AN: Hi everyone! Okay, so, since this is my first Newsies fanfic, and I'm new to the Newsies fandom, I've acquired the help of Joker is Poker with a J, who is co-writing this with me! So... yay teamwork!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the newsies (if I did, I wouldn't be writing fanfics about them! :P) and Hope and her family belongs to Joker. I'm pretty much just helping to write the story. So yeah.

Review peoples!

The crowd cheered on as the horses lined up at the starting gate. The very energy in the stands made me wide eyed in anticipation and I found myself pressing closer to the fence that separated the track and the audience. This was my favorite part, just before the gun was fired and the horses leapt forward. They pawed and neighed, antsy to begin the race.

*BANG*

And they were off! My eyes widened in delight as the group of thoroughbreds seemed to move so fast they were flying, and to my ten year old mind that was exactly what they were doing. I watched in rapture as they did their lap, and cheered with the crowd when it was over.

I turned from the fence and started making my way back up to the bookie office where my father worked when I was distracted by a newsie shouting a headline, "PENNSYLVANIA TRAIN EXPLOSION! FIVE DEAD!"

I watched him out of the corner of my eye for several minutes before he'd had my attention completely, hollering headlines and waving a newspaper in the air. He was barely able to finish calling out the headline before he was trading the paper for a few coins.

Cautiously at first, I stood and walked over handing him the money and taking a paper from him, glancing over the front page. As appealing as the explosion had sounded, the article said nothing of five people dead, but instead, it talked about one of the train cars catching fire and a few stowaways suffering burns.

"You didn't read this right." I told him, pointing to the article. "Nobody really died."

The boy raised an eyebrow at me and, removing the cigar from his mouth with a flourish, he blew smoke rings into the air. "Yeah but dey don't know that 'til they sit down and read it. 'Sides, papes sell better dis way."

"My dad says cigars are bad." I pointed out.

"And my old man said dat we'se all gonna die anyway, so Ise guess we both got an edgacation." He replied flippantly.

I tilted my head to the side, "I'm Hope Murdoch. What's your name?"

"Racetrack Higgins." He replied, his accent thick, "What's a small goil like youse doin around da tracks?"

"Hope! A voice shouted behind me and I turned around to see my older brother Wyatt walking towards us. "What're ya doin talking to a newsboy? Shouldn't ya be up there with da?"

"Yeah... but... I... uhm..." I floundered desperately for a response.

"We was just talkin'," the boy named Racetrack said boldly. "She bought a pape from me, see? Nothin' wrong with a little conversation, right?"

Wyatt sized him up carefully and shook his head, "Ya need to go sit with da."

"I will in a minute, promise." I fought back an irritated groan when I saw Wyatt making himself comfortable. Knowing that I wouldn't be able to talk to him any longer, I offered a small wave and turned, heading back up to the box with my brother in tow. "Why'dya have to do that, Wyatt? I wasn't doin' anything wrong!"

"Ya, ya did. Youse was talkinta a stranger. A boy stranger. What have we told ya about that? Not everyone is as friendly as you, Hope." Wyatt lectured me as we walked up to the counter where my dad was writing down bets and taking money.

My dad smiled at us a warm smile, and it made the skin around his blue eyes crinkle in a way that always made me feel better. "Hello, Wyatt. Where did ya find her taday?"

His tone was gentle and thick with the standard New York accent. Wyatt smiled back at our dad as he sat me down in the seat beside him. "Down by da fence, tawkin' ta that little newsie dat's always around here."

James Murdoch's blue eyes met my identical ones, and they twinkled as he replied, "A newsie, huh? I'm sure it was harmless."

Wyatt shook his head, looking older than his fifteen, "It was a boy newsie, da!"

"I don't see many goil newsies around, dat's for sure!" My father replied, laughing slightly.

My older brother rolled his eyes, "Let her tawk ta him anymore and she's gonna join da newsies."

Maybe it was the rebellious streak in me, but, for some reason, I really liked the way the idea sounded. The freedom of wandering the streets, calling out to strangers and carrying the banner... there was a certain allure to it that I couldn't explain. I crossed my arms tightly over my chest and let out an aggravated sigh, which was quickly relieved by the sound of my father's laughter.

"Don't be ridiculous, Wyatt. She was fine. I had my eye on 'er, all she wanted was the paper." He took another bet and wad of money from someone and stashed the money in a lock box under the table turning the eyes that I had inherited on me. "Right Hope?"

