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The city is as busy as it always is, throngs of people rushing past, talking loudly amongst themselves, trying to be heard over all the other sounds that comprised the city. School had ended early today, and Davey has begun to hurry home, excited at the possibility to go out as himself during the day.
For the past few months, he had found himself strike an odd sort of balance between his life with his family and his life with the newsies. While the sun was bright overhead and the city awake around him, he would don his skirts and cover his hair, something his family has yet to catch on to, letting himself be referred to as a different person. Slipping away from it all had become easier and easier, his nighttime excursions a soothing balm to the life he felt forced to live. In school he let the memories of Jack, Crutchie, Race, and all the others swell inside, the feelings of trust and joy encompassing him, pushing away the piercing ache inside. But when the night rose, the city settling down, he found himself grabbing his hidden clothes from where they were tucked inside his dresser, shedding his disguise for his true self, and slipping out his window and down the fire-escape, fresh night air now a familiar comfort. And then he would live, genuinely live. He had found himself grow more confident as the nights past, insides no longer a jumbled mess like they were during the day, his stride became steady, shoulders strong, and personality in full swing. Escaping during the night had finally given Davey a life, the life he had desperately wanted, and he couldn’t ever think of giving it up.
Realistically Davey knew that at any time this could all end, Race could jostle him wrong and feel the fabric binding his chest, Sarah could pilfer his drawers in search of some garment and discover the dirty trousers and shirt and everything else he has tucked away, he could be attacked and revealed while walking back from the lodging house or theater. But for all these terrible possibilities, Davey cannot bring himself to stop, can barely bring himself to return each time because each time he goes out the broken bricks underfoot are steadier, and the air fills his lungs without jagged edges.
So, no, Davey cannot will himself to end this, barely containing himself as he rushes up the ancient wooden stairs, creaks and groans being ignored completely, and into the apartment. He’s out of breath and in somewhat of a tizzy as he looks around for the other members of his family. Wandering down the narrow hallway, Davey ducks into the cramped sitting room and finds his sister and brother playing a card game. He had guessed that they were at home as they had left school before him. Sarah looks up from where she is perched on the sofa and makes a face at him.
“Sarah, can you watch Les today? I have to go out” he asks, hoping she forgets that it’s his turn.
She sighs, slightly scowling and replies “Fine, but you owe me. And remember to be home early, we’re having the neighbors over for dinner.”
He smiles and thanks her in a flurry, nearly sprinting to his room. After setting down his book bag and unlocking his window, he shuts the door to his room and leaves the apartment, shouting a goodbye behind him. He then creeps back up the fire escape and back into his room, a plan that he thought was surprisingly sneaky. Careful to be quite, he shucks off his clothes and hastily begins to wrap his chest. The fabric is rough and unforgiving, underarms rubbed raw from the bindings, and his ribs protest as he tightly pulls the strips to flatten his chest. But the relief he finds when he catches a glance in his mirror dwarfs any of the downsides. Tugging on his boots, he makes sure to tuck away his other clothes and then escapes out his window.
Bright laughter rings out through the street jumbling in with the frenzy of noise and Davey finds himself grinning, heart beating a steady thrum of excitement. Ducking in and out of alleyways in an attempt to avoid anyone who knows him, he makes the familiar path toward the Bowery. The sky is a clear, pale, blue, lighting the narrow side streets that Davey has only seen in darkness, and he hastens his pace.
For the past months, ever since he began this adventure really, he’s been spinning the idea of how his voice sounds, over and over in his mind. He desperately wants to actually speak with the others, his friends, instead of nodding or shaking his head, so he found himself practicing late at night after climbing back up to the fire escape, he would talk, out into the almost still darkness, trying to lower his voice. He hadn’t thought it would work, had barely stuck with it but now he’s certain that he can speak deep enough, at least decently lower than before, comfortably. There is still a tangle of fear inside, gnawing at his gut but Davey ignores it, too excited at the possibility to speak fully with the others. Breathing in deeply, Davey tries to contain his racing heart, he feels incredibly lucky to be able to go out during the day and possibly speak with his friends.
