In the midst of New York City, a solitary figure made his way through the crowds of insignificant faces. He had a confident walk, but he held a pained expression on his face. For the past few weeks his low status made him feel inferior, even to beggars on the street. And his empty pockets made him feel all the more worthless. Although his pace was quick and steady, he was in no hurry to get to where he was going. In fact he wished he could go far in the opposite direction, but he had said he'd meet his friends there and he was one to keep his promises. He knew, though, what they would do when he showed up with no money. And one thing he hated more than anything was taking charity. He had lost big time, once again, and he was disgusted with himself for even trying. But bad habits are hard to break and his empty pockets were what he had to show for it. Almost everyday he grew deeper in debt and he was in debt with the wrong people, people who wouldn't think twice about pounding his face in. Life was going nowhere.
******
Mush looked around the room, overwhelmed with the amount of people who were listening to his story, which had started out as a mere conversation with Kid Blink. It wasn't often that he was the center of attention and for once he felt important, but only the wide smile on his face showed it.
"So I told 'er, 'Listen, I ain't gonna heah no more of dese little misunderstandin's. Ya crossed ovah da line one to many times and I'se sick of yer attitude.' " Mush said, his face beaming.
As Mush continued his story Blink only heard his voice as a sound in the background. He was more focused on the figure that was making its way towards the restaurant.
The figure stepped into the sun and pulled a cigar from his vest pocket and lit it, letting the nicotine calm his nerves. He hoped his friends wouldn't try to lend him money. It would only rub in the fact that he had lost all of his. He didn't need their help anyway, he had gone without food before.
Blink watched his friend's grim expression as he puffed on his cigar. He knew Racetrack was going through alot of pain. They all were, but he seemed to be taking it especially hard and his gambling habit had become obsessive. It worried him, but he had no idea how to help. Most of the newsies were starting to regain their composures and recover from their loss. They were returning to the daily routines of their lives, though they all knew nothing would ever be the same. But Race seemed to be going nowhere but down, sinking further and further into depression and farther away from his friends.
Race shook his thoughts from his head and turned around, walking into the restaurant. He heard the usual laughter and incessant chatter throughout the room, it was enough to make him sick. How could everyone be so happy? Or maybe the question was how could he be the only one who wasn't? He walked to the other side of the room where good portions of people were gathered around a single booth. All of them were quiet except for the distinct voice of Mush.
"She tried makin' up some dumb excuse, but I cut her off and said, 'You can say whatevah you want, but I ain't gonna listen to ya. You'se been lyin' from day one, so why don't you just save yourself the trouble an' go back to da whore house wid all da oddah sluts.' " Mush said, acting out the situation with his hands.
"Well, well, it looks like we'se gonna have to change yer name from Mush ta Stone." remarked a voice from behind the crowd.
Everyone turned around to face Racetrack who was grinning and twirling a cigar around his fingers. He earned a few laughs and pats on the back for his comment as he squeezed into the booth, taking a seat next to Kid Blink. He put on his happy face and got ready for another evening of senseless stories and insulting wisecracks. He had a reputation for his smart-ass remarks and he intended on keeping it. It was a fun way to stop thinking about his bad luck and point out other people's misery.
The group slowly made their way back to their own tables and started getting involved in their own conversations, leaving the three alone in their booth.
Mush kept a smile on his face, still beaming from the attention he had gotten while he dug into his plate of fried chicken. Blink pawed at the vegetables on his plate, making strange designs. Race just sat there, chewing on the end of cigar, wishing it tasted more like food than tobacco.
Blink looked up from his vegetable masterpiece and watched Race fiddle round with his cigar. "Hey, uh... Race?" he started.
Race turned his head to face his friend. "Yeah?"
"Uh, aren't ya gonna ordah somethin' to eat?" Blink asked.
Race shook his head. "Nah, I ain't hungry."
Mush took a break from his chicken. "Hey, listen. If yer short on money, I can spot ya some." he offered, catching up in the conversation.
Race thought of the people he already owed money, he didn't want to have to pay Mush back too. "Don't worry 'bout it. I'se got plenty of money. I just ain't hungry, dat's all." Soon after he said that he felt a tap on his shoulder. A young boy of 12 with curly brown hair and blue eyes looked at him hopefully.
"Uh, Race? Since you'se gots plenty of money, could ya spot me two bits?" he asked smiling, sheepishly. "I didn't do so good sellin' today."
