Jack was already starting to regret coming along when Race nudged him in the elbow – they were passing by a school, it seemed, and the yard was filled with several kids exercising.

"Yo, check it out, seems she's got a partner 'dis time,"

Raising an eyebrow at what Race had just referred to, Jack looked at him confusedly. Not only was this out of context, but it was also somehow surprising that there was a trace of something called the female specie in Racetrack Higgin's mind – unless he was talking about that mare pulling the cart over there, of course.

"It's just dis' feisty brown 'un always stuck in tha' corner o'er dere, see?" He explained, pointing thickly at a far end of the yard where a number of boys were crowded together. They seemed to be cheering on for a someone lying flat on the floor.

Jack looked on, wondering who it was and what they were doing there, although it wasn't that of curiosity – more like he dully listened to Race's drawling continuation of this well-known "Sam" who never failed to take up the corner spot weekly. It was probably something these school-kids had to do for punishment, Race supposed.

"Ya mean it's a gurl?" Jack asked out of the blue, his brows furrowed deeply. When Race gave him an affirmative nod, he flickered a small glance in the small crowd's direction again, beginning to wonder what girl of dignity would be lying down in front of boys.

Just then, a small woman in bloopers came up to shoo the crowd away, dispersing it. Jack saw a clear view of two figures doing curl-ups; he saw neither of the faces as their backs were turned towards the gate, however their hair possibly told everything to anyone who knew how to read appearances. One had shining locks of gold, curled into small tendrils while the other had the messiest brown of hair that anyone would ever have witnessed upon. Jack supposed this was whom Race was referring to.

"So you's checkin' a gurl out now?" Jack started teasingly as they walked past the gates along the cobblestoned pavement. Race shot him a sideway look as if that would be the dumbest thing ever, and came up with his own explanation.

"No, Mush and I's passed by a few times, and he's noticed, so he talked 'bout it one day,"

Jack nodded, although the smug look did not leave his face. Race picked up on this, and knowing what he had said wasn't yet enough, he continued,

"Mush said he's seen her several times, and she's not too normal,"

And as if on cue, a loud ugly groan from the schoolyard was heard. Jack spun round on instinct, his heart beating fast as something in his consciousness screamed at him asking why it sounded so familiar in his ears.

Race didn't miss, and leaned in to ask this time, "What's da matta?"

Jack closed his mouth from the agape expression, trying to shake his head lightly. "Just heard somethin',"

"That's the 'un we's talking 'bout, I's known that sound by heart, so has Mush,"

Something stirring in Jack's brain also wanted to come out and admit he had heard this voice before, and how difficult it would be for him to ever forget it, really. But some things were better left unsaid, and thus he merely nodded.

They did not talk much after that – well, at least Jack didn't. There was no way on earth to ever have about 3 minutes without Race interrupting with news of a delightful match, or a new dish at Tibby's. For God's sake, the guy had not really ever stopped talking ever since he mastered the English language basics fluently. He continued on about a particular type of cigars that had become popular in those days past. His companion, however, was clearly not paying attention as better thoughts seemed to occupy.

"Why did you start taking Mush with you whenever you go somewhere?" Jack blurted his thoughts out unrestraint, a little something that had been asked among the boys for quite some time now since Race started dragging Mush to Sheepshead.

Race sheepishly kicked a pebble on the ground, his ears tinting red against the golden rays of the summer's sun. He was at a loss of words, for once, not knowing where to pick up or start – and Jack was immensely amused and grateful at the same time for this blessed pause to his ears which had had to bear the constant chatter all morning.

"Erm… well, uh it's a lil somethin' that Spot Conlon said," he started, although he knew perfectly well this wasn't sufficient enough for what Jack had just asked. He was battling internally whether to just come out bluntly or beat the bush around his way as much as possible.

Jack rolled his eyes and replied, "Spot Conlon's always sayin' somethin'. What is it, Racer?"

