Author's Note: I do not own any of the characters from the movie Newsies.
"I heard what you said yesterday, Racetrack," Skittery whispered in Race's ear, as they stood in line to get their papes. Racetrack turned around to face Skittery and sighed. "Youse is gonna have to be more specific than that, Skittery. I say a lotta tings," He replied, rolling his eyes.
Racetrack was pretty fed up with him. He had been acting strange lately and this was just the icing on the cake. "Oh sorry. What I meant to say was, I heard you say Spot's name in your sleep," Skittery said with a smug look on his face. Racetrack felt his stomach shrivel up and his heart jump to his throat. But, being the excellent card player that he was, he had a great poker face. He refused to let any emotions show. "So what? I said his name. I had a dream that he happened to be in, is that such a big deal?," Race asked, he wondered if he was asking Skittery, or himself.
Skittery smiled. "No, I just thought it was kind of odd, not to mention, it looked like you were growing a lighthouse in ya pants."
Racetrack's face turned scarlet, and he quickly looked around to make sure nobody had heard. He grabbed Skittery's arm and pulled him into a nearby alley. "What? Do you have some sorta thing for me too, Race, because I don't swing that way," Skittery said in a mocking voice. "Shut up." Race whispered harshly. "Listen, it wasn't dat big a deal." "Yeah, sure." "It wasn't! So, just don't tell anyone, okay?" "Yeah, maybe I won't, if you play ya cards right." "What does dat mean?" "I don't know, you'll see." Skittery turned on his heel and sauntered away.
Racetrack felt a nervous energy crawl through his body, and settle in his stomach. He hated that feeling and he wondered what Skittery would want him to do. "Son of a bitch," Race muttered under his breath.
"Who are you talking to, Race?" Race jumped at the sound of somebody's voice behind him. He turned around, ready with a smartass remark, and saw none other than the Brooklyn leader himself. Race's words were caught in his throat and he choked on them. "Um… oh …nobody," Racetrack managed to return. He looked into Spot's eyes and suddenly they were eating him up.
It was hot out that day and Spot was glistening with sweat. The shirt he wore was unbuttoned a little, exposing the top of his chest. Race didn't realize, but he was staring.
"What are you lookin at, Race? Are you feelin alright?" Spot stared at Race with concern.
"Yeah, I'm okay. Why does everybody keep askin me dat?"
"Maybe because youse is actin weird."
Race shrugged him off. He was angry at Spot. He hated him for confusing him like this. And, he hated him for making this whole thing happen with Skittery. It was his fault. Spot was the only person he felt this way about. No girls had ever made him feel this way and he hated him, but at the same time he didn't.
