"Race! Race, wake up!" Spot shook Racetrack, who startled awake. Spot had a concerned look on his face and Race looked horrified. He bolted upright, his breathing heavy. He scrambled out of Spot's jacket, dropping it to the ground, then took off down the ladder. Spot stood on the rooftop, staring down at Racetrack, who was quickly descending the ladder. "Race!" He called after him. When Racetrack didn't respond, Spot muttered under his breath, "Dammit." He pulled on his jacket and took off down the ladder after his friend. When he reached the bottom, he saw Race sprinting down the street. "Race!" He yelled into the night. "Racetrack, c'mon!" Race ignored him, continuing to run down the street. He had no specific destination in mind, only to get away as fast as he could. Unfortunately Spot was faster and caught up to him after a few minutes. Putting a hand on Race's arm to stop him, Spot spoke, catching his breath, "They don't call you Racetrack cuz you're fast."
Race was bent at the waist, hands on his knees, but didn't say anything. "Why'd you run, man?" Spot asked him. "You start screaming outta nowhere then take off the second you open your eyes. You looked like youse seen a ghost."
Race shook his head. "Let's just forget about it." He started moving down the street again, walking this time. Spot caught his stride, eyeing him as they walked. "Nah, man, you're acting all weird. Something's going on with you."
"Ain't nothin' going on Conlon!" Racetrack shouted, stopping in his tracks to look Spot in the eyes. "Why don't you just go back to Brooklyn? They need you there." He finished quietly, resuming his walking.
'Look, I ain't playin' around, Race. You were scared. I saw it all over your face." The wind whipped at Spot's blond locks, sending them across his face. He didn't make a move to brush them off.
"I ain't scared of nuthin'" Race countered. It didn't have much effect, Race's shivering having resumed; sweat dotted his forehead, goosebumps reappeared on his skin.
Spot put his hands up in surrender. "Fine, fine." He slid his jacket off and once again held it out to Racetrack. "At least take this. Ain't no sense in freezing your ass off to prove a point."
Race shook his head. "Racetrack. Would you just go back to the Lodge? Go get some sleep or something."
"I'll catch ya later, Spot." Race turned back the way they had come, trudging his way back towards the Lodging House and the rooftop. Spot was right, it was more Jack's domain, but Race was beginning to feel more and more at home there. He wouldn't go back to the Lodge, at least not yet. He needed to clear his head. He left Spot Conlon standing in the middle of the road, jacket still in hand, and made his way to the racetrack.
The next morning he awoke on the rooftop, the sound of the whistle ringing in his ears and Spot's jacket draped over his body.