Day Two

"I thought you wasn't gonna show up," Racetrack observed as I ran into the square, late again.

"It's okay," I said, snatching his hat off his head. "Jack's gonna be late too." He gave me one of his looks that said, "how did you know that?" but I just crammed my tangled hair up into his hat and smiled.

Ahead of us, we could hear outraged shouts. "They must have just found out," I said, grabbing Racetrack's hand and pulling him behind me.

"Found out what?" he asked, bewildered, as I tugged him into line.

"What is dis?" someone howled.

"Dey can't be serious!"

"Somebody tell me dey're jokin'. Just tell me it's a joke."

"It betta be!"

Dutchy counted his change and moved up to the window, muttering.

"No, wait!" I shouted, jumping in front of him to stop him. "What are you doing?"

"What's it look like? Buyin' my rotten papes. For sixty cents a freakin' hundred…" he added, glowering.

"No, don't do it! Nobody do anything 'til Jack shows up!" I looked around to make sure the rest of the gathered newsies heard me.

"What's this about, Margaret?" Race asked, behind me.

"Just don't, okay?" Some of them looked uncertain, but sank down onto the steps to await Jack's arrival.

A few minutes later he finally arrived. From where I lingered at the back of the crowd, I heard Blink's whiny "They jacked up the price!" speech, and all that followed it. Racetrack noticed me mouthing along, and gave me a funny look. I stopped with a guilty smile. I think sometimes I weirded him out, when I knew stuff like that. I got the feeling he believed me about coming from the future—how could he not have?—but he liked to sort of accept it without thinking about it too much. Still smiling apologetically, I drifted away toward the back of the crowd. I knew Race had some lines coming up, after all. I didn't know what it would do to the movie or anything, to have me screwing up the scenes. I had decided to try to keep things running just like in the movie, because anyone who's ever seen Back to the Future knows that stuff you do in the past can majorly screw up the future.

And I was also like Racetrack. I knew I was from the future, but I didn't like thinking about it too much, either.

I hung around the edges of the crowd as we followed Jack to the statue, and pushed thoughts of time traveling out of my head as I joined in loud and proud in "The World Will Know". It was so incredible, feeling this big rush as everyone decided to strike. It was Jack, I could tell, who was making us all so excited about it. That guy's got serious charisma. If we'd been singing instead about jumping off the Brooklyn Bridge like lemmings, I would have been the first one to cannonball into the water.

Afterwards, Jack split up his 'ambastards' and sent us out into the city. I tagged along with Racetrack to Midtown.

"So who's the Midtown leader?" I asked as we walked.

"A guy by da name of Joey Crow," he told me. "I've known him a long time."

"So how come you picked Midtown?" Personally, I knew I would have picked Brooklyn… If I'd stuck around while Jack was looking for volunteers, I would have been the first to shout, "Hey, we ain't scared of Brooklyn!" Oh well, I'd get to meet Spot soon enough.

"Like I said, Joey an' me go way back. Grew up in da same neighborhood." He stopped, seeing a kid with some papers on the corner.

"Hey, Marbles," he greeted him. "You know where Joey's at?"

"I'd check down by da warehouse, Race," the young boy responded, showing a chipped tooth as he talked. "'Cos I ain't seen 'im around much today."

"Thanks," Race said, and we headed on, presumably in the direction of the warehouse. When we got there, a few boys smoking out front recognized Racetrack and there were handshakes all around.

"Say, fellas, is Joey around?" he asked shortly.

"I'se right heah, Race," a voice came from the doorway. I don't know what I was expecting—something along the lines of Spot Conlon, I guess, but that's not what I saw. Joey Crow wasn't very tall, and really kind of puny looking, scrawny and pale with brownish-red hair. When he walked down the steps, I noticed one of his ankles twisted funny, and gave him a slight limp, but he walked without the aid of a cane. Definitely not intimidating, but somehow I could sense that he was stronger than he looked. Maybe not physically, but in other ways.

He smiled and spit-shook with Racetrack. "Good ta see ya, Racetrack," he said, then saw me and tipped his hat. "Who's da lady?"

"Dis is Margaret, a new friend a mine. Margaret, dis is Joey Crow, leadah of Midtown."

"Nice to meet you," I said politely, and we shook hands.

"So, what brings you to Midtown?" Joey asked, leaning against the wall. "Business or pleasure?"

"Business, actually, Joey," Racetrack said. "I guess da Joinal raised deir papes price too?"

"Yep," an anonymous boy answered. "Up ten cents a hundred."

Joey nodded his head. "Hearst's out ta gouge us, just like Pulitzah," he said. "So I guess you Manhattan boys want ta do somethin' about it."

