Disclaimer: I don't own newsies

Racetrack entered his social studies class, sitting at his usual seat in the back. He waited for Mr. Kloppman, the teacher. He was a wiry old man that was strict, but loved them all. Racetrack liked Mr. Kloppman too, as he was the only teacher that would call him by his nickname and let people chew gum in class. However, he wasn't there that day. Was there going to be a sub? Race popped a stick of gum in his mouth, turned to his friend, and asked, "Hey Francis, you know where Mr. Klop is?"

"Well I don't know Anthony. And why'd you call be my real name anyway?" Francis hated his name and asked that he be called by his middle name, Jack.

"'Cause if Kloppman ain't here today, and I think he isn't, we're going to have a sub. And I think she'll want to call you by your real name," Racetrack jokily pointed out.

"That goes for you too you know," Jack replied with equal emotion.

As it turned out, Race was right. Just two seconds later, someone new entered the room. It wasn't a girl like Racetrack predicted, but a man. He had copper red hair and a thick beard. He wore glasses and dressed up in nice clothes. He had a mean look in his eyes that forced everyone silent. No one was going to mess with this substitute. He turned to the white board and wrote his name with big black straight lines. MR. PULITZER

"Aw crap, it's Mr. Pulitzer!" Jack looked nervous, surprised, and well, kind of scared.

"Why're you so nervous?" Race asked. Nothing could scare the fearless Jack Sullivan. And there was nothing scary about Mr. Pulitzer. He was just kind of intimidating and had a reputation for being awful. He hated the so-called "delinquents" and favored the honor roll students. Everyone hated him for it, especially for sending people to the dean for no reason. But no one said anything. No one wants to mess with the assistant principal after all.

"He's the assistant principal. If we make one screw up, we'll get sent to the dean, or even the principal."

"So? I've been sent there like a million times." Racetrack had been sent to the dean and principal plenty of times. All you did at the dean was sit down and do nothing, as he figured out what to do with you. Which was usually nothing. No punishment inflicted. The same went for the principal, but without the homework. He just gave a very long (and meaningless) "you should be ashamed of yourself young man" speech. Sometimes he talked to parents, but he was just a big pushover, and a meeting with a parent was rare. He didn't care too much.

"No, not to Dean Monahan, to Dean Snyder," Jack clarified. Students get sent to Dean Monahan when teachers didn't want to deal with their crap, or when they broke stupid rules like wearing hats or skipping the lunch line. People get sent to Snyder when they do the really bad stuff, like cheating on tests or bullying.

"He did that for me when I was a freshman," Jack continued. "For annoying Pulitzer. That happens to a lot of kids. I had detention with Snyder for weeks. It was the worst. I think you might want to hold back this time." Racetrack had a history of annoying every single substitute. Jack was always a big fan of that, and was always glad to join in. He would never, not in a million years, prevent Race from making a mockery of a substitute. That day was the exception.

"He ain't gonna do that to me." Racetrack rolled his eyes. Mr. Pulitzer did punish students a little too harshly, but stepping out of line wouldn't be enough to get him sent to Snyder. He wasn't worried at all.

"Excuse me," David piped up from the right side of the room. "Where's Mr. Kloppman?"

"He's out sick today," Mr. Pulitzer answered. "But I'm sure he'll be back shortly. I'm your teacher for today. And we are going to do a packet. Take out your pencils so we can begin." Racetrack reached into his bag and found his pencil. It was perfectly sharpened and straight. He purposely broke the lead, and walked towards the front of the room, to the classroom sharpener. The sharpener was electric, and when Race put the pencil in it, a harsh grinding noise filled the room. He sharpened it for much longer than he needed, at least a minute, maybe two.

"That's enough," Racetrack heard Mr. Pulitzer boom from the other side of the room.

Race took the pencil out and "accidentally" broke it on the table. "But it's not sharpened yet," he replied innocently, receiving a few quiet laughs.

