- Chapter 97 - Maturing as a writer is realizing that "comfy" isn't proper to write with unless it's in dialogue lol -
Warnings: injuries, pain, mentions of stabbings, head injuries, and throat injuries, family trauma, manipulation/manipulators
Third Person POV
Tiptoe.
Why is this crutch so loud?
Tiptoe.
Subtlety is my speciality.
Tiptoe.
Come on, crutch. Work with me here.
Tiptoe.
I am sneak-
"Antonio Higgins."
Race froze, his body tensing immediately. He cringed in pain. He turned around, putting on an innocent smile. "Hi, Miss Medda."
Medda raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you supposed to be up and walking?" she questioned.
Race pursed his lips. "Yes." He shot her a thumbs up.
Medda shot him a look.
"Maybe?"
Medda crossed her arms.
"No?"
"Good answer. Go back to bed."
Race groaned. "But I'm bored!"
Race had very quickly become bored of laying in bed.
He felt fine, for the most part, so why did he have to lay in bed?
Medda shot him a disapproving look and made a gesture as if to zip her lips. "You need to stop talking, Racetrack," she told him.
Race sighed. "But it doesn't hurt... that much-"
"Ah." Medda had a knowing look on her face. "There it is." She clicked her tongue.
The door to the room opened, revealing Snowflake.
Snowflake pursed her lips. "Whoops. I walked right into Medda." She cringed and facepalmed.
Medda sighed. "Do I need to go get Spot?"
"No!" Both Race and Snowflake blurted out.
Medda shot Race a look.
Race rolled his eyes fondly and shook his head.
Medda turned to Snowflake. "Why are you up?"
Snowflake pursed her lips, leaning against the corner where the walls met so she didn't have to hold herself up. "Because I have a borough to lead... and it doesn't hurt... that much."
"Oh! What a great reason!" Race nodded quickly and turned to face Medda. "I have a borough—nope! Two, actually—to help lead so they don't fall apart," he reminded her.
Medda raised an eyebrow at him.
Race pursed his lips. "Right. Shutting up." He saluted.
Medda faced Snowflake again. "Your second in command is taking care of your borough for you, with the help of your third and forth," she reminded her. "The doctor said you're on bed rest for at least three weeks. And if it didn't hurt, why are you clutching your stomach?"
Snowflake frowned. "At least I don't have a crutch," she commented, side-eying a certain blond-boy.
Race rolled his eyes at her playful jab. "At least I didn't get stabbed."
Snowflake raised an eyebrow at him. "Aren't you supposed to be not talking?" she questioned.
"Let's be real here, Snowflake." Race looked at her. "Does keeping my mouth shut seem like an ability I've ever processed?"
Snowflake breathed out a laugh, hunching over a bit to hold her stomach as if to try and stop it from hurting more.
Medda sighed deeply. She walked over to Snowflake.
Snowflake noticed her walking over and tensed.
Medda paused when she noticed the girl get uncomfortable. She held her hand out for her.
Snowflake tilted her head. "What?" she mumbled.
"May I show you to my dressing room?" Medda asked. "It may be better for you to not be alone right now. That way, I can make sure you're not hurting yourself, and you'll have company."
Snowflake looked at her hand again, then slowly reached out and took her hand.
Medda smiled. "Come on, darling. Let's get you resting again," she told her, starting to lead her to her dressing room. "I know you leaders like to act tough and like you're not in pain, but getting stabbed hurts."
Snowflake grimaced. "Do you know that first-hand, Miss Medda?" she questioned.
Medda smiled. "That is a question you'll never know the answer to."
Race watched them start walking and turned to tiptoe away. He hadn't even put his crutch down to take a step when Medda spoke again.
"Come hither, Antonio. You're not getting out of this."
Race sighed. "I was so close."
"No, you weren't."
Race frowned. "Coming, Miss Medda." He turned and started to crutch after them. "How does Charlie do this daily?"
Medda chuckled.
Medda lead the two Newsies to her dressing room and helped them both sit down and get comfortable.
Medda turned to Race. "Could I get you some tea for your throat?" she asked.
Race quickly shook his head. "No, no, it's okay, Miss Medda."
Medda narrowed her eyes at him. "Mhm... I'll be back." She left the room.
Snowflake snickered. "She totally knows you're just saying that so you don't bother her," she commented.
Race sighed. "She usually does." He leaned back against the back of the seat.
"So, is she like your guys' mother or something?" Snowflake asked curiously.
Race shrugged. "I guess. She and Davey kinda split the job," he said.
Snowflake laughed lightly, still holding her stomach. "What does that make Jack?"
Race shrugged again. "I'd call him the father, but I'm not sure he's the one who wears the pants in their relationship," he responded. He thought about it for a moment. "He very well may be the mother... I'm not sure. I don't like to psycho analyze their relationship. Plus, Crutchie is dating them too, so..."
Snowflake nodded.
"I don't even know why we're staying here, to be honest." Race looked around the dressing room. "We don't usually stay at Medda's."
"Hotshot and Ike aren't," Snowflake commented, playing with the fabric of the blanket Medda gave her.
Race stared at her. "Seriously?" He scoffed when she nodded. "Why's that?"
"Because Hotshot insisted that he was okay enough to rest in Brooklyn," Snowflake explained. "Ike is in Manhattan under the account that he rests for a week like the doctor said and wears a sling."