He finds Race on the corner of a Bowery street, waving a ‘pape at passer-bys, shouting out headlines. Still hidden behind a stack of pallets, Davey begins to hum quietly to himself, trying to remember how it feels to speak lower. He feels a bit embarrassed to be in this position, hiding and humming to himself but he would rather suffer embarrassment than rejection. After a few minutes he pushes himself of the rough brick, confident that he sounds at least like an adolescent boy. When he approaches Race, the other looks surprised to see him, but waves excitedly at Davey.
“Mouth! I didn’t know you’se got out durin’ the day” he says eagerly around his cigar, tucking the newspaper under his arm.
Davey swallows down, mind a muddled mess of thoughts and fears rising up, and before he can catch up and untangle his thoughts, he stumbles out a greeting.
“Hey, Race”
Now Race wasn’t one to be quiet, he was mostly the opposite, barely able to stop himself from talking a mile a minute. But here he stood, stunned into silence after witnessing Mouth speak for the first time since they met. He recovers somewhat quickly, grin lighting his face turning to fully face the other boy.
“Fuck! You’s finally speakin!” he says, astounded. “Out durin’ the day and speakin’, is there somthin’ the matter with ya’?
“No, I-” Davey re-adjusts his pitch “I’m feeling fine, my voice is getting better, and I wanted to finally speak with you.”
“Well, it sounds jus’ fine ta’ me, c’mon” he gestures for Davey to start following him “I’m just ‘bouts done with sellin’. Let’s go find out where Jack an’ Crutchie are an’ surprise ‘em.”
They make their way through the busy streets, weaving around various groups of women out shopping and children playing. As they walk, Davey shortening his stride to match Race, the other begins to ask all the questions he had been unable to.
“Sos, Mouth, where ya’ from? Why’re ya’ out here?” Race asks when they manage to escape a particularly busy street.
Davey’s heart speeds up as he answers, trying to be vague in the details.
“My family lives a few blocks over in an apartment, me and siblings go to school during the day but were let out early.” He doesn’t say that he can only guarantee himself freedom at night and that’s why he’s never done this before, but Race doesn’t pry.
“School? You’se all fancy like that?” Race casts him a glance, face a mix of interest and judgment.
“My parents insist that we learn the basic studies, they hope that we can become…. that my sister can become a teacher.” Davey says, smile slipping onto his face, heartbeat slowing.
“Is that where you’s learn poker so well?”
Davey laughs, a small sound escaping his lips and Race grins at him around his cigar. “No, I picked it up on my own. I’m banned from playing outside of family.”
“Guess that makes us family, Mouth.” He says laughing and bumping his shoulder into Davey’s.
They find Jack and Crutchie up-town, a bit too close to Davey’s family for comfort but he forgets about it the moment he opens his mouth and excitedly greets the others. Both Jack and Crutchie appear shocked still for a few moments before Jack shakes himself free, smile wide and eyes shining. Crutchie is smiling as well, a brilliant grin on his face.
“Mouth! You’se finally talkin” Jack says energetically, clapping Davey on the shoulder.
“I’s heard him first” Race juts in “he says he’s outta school early.”
“You’se go ta’ school? What sorta-” Crutchie asks and then stumbles into Jack, shoved harshly from a passer-by.
“Go fucks yourself!” Race shouts after them as Jack steadies the other boy, looping a protective arm around Crutchie’s shoulders.
“Hey, lets get outta here, we’se already finished sellin’” Jack says, beginning to guide their little group away from the corner they were gathered on and back toward the Bowery. Davey ends up on Jack’s other side and Race ends up walking backwards, facing them, barely avoiding tripping over the cracked pavement.
“What sorta stuffs ya’ learnin’ in school?” Crutchie ends up asking again after a few moments. The boys all look at him expectantly, waiting for his answer.
