Let the World Stand Still

by T.H.W

Bright Eyes has lived with the Newsies in Manhattan since she was a child. She came from Brooklyn but needed a change of scene. But now she's caught in a deadly game of cat and mouse when Mr. Weisel decides to take his revenge out on the Newsies, with the

1.





"Let The World Stand Still"


The sun rose slowly over Manhattan. As it began its ascent, it flashed in on the window of a slightly crumpled building. Mr. Weisel, known formerly as the Weasel to the Newsies, sat by that window thinking. It ain't fair. It really ain't. "I had always been honest. Just because those stupid kids decide that they don't like the price of papes doesn't mean that they have to put me out of a job." Weasel mumbled, irritated. Since the Newsie's strike a year ago, Weasel had gotten a lousy job at a pencil factory. Feeding the pieces of wood that would soon be pencils into the shaving machines was not a well paying job. Especially since he couldn't stick any of it in his pocket.
Off to the side, Oscar and Morris Delancy lay across their beds snoring to kingdom come. Lately the only job Oscar and Morris had been able to get was sending messages and packages back and forth between the two pencil factories, one in Manhattan and the other in Brooklyn. The other job the two didn't get paid for was taking the occasional swing at some lone kid walking down the street, usually a newsie.
Revenge. Revenge was what the Delancy brothers lived for. They used it even for the smallest things. The newsies had been and still were their prime target, even though they usually came out of a fight having lost. Mostly, they would run in with the leader of Manhattan's Newsies, Jack Kelly, also known to the boys as Cowboy. Jack Kelly was a smart one. "Smart in brains and mouth." Weasel thought.
Weasel also liked to take revenge, just not physically like the Delancys. He liked to take his revenge mentally. Hitting the prey where it hurts. Right now, Weasel wanted revenge. His life had been fine, but was ruined in a few minutes by the newsies who had caused him so much trouble over the years. He had secretly been plotting his revenge ever since a twelve year old chestnut haired, sparkly brown eyed kid named Jack Kelly started calling him "Mr. Weasel" causing his whole gang to burst out laughing, leaving Weasel to fume.
Weasel's only problem was that the Newsies had no weak spots. Sure he could make a way that he could get a hold on some of the Newsies, but their comrades would quickly make do with that. Breaking and entering was a prime skill among them. Even if he got the bulls to take attention to them, it wouldn't matter. It would still be the same situation. They would break in, get their pal to freedom, then skidattle. He couldn't rightly take anything from them, because they had nothing. Nothing of value to him at least. There had to be a way to get them, all of the Newsies to come to him so he could make short work of them. The Delancys would help of course. But what would it take to get them to come?
Perhaps he was looking in the wrong area, Weasel thought. Maybe, it isn't things I should be worried about taking, but people. But he came to the same problem again. Breaking and entering and the newsie would escape with the rest of his friends. Wait a minute. His friends. Weasel smiled. The solution had been staring him in the face the whole time. He would need higher help, but he could get that. What he needed what something the Newsies cherished as their own, something that they truly cared about. That every newsie in New York cared and knew about. Yes, she was the answer to carrying out his revenge.

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Somewhere in another part of the city, the sun was also rising on a tall building with the sign in front of it that read: NEWSBOYS LODGING HOUSE. The old man climbed the stairs one by one, entering the large spacious room as he had done for years. He stood for a minute in the doorway, taking in the sounds of the room. Snoring, snapping fingers, moaning, and sighing. "Amazing how all these sounds can come from boys! Never heard 'em do it consciously thats for sure!" he murmured. Then the old man took a deep breath and began to yell. "ALL RIGHT GET UP! SELL THE PAPES! SELL THE PAPES! GET UP YA LAZY BUMS! YOU'D SLEEP YOUR LIVES AWAY IF YOU GOT THE CHANCE! C'MON! UP UP UP! THE PRESSES ARE ROLLIN'! THE INK IS WET! C'MON GET UP!"
