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Three months later, it seemed to the boys that things were finally back to normal. Jack's leg still gave him trouble with a twinge of pain when he ran around, but nothing that the Newsie couldn't handle. The same thing was true with Racetrack and his arm. Now that his right arm wasn't what it was, when fighting he now favored his left arm more than the former. David's parents had decided after the incident that he could only sell on either holiday's or another occasion, and only when they said so. Bright Eyes hadn't had anymore encounters with Pulitzer, which suited her fine. Spot hadn't had any trouble with his head so far, and was sincerely glad of it. As he told Bright Eyes, "I gots ta take care of me boys. An' me boys got papes ta sell. An' I ain't about ta let some stupid headache bring me down!"

Bright Eyes felt so confident about never having to see Pulitzer again, that she didn't tense up anymore when she saw his carriage pull away from the World building. 'He cain't hoit me! He was neva gonna get me fadda! He's a lya! Like he's gonna own ta dat, an' like I's gonna go an' correct 'im. I gots me life right where I wants it, an' he ain't gonna try an' change it again!' She thought confidently.

Bright Eyes woke up one day with a thrill just to be alive. It was on these mornings that most of the boys who grumbled about getting up, would receive a friendly lecture on how wonderful it was that they even were up! To this they would grumble, but would be silent afterwards. "Beautiful day 'eh Race?" Racetrack scrubbed his face absentmindedly with a towel and tossed to her. "Yeah I guess. Seen betta, but whateva you say Brighty."

Bright Eyes whirled through her sanitaries and bought two hundred papers, much to the surprise of her friends. "But Bright, hows ya gonna sell all of 'em? You'll be eatin' paper sandwiches fer dinner!" Mush protested. "Naw, I'll sell 'em! Got a hot sellin' spot teday! She then shouldered her papers and walked off whistling. Kid Blink shook his head. "Man, I hate it when she acts like dis. Den sometin' happens to her an' she's da saddest ting in da woild." "Well ya cain't 'spect her ta be gloomy all da time! What would 'appen ta us if she was? Huh?" Jack protested to which all the boys murmured their reluctant agreement.

Bright Eyes headed toward her selling spot with a song in her heart and a song spilling out of her lips in a warbling whistle. In no time at all, one hundred and fifty of the papers were gone. "Allrighty! Fifty more papers to go!" Bright Eyes chirped to herself. Just then when Bright Eyes glanced up to yell the next headline, she saw a face in the crowd that made her choke on her words. The eyes of the person bored into her causing her to stare in horror at the face. The face was gaunt, the brown-red hair straggly, the blue eyes wide. Bright Eyes fell to the ground, shuffled her papers together and ran off toward the safety of the Lodging House. The man smiled and made his way through the crowd in the opposite direction.

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At around 7:00, Bright Eyes emerged from the Lodging House and silently made her way to Tibby's. The boys were there laughing and talking loudly. Racetrack's brown eyes made their way to hers, and she blushed and ducked into the booth. "So Bright, ya sell all dem papes?" Mush asked, laughing. Bright Eyes stirred the water that the waiter set in front of her. "Got fifty left." She remarked solemnly. Mush and Kid Blink began to laugh hysterically and Jack groaned, but pulled out two bits from his pocket and flipped it to the boys. "You guys bet on me!" Bright Eyes voice lifted in pitch as she spoke, silencing the boy's laughter. "You bet on me?!" She pushed herself out of the booth, threw the restaurant door open and slammed it with a large bang and jingling of the bells hanging from it. Uncomfortable silence reigned over the restaurant. Racetrack slid out of his seat and walked out the door after her. "Way ta go you guys." Jack said reproachfully.

Racetrack followed Bright Eyes all the way down to Central Park, where she threw herself down on a park bench and held her head in her hands. Racetrack slowed his run to a walk as he approached the figure on the bench. "So, didn't have a good day?" He asked amiably. "Just go away Race. I don't wanna talk right now." Bright Eyes' voice was muffled by her hands as she spoke dismally. Racetrack sighed and sat down on the bench beside the girl, patting her on the back. "Da guys didn't wanna hoit ya you know. Dey was jest havin' a little fun."