Racetrack's face fell. "I... uh... I don't got it wid me right now." he stuttered.
Blink reached into his pocket and handed the kid a quarter. "Heah Snipes. Its on me."
Snipeshooter smiled, gave him his thanks, and went off to buy some food.
Race sunk into the booth, keeping his eyes on his shoes so he wouldn't have to meet his friend's glances. What little ego he had left was now shattered.
Mush and Kid Blink exchanged worried looks, both silently agreeing not to ask any questions. It would probably be better that way.
******
Race opened his eyes. The bunkroom was pitch black, but even in the middle of the night it was far from silent. Kid Blink was rolling around in his bunk, which was right above Racetrack's, mumbling in his sleep. Some of the the others were snoring and coughing. He wondered if he was the only one awake. He had been drifting in and out of sleep until he decided just to stop trying. The thoughts that were settled in the back of his mind began to surface. He thought about life, his past, his friends, but most of all he thought about Jack. Jack's bunk was still unoccupied. None of the newsies wanted to take it, as though it would disturb his spirit. But to Race it was just a bitter reminder of the friend he had lost.
A part of him died along with Jack. It broke apart from him as soon as he saw Jack's broken body buried under the garbage. His humor was no longer good-natured teasing and his playful grin had faded into a dull imitation of a smile.
"Race?" a voice said through the darkness.
Racetrack squinted to see Blink's head hanging upside down from the bunk above his. Blink's sandy blond hair hung down, taking away from the concerned expression on his face.
"You ok?" Blink asked.
Race nodded. "I'se just fine, Kid."
Blink jumped off the bunk and plopped himself next to Racetrack. He tried to look into his friend's eyes, but Race kept them focused on his hands that were twisting the bedspread. Racetrack knew if he looked at his friend, that sharp blue eye would pierce through his soul and dig up all his emotions... the pain, the guilt, and the sorrow. Kid Blink's eyes were the most powerful tools he owned, with them he could see the emotions hidden inside anyone's soul, it was too bad he only had one eye to see them with.
"Race, your one of me best friends. You're not fine and we're all worried 'bout ya. Please, just remember dat if you ever need to talk I'll be heah for ya, awright?" Blink asked. Race didn't look up from his hands, but he nodded. Blink patted him on the back and climbed back into his bunk. There had to be something to pull Race out of his depression, he only wished he knew what.
******
Cheyenne chucked her pen across the room. It broke on contact with the wall and blue ink splattered onto the carpeting. She screamed out in aggravation and tour pages from her diary, ripping them to shreds.
"I can't stand it anymore!" She shouted as she ripped apart even more of her freshly written down thoughts and dreams. Her breathing became heavy as she ripped each page. She let out another scream that sounded more like a sob before she crumpled to the floor. Tears poured from her eyes.
Benjamin McCann watched the hysterical girl. Her long dark brown hair fell in her face as she buried her head in her hands. He walked over to her and wrapped his arms around her shaking body. "Shh, my darling. Don't cry. It's alright."
Cheyenne only shook more violently. She grimaced as he held her closer. He made her sick. If only she had known what he was really like she would never be in this dark situation.
"Please, just leave me." she said through her tears. She looked up at his face. A face she once found attractive and beautiful with his light brown hair that fell into his green eyes that were shaped like almonds. When he smiled, a girl would melt into a puddle, but all that was gone now. She only saw a man that was cruel and his charming smile turned into a twisted sneer.
Ben brushed his lips against her neck before he exited the room. He took one last look at her crumpled body before he left to return to his study.
Cheyenne peered out into the hallway. He was gone. She quickly wiped away the tears from her chocolate colored eyes and tried to get her breathing to normal. She looked into her mirror. Her pale skin greatly contrasted with her dark silky hair. Specks of carmel gave her dark brown eyes a bright glimmer. But now it didn't show. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy and her make-up smeared. Dark streaks of mascara ran down her cheeks. With a tissue she removed her remaining tears along with the distorted bits of make-up. She readjusted her most prized possession, a diamond engagement ring that had belonged to her grandmother that was attached to a string around her neck. She placed her dark hair up with golden pins and straightened out her wrinkled dress made with sequins of gold and blue.
