Chapeter 8- Molly or Tom
DISCLAIMER- I =sniff= don't =sniff= own =sniff= newsies. Stinkin
Disney had ta go and copyright 'em! It ain't fair! we got no rights
at all! Well from now on , me and my pocket newsies are on strike!
*starts yelling strike and the mini newsies join in marching in a circle*

Two weeks later...
Race was lying awake in his bed. It wasn't night or anything and he should have been selling papers but he was sick.
Sick with the same thing that killed skittery. He couldn't rest but he couldn't walk more than ten feet. All he could do was think of Diahan.
He thought he was over but how could anyone get over those green eyes and soft lips. He wished more than anything he could be in blink's position.
Kissing that sweert smile. It was now even sweeter. For Diahan was going to have a baby. Now he really wished he was Blink.
Just then his weak body shook with a hard cough.

"Are you okay?" Diahan's voice said. She had just entered the room carrying a small bowl of soup.
"yes" Race choked. "Here , da docta said ya needed ta drink two bowls of soup every day." She handed him the bowl.
He took a sip and smiled as the warm soup sank down his throught.

"How's the baby doing?"

"It's fine." diahan said with a smile patting her already large stomach.

"Whatcha gunna name it?"

"Molly if it's a goil and Tom if it's a boy"

They looked at each other in scilence. "Well , i's got ta get back to me woik."
She left with a smile. Race still had trouble beliving he would soon be refered to as, Uncle Racey.