"He told me he's gon' beat my ass up if he saw meh up to no good again,"

The older boy couldn't help but laugh out loud at this silly nonsense, shouting at a very much embarrassed Race, "You's such a sissy, Race!"

"I's not!" Race argued, his fist up in front of his face angrily although any who knew him would certainly know he was not very inclined for physical violence. "I's just… wise enough ter not risk with Spot Conlon, dat's all,"

"Man, you's scared, admit it."

Race merely gave a deathly glare at his friend as he shoved Jack off the pavement brutally. The other boy didn't seem to mind it as this did not wipe off the smirk on his face at all. Race didn't talk much after this, there was more grumbling on his part that showed he was quite distressed.

"What did ya do to git such a treat as Spot Conlon's personal threat, anyways?" Jack ventured to ask, knowing well that his friend's unusual silence wasn't something good; and feeling a tad bit bad about his over-teasing too. He knew this kindness of his wouldn't really get him anywhere, but for some reasons, Jack seemed to have a small tendency for the boys – nothing too close, but as friends who were struggling together for another day of sun, he supposed he should at least be considerate of their feelings.

And of course, the fact that he was sort of a leader amongst them, and one of the oldest.

Race grumbled something, "…nothin' really…"

"Spot Conlon's don't person'ly deliver his threats so eas'ly," Jack pointed out, wanting to get to the bottom of it as it always helped one to know one's grounds and disposition before entering a foreign territory. Then, he narrowed his eyes as he made one of his famously accurate guesses, "You cheated on a bet or somethin', amirite?"

Race drew in a sharp gasp, although he was grinning goofily – relieved that he didn't have to say it himself, but also waiting for a reprimand from the Mama.

But it didn't come.

It had come to Race's notice that although the boys did look out for each other, there was never any sort of a familiar relationship with the one he used to have with his mother. Perhaps it was the feminine behavior that he had grown up with; he always felt like there was something lacking in the lodging house. And often, he'd expect Jack, as the oldest, to have the younger ones under control. In a way, he did. He kept them out of trouble, and bailed them out of difficult cases (not ones related with the court, for Jack himself was one running away from such) like with the Delancey brothers. But it was never, Race realized, like that of a warm family – the one he used to remember like.

"You's probably deserved it, then," Jack continued, rolling his eyes with annoyance.

"Aww, come on, Jackie, you's wouldn't want yer favorite buddy to be ganged up by a couple of Brooklyn crazies," Race crooned hilariously, before his face was shoved away by Jack's strong hands.

"Sometimes, I do think you deserve the ganging up anyways,"

"97….98…."

Samantha Pulitzer's mind was hell-bent on reaching 100. She had to, anyways.

Her small freckled face was all crunched up in red and sweat. As she desperately pulled her body up from the hard mat on the ground, she thought to herself.

Almost there. Almost there. Almost there.

But she couldn't. She couldn't bring herself to sit up straight again. People would expect someone like Samantha, after several weeks of doing intense exercises during P.E class, to be healthy, fit and almost athletic. However, it was quite the very opposite in Miss Pulitzer's case.

It would, of course, be effective if Sam didn't exactly keep having relapses during one curl-up after another. And it was to be noted that she was a rather noisy exerciser.

"Pulitzer! Parker! Stop lazing around!"

"But I'm so tired, Mrs. Harvey!" Pitty whined from beside her. Sam turned round to see her nemesis puffing up her cheeks in gasps for air. She was clearly struggling far more than Sam, who had more experience with this sort. But Sam didn't care about that, why would she – when it was Pitty who had ended them up here?

Well, of course, she didn't think her dumping spaghetti on Pitty was also a reason for it.

Pitty puffing up her cheeks reminded her of Eliza, although, Sam added sarcastically in her mind, she was nowhere near pretty like her dear Eliza. Speaking of Eliza, yes that girl had completely forgotten Sam in her torturous punishment, and was now sitting on one of the bench near where the boys were playing soccer.

She seemed to be interested in the match that not once did her eyes hover to Sam.