"Well it wasn't fun to me. It was mean." Bright Eyes' said desolately. "I know, I know. Ya wanna tell me whats bodderin' ya Bright?" Racetrack asked quietly. Bright Eyes sat up and stared at her hands. "What makes ya tink sometin's wrong? Nothin's wrong wit me." Racetrack smiled and coughed. "Yeah, I can tell. You've been real edgy since da rally, always runnin' off fer some reason too. Not comin' back fer hours on end." Bright Eyes glanced at Racetrack nervously. "You noticed when I left? I didn't think anyone knew." Racetrack smiled. "Yeah well, dere's a lot of tings I notice. I got worried 'bout ya. I had no choice in my opinion. Whats da matta Bright? How can I help?" Racetrack asked softly, gazing into the girl's eyes.

"Dere's nothin' you can do Race. Dis is one ting I need ta suffa alone." Bright Eyes stood up and patted Racetrack's back affectionately. "Danks though." She remarked wanly. Then she walked off into the night, leaving Racetrack alone and frustrated that he hadn't been able to find out what was wrong with her. After a few moments of thought, he slid off of the bench and began to make his way back to the Lodging House, pondering everything Bright Eyes had said.

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That night in the Lodging House saw Racetrack in a deep sleep, exhaustion from the day's labor taking over. But the familiar desire for thirst awoke him and he grumbled as he tripped and stumbled his way to the water pump. He gave the handle a good yank and as the water spouted out, held his hands under it to serve as a cup. After he finished drinking, he heard noises coming from the top of the stairs. Thinking that it was just the rats that unfortunately shared the building with the boys, he began to make his way back to his bed. But again the sounds ensued, making the boy curious. He made his way to the top of the stairs and listened. There was no sound.

Racetrack scoffed at himself and began to shuffle back toward the bunkbeds. "Stop! Please!" A female voice called desperately. Racetrack stopped in his tracks and turned around slowly. He had heard of ghosts, and knew to move slowly and then they wouldn't think that you were trying to hurt them or trying to run or something. When no ghostly apparition appeared, Racetrack tiptoed over to Bright Eyes' door, which was the only room by the stairwell. He pressed his ear to the door and listened. The plea's were coming from the inside of the depths of the room.

Racetrack slowly eased the door open and peered inside. By the light of the moon that streamed in through the window, Racetrack could make out the small form of Bright Eyes on the bed. She was hugging her arms and rocking back in forth as if comforting herself. Racetrack walked over to her and touched her arm. She did not respond. He then sat on the bed cautiously. "Whats da matta?" When Racetrack asked Bright Eyes the question, he glanced at her eyes.

They were glazed over and totally unseeing. "She's sleepin'." he murmured. "I'm hidin'." The girl's answer was as blank and dull sounding as her face. "Whatcha hidin' fer?" Racetrack asked. "I's hidin' from me father. He's gonna hoit me. He already hoit me momma. Angela's dead. I ain't got no one else now. He's gonna find me an' take me away." Racetrack blinked in surprise at the small speech given by the comatose girl. He had no idea who Angela was, or where her father could be, but he knew that he must reassure her, even though she was asleep.

"Hey Bright, dere's nothin' ta worry 'bout. I'll take care of ya's. Yer dad cain't find ya here. Why don't ya wake up?" At that moment, Bright Eyes turned at gazed at Racetrack. In the day, her eyes would've sparkled with life, but now, they were dead, and almost black, things that made Racetrack shiver as he gazed at her. "Me names' not Bright. Its Shailagh. I don't know a Bright. An' I don't wanna wake up! If I wake up, I'll find everything back the way it was! Daddy will find me, an' he'll beat me to a pulp till I die, I know it! Don't wake me up!" Bright Eyes' voice rose in panic at the prospect of meeting her father again and she began to cry. "Don't wake me up! Please don't wake me up!" She cried and cried that phrase over and over as Racetrack tried to get a hold of her so that he could shake this nightmare away from her.

Finally, he managed to grasp her convulsing shoulders and pulled her into his chest, hugging her as if he couldn't ever let go. She sobbed and put her arms around his neck like a child on her father's lap. Gradually, Bright Eyes grew quieter and quieter, until her sobs were obliterated completely and her hands that were a few minutes ago clasped tightly around Racetrack's neck, loosened and dropped slightly. Racetrack eased her off of his chest and laid her back on to her pillows, smoothing her ruffled hair and pulling the covers up to her chin gently. "Don't leave me." The plaintive remark struck Racetrack in his heart as he pulled up the girl's covers. He sat down in the rocking chair by Bright Eyes' bed and began to rock, slowly. "I won't eva leave ya Bright. Neva, neva, neva." Racetrack whispered softly.

