Chapter 2
Kid Blink sighed as he saw Jack and Bumlets returning without Mush. "I guess no one found him?" At both of his friends' head shakes, Blink closed his eyes for a moment. "I hope Spot had more luck than we did."
Unfortunately, Bumlets had temporarily forgotten what he had overheard in the refuge. Having had his mind on Racetrack and if he'd be all right, he merely nodded in response to Blink, and they headed back to the lodging house.
As they entered their home, Blink answered the unasked question from the awaiting newsies in the room with a sigh. Skittery took his jacket back from Jack to put over his own shoulders, and he walked to his bunk to get some money from his light money sack.
"Yer gonna sell?" Kid Blink asked blankly.
"Even if Race is unconscious an' Mush is missin', we can't afford ta not sell, Blink." Snitch, back from the refuge, spoke up.
"I know." Blink murmured, dejected. "All right, let's go." He slumped and slowly made his way downstairs.
He was about to make his way outside when he heard a voice. "Kid Blink."
Blink turned. "Yeah, Kloppman?" He asked the old man kindly.
Kloppman handed Blink a jacket, worn, but warm.
Letting out a smile, Kid Blink turned to go outside while putting his arms through the thin sleeves of the jacket.
Feeling a hand on his shoulder, Blink turned again to see a hopeful smile on Kloppman's face. "I'll keep one eye out for Mush and the other on Race. I'll let you know if anything happens."
Blink smiled gratefully at the kindness of the aged man, then turned, braving himself for the cold awaiting outside.
Usually, Kid Blink would have found that day's headline easy to improve, but that day he was lagging terribly. By the time that Blink would have finished selling, only a quarter of his papers had been sold. Standing on a deserted street, Blink kneeled down, placing his coarse hand in the fresh snow. Pushing himself back to his feet, Kid Blink turned to look up at the sky above him, and at the falling snow. If the world had so much beauty in everything, then why did people ruin it with violence?
Shaking his head, Blink convinced himself that when he returned to the lodging house, Kloppman would be the bearer of some kind of good news.
"Kloppman?" Blink called as he entered the lodging house an hour later.
Kloppman looked at Blink sadly. "I'm sorry, Blink." His slow, husky voice apologized gently.
Blink sighed, looking down at the worn floor. "It's all right, Kloppman. T'anks, anyway." He replied, disheartened.
Once upstairs and sitting on his bed, Kloppman's words rang in Kid Blink's ears. Before he had entered the bunkroom, completely crestfallen, Kloppman's modulated words had caused Blink to turn around to look at his elderly friend, who responded with a hopeful smile.
"Don't lose heart." Blink repeated, meditative. His eyes moved to the left, watching his unconscious friend, whose swollen nose was slowly healing. Where was Mush? Was he unconscious, or... was he dead? Where was he, now? Laying somewhere? Was he in pain? What could Blink do now, with what was happening all around him?
A twittery voice came to hearing. "Hiya Blink! How ya' doin'?" A boy limped over, sitting on the bed across from Blink's.
Blink let out a listless smile. "Hiya, Crutchy."
The complaisant teenager watched Blink, ruminative. "Ya' know, Blink... With all dat's been happenin' lately, I been t'inkin' - a lot."
Crutchy looked at his friend, waiting for a sign that he was listening. Blink looked up. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." Crutchy nodded. "When t'ings are goin' good fer me, I t'ink a lot 'bout otha's, and about da bad t'ings that are happenin' fer them, and what I cin do ta help. But, I realized, that when t'ings ain't great fer me, then I jest t'ink 'bout those t'ings, and not 'bout otha's. Bad t'ings are happenin' all ova', and, no matter how bad somet'in' seems fer you, it ain't da woist. It don't help not'in' ta feel bad 'bout somet'in' - ya' gotta act on it. Den you cin start helpin' otha's again."
Blink listened carefully to the thoughtful words of his friend. "Ya' know, Crutchy," he spoke, no longer sounding sepulchral, "that makes a lotta sense. T'anks." He said, standing.
Crutchy smiled, pleased. "Where ya' goin', Blink?"
Blink grinned, determination shining in his eye. "To go act on my problem." With that as his conclusion, Blink left the bunkroom to enter the chilling air.
"Blink!"
He turned at the voice to see Bumlets running towards him with widened eyes. "I forgot to tell you something that I heard at the refuge."