Sam sneered at her friend jokingly, making a mental note to brew some disaster in Miss Holland's life later. For now, she had to content herself with watching the face of Pitty Parker broil up like a tomato about to explode.

"Pulitzer!" Mrs. Harvey called out again at the figure which had stopped curling up and down, and Sam groaned internally. Couldn't she get a break? It would all be much easier if she could have peaceful break in-betweens without their Phys Ed teacher barking every time she stopped doing.

"It's alright, Sam," she talked to herself, "Just two more to go…" And with that, she pulled up herself to sit straight, letting out a sharp breath before falling back again on the mat, slowly. However much she was tired, Sam would never fall back hard so ignorantly to the back pain she would suffer if she did.

She loved herself too much to not care the stabbing throb that was sent up her pelvis bone whenever it met the hard ground.

"99…."

Beside her, Pitty was counting out loud: 57…58….59….

Sam thought about giving Pitty an advice, never to count out loud and save her breath, as she herself found it to be effective. Sam chortled smugly, quite liking the idea of being better at something than others. To be fair, it was safe to say that she was more experienced at this punishment more than any others of her grade.

"What?" Pitty asked disdainfully, having noticed the gloated look on the other.

The tone Pitty took had Sam turn her thoughts away – why should she help such a miserably pathetic creature? It's not like she'd be grateful for it anyway, that Parker.

"Nothing," Sam stuck out her tongue as she finished the last curl-up. With a victory smile, she rolled over to the side. Some of the boys noticed she had finished her torment, and most of them started whooping in cheer for her.

"Finally done it, slowpoke?" Troy Cliffe shouted out with a grin to the tomboy who was a best friend to all.

"Shut up, Cliffe," Sam groaned, clearly not in the mood for name-callings as Troy well knew. She was too fatigued to even think properly but nonetheless, she waved a fist into the air like a victorious Olympic champion, her grin bright and beaming, towards the group of boys who were having a time-out.

As she laid back staring at the clear blue sky, all drenched in sweat, the sound of Pitty painfully counting away became the sound of music to Sam's ears. Now that she herself was out of the clutches, she found a sudden rejoicing in her nemesis' torment.

Samantha was that sort of devil.

This time was unusual from her other Phys Ed classes, as Sam told herself that this was not ordinary – why, it was a chance to show Pitty that she was way better at her at this. Even though it wasn't exactly something to be proud of, Sam liked to find it positively so.

Pitty had initially felt really uncomfortable lying down in front of others, not only the girls but the boys as well, no! But Mrs. Harvey had harshly reprimanded her. Why, she asked, would anyone even give a second glance at them doing simple curl-ups?

It was true, though – although not in the way Mrs. Harvey had meant. The boys had grown accustomed to Sam over several years, and didn't really think of her as anything but another guy. So, now that Pitty was supposed to be joining, most of them was actually skittish because… well, Pitty was a girl. And Sam was not – at least to them.

They had practically tried to ignore the pretty girl beside the tomboy, not even acknowledging her presence as they felt very uncomfortable, and only exchanging the usual teasing remarks with Sam, whose tongue never ceased to produce comebacks even during P.E.

Sam had gladly recalled how she felt victorious right from the start – this was her thing, and Pitty was the one who was supposed to be treading on foreign territory. And thus, it could well be said that Sam easily had a hand over her nemesis this time.

She somehow felt proud, and couldn't help but show off just how beloved she was among her friend-group – wherever she went, she was well known, whether for good or bad. Besides… being friends with girls wasn't anything major, everyone had to befriend one of their own sex over family parties or business dinners. And more often than not, girls were asked to do so, in hopes of becoming acquainted with one another that would in some way affect their parents' businesses.

Even Rosie and Eliza had come into Sam's life that way. If her mother and theirs hadn't set up play dates often, they would not be where they were now.

And perhaps that was why befriending the guys was such an important thing to Sam, she felt eager to do anything that was considered abnormal to the eyes of society. And besides, it was quite a nice change to be able to goof around and joke about stuff that Eliza or Rosie would gasp at the idea of.

