Racetrack and Bright Eyes sat outside the race tracks hanging around till every person who had made a bet with Race, had paid his dues. By that time, twilight was coming and with it, huge storm clouds. Racetrack sat on the park bench counting his money. "Well dats da last of it! Can't believe it Bright! Its da foist time I've won in a long time! And look at da cold hard cash! Huh Huh!" Racetrack said as he held the money in Bright Eyes' face. "O.k. Race o.k.! I get it! We're rich now!" she laughed. Racetrack's eyes softened. "Tanks fer comin' Bright." "No problem." She answered. The two looked into each others eyes, dark brown ones into dark blue ones.
Suddenly a raindrop spattered on Racetrack's nose, then another fell on Bright Eyes' cheek, then a torrent began to fall from the heavens, engulfing the two in rain. "Hurry up Bright! Lessen yer wantin' ta get all wet!" Racetrack laughed. There was a wild scramble for the money on the bench as the torrent grew stronger and stronger. Then Racetrack grabbed Bright's hand and they rushed to a nearby alley, laughing and yelling. The two entered the alley, sopping wet laughing at each other's wet beings. Then Bright Eyes stopped laughing and gazed at Racetrack, who in turn did the same. Bright Eyes then reached for Racetrack, and their lips locked gently. Rain leaked into the alley falling on the already wet twosome, but they didn't mind. Racetrack and Bright Eyes had waited for this moment for years. They just stood there holding each other gently in the dark, just letting the world stand still.

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At the Newsie lodge, the rest of the gang sat inside playing poker and listening to the rain. They had been sitting there for two hours waiting for Jack, Racetrack and Bright Eyes to come back. The boys were nervous. It wasn't like them all to be out late at the same time. "Meybe, we should go an look for 'em." Kid Blink suggested. The boys looked at each other. The way things were going that didn't sound like such a bad suggestion right about now. "I'll go witcha Kid." Mush said sitting up from his card game and pulling on his shoes. Snipeshooter, Snitch and Skittery also agreed to go with Kid Blink and Mush. But as they opened the door to begin their search, Jack ran in soaking wet.
The boys just stared at Jack for a minute, then the whole lot of them began to laugh and hand over towels to Jack. Jack accepted them gratefully. Then he scanned the crowd and frowned. "Hey Blink, why are you runnin' the poka games tenight? Race not feelin' up to it or somethin'?" The boys looked at each other uncomfortably. "Well," Kid Blink began. Les who had been sitting in the corner with Flick spoke up suddenly. "Racetrack and Bright Eyes haven't come back yet Jack. We haven't seen 'em since they left for the races this afternoon." Jack looked around at the former search party. "Dat what you was goin' out dere for? Ta look fer me, Race and Bright?" The boys nodded. "Well den, count me in. It ain't right for dem ta be out so late. Dey mighta got mixed wit some unpleasant company."
They came in so quietly that when Racetrack spoke, everyone, including Jack, jumped. "Hiya boys!" Everyone turned to the doorway and saw Racetrack and Bright Eyes. Both of them were soaked to the bone, but what was peculiar to the boys was they both looked unusually happy and warm. Jack laughed. "All right what are ya hidin' Race?" Racetrack blushed and shrugged. "Oh nothin', just tons o' buckage from da races dat we won!" The boys all crowded around Racetrack with shrieks of insistence to see the proof. "Hey! I'd like some clothes guys!" All the boys turned to Bright Eyes and laughed as they got numerous articles of clothing from their own stash. She took it and walked quickly to her room to change.
During all the hubbub, Jack managed to get Race out of the room so that he could talk to him. "So whats goin' on Race?" Racetrack shrugged. "I dunno whatcha talkin' about Cowboy." "Really? Den why are you an Bright so, I dunno glowy and happy, huh?" Racetrack's face, Jack noticed, went a tad pink whenever Bright Eyes' name was mentioned. "Its somethin' about Bright Eyes ain't it?" Before Racetrack could answer, Kloppman yelled up the stairs, "Some folks are tryin' ta sleep before tomorra so unless one of ya's is wantin' a red bottom, I suggest that you boys go to BED!"
At that, the chattering in the boy's room went quiet and squeaks from the beds were heard in succession. Racetrack turned toward the room. "Betta get goin' Cowboy. 'Fore ol' Kloppman kills me." "Race," At the sound of his name, Racetrack turned to Jack. "Race, I jest ain't used ta ya not tellin' me stuff, dats all. Maybe sometime?" Racetrack's face softened and eased a little. "Yeah, sometime Cowboy. Jest, not now. No offense ner nothin'?" Jack smiled and put his hand on the smaller boy's back.