~~
Blink and Bumlets entered the alleyway next to Irving Hall, their breath showing as white puffs of air. Blink looked down at the snow-covered newspapers, little bits of vivid cardinal red showing through the light blanket of snow. His head moved upwards, squinting to see past the falling snowflakes.
"Bumlets? Give me boost up, all right?" He asked, reaching for the fire escape ladder - just out of his reach. With Bumlets' help, Blink pulled himself onto the fire escape. Soft clanging noises echoed throughout the alleyway as he moved higher on the fire escape. He reached out, and grabbed the end of the dangling rope. Inspecting it, Blink gulped, his imagination showing him one of his friends hanging from the rope, face blurred. Stepping back, Blink shut his eyes to block out the vision.
Blink unsteadily lowered himself to the snow-covered ground. "The rope's been cut." He told Bumlets. "I don't know by what, but it made a sloppy cut."
Bumlets nodded. "Sorry dat I fergot about Snyder's conversation before-I wasn't t'inkin'." He spoke apologetically.
Blink was angry about Bumlets' forgetting, but he looked at Bumlets' face before speaking. Bumlets was looking towards the ground, feeling truly guilty and ashamed by his forgetfulness. Slowly, Blink's anger faded to a minimum, and he thought of Crutchy's words. "It's all right. We gotta focus on odda' t'ings... Ya' ended up rememberin', anyway, didn't 'cha?"
Bumlets smiled. "Wanna go see Medda?"
Blink bit his lip. "I dunno..."
"Jest for a few minutes..." When Blink hesitated, Bumlets grinned. "C'mon, ya' know dat Race would be appalled dat we didn't go ta' see 'er."
Kid Blink agreed after a few moments. "All right. Jest fer a few minutes, fer Race."
"And warmth." Bumlets added. The two chuckled, and entered Irving Hall.
"Hello boys!" Medda greeted, sitting backstage.
"Hiya, Medda." The teens replied with smiles.
"How are you?" She questioned, arranging her flaming hair up in a purple bow.
"Well... Race is unconscious." Blink said directly, knowing that Medda had always been close to Race, and would want to know.
Medda sighed, shaking her head sadly. "What happened?"
"We really don't know." Blink admitted. "Things are weird lately."
"Well, you know -" Medda was cut off by the backstage manager.
"Medda! Onstage, now!" He yelled.
"Oh, sorry boys!" Medda cried, waving her feather boa at them, hurrying off to stage.
Blink sighed. He looked at his pocket watch. "C'mon, Bum. It's getting late. Let's go back to the lodgin' house."
Bumlets nodded, and the two walked home in silence.
"So, what're you sayin', Blink? Dat a newsie was killed, an' now 'e's missin'?" Jack yelled angrily, his grating voice resonating through the bunk room. "I don't believe it." He muttered, throwing his cowboy hat to the ground abruptly.
"Yes, dat's what I'se sayin', an' dere's no reason fer ya' ta be so mad 'bout it."
Jack glared at Kid Blink. "Yes, dere is. If one of my newsies is down, I need to know about it right away. We don't even know who it is!"
Crutchy heard this and spoke up. "Jack, sure, ya' were our leada' durin' da strike, but no one is yer newsie.'"
Jack rolled his scowling eyes. "Yeah, what'd you know 'bout it, Crutchy?" He snapped.
"It seems that I may know more den you do." Crutchy responded, perfectly calm.
Steaming, Jack opened the bunk room door, leaving. "I'm goin' ta see Davy."
Itey rolled his eyes, sighing. "Yeah, right. He's goin' ta see Sarah."
Blink nodded. "I know." Letting out a deep sigh, he looked over at Race. "I'm gonna go out fer a walk."
"It's gettin' late, ya' sure ya' want ta, Kid?" Itey questioned.
"Why don't'cha jest wait 'til tomorrow - ya' won't find anyt'in' in da dark." Crutchy reasoned wisely.
After pondering it over for a moment, Blink nodded, heading for his bunk. "Yer right, t'anks." He said, laying down, mentally exhausted.
Long after the lights had been shut off, the others had fallen to sleep, and Jack had stormed back in (even in the dark, Blink was able to see the goofy look on Jack's face that Sarah had brought on), Blink finally fell to a restless sleep.