"I don't care. Sit down." Racetrack did as he was told, relaxing back into his seat and smirking. A slightly annoyed Pulitzer took a ballpoint pen and slapped it down on his desk. "Use that." Pulitzer returned to the front of the room, standing in front of the board. He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted. Racetrack was in his seat, nonchalantly clicking the pen to the tune of one his grandmother's favorite television game shows. Mr. Pulitzer, without even saying anything, put a pencil on Race's desk. "Use this. For writing only." He took the pen away and put it back in his pocket. "And get that gum out of your mouth."

Racetrack remembered putting the stick in his mouth earlier, but had no interest in following Pulitzer's rules. He felt that there was no reason to do everything Pulitzer said, and since gum doesn't do any harm, he felt it pointless to spit it out. "No," Race replied.

"Get it out of your mouth," Mr. Pulitzer repeated. "Now," he said with more force. Racetrack knew Pulitzer wasn't going to back down. But he didn't want to give him the satisfaction of being bossed around. Just to be annoying, he swallowed the gum down his throat. To be even more annoying, he broke out into a fake coughing fit. Mr. Pulitzer wasn't pleased.

"What? It's not in my mouth anymore. It's going down my esophagus now." He coughed some more. "Now it's going down my esophagus." The class chuckled. Mr. Pulitzer wanted to yell out and scream, but he knew that it wouldn't look too good. That's just what the little rat wanted. So he still maintained the calm composure, and started the lesson, ignoring Racetrack.

"On your desks, you will see a packet of fifty social studies questions. Some are multiple choice, some are true or false, and some are short answer. We will answer everything together as a class. Any questions?"

Racetrack shot his hand up. "Yeah, can you repeat all that? I wasn't listening." It received a few snickers, and Mr. Pulitzer looked mad. Race did understand the simple directions, and everyone else, including Mr. Pulitzer, knew this.

"Why don't you answer the first question," Pulitzer looked at the seating chart. "Mr. Higgins."

"No."

"Answer the question."

"I won't." Racetrack had no desire to follow Mr. Pulitzer's rules. Messing with a sub is usually just for fun, but this is different. The honor roll kids are the ones with rich parents that pay for tutoring sessions. Some of the "delinquents" were some of the hardest working students, and yet they get in trouble by Pulitzer and sent to Dean Snyder, just for messing with the wrong guy. It's messed up, at least in Race's opinion. This was his way of fighting back. He didn't want to do anything Pulitzer said.

"Race, just do it," Jack whispered under his breath.

"If you refuse to answer the question," Pulitzer continued. "I will send you to Dean Snyder."

"Well bye then." Racetrack slung the bag over his shoulder and stormed out. He didn't know where the sudden surge of anger came from, but it probably had something to do with the hatred of Pulitzer. Sharpening pencils, clicking pens, chewing gum, and refusing to answer only one question shouldn't be enough to send someone to Dean Snyder. Whatever. Not like it mattered.

So yeah, Race had detention every day for two weeks. Could be worse. That day, as he sat in Snyder's gray, drab, office, Jack walked in. He dropped the packet down on Racetrack's table, giving him a quick "good luck."

That night, in his office, Pulitzer graded the packets. The place was dim, with only a single lamp on his desk for light. One last packet to go. He looked at the name Anthony Higgins. "Probably didn't fill a single thing out," he quietly grumbled to himself. Opening it up, much to his surprise, that every answer was completed. Adding to amazement, he was the only student that got everything right.

1. Why did America enter the First World War?

The U.S. was sending supplies to the Allied Powers, but the Germans were sinking the cargo ships. Because the Allied Powers never got their items, they didn't pay the Americans, and the U.S. lost a lot of money. One devastating loss was the sinking of the Lusitania, a ship carrying Americans. America was already angry at Germany for this, and the final straw was when Germany sent Mexico the Zimmerman Telegram. The Zimmerman Telegram said that Germany would give Mexico American land after winning the war. The telegram prompted the U.S. to see Germany as an even bigger threat, and decided to enter the war. Woodrow Wilson stated that entering the war was for the sake of democracy.

Hope you enjoyed this (please tell me what you think). I decided to publish this today because school in New York starts tomorrow. This was inspired by someone on tumblr that said Racetrack would be the kind of guy to annoy the subs and get everything right...I completely agree with that statement.

This is one of at least three stories taking place in modern times. I have two others planned, but I might come up with more. The next story will be "Les' Embarrassing Day."