The three delivery boys wheeled around. The boy in the gray hat was indeed their friend Snitch, and he was accompanied by two more of their Manhattan pals: Skittery and Snipeshooter. Jack, Kid Blink and Lunch Money approached their friends, looking at them in disbelief.
"Whaddya doin'?" Lunch Money growled ferociously, "You'se woikin' fa' Pulitzeh?"
"Yeah." Skittery shrugged, "So what?" he added, in a challenge.
"So what? So what!" Jack cried, obviously agitated, "You'se traitohs, all a' ya! Woikin' fa' Pulitzeh as delivery boys!"
"Hey, it's good money." Snitch said defensively, "We gotta live somehow, Jack."
"Ya don't gotta live bein' a scabbah." Jack eyes were narrowed, giving their messenger bags a look of loathing.
"C'mon, Cowboy, we ain't scabbahs." Skittery rolled his eyes, "There ain't even a strike on."
"We'se makin' four times what we made as newsies." Snitch added, "And it's not so different; it's all sellin' papes. What else would ya have us do?"
"You'se guys could help us out oveh heah in Brooklyn! Instead a' deliverin' papes fa' Pulitzeh." Jack looked imploringly at the three former newsboys.
"You ain't gonna win this one, Jack." Skittery shrugged, "The union's all busted up and you know it. If you fellas in Brooklyn wanna keep tryin' ta fight fa' ya jobs, you'se gonna hafta do it wit'out us. Right, guys?" He looked at Snitch and Snipeshooter, who nodded silently. They knew it was a betrayal to the newsies, but they weren't prepared to give up their jobs for Jack and the others.
"C'mon, don't do this, Skit." Kid Blink pleaded.
"Stop me." Skittery sneered, turning away from him. "We'se got woik ta do, fellas, let's go." He said to Snitch and Snipeshooter. Lunch Money and Blink looked to Jack, wondering what to do. They couldn't soak their friends. Skittery, Snitch and Snipeshooter were practically brothers, like the rest of the Manhattan newsies. Jack's face was arranged in a tight, twisted expression, obviously dreading what he had to say next. But he had to say it. This was a war. They had to take out any opposition, even if it meant soaking their friends.
"Soak 'em." Jack spat, his jaw clenched. Jack, Lunch Money and Kid Blink ran after the delivery boys, who turned around in surprise.
"Jack whaddya doin'--?" Skittery barely got the sentence out before Jack hit him squarely across the mouth. He staggered, looking hurt and confused. Kid Blink jumped Snitch, leaving Snipeshooter for Lunch Money. Lunch Money gave Snipeshooter an apologetic look. It wasn't fair she had to take the little guy; Snipeshooter was even smaller than Lunch Money. She didn't waste time throwing punches and starting a prolonged scuffle, she just knocked him down with a rough shove and wrestled his messenger bag full of newspapers away from him.
"Lunch! Come on Lunch, give 'em back!" Lunch Money just turned a cold glare on him, not responding. She backed away from Snipeshooter, Skittery and Snitch, all of whom were now laying one the ground, caught of guard by the attack. All of them had lost their papers to Jack, Lunch Money and Blink. Snitch was the first back on his feet, looking furious.
"Hand 'em oveh, Blink." Snitch reached out a hand to take his papers back. Blink stepped away and shook his head. Snipeshooter and Skittery stood up as well, balling their hands into fists.
"Give 'em!" Snitch was exasperated. He charged at Blink, who dodged out of his way. Lunch Money shoved him against the brick wall behind him. Snitch scowled at her and knocked her onto the pavement. She managed to keep a hold of the newspapers, but she now had to struggle to keep hold of them as Snipeshooter was now trying to wrestle them away from her. Blink pulled Snipeshooter away from Lunch Money, allowing her enough time to jump back to her feet.
"Cheese it, Lunch!" Blink yelled, as he and Jack made ready to take flight from the scene. The three newsies tore down the street, their stolen papers in hand, leaving their former friends empty-handed and stunned. As Lunch Money ran, the full realization of what they were doing hit her.