Their punches cut into him in the cold night air, mere grunts escaping from his lips as he tried to gain the breath to yell for help. Unfortunately, each time he opened his mouth to scream, one of their fists connected with his stomach, and the wind was knocked out of him again as he was pushed against the alley wall behind him. Blood began to seep through his hair, making it evident that his scalp was bleeding. Hearing some sort of commotion outside of the alleyway, they began to run away. On the ground in a great huddle, he moved his left hand to try and reach for his cap - the one closest to him saw this, scowled, and stomped on his hand as hard as possible. He groaned, and slowly drew his hand back in to his body, laying there as they ran away. Laying there - not moving.
Minutes, or even hours later, he turned his head to the left. There was Race, laying on a bed, unconscious. Turning his head to the right, he saw Mush laying unconscious on some bloodied newspapers. Looking up, someone was hanging, lifeless, from a rope. He gasped, and squinted to see the face, but it was hazed, and hard to see. Moving his head back to look behind him, he saw someone walking towards him, grinning, a frayed rope in their hands. "No..." He murmured, shaking his head, just as the noose was slipped around his neck. One end of the long rope was thrown over the top of the nearby fire escape, and the end that wasn't situated around his neck was pulled on, pulling him up into the air, the noose tightening around his neck. His air was blocked off, and he began choking.
Blink sat up in a cold sweat, his hands at his throat, struggling to stop the noose from tightening - but there was no rope. Kid Blink fell back onto his pillow, breathing heavily. Taking in a deep, ragged breath, Blink sighed, daring to close his eye. Was he really next? He knew the suspicions, because his two best friends had been attacked, he was supposed to follow. Confused, Blink wondered if the attacker really had been going for the Three Musketeers specifically, or if they were just attacking at random. If just the Three Musketeers, then why was the dead newsie attacked? Or, Blink hated to think it, but, if Mush was the dead newsie, then why was the unconscious newsie attacked? Was the other newsie connected to them somehow?
Biting his lip, Blink opened his eye and watched the darkness until the sun poked out from behind the nearby buildings, when sleep finally captured him.
"Blink! - 'ey, Blink!" Kid Blink awoke to Skittery's grumpy vioce. "You gotta' get up!"
"What? Why?" Blink shot up, exhausted. "Is Race awake? Was Mush found?"
Skittery rolled his eyes. "No - you've gotta sell, that's what!" He glared, stalking off to the washroom.
Blink sighed before getting up. As soon as he'd looked towards the window, he'd regretted it. The sun was shining brightly. Blink squinted and shook his head, walking to the washroom.
"Hiya boys! How is everyone dis mornin'?" Spot's voice erupted as he entered the bunk room, a smirk on his face. Groans filled the air at his cheerfulness. "C'mon! It's time ta get up!" He exclaimed, walking over to a nearby bunk. Situating his mouth next to the ear of the bunk's dozing owner, he let out a yell. "Oy! JACKY-BOY!"
Jack shot up, hitting Spot's nose with his forehead.
"Ow!" Spot yelled, no longer cheerful. "What'dya do dat for?"
"Me?" Jack asked, enraged. "Why'd you yell in my ear?"
"You needed ta' get up! What'dya do, spend most 'a da night wit' Sarah?" At Jack's sheepish smile, Spot glared. "Ya' did? Geez, Jack!"
"What?" Jack questioned angrily, lowering himself to the ground, towering above Spot, who wasn't phased by the height difference.
"Do ya' care about yer friends at all?" Spot questioned calmly.
Jack, who had been expecting some sort of outburst, was surprised by Spot's mild response. "What?" He repeated huffily, having nowhere to place his built-up rage.
"Mush is missin', an' what are you doin'? Goin' ta visit Sarah? What's wrong wit'cha?"
Jack stood speechless for a moment, before responding. "I searched!"
"Once." Bumlets spoke up from behind Jack.
"So what? I'm gettin' on wit' my life!"
"What do ya' mean?" Spot asked suspiciously.
"Come on! Everyone can't jest pretend dat Mush ain't dead!"
"What?" Spot wondered, confused.
Bumlets started telling his story. "I was at the refuge, hoping ta find Mush dere, but he wasn't. As I left, I'se ova'heard some guy talkin' ta Snyder. He had seen two newsies, one dead an' one unconscious. Dey went ta' find 'em, but dey were gone."
"And you know that Mush is dead?" Spot inquired.
Jack shrugged while Blink shook his head. "We only know that dere's a dead newsie, an' dat Mush is missin'. Jack don't know nothin'."
"Oh, really?" Jack glared, turning to scowl at Blink.
