Disclaimer—I don't own Newsies, nor any other Media references I may make. I am not profiting at all from this story.

A/n—at the beginning of each chapter it says what day of the week it is. If it says 'Still ' that means the day of the week is the same as the day before it. (duh?) If it doesn't say 'Still' before it that means it is a new day. Please R&R!

Shoutouts:

Jacky Higgins- yeah, my aunt has some gay friends. She marched in the Gay Pride Parade in Toronto.

Strawberri Shake- OK, this stuff I won't keep you in suspense about (I didn't use 'suspense' correctly, did I?) Aaron, as said before, is Swifty (Aaron Sullivan? See chapter 27, I think) and Itey's brother is named Isaac. He doesn't have a big part, it just seemed right that Itey had a big family. The whole Swifty/Jack thing was explained in chapter 27 except I neglected to say that he was Jack's brother. I will later.

(Still Tuesday)

Racetracks PoV

I raised my hand to open the door. I touched the doorknob and thought better of it.

"Are we going in?" I jumped. I'd almost forgotten Itey was standing beside me.

"Um.........yeah," my palms were growing sweaty, "let-let's go." I tried to turn the knob but my hand slipped. My attempt failed.

"Let me help you." Itey pulled the door open, shooting me a look that clearly read 'what's wrong with you?'

He stepped into the house before me. This time, he was the one who called my mom.

"Mrs Higgins? We're home!" surprisingly, my dad appeared at the top of the steps.

"Dad?" I gasped, almost choking in disbelief at seeing him home before nine pm.

"Hello Anthony, and who is this?"

I didn't answer so Itey took over, "Vincent Tadesco sir. Nice to meet you."

"Ah yes," my father was as calm and composed as ever, "Maria's son? I've heard all about you from your mother."

Itey smiled, shot me the same 'what's wrong with you?' look as before, and asked my dad about his all time favourite topic: himself.

My dad answered gracefully before asking Itey to excuse us.

"Sure. Race I'll wait in your room, OK?"

I nodded dumbly. Itey trudged up the steps to my room. My father watched him go.

Once Itey was out of hearing-range he said, "nice boy, that Vincent Tadesco. He's very friendly, very polite."

"Why are you home so early?" I demanded.

He brushed of my rudeness, "thought I'd spend some time with my family."

This was the first time he'd be taking a day off work since his wedding.

"That's new," I muttered. Frankly, I was impressed that he could remember my name. Or where we lived. His smile only grew wider. "So where is he?" I asked.

He blinked innocently, "who?"

"Michael. Where's Michael?" this was crap. He wanted to talk to me. Why was he dancing around the topic?

"Michael is upstairs unpacking his things." How can he be so calm about this? Did he even know that Michael had ever moved out? He didn't take a friggin' vacation.

"And........." my voice was getting higher, "what's he doing here?" I was growing louder, "WHAT IS HE DOING HERE?"

"Anthony," his smile was bitter now, "please keep your voice down. There is no need to yell like that."

Why not? Oh! That's right, you were never home enough to know about how mom used to cry after he left. You weren't there to hear how she cried for you either. You weren't here for anything. I really wanted to yell that at him but I bit my tongue until it hurt.

"How can you—how can you just let him come back in like that? He left and ruined.........he left and ruined everything! He hasn't had a job—let alone a steady one—for three years! He dropped out of high school! He calls you when he needs money and you'll just cough it up whenever he asks for it? Even after he threw away his future? Why don't you care? Am I the only reasonable one here?" I stared at him in disbelief; everything I'd ever wanted to yell at my brother was coming out now.

"Anthony, didn't even say hello to me when you got home?" came a voice from the hallway overlooking the foyer. Michael stood above us. His straight brown hair was rumpled and strewn every which way and he was shining his glasses on his untucked golf t-shirt. He smiled sleepily and put his glasses back on. He was really quite handsome I guess like my dad. Most people would think he's really distinguished but in reality he's slime.

"Hello Michael," I spat. I didn't care if he knew I wasn't pleased to see him, "back to mooch something else? What, the condo and sports car wasn't enough? Need Dad to buy you something more?"

He did that weird calm thing that my dad does.

"Anthony,' my father's nostrils flared, "go upstairs now. We'll talk later about this. Send Vincent down, I'll call a cab to take him home."

I didn't make excuses, just stormed noisily up the stairs. How could he just come in and everyone acts like it's OK?

A/n: sigh whatever will become of poor Racetrack? Has his brother come to ruin his life? Just about! R&R!