Family Don't Break

CHAPTER 3

ALEX'S POV:

This dress is being extremely finicky today. The fabric keeps scrunching up as I sew, causing me to have a slower pace. Plus, I keep poking myself with pins, forgetting where I put them. "Pins, pins..." I mutter, searching for my sewing kit. I locate it and pull out some silver pins, poking them through the fabric.

I run the machine, the rhythmic humming almost calming. I push the fabric through, the silver needle flashing as it punches through the silk. My foot rests on the pedal, moving up and down as I vary the pace. The fabric is soft under my fingers, thin and colored black.

I finish the piece and set it to the side. My fingers are sore, a blister forming on my middle finger from all the hand sewing. I could use a break. Give my poor hands some time to recover. And I can go see if Jack is here, maybe say hello.

I leave the costume room and my eyes adjust to the darkness of the theatre. I walk out to the main stage and I see Jack sitting on the ground, a paintbrush in his hand. I can see the top of the backdrop starting to appear, tree tops shielding the sky.

The trees are detailed, each leaf outlined and shadowed. It looks real. I can almost see the leaves shaking in the wind. "That's really good." Jack whirls around, relaxing once he sees that it's just me. "Hi, Alex." I smile and wave, walking over. I study the painting, taking in each beautiful detail. "This should be in a museum. You have a real gift for this." Jack blushes and shrugs his shoulders. "It's alright." I give him a friendly glare, shaking my head.

I sit down next to him, crossing my legs. I silently watch him paint. He does it gracefully, his hand moving slowly and with precision. Each brush stroke is deliberate, a small detail that no one else would see unless they really looked.

He makes one last brush stroke. He places the brush handle in his mouth, hesitating a moment. "It's good enough for today." he states. He shifts so he's facing me, leaning back on his hands. "So, are you still mad at me for spilling paint on you?" he asks with a smirk. "Maybe. But I know how you can make it up to me."

He raises an eyebrow, waiting for me to continue. "Why don't you buy me a soda, then we can call it even." he looks surprised for a moment before covering it up with a confident grin. "Sure. Why don't we go right now?" he says it as if it's a challenge, testing if I was serious. "Let's go." I clamber up, dusting off my pants. I adjust my hat and pull my hair back into a neat ponytail.

We walk to the soda shop around the corner. Jack buys each of us a coke and we sit on the corner outside, watching people go by. "How'd you know Medda?" Jack asks. "I auditioned for one of her shows a couple of months ago. When she asked around for a new seamstress I volunteered. The money isn't great but it's the best job I can get right now."

"Makes sense. Ya gotta have money to get a job, but ya can't get money without one." Jack takes a sip of his soda, setting the glass bottle down on the sidewalk. "If I could get a good job, the first thing I'd do is to buy a nice house. Somewhere quiet, uncrowded." Jack considers for a moment before saying "I would move to Santa Fe. Get a good job, make enough money to buy some new shoes." He looks pointedly down at his worn leather shoes.

"Okay. If you had a million dollars, what would you do with it?" I ask, turning towards him. "Hm. I would do what I just said. But I would get a nice big house with room for all the newsies. I'd make sure we have giant meals every day, and we'd have real beds to sleep on. I would get them all nice clothes, send them to school. Get Crutchie a better crutch."

He sighs mournfully, biting his lip. "You seem like you really care about these boys." Jack nods. "They're like brothers to me."

"I'll have to come meet them one day." Jack smiles. "Ya should. They'd like you." I blush a bit, tucking my hair behind my ear. "You shouldn't be so sure. I tend to throw people off," I say honestly. "I don't take any shit. I won't hesitate to get in a fist fight. People don't like that in a girl, say it's 'unladylike' of me."

Jack cocks his head, considering what I've just said. "Eh. I say screw that."

"I agree. A toast to screwing what people say." we clink our sodas. We sit there on that sidewalk, sipping our drinks, as the world goes by. It feels like time has stopped. And to be honest I don't want it to start again.