Most of the boy's heads shot up at Kloppman's yells. But others were either too lost in their dreams, or had maxed his voice out of their sleepy minds. Kloppman performed his routine, walking round the room, pulling feet, slapping faces and the like. Boy's protesting voices were now issuing over the gloom. Insisting voices, stating that it couldn't be time to sell papes because they had just fallen asleep, or that the old man forgot to set the clock alarm correctly again. But despite the protests, the old man laughed and went on with his duties.
Racetrack's head slowly sagged up at Kloppman's bugle call, then plopped back down on his pillow. "Its too eaily for dis! I shoulda gone outside ta sleep. Leastways I could rest a little longa. Wish the old mana shud up! Too eaily!" Despite his grumbling against Kloppman, there was nothing but respect from Racetrack to the old man. He'd woken him up more than one morning, securing for him his and everyone else's job. As he pulled on his suspenders, Racetrack suddenly stopped, then cautiously picked up his cup sitting next to his bedside and looked under. A Cuban cigar still rested where he had placed it the night before. "Tank Gawd the kid didn't get at it! I woulda had ta kill 'im, no madda what Cowboy said." said Racetrack glaring at the still sleeping form of Snipeshooter.
Racetrack sighed as he pulled on the rest of his clothing. He checked in the top bunk across from his and looked for some sign from Cowboy. Nope, still sleepin'. But neva mind, Kloppman will soon take care of dat. Racetrack pulled on his shoes then clomped noisily over to a door near the stairwell. He then leaned up against the wall and took note of the time. Five minutes passed and Racetrack straightened, leaned against the door, and called softly, " Oh yer majesty? My lady, has da bugle awakened ya slumba?" A sleepy voice resounded in the depths of the room. "Shet up will ya Race! I'm almost ready. I'm not dead, ner deaf." "Tank Gawd fer dat." Racetrack murmured.
Soon afterwards, a girl dressed in boy's clothes stepped out, donning a cap on her shoulder length curly brown hair. Racetrack laughed and bowed. " Might I do ya da hona of escortin' ya's to da washing hole?" The girl's eyes twinkled mischievously. "Nice Race. Bedda dan yesterdays! Is everyone decent? Don't wanna come out if dats not taken care of!" "Aw, every one's up. Da ol' man took cara dat! Neva seen ol' Kloppman not do his duty, 'ave ya Bright Eyes?" Racetrack said. Bright Eyes laughed. "No can't say dat I have. Well, whatcha standin' around 'ere fer? 'Scort me!" Racetrack mock bowed and offered her his arm. She gave him a curtsy and took it, walking merrily toward the sinks and water where other Newsies had already gathered.
As Racetrack walked the girl over to the sinks, he thought about her, how she had come to be there, and the name that he had given to her. Bright Eyes had come to them from Brooklyn, home to one of the best Newsies in all of New York, the infamous Spot Conlon. In fact the girl had known Spot, who taught her how to be a Newsie, which was a great honor for anyone, boy or girl. Normally any other person would've stayed in Brooklyn with Spot, but Brighty was different. She wanted to see other places besides Brooklyn and meet other people. She had heard Spot talk about his friend Jack Kelly, and she had sought him out to join his group of Newsies.  She had come to them rather explosively, running down the street screaming Jack's name over and over. Following her furiously, were the Delancy brothers, Oscar with his lip bleeding, Morris with a swelling black eye. They had messed with her on her way, and she was obliged to land Oscar with a right hook. While Oscar lay against the wall dazed, Morris took up the fight where he had left off, but was soon on the ground with a black eye. Bright Eyes then ran for her life, which Jack gladly saved for her by throwing the Delancys out.
After she had explained why she had come, the boys decided that they had to name her, but first, what was her given name? "Annie." the girl said, taking deep breaths. The boys then threw names back and forth at each other: "Guts" "Angel Face", "Cutie", "Slammer", "Flames", "Pixie," and on and on. Racetrack had been silent this whole time, and he had been watching her from the moment she made her entrance. He was fascinated by her eyes, bright blue things that lit up and sparkled with gladness and her anger with the Delancys. Kinda like candles. He thought.