"Yeah. I don't know what's wrong wit'cha, but you don't seem ta care 'bout eidda' Race or Mush, an' I don't get it."
"Maybe I don't get it eitha', eva' think a dat?" Jack yelled.
"Why aren't you carin' about them, Jack?" Blink asked.
Kid Blink sighed as he saw Jack and Bumlets returning without Mush. "I guess no one found him?" At both of his friends' head shakes, Blink closed his eyes for a moment. "I hope Spot had more luck than we did."
Unfortunately, Bumlets had temporarily forgotten what he had overheard in the refuge. Having had his mind on Racetrack and if he'd be all right, he merely nodded in response to Blink, and they headed back to the lodging house.
As they entered their home, Blink answered the unasked question from the awaiting newsies in the room with a sigh. Skittery took his jacket back from Jack to put over his own shoulders, and he walked to his bunk to get some money from his light money sack.
"Yer gonna sell?" Kid Blink asked blankly.
"Even if Race is unconscious an' Mush is missin', we can't afford ta not sell, Blink." Snitch, back from the refuge, spoke up.
"I know." Blink murmured, dejected. "All right, let's go." He slumped and slowly made his way downstairs.
He was about to make his way outside when he heard a voice. "Kid Blink."
Blink turned. "Yeah, Kloppman?" He asked the old man kindly.
Kloppman handed Blink a jacket, worn, but warm.
Letting out a smile, Kid Blink turned to go outside while putting his arms through the thin sleeves of the jacket.
Feeling a hand on his shoulder, Blink turned again to see a hopeful smile on Kloppman's face. "I'll keep one eye out for Mush and the other on Race. I'll let you know if anything happens."
Blink smiled gratefully at the kindness of the aged man, then turned, braving himself for the cold awaiting outside.
Usually, Kid Blink would have found that day's headline easy to improve, but that day he was lagging terribly. By the time that Blink would have finished selling, only a quarter of his papers had been sold. Standing on a deserted street, Blink kneeled down, placing his coarse hand in the fresh snow. Pushing himself back to his feet, Kid Blink turned to look up at the sky above him, and at the falling snow. If the world had so much beauty in everything, then why did people ruin it with violence?
Shaking his head, Blink convinced himself that when he returned to the lodging house, Kloppman would be the bearer of some kind of good news.
"Kloppman?" Blink called as he entered the lodging house an hour later.
Kloppman looked at Blink sadly. "I'm sorry, Blink." His slow, husky voice apologized gently.
Blink sighed, looking down at the worn floor. "It's all right, Kloppman. T'anks, anyway." He replied, disheartened.
Once upstairs and sitting on his bed, Kloppman's words rang in Kid Blink's ears. Before he had entered the bunkroom, completely crestfallen, Kloppman's modulated words had caused Blink to turn around to look at his elderly friend, who responded with a hopeful smile.
"Don't lose heart." Blink repeated, meditative. His eyes moved to the left, watching his unconscious friend, whose swollen nose was slowly healing. Where was Mush? Was he unconscious, or... was he dead? Where was he, now? Laying somewhere? Was he in pain? What could Blink do now, with what was happening all around him?
A twittery voice came to hearing. "Hiya Blink! How ya' doin'?" A boy limped over, sitting on the bed across from Blink's.
Blink let out a listless smile. "Hiya, Crutchy."
The complaisant teenager watched Blink, ruminative. "Ya' know, Blink... With all dat's been happenin' lately, I been t'inkin' - a lot."
Crutchy looked at his friend, waiting for a sign that he was listening. Blink looked up. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." Crutchy nodded. "When t'ings are goin' good fer me, I t'ink a lot 'bout otha's, and about da bad t'ings that are happenin' fer them, and what I cin do ta help. But, I realized, that when t'ings ain't great fer me, then I jest t'ink 'bout those t'ings, and not 'bout otha's. Bad t'ings are happenin' all ova', and, no matter how bad somet'in' seems fer you, it ain't da woist. It don't help not'in' ta feel bad 'bout somet'in' - ya' gotta act on it. Den you cin start helpin' otha's again."
Blink listened carefully to the thoughtful words of his friend. "Ya' know, Crutchy," he spoke, no longer sounding sepulchral, "that makes a lotta sense. T'anks." He said, standing.
Crutchy smiled, pleased. "Where ya' goin', Blink?"
Blink grinned, determination shining in his eye. "To go act on my problem." With that as his conclusion, Blink left the bunkroom to enter the chilling air.
