Thanks to everyone who followed! And thanks for the reviews and suggestions! I will do my best with them all!
Oh, and I forgot a disclaimer on the first chapter, so: I do not own Newsies! That goes for this whole thing, in case I forget again.
Race felt a rush of cold air on his chest as young Romeo pulled the covers off him as he did every morning. If there was one thing he hated, it was getting up in the morning. He knew he was being stupid, but he couldn't help snapping at the others as he blearily got ready for the day. The worst part of it was that someone had taken his cigar—again. Race always left it on the table by his and Romeo's bunk bed, and almost every morning it was gone. The others were always taking puffs on it.
He threw on a shirt, glaring around at his fellow newsies and keeping his eyes peeled for his cigar. He finally spotted it sticking out of Albert's mouth across the room. Albert was a frequent culprit. Race stomped over. "Hey!" he grumbled. "That's my cigar!"
"Go steal another," Albert retorted. It was the same dialogue, every morning. Race wrenched his cigar out of Albert's mouth and stalked out the door in a huff.
He was still rubbing his eyes when they reached the circulation desk. In a daze he slammed down a coin, muttered, "A hundred papes, Weasel," and lounged on one of the wagons, flipping through the pages. "Boring, boring…can't these reporters write anything worth my time?" he complained to no one in particular. "Folks get suspicious when they see a fella more than once and last time got a lousy headline from him."
At Jack's word, he joined the other newsies in the rush for the gate, finally waking up a little. He jogged down to the racing tracks and pushed his way through the crowd. "Paper! Get your mornin' pape!" He sold a bunch right away, and when the bustle died down, Race allowed himself a few minutes to watch the race.
"That one there's a beauty, eh?" a man mentioned.
Race grabbed his chance. "She looks all right, but ole Spotty over there's gonna soak her."
"Whatcha bet?"
"Gimme a nickel for it."
"You'se joking, kid! If she don't beat ole Spotty I'd give you a dime."
Race fumbled in his pockets. "All I got is a quarter."
"I'll double it for you if Spotty wins."
"And it's yours if she don't."
The race started with a bang from the shotgun, and Race joined the crowd in shouting for his favorite horse. He'd watched the races so often that he knew each horse like the back of his hand. Sure enough, the spotted steed he'd bet on pulled out in front and flew across the finish.
"Cough up," Race demanded of the man, who grumbled and pressed a dirty quarter into his palm. Race pocketed it with a grin and moved on.
"Extra! Extra!" By midday Race had resorted to lying about the headlines. " 'Mayor's Gone Crooked! Stealing from the People!' You heard it right here! Get your pape! Read all about it!" There was a movement in the crowd around him as people reached to buy papers. As soon as he'd handed out about twenty and received his pay, he wormed his way through the crowd before anyone could accuse him of hawking a false headline.
He made bets with a few more guys (and won all but one) and then decided to head to get lunch. His stomach growled loudly as he escaped the throng and made his way towards the deli. When he got there, he waved to Specs and Albert, who were having a furious game of cards in the corner. Race bought his lunch and went over to them. After a minute the door opened and Crutchie came in, grinning. He joined the other three boys wordlessly, not wanting to disturb the fast battle as Specs and Albert slammed their cards on the table.
"Ten to one Specs wins," Race said to Crutchie, laying a nickel on the table. He was still irritated at Albert for stealing his cigar that morning.
Albert scowled but his eyes didn't leave the game. Crutchie raised an eyebrow. "You know I ain't into betting, Race."
"I'll make it a dime," Race offered.
"Nope," Crutchie said, shaking his head.
"C'mon, Crutch! Have some fun in life." Race's head whipped back and forth as he followed the game. Albert was getting red in the face. Specs' eyes were narrowed in concentration.
"You're a lousy cheater!" Albert yelled as his pile of cards dwindled. Specs frowned.
"Look who's talking!"
Albert slammed his last card on the table and pounded both fists on it, making cards fly everywhere. "I shoulda known better than to play against a cheater!" he bellowed, drawing the attention of the others in the deli.
Crutchie put a hand on Albert's shoulder and frantically tried to make him shut up. Race grinned. "Don't worry, Albert. I'm sure you don't always lose. I mean, look at that match against Davey the other day!"
Albert clenched his fists. Specs was unsuccessfully trying to hold in laughter. "I won that round fair and square," Albert hissed.
Race chuckled. "Yeah, excepting the fact that Davey'd never touched a deck of cards before!" Specs roared with laughter.
Albert stood up and shook his fist in Race's face, but the manager yelled at them from the counter. "Get outta here before you give this place a bad name! Get in your fights somewhere else!"
Crutchie kept his hand on Albert's shoulder the whole way out, heroically not joining in Race's and Specs' guffaws. Race hoisted his bag of papes back on his shoulder and saluted the others. "See you later, kids!" he called, running back towards the track. "Oh, and Albert? Don't get yourself in any more card games! Unless they're against Davey, of course!"
"What's that you said about me?" The voice startled Race. Not looking where he was going, he'd nearly run into Davey, who was apparently heading to the deli for a late lunch.
"Oh, nothin', nothin' at all," Race said quickly, but he couldn't stop himself from adding, "Just talkin' about how great you are at cards!"
Davey rolled his eyes. "I have better things to do than play cards," he said airily. Race grinned and headed back towards the track.