"None taken Race."

It was last year at the end of the rally, everyone around Racetrack was cheering and yelling. Then all of a sudden, Sarah came up to Jack and started kissing him. Catcalls mingled with his own. Then he saw Bright Eyes. He thought she was absolutely beautiful, as she stood next to him, watching Jack and the rest of the Newsies with proud eyes. Then she caught his gaze and they both reached for each other at the same time, and this time the cat calls were for him and all eyes were on him and Bright.
Then time sprang forward, to that night in the alley. The kiss was relived over in his mind, just as sweet and innocent. Then all of a sudden, the Delancys tore her away from him. Then one of them held Racetrack's arms behind his back as Bright Eyes was torn from him kicking and screaming, with a club held menacingly over her head. "NO!" Racetrack sat up with a start and head met wood with a splintering crash. "Ohhhhhh ouch!"
"Hey shat dup ova dere!" Racetrack rubbed his head as yells erupted around the room. "Oh, dats why I hates bein' on da bottom bunk!"
"Whatsa matta Race?" Cowboy's voice came floating off of the top bunk across from Racetrack.
"Oh nothin', jest dreamin'."

"Bout what?"

"Oh, kissin'."

"Good kissin'?"

"Oh yeah!"

Jack sighed. "Well at least you know it was real Race. Seems like alla mine are fake. Dats all I gets stuck wit'. Fake stuff." Racetrack stood up and leaned over Jack curiously. "Whatcha talkin' bout Cowboy?" Jack turned toward Race. Racetrack was surprised to see that the boy looked terribly uncomfortable.

"Its just dat. Well, me an' Sarah ain't meant fer each udda, I guess. An' I tol' her dat tonight."
Racetrack was speechless. He had never known that Sarah and Jack were having problems or fighting. They always seemed so perfect for each other, despite the fact that Sarah was a little patronizing at times. "Hey, Jacky. When did all dis start, huh?" Jack shrugged.

"Not long afta da strike was ova."

"But dat was a year ago Jack!"

"I know."

Jack sighed to himself and turned over. "Jest be glad dat you got somethin' true Race, while you still got it." Racetrack stared at his friend for a while longer and patted his back. Then he too crawled into bed and fell asleep, trying not to think of his previous nightmare.

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Mr. Weasel waited impatiently outside Joseph Pulitzer's office. He had been there for over an hour, and the chubby man was not pleased. "The least he can do is be home when I say I have somethin' important to say to him! People don't seem to know the meaning of important anymore!" Weasel mumbled. As he spoke, Pulitzer's butler, Seitz, opened the door for him. "Mr. Pulitzer will see you now." "Well, its about time!" Mr. Weasel protested as he shoved past Seitz, and walked into the office.
Mr. Pulitzer was standing near his window overlooking the city, puffing a cigar. He turned as Weasel entered. "Ah, Mr. Wiesel. I understand that you had something very important to tell me." Weasel gulped. Well, here goes nothin'. Weasel thought. "Mr. Pulitzer, sir. I was wondering if you remembered the strike last year?" Mr. Pulitzer began to fume, startling Weasel. "REMEMBER THE STRIKE! Of course I remember the strike! Do you take me for a fool?" He then stood silently as if pondering his words before he spoke again, quietly this time. "Why do you want to know?"
"Well sir, I personally feel terrible about how the strike turned out sir. And well," Weasel stuttered. "Yes, go on." Mr. Pulitzer prodded. "Well sir, I was wondering if there was a way you could help me get back at them, the Newsies that is. They've given you some pretty hard medicine I've heard and even made you out to be a fool when they used your presses to print their paper." Weasel said in one breath. Mr. Pulitzer motioned Weasel to continue after comprehending what he was saying. "So I was hoping that you would help me with a little plan I've concocted for them. Somethin' special, seeing that the anniversary of the strike is next week." Pulitzer fingered his beard and chuckled, blowing cigar smoke into the air and watching it disappear before he spoke again. "What did you have in mind, Mr. Wiesel?"