“We learn writing, mathematics, and science mostly” Davey tells them.
“Sounds boring” Race comments.
“We get to access to this whole library though, they have so many different books you can read.” Davey says and then blushes when he realizes how entitled he must sound and tries to explain “I mean if you like to read-”
“You’se like ta’ read then, Mouth? What’s ya’ favorite thing ta’ read?” Jack asks.
“Yes! I don’t have a favorite book; I really like reading something new-”
“You’se could read the ‘pape, everythin’s new in there.” Crutchie interjects waving Race's last 'pape, and Davey finds himself smiling, heart steady and stomach calm, no tangle of worry to be found.
Their conversation ends up devolving into the petty drama surrounding each newsie and their respective borough by the time they have situated themselves in a back room of the lodging house. Other boys filter in and out of the cozy room, well lit and warmed with a bright fire dancing in an old stone fireplace, talking amongst each other. Jack and Davey have wound up sitting down on the small, stained, threadbare sofa while Crutchie is perched in a wooden bar chair and Race lays on the dirty rug in front of the fire.
“I’s sure that Elmer’s gotta have a girlfriend of some sorts, how else’s he so happy alls the time?” Crutchie insists.
“Elmer don’t got a girlfriend, he’s too young” Jack says
“You’se had a girlfriend by his age, Jack” Race inputs from where he’s sprawled.
“Well, he should knows better”
“I think you’re just annoyed that he’s growing up, Jack-y” Davey says teasingly and sees both Crutchie and Race share a near manic grin.
“Yeahs Jack, you’se just sad he ain’t as excited to see ya’ anymore” Crutchie says through a cheeky smile.
“No, I ain’t I just-” Jack tries to defend himself and then abandons doing so in favor of turning on his friends. “
“What ‘bouts you’se Race? How’s ya’ Spot doin’?”
There’s an undignified spluttering from Race whose face turns red and he avoids Jack’s pestering stare.
“Yeahs, how’s that 'sellin’ goin’? You’se finally confess yet?” Crutchie asks.
“I’s-” Race mutters out weakly.
Now here’s the thing, Davey was never able to tell the others about how he had found Race and Spot that one night and since no one else had borne witness to the embarrassing situation it had stayed a secret. To be fair, Davey hadn’t known what to feel about the situation, hadn’t known how the others would react if he tried to tell them. When he was growing up, Davey had learned of people who were different like that, what was written in law, had felt a disturbing connection between his own feelings and those society deemed morally wrong. But the more time he spent with the newsies the more he learned that they didn’t care who was attracted to who. He realized they didn’t care if Race was chasing a boy more enraptured with the chase itself, the dramatics of romance that let life be a little more interesting. So, Davey is now presented with a golden opportunity, sure that there is no harm to commit, to remind Race that he had been present and had to feel entirely too much embarrassment from the situation.
“Are you sure you haven’t confessed yet, Race?” Davey says mischievously. Race looks up and meets Davey’s eyes, betrayed look on his face and he attempts to stop him.
“That ain’t what it looked like, I’s- …you’se-”
“What d’ya means Mouth?”
Before Davey can answer Jack, Race bolts up off the rug and flings himself at Davey trying to throw a hand around over other’s mouth to silence him. Davey evades Race’s childish attempts, grinning while he grapples with Race on the sofa, trying to get him off from where he has wound himself around Davey. A slice of fear slips into his gut as the bindings on his chest loosen and his breath quickens, smile falling slightly. He ignores it. In the end Jack wrangles Race away, wedging him between Davey and Jack, holding tightly to him. Crutchie is grinning at the display, thoroughly entertained.
“Now I’s knows ya’ hidin’ somethin’ Race” Jack says.
“Mouth you’se can’t tell ‘em, c’mon, I’s beggin’ ya’ here, they’ll never let me hear the end a’ it” Race pleads, turning and looking at Davey, wide-eyed expression upon his face. Davey weighs the idea of spilling Race’s secrets.