So when he all of a sudden spoke up, everyone was silent. "How 'bout, Bright Eyes?" Everyone looked at him then back at the girl. The girl smiled at Racetrack. She had disliked most of the names, and this was the first one that really suited her. Jack spoke first. "Yeah, Bright Eyes. How bout it boys? Ya like dat Annie?" "Yeah!" she said happily "Den Bright Eyes it is! Let 'ere it for 'er huh!" After much applause, Annie a.k.a. Bright Eyes was introduced to the Newsies and her new life.
The more Race thought about her, the more his face flushed pink. I dunno if I likes 'er or what. Racetrack thought. He knew a couple of boys, Newsies, who liked Bright. There was just something about this girl Newsie from Brooklyn that had caught nearly every boy's eye, and when one said everyone, thats what he meant. They ranged from weak and puny to the strong and renowned. David, the Walking Mouth, had a small crush on her he knew, and a couple other boys, some from Brooklyn and one from West Side who Bright Eyes met at the rally.
Then there was Spot Conlon. He didn't have a crush on her yet, Race thought. For now there was nothing but respect for Bright Eyes from the Brooklyn Newsie. But if he decided he liked her, "Whoooo boy." Race muttered. "Can't compete wit Spot, not even if I wanted ta." But he still had to sort out his mixed up feelings before he could decide if he even wanted to compete with the most famous Newsie in Brooklyn, and as David put it, "probably in all of New York" which was not an exaggeration.
"Whoa Race! We's hea!" Bright Eyes laughed as the two collided into the sinks. Racetrack blushed. "Sorry me lady! The carriage bolts came loose an' I couldn't stop!" Bright Eyes laughed. Then her eyes fell upon a still drowsy Snipeshooter, lifting up a pitcher of water with which to wash himself. Bright Eyes winked at Racetrack, then slowly but surely grasped the handle of the pitcher and quickly dumped some water on Snipeshooter's head then poured some for herself. Racetrack doubled over laughing, watching a spluttering Snipeshooter looking up and down for the culprit, while Bright Eyes vigorously washed her face.
As the other boys caught on at what was happening, spurts of laughter began to erupt. "Nice, Bright Eyes." Jack commented as he stared at the mirror, carefully shaving his face. "Gonna see Sarah teday I bet." Kid Blink whispered to Mush, as he wiped his face. Then Kid Blink felt a bump against his leg and looked down. There was one of the smaller boys, Flick, who's face was covered in water. His eyes were screwed shut to prevent the spread of water from going into his eyes. "Towel please! Towel plllleeeeeaaaasssseee!!" "Calm down kid!" Kid laughed as he swiped the boy's face with a towel. Flick then slowly opened his eyes, made sure that his eyes were out of danger, then skipped off.
As Bright Eyes washed, she was bombarded with questions and requests like every morning. "Hey Bright, I saw this really cute goil de odder day. Do ya tink ya could, I dunno give me some pointas?" "Dunno Mush depends on da goil, I told ya dat a million times." came the answer. "Hey Bright, go to da track wit' me again teday? We scored big last time when you picked da horse." "I'll see whats goin' on teday Race." "Hey Brighty, is my hair stickin' up right here?" "Nope Skittery, ya look fine." One by one, almost every Newsie in the joint had asked either for or about something. Bright Eyes answered every one of them, because to her it was routine to be a mother for about 15 minutes of her day.
Finally the whole bunch of boys and one girl were ready for their day. Joking and laughing, the group headed to the pay spot, to collect their papes. Mr. Fussy, was anything but what his name implied, and didn't mind his almost immediate nickname, "the Fuss." Bright Eyes still contemplating some of the requests from the morning, did not notice when her turn arrived to place her order. Did she want to do a full day, or cut it short and go to the track with Race? "Ahem." Bright Eyes jumped, making the boys around her laugh. "Hey, keep it down in the back row huh!" she yelled. "Hiya Fuss."