Pulitzer and Hearst, apparently hell-bent on disposing their dependency on newsies, were systematically eliminating all possible ways for them to work. The newsies were now fighting newsstands, guarded with armed men, plus the home delivery service. Before, it had been a war between Pulitzer and the newsies. Now it had expanded. They were fighting their own friends. Lunch Money had just stolen Snipeshooter's papers, for crying out loud! When did everything get so complicated? She wondered, still sprinting full out. It was like her entire world had collapsed in the last month. It was as Skittery said: they weren't going to win this one. It was hopeless odds. Too much was pitted against the newsies. But Lunch Money refused to give up, and just stiffened her resolve as she sprinted through the streets of Brooklyn. It was actually just off 86th street when the three newsies finally stopped to catch their breath.
"Can you believe those bums?" Blink asked between pants.
"I know! Damn traitohs. Two-bit double-crossehs." Lunch Money added viciously, "Actin' as stooges for Pulitzer and Hearst."
"Well, we ain't got time ta waste gripin' oveh them." Jack told his friends regretfully, "It's already past noon, and we have sold a single pape."
"Oh yeah." Lunch Money remembered. Selling papers. That was their job. So they set off to start selling the newspapers, the newspapers they had stolen from fellow newsies. Blink and Lunch Money looked at each other sorrowfully. When had it come to stealing from their old comrades? How much longer would this war carry on like this? How much longer would the newsies survive? The gray sky above them perfectly reflected their mood, grim and freezing. So freezing, in fact, that by the time they had sold their last papes and returned for dinner at Liam's, snow had begun to fall.
"It's about time ya showed up." Mush grinned as Jack, Kid Blink and Lunch Money entered the diner, shaking snow off of their hats.
"Well, we had a slow start this mornin'." Jack said taking a seat between Mush and Racetrack. "You'se'll neveh guess who we ran into."
"Who?" Boots asked, interestedly.
"Snitch, Skittery and Snipeshooter." Kid Blink answered, his mouth wrinkled in distaste. "They'se woikin' as delivery boys."
"No!" The other boys gasped.
"Yes." Jack said darkly.
"Whaddya do?" Mush looked fearful, "Ya didn't soak 'em, didja?"
Jack nodded, "Yeah, we did. We stole their papes too." He, Blink, and Lunch Money looked slightly ashamed of themselves. Racetrack shook his head slowly.
"I don't believe 'em. The graftahs." He sneered down at his plate of French fried potatoes. The Manhattan newsies sat in silence for a moment, a miserable quiet that consumed all of them. Lunch Money's focus on Skittery Snitch and Snipeshooter's betrayal was averted when she noticed something out of place.
"Hey, guys… Where's Crutchy?" She asked, looking around in a would-be casual tone. She asked only hesitantly, for she wasn't sure if she really wanted to hear the answer. The boys exchanged pained looks and it was with some trepidation that Jack answered.
"He's back at the lodgin' house. Aftah the fight yestehday, we didn't think he'd be well enough ta go out today."
"But he's okay?" Lunch Money said quickly, alarmed by the boys' dismal attitudes. "Crutchy's gonna be al'ight, ain't he?"
"Yeah. Yeah, he'll be okay." Jack reassured her, "But he ain't doin' so well right now. It'll be a coupla days befoah he's back on his feet." Lunch Money winced. She wondered if this day could possibly get any worse.
But right then, a small favor from heaven made itself known via an equally small girl who poked her head in through the door of the restaurant, her face as excited as if it were Christmas morning.
"Look! Look outside! It's snowing!" She shrieked, bolting back outside the way she came. The older newsies rolled their eyes and looked skeptical. Of course it was snowing, they'd have to be completely blind not to notice. The younger newsies, however, leapt to their feet and pressed their faces against the nearest windowpanes. With hollers of excitement, the smaller newsies grabbed their coats and disappeared into the street.
"What the big deal?" Jack asked, "It's only snow."
"It's really comin' down out there." Boots observed. It was true; there was a full-on blizzard going on outside. Mush stood up, going to the window. He watched the thick snowfall for a moment, before turning to the other Manhattan newsies and yelling, "Let's go!"
Boots and Kid Blink darted out the door right behind him. Jack, Lunch Money and Racetrack hung back. They were in the midst of a serious situation; a crisis hitherto unimagined by the newsies. They hardly had time to go out playing in the snow like children. But, as they were children, Racetrack, Jack and Lunch Money couldn't resist at least going out to see what was going on.