"Extra! Extra! 'City's Water Might Have Been Poisoned Last Night'! Read all about it!" Several people around Race promptly dumped their small purchased cups of water on the ground and thrust their hands toward him for a paper. One fellow spat out a mouthful of water on the man in front of him, and Race hurried out of the way before he could get caught in the middle of a fight.
He sold the remainder of his papes unusually fast, and had time to place a few more bets before strolling back to the circulation desk to hand in his bag. A block away, he was confronted by the last people he wanted to see—the Delancey brothers.
"Ain't you supposed to be helpin' out at the desk?" Race asked warily.
Oscar grinned. "Mr. Weisel let us go early. Seems he don't need as much help these days."
"You'd think he'd need more help, seeing as how some of us sell our last papes right back to you."
"That stupid strike did nothing for you," Morris said, cracking his knuckles. For a moment his face changed. He was looking over Race's shoulder. "Ah." He beckoned to his brother. "But you go on ahead," he called back to Race.
Race wasn't about to be fooled. He whirled around and saw Romeo coming up the street, whistling. "Don't even think about it!" he yelled, sprinting after the brothers. He wasn't called Race just because he went to the track every day—Race could run. And run he did, catching up with the Delanceys quickly and pounding both of them in the head. Oscar fell to the ground; Morris managed to remain standing. Race got to Romeo first and crouched down. "Get on!" Romeo got on his back and Race sprinted away, throwing out a punch when Morris almost caught up to them.
He let Romeo down when they reached the circulation desk. "We'se safe now," Romeo said, and Race nodded. They tossed their empty bags at Weasel and walked together to Jacobi's, where more newsies were already.
Race observed that playing cards was the new fad; there were several games going already. "Not takin' my advice, eh Albert?" he said, nudging Albert, who was engaged in another losing battle against Mush. "Who wants to bet on Mush and Albert?" he asked. Several groans came from the tables around him.
"I'll bet on anyone but them two," said Finch, one of the only boys who gambled with Race.
Race scanned the rest of the tables and his eyes landed on a game between Davey and Buttons. He made his way over and elbowed Les, who was watching the game intensely. "I put a nickel on Davey losing," he said with a smirk.
"Race-Les!" Davey warned, his eyes not leaving the cards, "You know what the rule is. No betting."
Les ignored him. "Davey's got Buttons beat!" he said passionately.
"Les!"
"You got a nickel?" Race asked. Les stopped watching long enough to reach in his pocket and pull out a nickel. Race spat in his hand and held it out for Les to shake.
"Les! Don't you dare!"
Les hesitated. "Come on, Davey," he said, with a hint of nervousness. "It's just for fun."
"I said no!"
Race raised his eyebrows and held his hand a little closer to Les. "All in good fun," he said.
Les glanced at Davey again, then shook his head. He spit in his own hand and shook Race's. Davey groaned, still not looking up. "Wipe!" he commanded, and Les half-heartedly rubbed his palm against his pants a few times.
"Now you gotta win, Davey, you gotta!"
Race enjoyed hanging out with the two brothers, especially when he encouraged Les to disobey Davey. He looked at it as initiating the younger boy, making him more independent. Race turned his attention to the game, which was not nearly as fast paced as the others'. In fact, it was agonizingly slow. "What are they even playing?" he muttered to Les.
Les grinned. "It's called—well, I forget, but Davey says it's a game of thought and peer ends."
"Thought and perseverance," Davey corrected irritably.
"You're not playing war?" Race asked in disgust. Davey shook his head and gently laid another card on the table. Race scowled and rolled his eyes. "I might as well give you this now," he said, tossing his nickel to Les. "Don't know what you're thinking, Buttons. Davey's gonna cream you at this 'thoughtful parents' game."
"Thought and perseverance!" said Davey in exasperation as Race went to watch a more exciting game.
That night, when Jacobi had kicked them out and they were headed back to the Lodging House, Race caught up with Jack, whom he hadn't talked to yet that day. He liked keeping on the newsie leader's good side, for various reasons.
Tonight, Jack seemed to have other things on his mind, and went straight up to his rooftop when they got home. Race didn't mind; with Jack out of the way the newsies could wreck havoc on the place. Race started it all by stealing Specs' glasses, laughed as he watched Specs stumble blindly after him, then shoved the glasses in Romeo's hands and leapt to an upper bunk to watch the fun. Romeo looked at the glasses in confusion, then looked up to see Specs and a couple others running straight for him. The younger boy's eyes widened, and he ran. Race reached down, swiped Henry's cap as he ran past, and threw it across the room to an unsuspecting Crutchie. He leapt across to another bunk, this time his own, and tossed a blanket down on another pack of boys running by. The three unfortunates pawed and yelled as the sheet wrapped around them, then they stumbled and fell to the floor on top of each other with an impressive bang. Race threw his pillow down at them for good measure.
By the time Jack stomped downstairs and yelled at them all to shut up and get to bed, Race was enjoying himself immensely. He sighed but obeyed, picking up discarded sheets and pillows as he walked to his bunk. Under one pile of blankets he found Romeo, sound asleep on the floor. "Sleepy kid." He grinned and picked him up, somehow managing not to wake Romeo. Race deposited the boy none too gently in the bottom bunk and climbed swiftly up to his bed, marveling that Romeo still didn't wake, but merely rolled over with a moan. Race dropped his cigar down to the table, where it landed with a thunk.
He pulled his hat over his eyes and was asleep in minutes.
Don't forget to review!
I regret to say the next chapter won't be up until next year. (Um, that's tomorrow. Don't panic. Happy New Year!)
-Sis21K