"Hiya. Whatcha thinkin about? A boy?" Bright eyes flushed red as the boys around her began to cat call. "She's certainly got a good selection doesn't she Fuss!" "I wonder who it could be?" "Ahhhhhh shat up!!!" Bright Eyes yelled.
Bright Eyes glanced at the old man, who was struggling to keep his composure, and failing miserably. "Now why'd ya have ta do dat Fuss? Huh?" The old man shook his head. "Couldn't resist Bright. Now what will it be?" Bright Eyes thought again for a moment, then slapped her money on the counter. " 50 papes Fuss. Gotta short day teday." "Oh, whatcha gonna do? Try and get a hot tip again with Race?" Fuss asked as he counted her papers out carefully, unlike his predecessor, Mr. Wiesel. "Yeah actually. I tink I will. Thanks Fuss." "Don't mention it. Next up!!"
Bright Eyes walked a few steps, then plopped herself next to Racetrack, who was reading the paper, getting ideas for the headlines. As she sat down, he turned to her. "So ya's goin wit me to da track?"

"Yeah."

"Well good, I was kinda hopin ya would, I mean," Racetrack faltered, then shrugged and tried not to let the girl know his feelings. "Well I'll meet ya at da Greely statue when ya's done 'kay. Try to make it by three."
"All right." said Bright Eyes as she looked into Racetrack's face, trying to understand his sudden faltering epidemic that had developed in the past couple of weeks. Suddenly Racetrack jumped up. "Well best get goin' den. Times a wastin', and plus I wanna see if I can get a few bets goin among da boys teday, before we go." Bright Eyes laughed as the small figure of the boy walked away, stopping to talk to friends along the way. "You ready to sell the papes?" David's voice coming from behind her, startled Bright Eyes so that she jumped. "Gee whiz Mouth, da least ya could do is give me some warnin that yer loose!" David blushed. "Well whatcha waitin fer Davey, lets get sellin!" Bright Eyes jumped up and walked toward her selling spot followed closely by David.
"Whole family destroyed by fire! Everyone dead! Fire loose in home! Thank ya lady! Individual falls off of da very top a da Brooklyn Bridge! Much obliged sir! Thank ya!" Bright Eyes yelled as people swarmed to her to read the non-existent headline. David stared at her skeptically. "Whats the story behind that?" Bright Eyes looked over at him. "Oh nuthin' much, some sick sea gull or albatross, and anyway," David stared at Bright Eyes. "Albatross? It couldn't be! Do you know how big those things are? And plus they usually live," The girl glared at David. "Please Davey, get a grip! No need ta show off da schoolin I neva got!" David put his head down. He had failed in another chance to gain Bright Eyes' attention.
"Now, let me finish. The boid was so sick that afta it flew ta da top of da ol' Brooklyn Bridge, it died and fell ova the edge of da bridge." David looked at her incredulously. "I still don't know where you guys get some of the ideas for your headlines." Bright Eyes shrugged and continued her selling, David right beside her. One o'clock rolled around and Bright Eyes' fifty papes were gone. David, having been bold and gotten one hundred, was still selling. "Bright Eyes, what are you going to do now?" David asked a little nervously. Bright Eyes looked at him curiously. "I tink I'm gonna go an' walk around befoa I go ta da track wit' Race. Why?" David shrugged. "Just curious. Bye." Bright Eyes waved at David, then began walking toward the Brooklyn Bridge.
You stupid idiot! You let her go again! I was so close to asking her to go to Tibby's with me! I must have looked like a loon! David's brain murmured over and over again. He watched her as she made her way into the suburbs of Brooklyn as she always did when she had a short day. Once David had asked her why she continued to go, if she wasn't a Newsie there anymore. Bright Eyes had grinned at him and said, " I still gots friends dere too Davey. Bein' a Newsie here don't change dat!" He still wished that he could grab her attention some how. Maybe Sarah was right.