Lunch Money paused just outside the door of Liam's, watching the chaos. Newsboys were a fairly rowdy and rambunctious group in any given situation. Add piles of snow, and you had yourself absolute anarchy. The usually grimy street was suddenly bright and fresh looking with the layer of pure white snow coating every surface. The bitter cold and slush always meant trouble for street rats. After the first few novel days of snow, it would quickly become an annoyance and hindrance. But this was the first snow of the season. And newsboys always welcomed it with a good snowball fight, or the construction of a snowman.
Lunch Money was brought out of her reverie by a lump of flying snow, which splattered spectacularly against the side of her head. She turned around, looking for the culprit. Spot stood several feet away from her, his customary smirk in place. Lunch Money knelt down, shoveling a handful of snow between her fingers.
"You're dead, Conlon!" She shouted after him, laughing in spite of herself. Spot ran. Lunch Money launched her snowball at him, but he dived out of its path, and the snowball hit Roundhouse full in the face. Roundhouse hastily packed together a snowball, ready to retaliate. But instead of getting Lunch Money, Roundhouses poor aim caused the chunk of slush to graze Kid Blink. After that it was a free-for-all. The newsies forgot that they were tired of losing fights. They forgot they were sore and bruised. They forgot that their futures as newsies hung by a thread. For the first time in a very long time, they were just wild street rats again, having fun on the streets of Brooklyn. They remembered what a fine life it truly was.
There were two who didn't participate in the frantic snow battle. Both Racetrack and Ritz stood near Liam's; carefully out of the way of the brawl. Each wore an unhappy expression as they watched the interaction of Spot and Lunch Money.
"Hey!" Lunch Money laughed as Spot came up behind her, dumping a large amount of snow right on top of her head, "You're talleh, that ain't fair; you can't pick on someone smalleh than ya!" She shook her snow-covered head, wiping the icy slush out of her eyes.
"It is too fair." He argued, "I ain't that much talleh than you'se is. See?" Without thinking about it, Spot stepped close to Lunch Money, so that they were face-to-face. "See? I'm only an inch or so talleh. Anyway, I thought the sayin' went, 'All's fair in love and war.' That includes snow wars." Lunch Money looked at him curiously.
"Yeah. Yeah, they do say that." She said quietly.
"Ya have snow in ya hair." Spot grinned, brushing the worst of it off. He gave Lunch Money a wise guy smirk, knowing full well that the aforesaid snow in her hair was his own doing.
"No, ya think?" Lunch Money rolled her eyes, pretending her heart hadn't skipped beat when Spot touched her, however innocent the contact had been.
They were standing only inches apart, now both of them were awkwardly aware of this fact. Spot's eyes roved over Lunch Money's face taking in her delicate features. It registered with Lunch Money just how gorgeous his eyes were. The moment lengthened, only cut short when Lunch Money came to her senses.
"Think fast, Conlon!" Lunch Money said, dodging around him and flinging a handful of snow at him as she sprinted away. Her heart was racing, and she found herself breathless. Her stomach felt like some alive was squirming inside it. She felt suddenly shaky on her feet.
Lunch Money couldn't remember the last time she'd felt more afraid. Even when she'd been assaulted in that alley a few weeks ago, Lunch Money's fear during the attempted rape didn't even measure up to how she was feeling now. It shouldn't have been any big deal. So he'd brushed some snow out of her hair. So they'd been standing close enough that she could smell him. And curiously enough, the stupid little street rat didn't smell as bad as one might have thought. Lunch Money shook herself mentally. What was wrong with her?
Ritz and Racetrack had watched in horror during their brief interaction. Ritz was now seething in a jealous rage that Lunch Money would dare flirt so brazenly with Spot. Racetrack looked stern, now terrified as he remembered the conversation between Nix and Lunch Money he'd overheard several days ago. For the rest of the evening, Racetrack kept a scrutinizing eye on Spot, and a worried one on Lunch Money. Racetrack decided, right there in the snow, that this was as far as anything was going to get. He was going to have a little chat with his sister. He had to find out what was going on.
