Newsies Oneshots 2.0

Runaway: Part Three-Jack, Medda

Jack groaned awake, a light shining in his eyes. He blinked them open, closing them immediately. The sun is too bright.

He sat up and found the light dim, his gratitude for the tree he was under increasing. He patted its trunk. "Thank you, Mr. Tree."

"You're a funny kid", a woman chuckled, bringing the light to his eyes. Jack gasped at her voice, looking around and finding the sun wasn't out. "I can tell since you're out here sleepin' in the park."

He voice was comforting, and her actions were nice, but Jack didn't trust her. She hadn't deserved it yet.

Jack may have come from a pretty messed up place, but he knew where he stood and he liked himself just enough to not trust easily. "Sorry about that. I can-"

"You hungry, kid?"

Jack stared at her in awe. His stomach grumbled loudly as he licked his lips. "No."

"I'll say", she chuckled, placing a hand out. "There's a sandwich joint not too far from here. I'll buy you somethin'?"

Jack didn't know if she was asking or not. He nodded at her, getting onto his feet. "I can stand just fine, thanks."

The woman placed her hands up in surrender, turning the light off right after. Jack dusted himself off and reached into his pocket, finding his phone not there. Right. "Um...what time is it?"

"Almost eleven", she sighs. As she began to stand, she saw a plastic card on the ground, which she reached down to pick up. "Francis?"

"Could we go?" There's that stupid name again. That stupid, stupid name he hated. "If you're offerin' a free meal..."

"Sure, kid", she smiled, giving the card to him. He snatched it and placed in his pocket. "I'll take you."

Jack nodded and began walking ahead.

——————

He realized she was the woman from the other day, the one he ran into. But there's no point in thinking when you're stuffing your mouth with pastrami, pickles, and mustard.

"You can eat", she commented, smiling. "Never seen a kid eat so much."

"I'm a growin' boy", he shrugged, taking another bite. "Gotta eat what I can."

The woman hummed and took a sip of her lemonade. "My name's Medda Larkin."

Jack stopped eating and looked up, making sure she was talking to him. He swallowed and took a deep breath, the wheezy one's he's been doing since forever. He saw as she frowned at that. "Oh. That's cool."

"So, Francis", Medda starts, missing Jack's cringe. "Where you stayin'?"

Jack sighed, placing the sandwich down. "I got a place."

"Really? Where?"

"Weird question."

"Well, you do want a ride to your place, right?" Jack shrugged half-heartedly, staring out of the window. "Where's the place, kid? And don't lie to me."

This lady might be a bit much. She just told Jack Kelly to not lie. No one in their right mind has ever told Jack Kelly to not lie, no one's even asked. Rightfully, he sighed frustratedly, not even looking at her.

"Do you have a place to stay?"

He ignored her, staring out of the window. He doesn't owe her anything but money, of which he doesn't have. "I'll take you home."

He did look at her when she said that. "What?"

"You can stay with me", Medda shrugged, finishing her lemonade. "I should have a few extra rooms."

Jack licked his lips and took another breath. "Listen, Miss...Larkin. I really appreciate the offer, I do, but-"

"Never call me 'Miss Larkin'", Medda instructed. "You remind me of my ex-husband."

Jack chuckled and placed his hands up in surrender. "Call me Medda."

"I ain't callin' you Medda."

"And why not?"

"'Cause it's rude!"

"Fine", Medda laughs, nodding. "Call me Miss Medda."

Jack smiled, feeling something bubbling in his chest. It was somewhat foreign, like a vacation spot you only go to once a year. It didn't hurt, like when he can't breathe, and it wasn't hunger because he just ate.

Is it trust? "I can do that."

——————

Jack sat quietly in the passenger seat, his backpack on his lap. Medda sat next to him, driving.

There's something about sitting in a car with someone; it's almost nerve-wracking. A car is where you can truly see a person's colors.

So far, Medda is a very cleanly person.

"I hope you don't mind the mess", Medda chuckled as she kept her eyes on the road. "What kind of music do you like to listen to?"

This was a question he didn't know the answer to, or rather there were too many answers. He listened to all kinds of music—mostly Rock, Indie, R&B, even Country. There was no right answer. "I listen to anythin'."

"Really?" He nodded at Medda's skepticism as she glanced at him. "Anything?"

"Almost anythin' on the radio."

"You know Billy Joel?"

Jack knew of him. A brother at one of his old foster homes listened to him all the time, it was practically the only thing keeping him going. Whenever he was punished, he'd lay in bed and sing My Life through his tears. Jack always sang with him.

Man, he missed Race.

Medda hummed and stopped at a red light, grabbing her phone—much bigger than Jack's old one—and pressed something, someone's voice sounding through the radio. "The Rolling Stones", she says, a smile on her face. Jack nodded, focusing on the words. "You seem like a Rolling Stones kind of guy."

Jack didn't know what that meant. He knew of The Rolling Stones—his old brother used to listen to them, too—but he'd never listened to them on his own.

She comes in colors everywhere.

He felt his head nodding to the beat, the words burned in his brain.

She combs her hair.

She's like a rainbow.

"Who are they talkin' about?" Jack looked toward Medda, confused by her grin.

"Whoever you want them to, baby."

Whoever I want them to, he thought, paying closer attention to the words. He smiled.

Have you seen her dressed in blue?

He had, on multiple occasions. Every time he sat with her in the field.

See the sky in front of you.

And her face is like a sail.

Speck of white, so fair and pale.

Have you seen a lady fairer?

The lyrics made him happy, brought a good image to his mind. He could see her face so vividly, the sleeves of her blue dress blowing in the wind. The clouds broke apart in the sky right behind her and her smile spread like a sail on a ship.

She was beautiful, and Jack was lucky to have her as a memory.

———————————————————————

I'm cutting this right here. These last three parts were apart of a story I was writing but decided to delete not because I thought it was bad, I just couldn't write it. It was a take on Jack and Medda's mother-son relationship. (EDIT: if you read this earlier, I changed it Racetrack to Crutchie because I feel like they have a tighter bond.) (EDIT2: I changed it back:) )

Thanks for reading!