Once again she peered around the corner. The hallway was empty. She quietly shut and locked her door. Tiptoeing, she made her way to the window and pulled it open. The sounds of the city streets rushed in like a stampede. She jumped onto the fire escape and picked up her dress as she made her way down the stairs. She would do just about anything to get out of that house.
******
Racetrack wiped a bead of sweat off his forehead as he continued to shout headlines into the crowded streets of New York. Summer was well on its way, the heat in the air was only one of the symptoms.
"Extra! Extra! Mutilated corpse found dead by mayor's house! Government involvement suspected!" He shouted. A few people rushed over to buy the paper. Race snickered as they dropped their precious pennies into his hand. Suckers.
He looked around at the many vendors selling fruit that had just come into season. The strong scent of peaches filled the air. If only he could manage to grab one... He glanced around. The vendor was busy selling his fruit to a customer. A perfect opportunity. He reached behind his back and snatched up a peach, then he hid it behind his papers and slowly walked away. Ha! he thought. I'm gettin' pretty good at dat. As he reached a safe distant, he pulled the peach out from under his papers. He opened his mouth to take a bite of the sweet, juicy....
"Ah ha!"
Racetrack looked up to see a girl, only a little younger than himself, pointing a finger at him accusingly. With her other hand she pushed away a strand of her dark brown hair that had fallen loose from the pins she had sorted them in. Her carmel-speckled brown eyes seemed to be full of satisfaction for catching him in the act of his small crime. He simply tilted his head to the side, he wasn't sure whether she would call the "bulls" or not. If she did, he could get away fast enough.
"You stole that peach, didn't you?" She accused as she lowered her hands and placed them onto her hips. She was wearing a fashionable blue dress with a gold sash and buttons. Attached to a string around her neck was a gold ring with a crystal in the middle that Race was sure was a diamond. Even the way she held herself made her look like she was part of the upper class or "muckety-mucks" as Jack had liked to refer to them.
Racetrack stood up and tossed the peach into the air a few times. Even though he was standing he still had to look up to her, she was a good four inches taller than him. "Yeah, what's it to ya?" He asked. This was sure to be an interesting conversation.
The girl looked taken for surprise for a moment, but quickly regained her confidence. "It's illegal, you know. I could call for the police right now." she stated.
Race smirked. "So, why ain't ya?"
She smiled. "Because I'd like to buy a paper from you." She revealed a penny tucked between her fingers.
Racetrack suspiciously handed over a paper as she placed the penny in his palm. "You ain't gonna call da bulls?"
"Do you sell here often?" She asked, avoiding his question. Her smile faded, her face taking on a quizzical look.
Immediatley Race figured she would just call the bulls on him another time. Probably wait until they could catch him red-handed, throw him in the Refuge for a few months. But somewhere in the sparkle of her eyes, he wasn't sure. "Most of da time. I'm usually heah wid Kid Blink or Mush, though."
She creased her eyebrows in confusion.
"They're me sellin' partnahs." He explained.
She nodded, a smile creeping back to her face. "And what's your name?"
"Racetrack."
The young girl stuck out her hand, her pale skin yet another sign of her aristocracy. "Cheyenne Dixon."
Racetrack wiped his ink covered hand on his pants and then took hers in his own, shaking it gently. "I'd kiss it, but I don't know if ya'd slap me or not."
Cheyenne grinned. "I wouldn't have." She turned around, paper in hand and began to walk away.
Race watched her leave, dumbfounded. He began to turn around when..
"Oh, Racetrack!" He looked to see Cheyenne with that wide grin on her face that he was already growing accostumed to. "Next time you snatch a peach, put it in your pocket. I could see it through your papers."
Racetrack grimaced at the volume at which she gave him the advice and sheepishly walked away, smiling innocently at a shocked looking old woman. He could hear Cheyenne chuckle and he raised his hand in a wave.
"Now dat..." he mumbled to himself. "was an interestin' conversation."
*****
"So, how was yer sellin' today, Race?" Blink asked as he added salt to his mashed potatoes.
Racetrack grinned. "Sold every last one of me papes. And..." he trailed off, knowing Blink would pounce on him for not finishing. It was fun to watch him get aggravated.
"And?" Blink pried.
"Nah. Forget it." Racetrack said and sipped on another spoonful of his soup.
"Aw, come on. You can tell me. I won't tell anybody, I sweah!"
Race smiled. "I met dis goil."
Blink's face lit up dramatically. "Really?"
