I've learned a lot of interesting things about Jewish and Irish immigrants who came over to America in this time period, and how David bringing an Irish boy into a Jewish household is going to be an Event, so I'm trying to write that here.

Enjoy! :)

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David knocks on the door to his apartment, slightly nervous about several things. For one, Les fell asleep on the way here, so he's in Jack's arms right now, and that's probably going to startle his mother ... and not only that, but just that he's bringing Jack here is going to be something. David fidgets nervously with the ends of his sleeves.

His mother opens the door, worried, just like he expected her to be. Her eyes widen when she sees Les in Jack's arms. "My god, what happened?!" She takes Les from Jack's arms. Jack, who just stands there, totally aware of the fact that he should say something, but makes no effort to try and say anything.

"Nothing Ma, he's just sleeping," David says quickly. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to have Jack be the one they see carry Les here; while David sees Jack carrying Les, his parents would only see a six foot tall Irish boy. Well, that's irreversible now.

His father comes up from the table to greet them too, eyeing Jack questioningly, but still amiable. 

David averts his eyes. "Uh, Ma, Papa, this is Jack Kelly, my selling partner, a-and my-and our ...friend. Um, Jack, these are my parents."

Luckily for David, they're greeting Jack pleasantly.

"Uh ... we were wondering if ... uh ... I mean ... if he ... if he could stay for dinner?" David asks nervously.

His parents exchange a glance. "I don't see why not."

David sighs with relief. That went well.

"Oh right." He gestures over to the other person in the room, the last one he needs to introduce to Jack. "That's my sister, Sarah."

Sarah looks up from her embroidary and smiles. After making eye contact for what she's pretty sure was long enough, she gets back to the embroidary, loving the feeling of the cloth between her fingers and pulling the needle and the thread. She loves it so much.

David's also nervous because he has never actually brought someone here before. He has no clue what Jack will think about any of this.

They sit down at the table, dinner ready.

David then remembers the other reason why Jack is here.

He puts all the money on the table. Now that he sees it spread out, it does seem like a lot. And this is only his first day.

His father's eyebrows raise. He's clearly impressed. It makes David's heart beat faster, more hopeful. Proud.

"You made all of this selling newspapers?" his father asks incredulously.

"Well, half of it's Jack's," David corrects right away, only slightly aware of his voice getting slightly louder. He is, however, more aware of the fact that Jack didn't correct him when he said half. Half is not the same as 60/40, and they both know it. Either Jack is smart enough to know not to push it in front of David's family, or Jack has had a change of heart on the sixty-forty matter. David wants to believe it's the latter one. It makes him happy just thinking about that.

"From what I can tell, your boys are a pair of natural born sellers," Jack contributes to the conversation. 

David blushes slightly.

"We can prolly easily peddle a thousand papes a week," Jack adds.

"That many?" David's father asks.

"More, if the headline is good."

"What makes the headline good?" Sarah asks, having been quiet before now.

"Oh you know," Jack says in a casual tone, "Catchy words. A murder, a war, a scandal..." he continues on with a more graphic list, unaware that this isn't good dinner conversation. He's used to eating dinner with the newsies; talking like this is normal. No filter needed with them.

And Sarah ... doesn't seem to mind that much; she still appears interested.

However, David is appalled and mortified, because sometimes he doesn't have a filter either, but he is painstakingly aware of his parents exchanging looks; the back of his mind screaming No, you aren't supposed to say that! because he has learned, over the years, that this is not something you say at a dinner table, and he's frustrated and confused by why Jack hasn't learned that--and what are his parents going to think about this Irish boy saying all of this stuff in their house--and now he's going to have to be the one held responsible for this happening. His secondhand embarrassment--whether Jack or his parents (or both) is causing it, he's not entirely sure--is through the roof. Oy vey.

Jack and Sarah chuckle. Then, finally, Jack is aware of what he just said and who he just said it all in front of. "Sorry," he apologizes. "I think I'm talkin' too much."

