The loss of his shoes wasn't a problem for Crutchie until he wanted to eat at Jacobi's that evening. He had known his shoes were coming apart for a long time. The heel and toes were mud-splattered, and the toe especially was fraying and coming apart at the seams. His big toe could be seen through a hole in his right shoe (naturally, since that foot was dragged around everyday, it was the first to come undone) and the laces looked like poorly kept black ribbons. His feet squelched when he limped through a puddle, and even when he had left the puddle behind the water soaked through his socks to his bone. Crutchie saw no real big problem in this yet. He would have to get new shoes eventually, of course, but most likely only when one came completely loose or fell off in a crowd. Crutchie didn't notice they were gone until a little girl pointed him out to her mother.
"Mother, why does that boy have no shoes?"
Crutchie looked down and frowned. They had probably fallen off when he was going through one of the side streets. He was amazed he hadn't noticed until now. The woman pulled the little girl away, and Crutchie was left to sell more newspapers until the sky grew dark and grey with the coming of dusk. It was then that Crutchie trotted off for a hot meal at Jacobi's and maybe a game of jacks and marbles with the fellas.
"No shoes, no service, Crutchie." Jacobi said uncomfortably as he looked down at the newsboy that had appeared at his counter. The other newsies quickly raised an outcry, arguing that they could barely make enough to eat everyday, let alone to buy shoes. More than that, Crutchie was a cripple, and he needed to eat more than the rest of them—
"Hey!" Crutchie yelled over the other newsies. "I'll leave. It ain't a problem, fellas. I'll come back when I got new shoes, Mistah Jacobi," he gave a winning smile as he limped out the door. Just before he went out, he turned around and talked to the newsies again.
"An' what's that 'bout me needin' tah get more food than you fellas? 'Cause I'm a crip? Yous crazy. We all get the same food. It ain't any different for me."
The bell on the door jingled as Crutchie left the deli, plodding through the streets without any shoes. A shout caught him, and he turned to see Jack. A worried Jack.
"Jack, I can't buy shoes right now, I gotta find someplace else tah eat—" Crutchie began, holding out his hand to prove his point. Jack cut him off.
"The nuns got a basket a clothes in that church on 42nd. Bet you could find some shoes in there."
"Yeah?" Crutchie smiled.
"Of course!" Jack scoffed. "You can't give up Jacobi's just cause ya got no shoes."