Davey notices the time, he is sensible enough to drag Racetrack out of the mini celebration going on so that they can be on time for the meeting. They head off together at a brisk pace.