"Blink!"
He turned at the voice to see Bumlets running towards him with widened eyes. "I forgot to tell you something that I heard at the refuge."
~~
Blink and Bumlets entered the alleyway next to Irving Hall, their breath showing as white puffs of air. Blink looked down at the snow-covered newspapers, little bits of vivid cardinal red showing through the light blanket of snow. His head moved upwards, squinting to see past the falling snowflakes.
"Bumlets? Give me boost up, all right?" He asked, reaching for the fire escape ladder - just out of his reach. With Bumlets' help, Blink pulled himself onto the fire escape. Soft clanging noises echoed throughout the alleyway as he moved higher on the fire escape. He reached out, and grabbed the end of the dangling rope. Inspecting it, Blink gulped, his imagination showing him one of his friends hanging from the rope, face blurred. Stepping back, Blink shut his eyes to block out the vision.
Blink unsteadily lowered himself to the snow-covered ground. "The rope's been cut." He told Bumlets. "I don't know by what, but it made a sloppy cut."
Bumlets nodded. "Sorry dat I fergot about Snyder's conversation before-I wasn't t'inkin'." He spoke apologetically.
Blink was angry about Bumlets' forgetting, but he looked at Bumlets' face before speaking. Bumlets was looking towards the ground, feeling truly guilty and ashamed by his forgetfulness. Slowly, Blink's anger faded to a minimum, and he thought of Crutchy's words. "It's all right. We gotta focus on odda' t'ings... Ya' ended up rememberin', anyway, didn't 'cha?"
Bumlets smiled. "Wanna go see Medda?"
Blink bit his lip. "I dunno..."
"Jest for a few minutes..." When Blink hesitated, Bumlets grinned. "C'mon, ya' know dat Race would be appalled dat we didn't go ta' see 'er."
Kid Blink agreed after a few moments. "All right. Jest fer a few minutes, fer Race."
"And warmth." Bumlets added. The two chuckled, and entered Irving Hall.
"Hello boys!" Medda greeted, sitting backstage.
"Hiya, Medda." The teens replied with smiles.
"How are you?" She questioned, arranging her flaming hair up in a purple bow.
"Well... Race is unconscious." Blink said directly, knowing that Medda had always been close to Race, and would want to know.
Medda sighed, shaking her head sadly. "What happened?"
"We really don't know." Blink admitted. "Things are weird lately."
"Well, you know -" Medda was cut off by the backstage manager.
"Medda! Onstage, now!" He yelled.
"Oh, sorry boys!" Medda cried, waving her feather boa at them, hurrying off to stage.
Blink sighed. He looked at his pocket watch. "C'mon, Bum. It's getting late. Let's go back to the lodgin' house."
Bumlets nodded, and the two walked home in silence.
"So, what're you sayin', Blink? Dat a newsie was killed, an' now 'e's missin'?" Jack yelled angrily, his grating voice resonating through the bunk room. "I don't believe it." He muttered, throwing his cowboy hat to the ground abruptly.
"Yes, dat's what I'se sayin', an' dere's no reason fer ya' ta be so mad 'bout it."
Jack glared at Kid Blink. "Yes, dere is. If one of my newsies is down, I need to know about it right away. We don't even know who it is!"
Crutchy heard this and spoke up. "Jack, sure, ya' were our leada' durin' da strike, but no one is yer newsie.'"
Jack rolled his scowling eyes. "Yeah, what'd you know 'bout it, Crutchy?" He snapped.
"It seems that I may know more den you do." Crutchy responded, perfectly calm.
Steaming, Jack opened the bunk room door, leaving. "I'm goin' ta see Davy."
Itey rolled his eyes, sighing. "Yeah, right. He's goin' ta see Sarah."
Blink nodded. "I know." Letting out a deep sigh, he looked over at Race. "I'm gonna go out fer a walk."
"It's gettin' late, ya' sure ya' want ta, Kid?" Itey questioned.
"Why don't'cha jest wait 'til tomorrow - ya' won't find anyt'in' in da dark." Crutchy reasoned wisely.
After pondering it over for a moment, Blink nodded, heading for his bunk. "Yer right, t'anks." He said, laying down, mentally exhausted.
Long after the lights had been shut off, the others had fallen to sleep, and Jack had stormed back in (even in the dark, Blink was able to see the goofy look on Jack's face that Sarah had brought on), Blink finally fell to a restless sleep.
