proud and defiant, we'll slay the giant

he doesn't let it bother him when jack throws an arm around his shoulder or pulls him by the tie to someplace new. he doesn't let himself think about what it means when jack laughs and davey's heart beats faster. he doesn't let himself get distracted by the way jack gets a faraway look in his eyes and starts talking about stars and the moon and dreams and plans and hopes in a way that davey has never allowed himself.

davey has a role to play, and falling in love with somebody like jack kelly has nothing to do with it.

every night, davey manages to pull les away from his new friends and brush off the dirt to make it a little less obvious to their parents how little control he has over les during the day. every night, davey dutifully hands the coins they've earned over to abba and promises to do the same tomorrow. every night, davey pretends not to ache with how badly he wishes he was the same as les, that he could come home every night with stories of friends and not just sore feet and the promise of more of the same tomorrow.

and then, davey starts a strike. he knows these boys who are so different from him a little better now. he knows that, for all the playing they do and all the happiness they seem to have, they've been jealous of him since they day they found out he had a family. jealous of the roof over his head, no matter how cramped the apartment. jealous of his shoes that don't have to be lined with old papers when it rains. he knows that for all the playing they do, they work twice as hard. he knows they don't understand why he's so stiff and serious, and that's okay, because he also knows that they deserve better and he doesn't have to understand them to want better for them and for himself, too.

davey starts and strike with jack, and the two of them stand in front of all of these boys and with jack's understanding of who they are and davey's words to describe what they want, what the deserve, from the people trying to starve them...

this is a role davey can fill. what is a big brother if not a leader? what is a leader if not a role model? davey can do this, he knows he can, and for the first time he can remember he's not resigned to be who he has to be, he's proud of it. these boys are different from him, louder and sillier and rougher, but they swallow him into their group and laugh with him, not at him, and they listen when he talks. they put les on their shoulders and promise to keep him safe and davey knows now he can trust them, so he does.

and when jack, the noble idiot, tries to leave them behind, davey holds his own. he's never been more angry in his life, angry at jack and at pulitzer and at the world that's let them be treated like this for so long, and when he starts talking the equally angry kids at the rally shut up and listen. they listen when he talks and trust him enough to let him go talk some sense into jack, and this time, when davey goes home, even though there's less food on the table than there should be and mama and sarah look worried all the time, abba looks proud. proud that his son is taking a stand and proud that his son is refusing to back down from the hardships.

and when the strike is over, davey finds, the roles he has to fill come a lot more naturally and also don't matter much at all. he's a big brother when les runs off with his friends, and he'll be a big brother when he finds him again after lunch. he's a role model when he stays after sundown at the lodging house to help a little kid learn his letters, and he'll be a role model when he kisses his mom on the cheek and gives her the money from a long day's work. he's a breadwinner when he calls out an exciting headline from a street corner, and he'll be a breadwinner when he places a lucky bet on one of race's stupid card games and gets an extra thirty cents from the pot.

he likes it better this way.

now, when davey gets to the yard in the morning, he doesn't hold tight to les's elbow. he doesn't worry so much. these boys aren't so different from him. now, he laughs when les scales the gate before it opens just to prove he can, and he laughs when jack throws an arm around his shoulders, and he laughs when finch hits him square in the nose with a balled-up scrap of yesterday's headline. now, he's learned to take and throw a punch and stands his ground when oscar and morris try to act like they own the place. now, he notices his voice getting louder and prouder when he's with these boys until he matches them completely.

now, when jack gets that faraway look in his eye, davey lets himself sigh and talk about the things he'd do, if he could ever leave. he never will, he knows, because he loves his family and he'd never leave them behind. but he lets himself imagine, like jack, just for a few minutes at a time that he could afford to get out. go to university, maybe, write a book. or write headlines of his own, chase the stories that excite him and write them for others to read.

and now, somehow, he finds himself letting himself think about the things he's avoided so completely before. somehow, he finds that it isn't so scary, the way jack laughs. when jack says, stay the night why don't you? and davey can't come up with an excuse better than the lies jack so readily supplies (say you walked too far, it was too late, we had to go to Brooklyn and you stayed the night over there, c'mon, it'll be fun) and somehow, lying doesn't seem like the end of the world anymore. somehow, it doesn't seem to scary to spend the night lying with his shoulder pressed against jack's on the rooftop, the night just cold enough that they don't want to be far apart. noise comes up from the bedrooms below them, and the city around them, but somehow this rooftop feels isolated and silent anyway.

and somehow, when jack asks, would you get out? if you could?

davey says, no. i couldn't leave you behind.

and it doesn't feel like a betrayal. he's still a big brother. still a role model. still a breadwinner.