His sister Sarah had advised him against trying to attract the attention of the former Brooklyn Newsie. "She's nothing but trouble David. Please don't get involved with her! You should know why I'm asking you this. You have seen Spot Conlon in action! I just don't want you to get hurt Davey!" David had shrugged off her advise and ignored it. He liked her a lot, and it hurt. She didn't give him a second glance, nor even the time of day. Maybe he should just ignore his feelings. Anyhow he couldn't think about it now. There were papers to sell. With a sigh, David began to call out his headlines.
Bright Eyes walked down the brick roads leading to the harbor, looking for the familiar places and hideouts of her childhood. Yeah, dere's da ol' alley where me an Spot would play wit' Jacks. Heh, always full o' fun dat Jacks. Its a pity dat he, had ta die like dat. Geez, so much fer happy memries. An dere's da sewer grate where Spot would drop down rocks an' we would try an hea the "splunk" when it hit da wata. Dere's Slingshot Way. I 'memba when me an' all da udda Newsies would go dere so dat we could brush up on our slingshottin'. Always full o' beer bottles to practice wit dats why.
Den when we gots tired of dat, Spot would grin and den pick up a beer bottle, pretend ta swig some of it and be drunk. He would hobble around puttin' everyone in gales of laughta, sayin', "Scuse me, hic! I seems ta be lost. hic. Can ya's point me in da direction of da bar? Or maybe me 'ome would be betta. Naw, da bar. Point me in da way of da bar goilie, an' be quick about it! Fore I smacks ya, if'n I can find ya!" Dat was a while ago. Man, sometimes, I wish childhood coulda lasted fereva.
"STOP YOU! STOP I SAY! BOY STOP!" The voice boomed from directly behind Bright Eyes, startling her. Being called a boy didn't bother Bright Eyes. That was what she wanted, to be mistaken for a boy, but what she didn't want was a bull chasing her, even if she didn't know the reason why. She began to run, tripping over garbage that had gathered in the slum. She turned the corner quickly and ran into something so hard it caused her to fall down. The thing she had run into spoke drowsily as he lay on the ground. "Where are ya? I'm gonna soak ya when I gets up! Just ya wait! Don't even try ta run, cause I'll find ya!"
A boy slowly stood up, clad in a blue cap covering strands of blonde brown hair, red suspenders covering a dirty blue checked shirt, and soiled pants whose belt loop held a cane with gold foil covering the ends. A silver key hung around his grubby neck. Bright Eyes sat up as the boy put up his fists in a fighting position, gray blue eyes blazing. But as she stared at him, the eyes cleared, and recognition began to form. "Bright Eyes. Neva woulda 'spected ya! If ya were any udda boy I'da soaked ya good fer gettin me caught!" As he said this, the Newsie helped Bright Eyes up. "Nice ta see ya Conlon. I was kinda hopin' I'd run inta ya! Only jest not litrally!" As Bright Eyes spoke, the two heard the policemen yelling only a block away.
"C'mon Bright, its gonna be just like ol' times eh!" Spot grabbed her hand and the two jumped behind two crates and crouched, waiting for the bulls to pass. After a short time, three policemen ran by the crates and stopped. "I know he passed this way Jim." said one as they looked around the premises. "I know, but he's gone disappeared again. Like usual." said the other man, as he looked up into the sky, almost expecting to see the Newsie flying among the birds there. "Lets give it up boys, 'taint no use lookin fer somethin that ain't there." The three then turned and walked away, still looking down alley ways and passages as they went.
"Well, dat was easy." Spot said as he helped Bright Eyes over the crates. "So, what brings ya back ta Brooklyn so soon? Ya jest came last week ya know." Bright Eyes shrugged and looked around. " Well, I dunno. I just seem ta end up back 'ere whenever I gets da time. Ta get memries an' stuff." Spot rolled his eyes incredulously. " Whaddya want dose annoyin' tings fer? Nothin' but troubles memries are! Plus, I don't tink dat one Newsie can have tons o'happy memries!" Bright Eyes shrugged. "There's a couple Spot, if you would try an' rememba." Spot looked away from Bright Eyes' pleading face.