David's mother just smiles at him kindly. David's father ... is thinking about something. Jack fidgets with his hands under the table. This is something that he does often; sometimes about of boredom, sometimes nervous, sometimes excited, or sometimes he doesn't even know he's doing it. At this moment, he's nervous, and by moving his hands, hopefully he can calm himself a little. His leg bounces too--not that he could help that if he tried.

"Sarah," David's father says at last, "go get the cake your mother is hiding in the cabinet."

"That's for your birthday tomorrow!" David's mother scolds him.

"I've had enough birthdays." He smiles at Jack and David. "This calls for a celebration!"

David feels a great wave of relief. As he and Sarah get up to get the cake and the plates and such, he pretty much springs out of his chair.

"And this is only the beginning, Papa!" David says enthusiastically, volume increasing slowly as he gets more excited. "Just think! Imagine how much money we can make in a week! Or a month! Or maybe even-"

"Oh no," David's father cuts him off gently but firmly before David can continue on that train of thought. "Once my arm heals--which it will--you are going back to school, just like you promised."

David falters a little, deflating. Right. He did promise that. But ... that was before he actually started work. That was before he met Jack.

And he wants to feel grown up. Helping to support his family? That's a grown up thing to do. But ... he guesses that he already knew that this arrangement wasn't going to last.

David and Sarah distribute the cake and sit down again on either side of Jack.

This is some of the best cake--and some of the best food, including the whole meal--that Jack has had in awhile. He makes sure to express his gratitude to David's parents.

So this is what it's like for David, in one big, loving, family. Jack thinks it must be nice. Watching them all interact ... he can tell that they all mean a lot to each other. And it's great, but ... it just reminds him that he'll never have something like that himself.

Before Jack can take another bite of this very delicious cake, he hears singing.

"Come back my lovey, dovey baby..."

The fork hovers just before Jack's o-shaped mouth. He puts down the fork, and he and David turn around, David's eyebrows knotted in a huge question mark.

"And cootchie coo with me."

It's Les singing in his sleep from the bed, smile on his face.

David and Jack exchange glances, and start laughing.

"Boys, what is this?" David's mother asks curiously.

David and Jack both avert their eyes, and suddenly gain an intense interest in their individual pieces of cake, still chuckling.

After they finish, Jack and David stand on the balcony, barely a few inches apart, talking about anything and nothing. David explained to Jack all about his father's injury. Jack tells David more about what it's like living with the other newsies in the lodging house. It sounds like it would be a really interesting and diverse place to be, people of all different backgrounds all in one place, just existing together, in a way that doesn't exactly happen much place else. Aside from the cramped living conditions and just general oppression of the working class, it doesn't sound all that bad.

They're having fun talking out here, just being together. It's so nice, because both have their own ways of talking and expressing their ideas, and both may have constantly moving hands or feet that never stop tapping, but the other one seems totally okay with this; in fact, this is how their mind works too. There's no "normal" person here to criticize them, their actions, or their words. It's nice, just taking a quiet moment for themselves in the night as everyone else has gone to sleep.

David's father opens the window. Jack and David spring apart, pretending to have always been standing that far apart, trying to look unbothered.

Well. Nearly everyone has gone to sleep.

David's father tells him to come inside. David is reluctant to go, but he knows better than to argue with his father.

"I should probably get goin' anyway," Jack mentions. He makes his way over to the staircase of the balcony.

"Jack wait," David calls out impulsively before Jack can go too far away. He bites his lip. Well, he got this far. May as well complete the whole thought. "Why don't you stay here tonight?"

"It's okay, I got somewhere else I need to go," Jack tells him. "But it was nice meeting your family, David. They're nice."

David nods, trying not to let it bother him that Jack said no. He knows his brain; he knows his brain will try to label that as INSTANT REJECTION--but if he lets go of it quickly, the embarrassment, shame, and let-down feelings should vanish.

