Tif S-I'm so sorry! I posted the last chapter and realized I never responded to your review. I'm so sorry! Please don't hurt me! Anyway, yes. Boys do need instructions. I don't know why they think they don't, but they really do. Gotta admit though, it's fun to watch them try and do things without instructions and then fail because they missed something important.

Ealasaid Una-Glad you loved it. I also really like the friendship between Spot and Laura. (Of course I would. I created it!) But seriously, I really do love it and I love getting emails saying you've reviewed and that you still like it.

Minnie G-Glad my writing is still living up to expectations. I wrote that line and then was like, "That's the perfect ending right there." Good to know you enjoyed it and I'm glad it made you laugh. I was kinda hoping it would be funny. The dialogue between Spot and Laura is something that I love too. Yeah...anyway...glad you enjoy my writing enough to love all of it, no matter what I think of it. Can I write you a story or a character or something? Seriously, I need to write something for you for being one of my biggest fans and best cheerleaders. Let me know in a review or something. Oh, and I'm also sending you cookies. And brownies if you want them.

So I own nothing in this chapter. Except the backstory for Blink.

"Happy birthday to me. Happy birthday to me," Daniel Davidson sang softly to himself as he brushed the horse down. It was a cold, wet day in March and 14 years ago that day Daniel had been born. But no one in the world knew that, except Daniel and his father-not that he had seen his father in about ten years.
"Hey kid, you done in dere?" The gruff voice of a jockey startled Daniel and he nodded quickly, leading the horse out of the stall.
"Ise neva seen youse here before," commented a boy about Daniel's age. The boy was leaning against the barn wall next to where the horse had just past, a stack of papers at his feet and a cigar hanging from his mouth. He struck a match and lit the cigar. "Dis your foirst day?"
"Foirst day shovelling poop," Daniel snorted, looking at the pile of manure at his feet. "Wat about youse? Youse woirk here too?"
"Nah, Ise'm a newsie. Da other newsies call me Racetrack cause Ise spend most of my time here. Wat do dey calls you?"
Daniel shrugged. "Kid, mostly. My mudder called me Daniel."
Racetrack pushed himself off the wall and leaned over the stall door. "Wat happened ta your eye?"
"Ise hoirt it years ago."
"Dat's it? Dat's da whole story?"
"Ise was a kid. Ise don't talk 'bout it much."
"Okay." Racetrack shrugged his shoulders and started to walk away. Halfway out the door, he turned around. "Youse got somewhere ta be tonight?"
Daniel shook his head as he pointed to the loft of the barn. "Just sleepin up dere. Maybe findin some food ta celebrate."
"Celebrate wat?"
"Today's my birthday."

"Boys, dis here is Daniel," Racetrack announced that night as he walked into the Lodging House, dragging Daniel by one arm and shoving him towards the center of the room. "Today's his birthday, so's Ise thought he could spend da night."
Several newsies came forward and shook Daniel's hand or clapped his shoulder. He heard happy birthday repeated over and over again, smiling and nodding his head until he felt like it might fall off. When at last people had lost interest and returned to their previous activities, Racetrack led him to a bunk. "Youse can sleep up here. Ise sleep right below. Dis is Jack Kelly but youse can call him Cowboy."
Daniel nodded at the blond-haired boy. "Daniel."
"How old are youse, kid?" Jack asked, looking him up and down.
"Ise ain't a kid," Daniel said indigently. "Ise am 14 today."
"Wat's your story?"
"My story?"
"Yeah, your story," Race jumped in. "Wat happened ta your folks?"
"Wat happened ta your eye?" Daniel turned his good eye to the curly, brown-haired boy sprawled out on the bunk next to Racetrack's.
"My ma left da country when Ise was a kid. My pa ain't very nice and Ise haven't seen him since Ise was 5. I hoirt my eye as a kid. Dat's my story." Daniel shrugged his thin shoulders and lay back on his bed. Over the course of the night, Daniel repeated his story over and over again. Most of the boys kept bothering him for more details, so finally Daniel told him about how his father would always come home drunk and scream at his mother until finally she couldn't take it anymore and left for her parent's home in Canada, taking her two young daughters with her. But he always changed the subject when asked about his eye, not ready to tell them about that story.

"Wake up! Wake up! You boys are wasting the day away! Get up!"
Daniel was already up when the older man came into the room the next morning. He sat on his bunk and watched as the other boys shook themselves away, throwing pillows and insults around. When the man got to Racetrack's bunk, he pulled the blankets off the boy and shook him a few times. Daniel smiled and hopped off his bunk.
"You must be Racetrack's friend Daniel. My name's Kloppman." Daniel shook Kloppman's outstretched hand. "I heard it was your birthday yesterday. Here's a present for you, kid." Kloppman winked before giving Racetrack one last shake and leaving the room.
"Wat'd he give youse?" Racetrack asked, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.
"An eye-patch," Daniel responded, putting it on.
"Youse look like youse is blinkin," Jack said.
"Yeah, a kid blinkin," snorted the curly-haired boy from the night before.
"He's older den youse is, Snipeshooter," Race shot back.
"Youse do look like a kid dat's blinkin though," Jack said. "Ise think dat's wat we'll calls you. Kid Blink."
Daniel shook his head but smiled. He didn't care much what they called him, as long as he got to stay there with his new friends.

You know the drill. If you're new, the drill is that you read the chapter, hit that lovely little review button and tell me how much you like or hate it, and I write a new chapter.