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The next day when Racetrack awoke, he found himself back in his own bed. Thinking it had all been a dream, he walked over to Bright Eyes' door and looked in. The bed was unmade, the covers twisted around each other. He turned and suddenly saw Bright Eyes making her way down the stairs. He gave a sigh of relief and headed over to the washing pump. "Hey Race, ya ok?" Jack asked, in a concerned voice that made Racetrack confused. "Whaddya mean Cowboy? I's fit as a fiddle." Jack's eyebrows were suddenly knit, in a baffled manner. "But, you was in Bright Eyes' room in da rockin' chair. You was mutterin' in yer sleep. I took ya back ta bed last night. You sure yer ok?" Racetrack gazed at his friend, finally comprehending the reason for his return to his bed.

"Hey Cowboy, did Bright act a little strange dis mawnin'?" Jack splashed his face with water as he thought hard. "Well, jest a little. A little bit of her usual mawnin' spawk was gone dats all. I figured dat she didn't have a good night sleep or sometin'." Racetrack nodded and walked toward the stairs. "I gotta find her. Let me know if ya see her 'kay Cowboy?" Jack saluted and grinned. Racetrack ran down the stairs two at a time, trying to get to the Distribution booth hoping that he could catch Bright Eyes before she left. Several boys called out greetings to Racetrack as he approached the booth. "Hey Skits! Ya seen Bright?"

Skittery turned, his face still merry with laughter of a friend's previous joke. "No, she ain't been here yet. I was gonna ask you an' Cowboy if she was wit' you." Racetrack frowned. "She ain't wid us. You sure you ain't seen her?" Skittery nodded slowly, the grin evolving into a thoughtful frown. "Well don't worry I'll find her!" Racetrack yelled as he dashed down the street. But Racetrack did not find her. He searched all the haunts that she visited in Manhattan. Then he decided to see if the Brooklyn leader, Spot Conlon, had seen his friend.

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Bright Eyes ran up the steps, pounded on the door, but didn't wait for an answer and ran in through the door, practically bowling over Seitz on his way to answer it. "Miss, Miss! Don't go into Mister Pulitzer's study! Miss!" Seitz yelled helplessly as Bright Eyes ran upstairs to the study. She pushed the door open violently and stood in the room gasping as she looked at its occupants. Pulitzer was there, accompanied by, her father? The man had her fathers' face, eyes, complexion, even down to the scruffy beginnings of a beard on his chin. They both turned, astonished. Pulitzer was the first one to speak, or rather, splutter. "What on earth are you doing here without a proper entrance?!"

"Maybe I should burst in more often. I seem to find out more when I do." Bright Eyes panted, her eyes narrowing. Pulitzer frowned. "Well its just as well. I was going to summon you anyway. I have some more business for you to attend to." Bright Eyes rolled her eyes and headed toward the door, before a rough Irish voice stopped her. "Don't take anotha step toward that door, or you'll regret it me girl." Bright Eyes' hand dropped from the doorknob immediately. "Thats better. You can leave us Mr. O'Connor."

With that, the burly man walked out of the room, his shoulder brushed up against Bright Eyes and making her shiver. "Now Bright Eyes, this is the last thing I want you to do. I want for you to leave Manhattan." Bright Eyes' eyes widened in shock and her mouth formed words that she couldn't speak. "Let me finish. I don't want you to leave for a week or a day or a month. But forever. Tomorrow, you can go." Bright Eyes eyes' flashed. "Who are you to tell me to leave? I have my rights an' I don't hafta leave my home!"

Pulitzer sighed dismally. "Oscar, Morris." At the command, the Delancy brothers sauntered through the door, winking at Bright Eyes as they went. "Go and hurt permanently the Newsie they call Racetrack. Do you know him?" Oscar grinned. "Oh we know him. Kinda've a smart aleck kid. Good friend of Cowboy's too. Yer wish is my command." Bright Eyes' face paled. "No! I'll do it. I'll do it, just don't hoit Race." Bright Eyes said softly. "Awwww! Ain't dat sweet!" Morris scoffed.

Pulitzer smiled triumphantly. "I'll send you your ticket tomorrow at your selling spot. You'll leave at midnight tomorrow. You can go." Bright Eyes walked toward the door, then stopped and turned to Pulitzer. "One question foist Joe. Why are ya doin' dis? What did I eva do to ya?" Pulitzer's face hardened and he crunched a piece of paper in his hands.