"Dat's right," Race said. "Jack's got the idea dat we can go on strike. You know, refuse to sell any papes. He thinks dat without us, da newspapers won't make any money, and dey'll hafta give in. But to make dis really work, we're gonna need every newsie in New Yawk."

Joey nodded again, slowly. "Anyone else agreed to it yet?"

"You're da first, Crow."

He seemed to consider this. I liked Joey Crow, what I knew of him. He seemed thoughtful, and smart. He was obviously more powerful than he looked, to be the leader of a territory even with his handicap. I mean, imagine Crutchy as leader of Manhattan—ah! No! Bad thought! DON'T imagine that. I shook my head vigorously to get the idea out of my head. When I tuned back into the conversation, it looked like they were just about wrapping things up.

"Well I'm gonna talk to all da guys about it, a course. But if dey all feels da way I feels, you can count Midtown in."

"Thanks, Joey," Racetrack said, shaking hands. "I knew we could count on youse."

"You come back sometime soon, Race," Joey called after us. "We'll play some cards. Bring your friend too!"

"I'll do dat!" Race called back, and I waved over my shoulder.

"Nice meeting you, Joey!"

Racetrack smiled at me. "So, dat went well. You up for some lunch?"

He introduced me to the fine dining of a Midtown hot dog stand, and we ate sitting on the grass of a small park.

"It's so peaceful," I said, wadding my wrapper into a ball. "No cars or traffic or anything."

"Mmmn," Racetrack responded, leaning back on the ground. After a few moments' thoughtful silence, he added, "and I have no idea what you're talkin' about."

I smiled and leaned back on my elbows in the grass, watching a horse-drawn wagon roll by. It was so serene and the sun was so warm on my face, it wasn't long before I nodded off to sleep.

Racetrack woke me some time later. "We gotta get back," he said. "Dey'll be wanting to hear from us."

"Oh yeah," I said groggily, rubbing my eyes and hoping I didn't have grass imprints on my face. I brushed some grass clippings off of my pants, settled Race's cap on his head, and we headed back to Manhattan.

Everyone lounged around the statue, talking and playing marbles and making signs. Racetrack joined a game of marbles, but since I hadn't the slightest idea how to play, I helped with the signs, serving as general spell-checker.

"You're not gonna have room for the E," I directed someone. "And Specs, you've got the I and the K swapped."

"Oops," he said, his brush dripping white all over the board.

I shook my head. "Well you killed it. Use the other side, why don't you?"

We all looked up from our work when Jack, Boots, and David re-entered the square. Already knowing what they were going to say, I painted out a sign while they relayed the news from Brooklyn. Still in a lazy mood from my nap, I stayed behind the statue while everyone danced to "Seize the Day". I mean, let's face it, the choreography in that is pretty fruity. So I sang along and painted signs.

The second I could hear the circulation bell ringing, though, I scrambled to my feet.

"Anybody hear dat?"

"No!"

"So what're we gonna do about it?"

I joined the crowd just in time to shout, "Soak 'em!" Together with all the other newsies, I ran off to wreak havoc on the World.

And wow, I thought going crazy on the papers looked fun in the movie, but it was fantastic in real life. I shredded papers into confetti and threw stuff around and even managed to toss a tomato or two. Reckless and wanton vandalism, baby. But right when it was getting fun, I heard the shrill police whistle.

"Oh, crap!" I jump off a stack of papers and grab Race's arm. "Beat it, Race!"

He shoved me ahead of him and out the gates. Even in the panic, I took a second to thrill at the chivalry of it all. Women and children first! But I remembered something, and as I ran, I turned and shouted over my shoulder. "Race! Get Crutchy!"

He nodded and turned back toward the gates as I sprinted on ahead. Somehow, though, I knew that no matter what I did, he wouldn't get Crutchy in time. I was right. Later in the lodging house, Race was feeling really bad about it.

"I shoulda remembered him soona," he berated himself, throwing his cap on his bed.

"Forget it Race," I told him, trying to sound comforting. "It wasn't your fault he didn't notice."

"Dey musta took him to da Refuge," Jack said, coming up behind us and looping his rope over his shoulder. "Don't sweat it, Race. Me and Davey'll bust him outta dere."

"Alright, Jack," Blink said, clapping him on the back. Several others called their support as Jack headed out.

Racetrack shrugged, not really looking any happier. "Yeah, he'll get 'im," he said. "C'mon, Margaret. I'll see ya to your place."

He walked me back to my hotel, and we agreed to meet out in the square again the next morning. I waved goodbye from my window as I watched him walk down the cobblestone street, under the light of the streetlamps. Then, exhausted from my long day, I tumbled into bed and fell fast asleep.