“A few months ago,” he starts, Race ducks his head a blush spilling onto his cheeks, the other boys have fixed all their attention on Davey, “I was coming to the theater, and I tried the door, when I opened it-”
Race groans in embarrassment curling even more into himself.
“Waits, ain’t that when you’se first met the others” Crutchie says.
Davey nods, “he was leaning against the door and when I opened it, he fell out with Spot.”
“You’se already with Spot?” Jack asks incredulously.
“No! I’s-” Race tries to explain himself.
“Was he kissin’ Spot?” Crutchie probes, staring intently at Davey.
Davey blushes slightly, re-adjusting his voice to sound deeper, “…. they were before I interrupted them.”
Jack and Crutchie are both staring at Race, Jack with a near scandalized expression and Crutchie with a mischievous grin.
“Fine! We’se together, ok? I knew you’se would be terrible if I’s told ya’” Race says exasperated.
Jack seems to be trying to work out the logistics of said relationship even though he had just been mercilessly teasing the other boy about it.
“We ain’t gonna be that bad Race, I’m actually happy for you’se and Spot” Crutchie says.
“But you’se like a child, you ain’t old enough ta’ be with Spot” Jack finally spits out.
“I’s only ‘bout a year younger than you’se” Race says.
And with that the group devolves into a friendly argument mainly between Jack and Race on what age they could start meeting up with people. Davey takes Jack’s side as a protective older brother, bothered by the idea of allowing Les to go out with someone. Race and Crutchie probably having put up with Jack’s protectiveness for years argue for their own freedom. In the end they solve nothing, only pausing the discussion when Davey realizes the time.
It’s dark out by now, sun having lowered below the horizon long ago, the city quieting into a bearable din, and Davey feels his stomach plummet. He was supposed to be back home at least a few hours ago. Nausea and fear curl together in his gut, tangling in a terrible knot. Waving a hurried goodbye, Davey begins to rush home, panic swelling inside, his heart pounding in his ears and breath coming in shallow gasps. This could all be over, his life could be found out, and he can’t leave this, he can never give this up. Picking up his pace, nearing a sprint, Davey twists and turns through alleys and side streets, mapping the maze he’s created for himself, creeping slowly back home. When he reaches the fire escape, he clambers up as fast and silent as he can be, chest tight from worry and not the bindings now loosely wrapped around his ribs. The joy he had been feeling all afternoon fades to a dull memory as he slips out of his dirtying clothes, unraveling the cloth around his chest while trying to push away the sickening feeling pressing in. After re-dressing in his feminine attire, he flings on the scarf he has been using to cover his hair, pushes himself out of his window and climbs back down the fire escape, breathing the night air, trying to steady himself. The adjustment back into this life was becoming difficult especially when just moments prior he had been living as himself. Davey could feel his disguise breaking, cracks in this life letting his real one shine through but he has no remedy, at least not right now. Swallowing down the tangle of emotions gnawing away in his stomach Davey went home.
When he unlocks the door, he finds a scene that he did not expect. There is no kind, worried, scolding from his mother, no disapproving stare from his father nor a berating from his sister. There is no excited questioning from Les, no sound of food cooking in the kitchen or his family eating. No, when Davey opens the door he sees his sister, face red and blotchy, clutching Les to her chest. Startled, Sarah looks up and Davey feels icy fear. A fear he has never felt before, slides slowly down, and sinks his stomach through the floor. Before he can ask why Sarah is crying or where their mother and father are, Sarah is pulling him into a tight embrace. They stand there, door still open, clutching at each other and Davey forgets everything else, forgets his panic and his own fears and lets himself provide comfort to his siblings.
His father was injured, he is told later. His father was fired, he is told. His family will suffer, he is told. He is to find work with Sarah, he is told. Les is to become a newsie, he is told. Davey listens, grieves, and then, does not do as he is told.