"Well, then see ya tomorrow," he responds. He and Jack shake hands. "Carrying the banner." He heard the newsies say it, and now he's testing out the phrase himself, seeing how it feels in his mouth, hoping he can show that he knows the newsies' lingo, feeling his heart pick up a little bit as he uses the new phrase.

"Carrying the banner," Jack echoes with a chuckle. It doesn't exactly mean what David thinks it means, but Jack likes that David is trying to show that he's learned something today.

Then, they let go.

They let go, and their worlds separate once again. David goes inside and closes the window, Jack climbs all the way down.

He sighs.

He honestly would have been fine staying the night. He liked that David asks, actually. So why did I say no?

He knows why, though. He just doesn't want to address it.

Being there will just remind him of what he can't have.

"So that's what they call a family," Jack muses out loud. "Mother, daughter, father, son. Guess that everythin' you heard about is true."

So you ain't got any family, who said you needed one? Ain't you glad nobody's waiting up for you?

Jack starts walking away, letting dreams fill his head. When he dreams on his own, he's alone but he's not lonely. For a dreamer, night's the only time of day. When the city's finally sleeping, and his thoughts are allowed to stray ... I'm on the train that's bound for Santa Fe.

For him, Santa Fe is more than just a regular interest, or an obsession. It's more. So much more. He needs it.

Oh, how he loves picturing him in Santa Fe.

Where I'm free, like the wind; like I'm gonna live forever. It's a feeling time can never take away.

All he needs is a few more dollars, and then he's out of here to stay. Because dreams come true--yes, they have to--in Santa Fe.

He pulls his cowboy hat over his head. It was more than the dime novel that got him the nickname of Cowboy. He has the hat, the bandana (with its multiple meanings), and even a lasso.

Where does it say you got to live and die here? Jack is just so frustrated by the limits and boundaries and expectations and the suffocation of this place. He wants out. His thoughts move fast, just like his pace. Where does it say a guy can't catch a break? Why should we only take what we're given? Why should we spend our whole life livin' trapped where there ain't no future, even at seventeen? Breakin' our backs for someone else's sake? 

Well, if the life don't seem to suit ya, how 'bout a change of scene? Jack asks himself. Far from the lousy headlines and deadlines in between.

That sounds amazing. Absolutely amazing.

Jack checks that no one is around. Under the cover of darkness, he can practice his fancy moves he knows will be useful in Santa Fe--including lasso tricks. Sometimes, this can entertain him for hours. Sometimes, like right now, his mind and body are just too busy and fast to stay in one place.

There.

He spots a horse.

Here goes nothing. Riding on that impulse and the promise of adrenaline, Jack jumps on the horse and rides away, blocking out the guy yelling "Hey! That's my horse!" at him. He can ignore all the sounds the city makes tonight.

He tilts his head up to the sky. The great, big, brilliant starry sky. "Santa Fe, are you there?" he asks. "Do you swear you won't forget me? If I found you, would you let me come and stay?"

He bites his lip. "I ain't gettin' any younger, and before my dying day, I want space--" he throws his arms out- "not just air; let 'em laugh in my face, I don't care--save a place..." he trails off. Then, softer, "I'll be there."

The horse slows, and he gets off, letting the horse go off into the night.

"So that's what they call a family," he murmurs. "Ain't you glad you ain't that way? Ain't you glad you got a dream called Santa Fe?"

He sighs.

It's time to turn in for the night.

Dreaming about Santa Fe is fun while it lasts.

But soon, he's going to have to return to harsh, cold, reality once more.

He starts walking toward the entrance of the lodging house, intercepting paths with Racetrack, who just got home from Brooklyn probably.

He smiles. He's always glad to see Race. He puts an arm around him. "Hey, Race."

"Hey, Jack."

"How was your day at the track?"