"Well anyway, would ya like an ol' friend ta take ya ta lunch somewheres? An' den to see some of da boys? They'd be glad ta see ya." Bright Eyes' head shot up. "Depends on da time. What time is it Spot?" Spot squinted up at the clock tower just above Brooklyn. "Ummm. Two forty five why?" "Cause I'm goin to da track wit' Race teday at three, an' I don't wanna be late! Yer an angel Spot! See ya soon!" With that, Bright Eyes took off toward the Greely statue in Manhattan, leaving Spot staring after her and smiling. "Always on da move dat kid." he said with a reminiscent smile. Then Spot Conlon went his own way, back to his city.
Ever since he had met the girl when she was 5 and he was 6, Spot had had a soft spot for Bright Eyes. He didn't know why, he didn't take likings to people easily, especially when it was a girl as well. He didn't trust people as readily as some boys. Maybe it was because they had seemed just like brother and sister, both lost and alone at the same time, both confused about why they were stuck in such unfortunate circumstances. They had stuck together for a long time, earning them the title, "the twins." Namely because they ate together, sold papes together, and Spot having insisted, their beds were right next to each other in case one or the other woke up scared, and relief would be a step away.
But Bright Eyes had always been flighty, and it got worse as she got older. She started taking walks by herself, sometimes not coming home till late into the night. In the meantime Spot, who at the time was gradually making his claim to fame with his papes, would become both worried and furious all at the same time. Spot got so worried sometimes, that the minute Bright Eyes stepped into the door, he let her have it. But after he was done ranting and raving about how worried he had been, how she couldn't wander anymore, and that he wanted her to go straight to bed, Bright Eyes would come up to him, kiss him on the cheek and say good night, not another word said. "Yep, flightiest ting I eva did see." Spot murmured.
In a way, Spot blamed himself for Bright Eyes leaving the Brooklyn Newsies, secretly of course. It wouldn't do for the "Key" to feel guilty about something so trivial. Newsies moved all the time. "But not every Newsie. She was a special Newsie." Spot said as he kicked a can that had fallen in his way. He had made it up to himself by promising to hurt the person who did anything to Bright Eyes, be it the Delancys or any other person, a bull or Newsie. "Call it extreme, but I don't care." Spot said emphasizing his words as he kicked a stone into a gutter. "She's like me sista." He mumbled as an extra thought. "Heya Spot! Where ya been? We've been lookin for ya's!" A group of Brooklyn Newsies, Red, Jinx, and Freckles waited for Spot on the next curb. Spot had friends, and he very well wasn't gonna let Bright Eyes ruin his afternoon. "Heya boys, how bouta game a poka!" The four boys then took off down the street laughing happily.
Racetrack watched the time on the clock mounted by the Greely statue. It was 2:50. Bright would be there any second, then they could head off to the tracks. To prepare for his day at the races, Racetrack had, in the last half hour, gambled off of other Newsies two dollars and forty five cents. He would also gamble with more boys at the track. Plus with his savings, he had plenty with which to gamble on the horses. 2:55. Where could she be? Racetrack waited a few more minutes, then checked his watch again and puffed his cigar. 2:59. One more minute passed and the clock tower chimed three times heralding the third hour's coming. Racetrack looked down the road one way, the another road going another way. When he peered down the road that most people took to get to Brooklyn, he saw a small figure approaching at a fast pace.
"Hey Bright Eyes! Where ya been? Been waitin' for ya's. Already got some good bets in me pockets!" Racetrack said shaking his pockets as Bright Eyes ran up. "Sorry Race. I got a little sidetracked." Racetrack raised his eyebrow. "Let me guess, you was attacked by da Delancys. No dat can't be it you ain't hoit. Hmmm. An extremely long carriage crossed da street before ya's? Nope, no carriage is very long, lessen its a train. Ya got run ova by a fruit stand? Naw, dose people are careful wit' dere carts. Well that excludes da maja stuff. So what happened to ya Bright?" Racetrack ended, with a grin on his face. Bright Eyes took her hands off her hips where they had been resting a moment before. "If ya's must know, I went ta Brooklyn for a bit and lost track of da time." Racetrack took his watch out of his pocket again and commented. "Speakin of which, dis time is wastin, and da races begin at three thoity. Les get rollin!" The two then began to run toward the Sheepshead, where the races were preparing their beginning.