I let out a huff. "I really wasn't doin' anything wrong." A small thrill ran through my stomach at the slight deception in my words. "Alls I wanted was a paper."

Wyatt's eyebrows furrowed into the center of his forehead, "Da it's not a good idea to let 'er just tawk to whoevah she wants to. Especially when da newsies cause as much trouble as dey do. I don't want her runnin' around with dem like that-"

My dad held his hand up in a way that simply said the discussion was over. I took a seat next to him and moved my gaze back over to the tracks waiting for the next race to start.

XXXXXXX

Today was much busier than the day before so I knew I'd get to do what I'd been planning since yesterday. Mumbling to my father about getting a glass of water, I headed off in search of the newsie.

I knew I wouldn't run into my oldest brother, Benny, because he worked in the barns with the horses. But, it was entirely possible that Wyatt would catch me again seeing how his job was the landscape of Sheepshead Racetrack. Carefully, I slunk my way between two men arguing over which horse to bet on when I heard it.

"TIME HAS COME TA HALT IMMIGRATION!" Racetrack's voice rang through the stands and I felt my stomach give a flop at what I was about to do.

"Is this really a headline, today?" I asked, leaning against the back of an empty chair.

Racetrack glanced around, "Youse dangerous, ya know? Wit a big bruddah hangin ovah ya."

I laughed, "That's funny. 'Cos I have two more just like him."

The cigar nearly fell out of his mouth in his surprise, "Not just dangerous, den. Youse a hazard!"

When he reached to adjust his cigar, I snatched a paper from him and looked at the headline. A grin fell onto my face and I sighed, handing it back to him, "So he can tell the truth, huh?"

"Was a good headline." He scowled and shook his head. "Sides... I never lied. I just adjusted the truth a little. S'wrong with that?"

I decided to just cut to the chase and sighed, "So what do you do all day? Just this?"

Race shrugged, "Well I mean... yeah. I sell papes, but sometimes I go to Medda's or Tibby's with da guys, we go swimmin'... you know, nothin' real special."

"I want in."

Now he nearly choked on his cigar and started to cough. "You" cough, "Wanna be a" cough, cough, "newsie?"

I glowered at him, "Why's that so funny? 'Cos I'm ten? You can't be any older than me!"

He coughed a few more times, then settled down, "Nah, it ain't 'cos your ten. It's 'cos youse a goil."

That surprised me because while I was in fact a girl, I had never been a girly-girl. I only wasn't old enough to need to wear dresses and I mostly wore hand-down trousers from my older brothers. Not to mention that even at ten I was a pretty good fighter. Benny had been teaching me to fight since I came out of the womb, practically.

Glaring at him, I replied simply, "I could take you anytime."

He guffawed at that, "Oh yeah? How 'bout right now?"

I took off the hat that I always wore, shaking out my long brown hair, and tossed it to the side as he watched me, "Youse really serious about dis?" He said, and tossed his papers to the side. "Hang on." He muttered as he gently put out the tip of his cigar and pulled three from his pocket, "Can't let dese get broke." He tucked them under a couple of the newspapers as I rolled my eyes.

"We gonna fight or what?" I asked snippily.

He seemed to be sizing me up very carefully, "Ya know... I'd feel really bad about beatin' up a goil."

"Who said anythin' about you beatin' me up?"

The look on the Italian's face said very clearly that the odds were stacked so high against me, there could be no other possible outcome. He held his hands up the air and shook his head, "Look, alls I'm sayin' is... I been fightin' for a long time."

A snort crept up from the back of my throat, "That supposed to scare me?"

The corner of his mouth turned upward briefly. "Are you scared?"

I answered by throwing a punch into the side of his face. Racetrack was so surprised that he didn't even duck and ended up taking the full blow. He gaped in astonishment.

I took the opportunity to follow up with a nice uppercut, but this time he was ready for it and easily dodged back. He took a moment to debate internally and then he threw his own punch. Not fast enough, his fist clipped my cheek. Without a sound, I took the hit and quickly tackled him to the ground using my small frame to hold him down while I pummeled him.

He didn't stand a chance and I was just deciding I'd win when I heard Wyatt's voice bark, "HOPE!"

I froze on top of the newsie and he stared up at me, a nice shiner developing on his right eye, "Damn, youse could be a Brooklyn newsie with dose fists."