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"I dunno Medda, I know Jack wanted ta use da hall but I's just not sua how many boys is gonna come! I can't even give you an estimate! It might be a lot more dan last yea though." Bright Eyes said to Medda Larkson as she walked through the temporarily empty music hall where Medda performed. As she stared at the seats, she remembered that night. Yeah, I had sat right dere with Spot afta Medda insisted I sing a solo during "High Times, Hard Times". Den Racetrack went up wit' da rest of da boys and "assisted" Medda. Some a dem boys can't carry a tune, but it was fun all da same. Then the bulls came, and before me an Spot lit out, I saw Racetrack get smacked dang hard by a big punk. I memba I asked Spot ta stop so we could help 'im, but it was too late. "Why da heck do I keep thinkin' of him all da time!!" Bright Eyes yelled unexpectedly, surprising both herself and Medda.
"Vhat is wrong? Are you allright, dahling?" Medda asked, concerned. Bright Eyes shook her head, her face on fire. "It was nothin Medda ferget it." Medda shook her head and sat next to Bright Eyes on the swing attached to the stage. "You know, I vas in love, vonce or tvice." Bright Eyes looked Medda, now curious. "Whaddya mean Medda?" Medda looked at her knowingly. "You know exactly vhat I mean Bright Eyes."
Bright Eyes blushed as Medda sighed and began again. "I couldn't stop thinking about him, not even for a minute. I tried to erase his face from my mind, but it was impossible. I couldn't love him. Not ever. But I did. No matter vhat. No matter how hard I tried." Medda's shoulders slouched and she bent over and held her hands in her lap as Bright Eyes looked at her startled. The idea of Medda, being in love and feeling the same way she did, was a new idea to Bright Eyes.
"What happened to 'im?" Medda straightened. "That I can't tell you. It is a secret for now. Later maybe. In the meantime, cherish your love. It might disappear in any minute if you aren't careful. Treasure it, for it is truly the greatest treasure in the world." Medda said quietly, as she stroked Bright Eyes' face. "Now get along and tell Jack that he can have the hall, but let me know before hand when he vants to set up! Go on now!" Bright Eyes smiled and left Medda sitting on the swing, engrossed in her private thoughts of all of her yesterdays.
Medda's words had made Bright Eyes think. So preoccupied was Bright Eyes that she didn't notice that she was being followed, until she was about a block from the Lodging House, when she heard a can being kicked. Quickly she spat out her cigarette and threw up her fists expectantly. "O.k. whoeva's out dea, come out if'n you is wantin' ta fight wit me! C'mon!" All was silent for a moment, but then a familiar voice spoke from the shadows. "We don't wanna hoit ya dis time Bright Face." Bright Eyes' fists, who had uncurled for a moment, were up by her face in a nanosecond, when she realized the voice's owner.
"Osca, don't you be tryin' to pull somethin' wit me! You knows dat I can whip ya, and den set Spot on ya's if'n I gets a mind ta." Oscar and Morris stepped out of the shadow of the alley, hands at their sides looking very innocent. " C'mon Brighty put yer fists down. We don't wanna hoit ya. Just talk to ya and tell you a little bit o'somthin' we heard somewhere's that concerns you." Bright Eyes' fists stayed where they were, but she loosened a little as the Delancy's approached her slowly. Oscar came up to her and shoved her fists down by her sides as he spoke.
"Now, dats betta. So, shall we tell ya what we heard?" When Bright Eyes didn't respond, Oscar shrugged and began speaking again. "We been hearin' things all ova town, even in Brooklyn and da Bronx and udda places. People don't respect ya like dey used ta. People think that you ain't worth anythin' cause you live in a boy's Lodging House. Even some Newsies are talkin' 'bout dis. "
Bright Eyes shrugged. "Where else am I supposed ta stay? Not in no orphanage eva!" Even though she spoke with a sort of confidence in herself, it was obvious that she was breaking down gradually as she listened to the boy. Oscar sat down on a crate and continued as if he hadn't heard Bright Eyes. "There's also been some talk dat if you don't change, some people might come afta ya. Powerful people. And not jest bulls eitha." Oscar stood up again and put his hands on Bright Eyes' shoulders. Bright Eyes cringed slightly and refused to look in his face, that now appeared truly concerned for her well being. "I'm sayin' this as a warnin' and I doin' dis because it is a friend's duty to spread woid concernin' uddas."
Bright Eyes turned on Oscar furiously. "Since when did ya care about me Delancy? You neva did, not in my lifetime! And if'n yer thinkin' dat you can soften me up a little by tellin' me stuff dat probably ain't true, well yer dead wrong!" Bright Eyes shook herself from Oscar's grasp and walked hurriedly down the street and around the corner to the Lodging House. Morris walked up to Oscar and spoke for the first time. "Whaddya think Osca?" Oscar shook his head in the affirmative as he gazed after the girl. "We got her. Lets go report." The two then slunk back into the shadows of the alleys from where they had come, almost like snakes slinking into a burrow.