Race frowned. "So they're making me stay here and use a crutch, why?" He crossed his arms.
"Because apparently your injury was more severe and Medda wants to make sure you get the proper care so that they don't get infected and you don't have to get your leg amputated." Snowflake shrugged. She winced in pain immediately after, regretting moving. "I'm here because my injury was "severe" too and London wants me to get the proper care, which they apparently can't give me in Harlem."
Race nodded.
Both fell silent for a moment.
"Hey, Snow?"
Snowflake blinked. "Snow?"
Race pursed his lips. "I give nicknames to people in my head," he explained. "Sometimes, they just slip out... I nicknamed Spot "Spotty"." He grinned, amused. He loved that nickname.
Snowflake laughed. "That's awesome. I'm taking that."
Race nodded. "Can I call you "Snow"?" he asked, his voice suddenly soft.
Snowflake fell silent for a moment, then she nodded. "Sure."
Race smiled. "I... I'm sorry I couldn't tell you about Sean earlier," he mumbled, rubbing his hand against the fabric of his shirt. It was Spot's shirt, which he had pretended he didn't like to wear (but he was faking). "I- I tried to, but- I think Revenge would've... you know, and-"
"Racer," Snowflake cut him off, "I get it. You were injured and drugged. Besides, it's not your fault." She sighed, hugging herself. "It's my fault. I believed Revenge about him... and I shouldn't have. But growing up, family was above everything, and- and I thought Sean had abandoned me. I thought he was living his best life without me and hated me," she whispered, tears stinging her eyes. "And- and Recenge, he made me angry. Sean made me angry, but it was like Revenge drained all the happiness out of everything and I'd been stuck with all of those thoughts about Sean for so long. It wasn't right to put you through that, and-"
Race stopped her. "You don't need to keep explaining. I understand," he assured her.
Snowflake shook her head. "No, you don't."
"Okay, maybe I don't... but if Jack had left me, I'd be angry too," Race told her. "Revenge and Sling were manipulators, good ones." He paused. "Not good as in, like, "woo hoo, peace on earth, I'm a good person" good. Good as in skilled," he clarified.
Snowflake laughed. "I got it."
Race smiled. He watched her hunch over again, clearly in pain. His eyes softened. "Maybe we should stop talking," he suggested. "I think I'm hurting you."
A small smile formed on Snowflake's lips. "No, no, you're fine. Honestly, aren't you hurting?" she questioned.
"No."
Snowflake raised an eyebrow at him.
Race rolled his eyes fondly. "Yes."
"Thought so." Snowflake nodded. She made a gesture to him as if to tell him to zip his lips.
Race sighed and leaned back. He mirrored her gesture and shut his mouth.
Snowflake chuckled quietly.
Medda walked back into the room, carrying three cups. "Oh, good. You're quiet now. Do you regret talking earlier?" she questioned, setting the drinks down on her table.
Race raised an eyebrow at her.
Medda chuckled. "I don't expect an answer from you. I know you're "mister tough guy"." She ruffled his hair.
Snowflake snorted quietly.
Race rolled his eyes fondly.
Medda picked up one of the cups and handed it to him. "Drink this. It should help," she informed him.
Race nodded as if to thank her.
Medda smiled. She turned to Snowflake. "Would you like one, darling?"
Snowflake noticed the extra cup that was presumably for her. "If it's okay, Miss Medda."
Medda nodded. "It's always okay. I brought one for you in case," she informed her, picking up the cup and handing it to her.
Snowflake took it gratefully. "Thank you, Miss."
Medda chuckled, sitting down. "Always "Miss Medda" with you kids." She picked up her drink and sighed, holding it up to her lips. "You all make me feel so old."
Snowflake held the drink in her hands, resting them in her lap. "We're just trying to be respectful, Miss."
"And it's appreciated, but not needed." Medda waved it off. "Please, just call me "Medda"."
Race raised an eyebrow at her.
Medda noticed his stare. She sighed. "Of course, this one's stuck this way," she muttered to Snowflake, gesturing to Race. "I sometimes wonder if he'd have turned out to be less stubborn if Jack hadn't raised him," she teased, knowing Race could hear her.
Race pretended to gasp and put a hand on his chest.
Snowflake giggled, taking a sip of her tea again to hide her laughter.
Medda looked at Race. "What's that look for, Racetrack?" she questioned, feigning ignorance. "Are you hearing stuff? Do I need the doctor to check your ears, too?"
Race shot her a look.
Medda chuckled, lifting her cup to her lips. "You know I'm teasing. I love Jack, but I can't help it." She shook her head. "That boy is as stubborn as a mule, and he's raising you all to be the same way."
Race pursed his lips. "Sometimes, being stubborn is good."
Medda shot him a look, putting a finger to her lips. "No talking," she reminded him. "And yes, sometimes... but we all know you two have exceeded that standard by far."
Snowflake couldn't stop her laughs from getting louder as Race just pouted.
Medda chuckled again, taking another sip of her drink.
1930 Words
I hope this chapter was okay. I love how I wrote Medda, but I can't tell if it was good or if people will hate this chapter lol
Also, the phrase "stubborn as a mule" is believed to have originated in the United States in the early 1800s, so yay, historical accuracy!