"Hey scuse me! Comin tru! Scuse me please!!" Racetrack yelled as he pushed his way to the betting office, his hand wrapped around Bright Eyes' in a death grip, lest she be lost in the crowd. "Mornin' yer hona!" Racetrack said to the employee in charge of the booth that day. "How much sir?" the man asked in a citified manner. Racetrack sat still for a moment, then burst out laughing. "Sir! Please! Les see. I wanna put bets on, hmmm." Racetrack and Bright Eyes both observed the list of horses. "Gutbuster, Jasmine, Whitey, Andromeda, Coyness. Man, dese people were at a loss fer names when dey got dese 'orses!" Race whispered quietly.
"Lovefound, Race." Bright Eyes whispered in his ear. "Ya sure?" he whispered. Bright nodded. "Just a feeling in my gut." Racetrack nodded, then turned back to the booth. "We'll bet five fifty for Lovefound." "Five fifty it is. Are you sure you want to go with Lovefound? She just got back on the track." Racetrack turned to Bright Eyes, then turned back. " I said Lovefound an dats what I means!" Racetrack said, determinedly. The man threw his hands in the air. "Whatever. Ain't my money." "Darn right it ain't!" Racetrack muttered. He then took his ticket and Bright Eyes and walked toward the rows of seats.
Racetrack picked seats where they could both get a good view of the horses. "Are ya sure we did da right ting Bright? Da guy said dat she jus' got back on da track." Racetrack asked doubtfully. Bright Eyes shook her head. "I dunno Race. I just felt it. That dat was da one dat would win, ya know?" Racetrack turned away and lit a cigarette, and offered one to Bright Eyes, who took it thankfully. "Yeah I guess I felt dat befoa. Neva helped me wit' da races though." As he spoke, the last call for bets was announced and the list of horses was called out to the eager audience. Five more minutes till the race started.
Racetrack sighed and blew a puff of smoke out of his mouth. Waiting was always the hardest thing about the races. Wondering if he was going to win or lose. Next to him, Bright Eyes pulled an item out of her pocket. He looked over and saw Bright Eyes fingering her prized possession, a slingshot given to her by Spot when they were younger. Spot had taught her how to use it and she had conquered many scabs with her weapon. "Still miss 'im don't ya Bright?" Bright Eyes sighed, then looked into Racetrack's face. "Yeah, I do. Sometimes, I wonda why I even left. And sometimes, I wonda, if maybe I hoit Spot a little by goin' away." Race laughed. "Brighty, I don't tink ya could hoit that guy by hittin 'im wit an iron pole. But it is a possibility, he is human ya know." Racetrack pointed out. Bright sighed and slipped the slingshot back in her pocket. "I guess so."
Right then, the horses began to line up for the race. Both Racetrack and Bright Eyes stood up to get a better view. "Lovefound is numba 8 Bright," Racetrack said. "Memba dat." Bright Eyes nodded. Then the gunshot banged loudly causing the horses to run and Racetrack to jump up into the air and wave his hat. "Git goin' ya ol nag! C'mon Lovefound! Win fer good ol' Race!" Racetrack yelled. The air was filled with the sounds of excitement all around the stadium. Shouts of people's favorite horses were yelled. All of a sudden the audience erupted into cheers. Lovefound had taken over Sunburst, the track favorite, and was now completing the first lap in first! Racetrack was ecstatic. "All she needs ta do is do dat for da last two laps and we gots ourselves some cold hard cash Bright!"