"What did you do? What all your friends did to me. They took something more away than their victory and their tenth of a cent. They took my pride, as a newspaper man. They publicly humiliated me in front of all the other newspapers in New York. Do you know what its like to be humiliated in front of all those you tried so hard to make your allies and friends? No, you don't and you never will. Thats something that neither you or them can ever pay me back for. I'm hoping with this small action of my own, they will see and feel the pain that I felt and still feel. Now go."

Bright Eyes stared into the old man's eyes for but a minute and turned as she spoke. "Ya know Joe, somebody took sometin' away from me I loved more dan anytin' too. The hard life of da street took me whole family. All of 'em. Me fadda ta drink, and me mudda an' sista ta death. Guess dats one ting dat we got in common. We both lost what we loved da most." The door closed gently behind her, leaving Pulitzer alone.

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Bright Eyes slammed the door behind her and slumped up against the wall of the house, her hand on her face. 'Leave New Yawk? I've neva left New Yawk its my home. I cain't leave! An' if I don't, Race and da udda boys will get hoit. What am I gonna do? What have I done?' Bright Eyes though with a groan. "Awww, don't hurt Race! I'll do whatever you say but don't hurt Race! Ain't dat sweet Morris?" Oscar's sneering voice remarked. "Yeah, so sweet an' generous to dat poor street rat!" Morris put in. Oscar slumped up against the wall beside Bright Eyes, who turned away in disgust. "Poor Bright Eyes. Has ta leave New York fer good. An' poor Race. Don't ya love dat guy?" Bright Eyes whirled around to face Oscar, who smiled devilishly.

"Jest leave me an' Race alone alright Osca!" Oscar's hand caught Bright Eyes' fist as it raised to smack his face. "Cool down Bright! Dat guy ain't worth savin' or lovin' for dat matta. Did ya know what he did when he was in the refuge a couple of years ago?" Bright Eyes' fist lowered and she rolled her eyes. "Don't start Osca! All dat happened was he got caught gamblin'! Dats all! Dats it!" Oscar grinned and glanced at Morris. "Yeah, thats what you got told. By Racetrack right? Well I know the truth, and whether you want to or not, you are gonna hear it. The real reason why he was in there, he was drunk an' he was roughin' up people. One guy almost got killed." Bright Eyes' face remained expressionless, but her eyes blazed, much to Oscar's delight. "Don't say dat, he's neva touched too much beer in his life! He told me so! He said dat he'd neva touch too much of dat stuff 'cause it ruined his pop! I believe him!"

Oscar sighed and put his arm around Bright Eyes. "Sweet face, did he tell you that himself? Because I was there, an' was one of the guys he roughed up. See dis scar? He did that. You believe me now?" As he spoke Oscar pulled up his shirt sleeve to reveal a long scar running up half of the length of his arm. Bright Eyes shrunk back from the boy, disbelief written all over her face. "I gotta go!" Bright Eyes ran off into the night.

Oscar rolled his sleeve back down as Morris watched. "She'll neva believe you Oscar. You got that from Pop that one night when he was drunk. You know as well as I do that Race hasn't ever drank too much!" Oscar smirked. "Frankly Morris, I don't think she knows what to believe anymore." He patted his brother's arm and the two walked back inside Pulitzer's house, Oscar congratulating himself, and Morris listening to his brother in silent admiration.

Bright Eyes' hurried entrance into the Lodging House was unexpected. Boys looked up in surprise as she whirled by them and up the stairs to the bedroom. Jack saw her and walked up after her. When he found her, Bright Eyes was lying on her bed sobbing and clutching the pillow protectively to her chest. "Hey, hey. Whats dis? Huh? Whats goin' on? What happened? Ya hoit or sometin'?" Jack asked as he patted Bright Eyes' head. "Nothin's wrong. I jest, nothin's wrong." Bright Eyes hiccuped. "Oh I see. Jest cryin' fer da sake of it." Jack commented. "Yeah sometin' like dat." Bright Eyes said as she buried her head back into the pillow.

"Now come on Bright. I know ya too well ta fall fer dat. Whats wrong?" Jack asked, concerned. Bright Eyes then sat up as she rubbed her red eyes and brushed the tears away. "Jest one question Jack. Has Race eva drunk too much, so much dat he hoit someone?" She asked hesitantly. Jack sat still, thinking. "I dunno. He tol' me dat he neva drank too much. An' I trust him. He's my friend. Why? Don't you trust him?" Bright Eyes gazed at Jack momentarily, then dropped her head back on the bed. "I don't know anymore Jack. I don't know who to trust anymore."