"Yeah. She caught me stealin' a peach from one of da vendors. She goes right up ta me and accuses me of stealin' and den she says dat she could call da bulls on me." He replied nonchalantly.
"Did she?"
"Nah. She bought a pape. An' asked me if I always sold dere. Den she introduced 'erself an' walked off, yellin' to put da peach in me pocket next time." Racetrack explained, taking pauses every now and then to sip more of his soup.
"What'd she look like?"
"She's a bit tallah den I am, probably youngah, though. She's got dese cute brown eyes wid carmel speckles in dem. And dark brown hair dat was up in some kind of fancy bun wid real expensive pins." Race replied.
Blink's eyes filled with mischief.
Race caught the look on his face and smirked. "You wanna meet 'er?"
He just grinned.
*****
The next morning a trio of newsies walked in a line, each selling their papers as they made their way towards the vendors. They were a strange looking mix of teenage boys. The only similarity between them was their mismatched clothing and the bundle of papers each of them held under their arms. Each of them shouted out headlines and pocketed their pennies in hopes to save enough for a good meal that night.
Suddenly the smallest one stopped, the other two followed suit. The smallest newsie chewed on the end of his unlit cigar and looked through the crowd.
"Dis is da place." he said, grinning. "Welcome ta paradise."
The tallest newsie smirked. He wore a tan patch over his left eye. He elbowed his friend in the side. "It ain't paradise. At least not till da goil gets 'ere, huh Mush?"
The other boy chuckled and took off his hat, revealing a head of curly brown hair. He started fanning himself with the hat. "So, Race, is she cute?"
Racetrack turned around to face his companion. "Let's not be hittin' on 'er as soon as she gets here, alright? Give 'er some time to breath first." Although Mush had asked the question, he looked directly at Blink. Blink was ususually the one to chase girls around until they were sick of him, it was actually kind of amusing.
Blink put his hands up in defense. "Hey! Don't look at me. I'se just 'ere ta sell me papes."
"Shoah ya are." Race mumbled.
Mush looked up at the sun. "It shoah is hot out 'ere today, ain't it?"
No one seemed to acknowledge his comment because at that moment, Race spotted a familiar figure in the distance.
" 'ey Cheyenne! How's about buyin' yerself a pape today? Maybe dere's some good news." Race shouted through the crowd.
The girl's face lit up in a smile. She picked up her dark green dress, that looked fancy enough to be worn at a ball, and walked towards the trio.
"Hello Racetrack! You've been minding yourself today, haven't you?" Cheyenne said, her eyes bright, the carmel bits seemed to be glowing. She looked at the two boys standing just behind Race. "Why hello! Are you Racetrack's selling partners?"
Blink was the first to speak up. "Shoah are, miss. Da name's Kid Blink." he said with a slight bow.
Mush was next. "And I'se Mush Meyers."
"Its so nice to meet you both." She said as she exchanged her penny for a paper from Racetrack. She started twirling a string around in her fingers when Mush noticed a sparkle come from the frayed rope around Cheyenne's neck.
"Hey, what's dat?" He asked, pointing to the jewel.
Cheyenne looked down at the ring she was twidling with in her fingers. "Oh... that's my grandmother's engagment ring, she gave it to me before she passed away."
Blink blinked. "Is it what I t'ink it is?"
The young aristocrat smiled. "Yes, its a diamond."
Racetrack gaped. "Dat t'ing is worth more money dan I could make in t'ree lifetimes."
"My grandfather worked very hard to pay for it. He was a shoe-shiner, oddly enough. And my grandmother was in a rich snobbish family. Grandfather worked for years for it and never thought he'd make enough, but then his friends all contributed their savings to help him out." The girl smiled softly, her eyes blank, looking into an unseen fantasy. "Its a very special ring."
"It shoah is. Your grandpa must of 'ad some real good friends." Mush replied. He smiled a bit, thinking of his 'family'.
Cheyenne sighed and twirled the ring around her finger once again. "Yes, he did."
The four teens talked for a while, each spouting random comments about the nothing paticular, besides the usual snide remark from Racetrack and an occasional flirtation attempt from Kid Blink. They didn't sell that many papers that day...
[ I know... an abrupt ending, but I have writer's block and I've got a much better series going on in a different category. So, sue me. Well... uh, not literally. ^^' Tell me what ya thought, compliment me, flame me... it doesn't really matter.]