Sam heaved a sigh of relief at something solid against her chest and abdomen. It gave her a sense of comfort that she could fall onto.

Don't ever leave me… she said to the floor beneath her, dugging her cheek into it and huggling closely as if it was the love of her life. While she was mumbling and grumbling out of fatigue, a most irritating thought entered her mind.

She closed her eyes, and her thoughts wandered off to last night … his chest… how it had felt broad and solid against her…

"OH MY GEORGE!" she shouted at herself, sitting up as if to clear away the feeling that had been accumulating in her heart with the touch she imagined even from feeling the floor.

"Samantha!" Mrs. Harvey barked again, now standing next to them with a stern expression in her bloopers and the whistle hanging round her neck.

Sam gave a groaning scowl, "What? I've finished!"

"That doesn't let you yelling around the school courtyard, does it?"

"Oh for Washington's sake, Mrs. Harvey, it's already noisy here!" Sam spat distastefully, looking around at some of the girls finishing their agility test, and some seated in clumps to gossip. And of course, the boys were playing football on the other side.

"Then go off and join the others – or do you want to do your test now?" her teacher asked somewhat sincerely, although she could be well oblivious; always expecting these girls to have the same amount of endurance and strength as she, a 45-year-old well-built athlete, did.

Sam had scrambled up from the mat and hurriedly running towards Eliza on her bench at the mention of doing the agility test. "Not today!" She shouted out in response to Mrs. Harvey, oh couldn't the woman see she would die if she had to continue this?

When Sam had reached the bench, her friend gave her a beaming smile, with a warm greeting of "You're early today." Sam slumped down beside her, taking off her gym shoes carelessly onto the ground. Shrugging, she replied,

"My body couldn't stand being with Pitty Parker, it became more energetic than usual."

To this, several of the girls around her laughed – Debbie and Lauren had finished up their test, and joined Eliza in her swooning over the boys, each leaning over the bench from behind; Gabriella was sitting on the ground, drawing in the sand as she had nothing to do, and she was rather terrified of Pitty's friend group to join them; Rosie was nowhere to be seen – she had sprained her ankle during the test not 3 minutes in and had been carried back to the Sick Bay rather noisily (most of the noise coming from an angry Sam constantly finding euphemism words to replace the swear-words she wished to be blabbering at the injury of her dear beloved). Other than them, there was Charlotte and Brenda from Class 305.

Sam noticed that as soon as the laughter had died out, Eliza's eyes had shifted back towards the football match. Moreover, the other girls also returned back to whatever they were doing before. Thus a silence quickly fell on their group, and Sam wondered if they were usually quiet as this. She could not tell, for today was one of the rare days that she finished up just before the bell rang.

At last, grumpy at the situation and not seeing any sense in it, Sam grumbled out irritatingly, "Are you always like this?"

Charlotte leaned forward to see Sam from the across where Brenda and Eliza were sitting between. Brenda, who was getting a manicure from Charlotte, turned her head in unison with the other two girls standing behind, each raising a quizzical eyebrow.

Eliza, that little harpy, did not lift her head an inch from where she stared at the boys playing football – particularly one standing in front of the goal post.

"We have nothing to do," Brenda shrugged. Gabriella piped in from her sand-drawing, "We talk sometimes,"

The other followed up in agreement over the things they usually talked of – the summer, school, studying and stuff – to which Sam only scowled.

"Don't you do anything fun?"

There was so much she wanted to say – they had P.E twice a week but a physical one once only, and if she wasn't stuck doing curl-ups and push-ups every time, she'd want to make sure she enjoyed the period as much as possible. And now here they were, so dumbly sitting down and staring at a bunch of stupid boys as if there was nothing better to do.

But her anger was drowned in the shrill ringing of the bell, marking the end of the period. Soon, the girls were all heading towards the gate to leave for their own school just across the road, and the boys picking up the plastic cones and bringing in their soccer ball to the little brown shed behind the school.