"Well, remember that hot tip I was tellin' you about earlier?"

"Oh yeah?"

"Nobody told the horse."

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Aaaaaand scene.

This is one of my favorite parts of the movie haha.

(Oh, quick note--Race and Jack will remind each other to stop binding for the day--I would have written that up in the story but I reeeaally wanted that punchline haha.)

And it's not just about Jack and Racetrack that I love in this part. I love the song Santa Fe. And yeah, don't get me wrong, I love it when Jeremy Jordan sings Santa Fe (basically exclusively the last note at the end haha), but there's just something so pure and raw about Christian Bale's Santa Fe that tugs at the heartstrings, maybe because he was singing that as a seventeen year old, and the lyrics are really, really relatable, and kind of call me out in a lot of ways. And ... you can tell that he wants an escape, but he also just wants a reason to stay, like a family; a family that he doesn't have. So this dream of his is the next best thing. It's the thing that's keeping him alive.

This...? Was...? Supposed to be struggling to get to 1000 words...? Now over 2200...?

Now it's at 3100 after everything...?

This almost always happens though haha.

So part of the research about Jack being Irish and David being Jewish led me to how them interacting is a thing of its own. So apparently along with several scripts for Newsies and Hard Promises (which is what became Newsies) there's a novel written in that time for the project (I don't know the full story on that, may need to circle back to this); anyway, it has David's descriptions of Jack Kelly--fast-talking Irish boy--as well as the narration In David's neighborhood, the Irish boys and the Jewish boys were always fighting. It also says that Esther and Mayer were puzzled about David bringing an Irish boy he hardly knew into their house. I really don't see anything about these elements in other people's stories, so I wanted to at least bring awareness to them here. Whether I wrote it right, I don't know.
(I say this is my research; but this comes from someone else's research. Someone on the internet put all this information together, and I found it.)

I already talked about special interests in the last chapter; and yeah, I really connect to Jack who sings For a dreamer, night's the only time of day and I'm free, like the wind, like I'm gonna live forever and doesn't want to be trapped where there isn't a future and just wants to escape it all is scared of his dream moving on without him or moving out of his reach.

One last note: Jack and David talking on the balcony. That whole paragraph about them having minds that work similarly, but differently than everyone else. Let me tell you, talking to another neurodivergent person is AMAZING. Because they don't care about eye contact, I don't care about eye contact, if one of us interrupts the other the interrupted person will for sure bring it up again later if they still want to talk about it, we listen to each other go on and on about current hyperfixation/special interests, lots of excited talking if we have the same interests, the other person doesn't care about stimming, actually if one of us stims then the other one will probably stim, this may result in lots of happy stimming back and forth, and there really is no pressure in the conversation in the way that there's pressure talking to a neurotypical person. It's very freeing, and very fun. ...This is a lot longer than I thought it would be haha.

Oh my gosh, David getting second-hand embarrassment and Jack having no filter and Sarah (who is also neurodivergent (her sensory thing that she likes is embroidery)) not caring at Jack's lack of filter. Yep. Yep. I don't know, I have nothing else to say to that haha. Just all of that ... it's literally just one big neurodivergent feel haha.

Jack and David standing so close, so intimately on the balcony, then jumping apart ... this makes me laugh every time I watch the movie haha.

Okay, I don't know if anyone else can relate to this, but for me, I just ... open up more at night. I get more energized, and I'm more likely to say anything and everything. There's just ... something more intimate about the night, you know? It's when I get to speak after the extroverts wear out their social batteries from the day. Nighttime is when I get to say all the things that I couldn't/wouldn't say with the sun shining overhead. I don't know if that makes any sense.

HAPPY PRIDE MONTH EVERYONE!!!!!!! :)
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Please, no homophobia or transphobia, profanities, hate etc in the comment section.

Best,

~Your Beloved Author (who wants to find someone else who has seen volume 1 of season 4 of Stranger Things )