The second lap was completed, with Lovefound in first. As the third lap began, Racetrack grabbed Bright Eyes' hand and squeezed it. She looked at him curiously. He looked down at his hand blushed, and then looked back down at the track, beginning to wave his hat in the air again. But all of a sudden, ten yards from the finish line, Lovefound stumbled and lost first, stumbling into fifth place. Racetrack moaned and this time it was Bright Eyes who took Racetrack's hand, who didn't look down this time. Lovefound was struggling it was clear. But all of a sudden on a second burst of energy, she began to run as she had never run before, passing fourth, third, and second in a flurry of speed.
Neck in neck with Sunburst the two traveled down the home stretch, each looking for an advantage, hooves flying. Three yards from the finish line, Sunburst stumbled, allowing Lovefound to take the lead, who passed triumphantly across the white finish line. Racetrack and Bright Eyes both yelled and screamed with joy. Racetrack grabbed Bright Eyes in a fierce embrace as the crowd erupted with shouts. Then Racetrack suddenly leaned toward Bright Eyes' face, but stopped himself before his lips could touch hers. She looked at him, and he looked at her, and both knew what the other was thinking. Racetrack slowly took her hand. "C'mon Bright. Lets go collect our winnin's."

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Meanwhile Jack Kelly a.k.a Cowboy, had finished selling his papes. He now intended to see someone, a certain Sarah Jacobs, David's sister. The two had gradually fallen in love with each other during the strike last year, but now Jack sensed that the thing that had formerly been there between them, was gone. Jack had never broken up with anyone before. He had never really had a real girlfriend before either, but there was a first time for everything. Jack decided that it was best if there was no pomp or anything, just something quick and quiet. He didn't like seeing people get hurt, but this was something he had to do.
Jack felt like he was being dishonest by not telling Sarah the way he had felt before. Jack felt like he had when he thought about going to Santa Fe, New Mexico, like a jerk, a person who deserves no respect from his friends. He almost thought about chickening out. " No can't do dat. I already told Sarah dat I wanted ta see 'er. But I don't tink I can do dis." Jack gulped as he stood outside the Jacobs' front door. "Well here goes nothin'."
He knocked on the door and almost immediately, Sarah opened the door. "Oh Jack, I'm so glad that you came! Mamma and Papa went out, and Les is spending the night at the Lodging House, so we have the whole place to ourselves!" Sarah bubbled. Jack cleared his throat as he walked through the door, gazing at the beaming Sarah. "How was work today Jack?" Sarah asked as the two sat down at the table. Jack shrugged. "O.k. I guess. I'm a little tired but, dats all part of da job." Sarah rolled her eyes. "Jack I wish you would quit being a Newsie, you and David. You work too hard, and I don't like it."
Jack sighed. Here we go again, he thought. Time to break the ice now that the time was right. "Sarah, I have ta tell ya somethin' dats not gonna be very pleasant for ya's." Sarah looked surprised at being interrupted in the middle of her complaints. "Really Jack? What is it? Something really bad?" Jack gulped and pulled at his collar as he spoke. "Sarah, I don't tink dat you an I are really, meant for each udda. Ya know what I'm sayin'?" Sarah sat in stunned silence, so Jack went on. "I dunno it just seems like everytin' we had at da beginnin' of da strike was different afta da strike was ova." Sarah finally spoke up. "How can you think that about me? That is so ungrateful, after all the love I gave to you!"
Jack began to get angry and stood up, towering over Sarah in the process. "What love Sarah? We kissed at da end of da strike! Whoopee do da day! Kissin' doensn't make a relationship Sarah! What do we got Sarah? Name me one ting!" Sarah stood up as well, and her voice trembled as she spoke. "We have each other Jack." Jack sighed. "Sarah, just cos we gots each udda doesn't mean dat we're happy wit' each udda. And I'm not. It seems dat all ya's do is gripe about me clothes, me job, and even me friends. And when we kiss, it feels like I'm stealin' somethin' Sarah! Thats a big sign dat we don't need each udda." Sarah's eyes filled with tears. "Go then! Just go! I don't need you! Get out of here, NEWSIE! Go back to your dear friends who care for you so much! GO!" Then she ran out of the room sobbing. "Well dat went well." Jack murmured softly as he walked out the door into the fading twilight.