Sam grumpily followed Eliza, linking arms with one another. The latter seemed to be in a very happy mood, and Sam decided to harshly remark on the subject so. Her friend just giggled, noting a trace of anger in Sam's tone but dismissing it because, well, everyone knew of a jealous Sam around these areas.

Not satisfied with Eliza's reply, Sam ventured, "I wish every stare you give him would actually give him more brain cells; that way he wouldn't be a total doofus, and might actually be worthy of you."

Eliza merely rolled her eyes, although yes, she agreed with her friend on that matter. Hugo Denton could be well oblivious – or perhaps he wasn't oblivious. Perhaps he was just too shy to take a step first? Eliza toyed with the idea, wondering if it'd be worth it for her to actually drop more hints or just play along for the time being.

After all, boys did not like eager girls.

Nonetheless, a little fire in her sometimes wished she had the bravery – or stupidity – that Sam had. Maybe then she wouldn't actually care about what others said, and finally follow her heart openly. Sam definitely had that bravery – or stupidity – but it was practically useless for her, as she did not seem to have any use of it.

"Sam," Eliza started, still lost in her own thoughts, "what would you do if you desperately liked a guy?"

"And suppose that guy is very much like Hugo Denton? I'd kick him in the ass until his nose bleeds," Sam replied with a mischievous grin, earning an eyeroll from her friend. But somehow, her already unstable mind wandered off – what would she do if she liked a guy?

It was so strange and shocking to even think of that notion, every guy she had come across had been a brother of sorts to her.

Except Tom. And that boy Jack Kelly….

She shook her head sincerely, "I don't know, man. It'd be weird,"

Yes, she didn't know. And she wouldn't want to any time soon. She sincerely hoped that her friend wouldn't either. And so far, Sam was glad Hugo Denton was being such a sissy to ever step up out of his comfort zone and their current level of friendship. Because if he did, Eliza would sure be over the moon. But where would that put Sam?

And Rosie too, of course.

Even now, they weren't dating, and Eliza would literally shove her girlfriends away from her mind once the object of her affections were near sight. It had actually taken a lot of convincing and promises on Eliza's side to win back a pouting Sam for weeks after the tomboy realized of her friend's sentiments.

You girls will always be special to me, Eliza used to croon. But somehow, that radiant face beaming with love resembled so familiarly to Edith's when she had announced of her engagement. And Sam was determined not to let it happen twice – if it was in her power to do so.

"Hey, do you know those news boys that always cross our school every day? Yeah, one of them wasn't there today, and there was a new one. He was taller, and soooo handsome."

Debbie was actually whispering in another stall that she shared with Lauren. But as Sam got out of her exercising outfit, she could clearly hear the words as vividly as she could picture a pair of sharp eyes piercing into her soul as if he knew what she didn't know.

"…shaped face and perfect eyebrows….even a jawline and- and"

News boys…eyebrows….handsome

No, it certainly couldn't be. There were more than a thousand news boys in Manhattan, who were probably handsome with perfect eyebrows. Although Sam didn't really know what they called perfect eyebrows nor handsome.

"Debbie, stop simping over strangers," Sam spat as soon as she had found her voice again. The other girl didn't reply, probably blushing from her inadequate manners of whispering.

But then came Jessica's reply, "Shut up, Pulitzer. You'd have been swooning too, if you'd seen him,"

When Sam unlatched the door that opened towards the bigger room, she found several girls snickering.

And she only glared back at them. This was a foreign territory she wouldn't like to step.

A/N : whoo, that was a 4000 word count (I usually only write 3k per chap) because I was feeling guilty for not updating. Three whole weeks! I'm really sorry guys, I fell ill and travelling back and forth between my home and grandma's, plus the amount of assignments and schoolwork we get at the end of the month was all just so overwhelming! And great news! – The first song chapter coming up next! Also, I'm thinking of working out an interaction between Sam and her Pa for a school essay titled "The Conversation". What do you think? Please send in your ideas, they'd be much appreciated!