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From the minute that Bright Eyes walked into the room, Kid Blink could see that she was troubled. The way she walked and the way she offhandedly said hello to the boys was a let on. Racetrack wasn't there, he was still selling his papes with Cowboy, so Blink took it upon himself to talk to her. Blink followed Bright Eyes onto the fire escape, where he sat down next to her on the railing. "Whatcha doin'?" Bright Eyes didn't even look at Blink when she answered, just gazed out at the city. "Nothin'. Just thinkin'." "Bout what Bright?" Bright Eyes finally turned her eyes on Kid Blink dejectedly. "I really don't wanna talk about it now Kid. Just some stuff I heard in da street. Where's Race? Do ya know?"
Now Kid Blink knew that something was wrong with Bright. She never changed the subject that quickly. Never. She just didn't do that. The thing that's bothering her must be pretty bad, Blink thought. But he answered her question. "Race is still sellin' his papes wit Jack. He should be back later tonight." Kid Blink then brought out a cigarette and handed it to Bright Eyes, who took it and began to smoke it with a passion. "Bright Eyes, what kinda stuff did you hea on da street?"
Bright Eyes stared at the cigarette smoke curling around itself, then disappearing into the night sky. "Nothin' of importance." Blink was so frustrated with Bright that it took all of his energy to keep from shaking her. "It musta been pretty important if'n you're actin' like dis." Bright Eyes' head shot up angrily. "Like what Kid? What am I doin' wrong?" Blink's good eye began to flash as he spoke in the same angry tone as the girl, whose face was now bright red, and growing redder. "Like how about dis, oh nothin's wrong Blink, I'm just totally out of it and am so dejected dat I hafta smoke a cigarette like its my last one I'll eva get! Nope, nothin' wrong Blink!" Blink imitated.
The sting on Blink's face was nothing compared to the anguished look on Bright Eyes' face as she slapped him. Blink's hand flew to his red cheek instinctively, looking up into her face, utterly bewildered. Bright Eyes had never touched one of the Newsies like that, except in fun. Bright Eyes fled from the fire escape, jumping down the stairs two at a time. Blink called after her, but she refused to let herself listen.
You just hit one of yer best friends fer no good reason! He was just concerned 'bout ya and whaddya do? Ya slap 'im cross his face! Ya bum! Bright Eyes' thoughts filled her mind and body with an anguish that finally ripped from her chest as she slumped into an alley, tears falling down her face and onto the dirty ground. She couldn't go back there, not tonight anyway. Still sobbing, only more quietly, Bright Eyes lay on the ground till her sobbing turned to whimpering when she passed out from exhaustion.