Bright Eyes suddenly stood up, straightened her clothes and began to walk towards the door, Jack standing up and following her. "Where are ya goin'?" Jack queried. "Gonna go ta Brooklyn. I need ta see some people dere, an' plus it'll give you guys some time widout me." Jack's brow furrowed. "Whaddya mean, 'some time widout ya'? What makes ya tink dat we don't need ya?" Bright Eyes paused at the door of the Lodging House and put her hand up to the boy's face tenderly. "Ya don't. None of ya do. You'll do jest fine widout me. I'll be back in da mawnin', don't ya worry." Jack smiled and held the girl's hand a moment as it withdrew and then let it go as she stepped out the door.

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The sun arose over Brooklyn in a fiery sky. Streaks of orange, red and pink, raced each other to shed the first rays of light on the tallest buildings. Spot Conlon unsprawled himself and stretched, pulling on his dingy white shirt as he did so. As he straightened his wardrobe and ran his hands through his mussy hair, something outside caught his eye. He pulled on his suspenders, opened the window and stepped out on top of the roof. The figure sitting on the edge of the building turned and smiled, patting the place next to her. "Hey Bright." Spot said with a condescending air as he gazed at his childhood friend with admiration. "Hey Spot. Whatcha been up ta?" Spot smiled and gazed over the just now bustling city. "Well I was sleepin' a minute ago, no thanks to you!" Bright Eyes smiled and received the playful punch in her arm with ease.

"I guess da question really is, how are you? I been hearin' dat fate ain't been bein' too kind to ya lately." Spot remarked. "Who told ya, truly? An' don't go beatin' 'round da bush cuz I know dat even though ya got a hard shell, yer as soft as mush on da inside an' care about every boy's well bein'. Now who was it?" Bright Eyes asked in one breath. "Well, it was Race actually." Bright Eyes' mouth dropped as Spot's deathly serious face stared at the buildings. "Race? Ya sure?" Bright Eyes whispered. "Sure as I'm livin'. He was worried 'bout ya. Wanted ta know if you'd been showin' it when ya came here fer a night or two."

"And?" She questioned. "I said no, nothin' new. Why? Dere sometin' I should know about?" Bright Eyes rolled her eyes. "Now don't get all protective on me I can take care of myself." Spot gazed at Bright Eyes, scanning her face. "Is dere sometin' goin' on Bright?" Bright Eyes sighed. "No. Its jest da Delancy's an' dere boys givin' me some trouble dats all." Spot's eyes remained on Bright Eyes, assurances of protection and revenge shining out of them. "Yer a little too concoined fer it ta be da Delancys." Spot said quietly. "Dere's nothin' goin' on alright!" Bright Eyes said, frustration edging her words. Spot threw his hands up in the air. "Fine, fine. One ting I've leained ova da years is neva argue wit' a woman. Usually I tend ta stick ta dat. Unless provoked of course." He said with a grin.

Bright Eyes' smiled faintly and sighed. "Spot, what would ya do, if one of yer best friends left New Yawk an' didn't come back? Would ya pound 'em?" Spot watched Bright Eyes stiffen as she spoke, then took a deep breath. "Well, I dunno Bright. Anybody particular?" Bright Eyes shook her head. "No. No one in particular I guess. Just what would be yer reaction?" This time, it was Spot who straightened the arch in his back and stared out over the awakening city. "Well, I'd be pretty mad dats fer sure I guess. I mean, not really, really mad. Jest hoit more I guess, 'specially if dey didn't tell me dat dey were leavin' an' didn't say goodbye."

Bright Eyes sighed and stood up. "Dats jest what I wanted ta know Spot. Say Spot, ya know dat yer me best friend right? An' dat no one kin eva take yer place right?" Spot nodded and grinned coyly. "Of course I know! I ain't stupid. It ain't like every goil in Brooklyn an' beyond feels da same way ya know!" Bright Eyes laughed, spit into her hand and held it out to the boy, who in turn did the same and recepted it tenderly.

Bright Eyes made her way down the ladder of the fire escape slowly, then paused and looked back up at Spot, who was leaning over the edge of the landing. "I really do appreciate all ya've eva done fer me Spot. I jest want ya ta know dat. Bye Spot." She said, softly. "Bye Bright. See ya lata!" Spot called, not noticing the change in the girl's tone as she spoke. Bright Eyes nodded and quickly climbed down the ladder, Spot's gaze clapped on her as she went. When she vanished out of his line of vision, Spot straightened and rubbed his head. Then he climbed down the ladder, meeting up with his friends in front of the Lodging House.