Their punches cut into him in the cold night air, mere grunts escaping from his lips as he tried to gain the breath to yell for help. Unfortunately, each time he opened his mouth to scream, one of their fists connected with his stomach, and the wind was knocked out of him again as he was pushed against the alley wall behind him. Blood began to seep through his hair, making it evident that his scalp was bleeding. Hearing some sort of commotion outside of the alleyway, they began to run away. On the ground in a great huddle, he moved his left hand to try and reach for his cap - the one closest to him saw this, scowled, and stomped on his hand as hard as possible. He groaned, and slowly drew his hand back in to his body, laying there as they ran away. Laying there - not moving.
Minutes, or even hours later, he turned his head to the left. There was Race, laying on a bed, unconscious. Turning his head to the right, he saw Mush laying unconscious on some bloodied newspapers. Looking up, someone was hanging, lifeless, from a rope. He gasped, and squinted to see the face, but it was hazed, and hard to see. Moving his head back to look behind him, he saw someone walking towards him, grinning, a frayed rope in their hands. "No..." He murmured, shaking his head, just as the noose was slipped around his neck. One end of the long rope was thrown over the top of the nearby fire escape, and the end that wasn't situated around his neck was pulled on, pulling him up into the air, the noose tightening around his neck. His air was blocked off, and he began choking.
Blink sat up in a cold sweat, his hands at his throat, struggling to stop the noose from tightening - but there was no rope. Kid Blink fell back onto his pillow, breathing heavily. Taking in a deep, ragged breath, Blink sighed, daring to close his eye. Was he really next? He knew the suspicions, because his two best friends had been attacked, he was supposed to follow. Confused, Blink wondered if the attacker really had been going for the Three Musketeers specifically, or if they were just attacking at random. If just the Three Musketeers, then why was the dead newsie attacked? Or, Blink hated to think it, but, if Mush was the dead newsie, then why was the unconscious newsie attacked? Was the other newsie connected to them somehow?
Biting his lip, Blink opened his eye and watched the darkness until the sun poked out from behind the nearby buildings, when sleep finally captured him.
"Blink! - 'ey, Blink!" Kid Blink awoke to Skittery's grumpy vioce. "You gotta' get up!"
"What? Why?" Blink shot up, exhausted. "Is Race awake? Was Mush found?"
Skittery rolled his eyes. "No - you've gotta sell, that's what!" He glared, stalking off to the washroom.
Blink sighed before getting up. As soon as he'd looked towards the window, he'd regretted it. The sun was shining brightly. Blink squinted and shook his head, walking to the washroom.
"Hiya boys! How is everyone dis mornin'?" Spot's voice erupted as he entered the bunk room, a smirk on his face. Groans filled the air at his cheerfulness. "C'mon! It's time ta get up!" He exclaimed, walking over to a nearby bunk. Situating his mouth next to the ear of the bunk's dozing owner, he let out a yell. "Oy! JACKY-BOY!"
Jack shot up, hitting Spot's nose with his forehead.
"Ow!" Spot yelled, no longer cheerful. "What'dya do dat for?"
"Me?" Jack asked, enraged. "Why'd you yell in my ear?"
"You needed ta' get up! What'dya do, spend most 'a da night wit' Sarah?" At Jack's sheepish smile, Spot glared. "Ya' did? Geez, Jack!"
"What?" Jack questioned angrily, lowering himself to the ground, towering above Spot, who wasn't phased by the height difference.
"Do ya' care about yer friends at all?" Spot questioned calmly.
Jack, who had been expecting some sort of outburst, was surprised by Spot's mild response. "What?" He repeated huffily, having nowhere to place his built-up rage.
"Mush is missin', an' what are you doin'? Goin' ta visit Sarah? What's wrong wit'cha?"
Jack stood speechless for a moment, before responding. "I searched!"
"Once." Bumlets spoke up from behind Jack.
"So what? I'm gettin' on wit' my life!"
"What do ya' mean?" Spot asked suspiciously.
"Come on! Everyone can't jest pretend dat Mush ain't dead!"
"What?" Spot wondered, confused.
Bumlets started telling his story. "I was at the refuge, hoping ta find Mush dere, but he wasn't. As I left, I'se ova'heard some guy talkin' ta Snyder. He had seen two newsies, one dead an' one unconscious. Dey went ta' find 'em, but dey were gone."
"And you know that Mush is dead?" Spot inquired.
Jack shrugged while Blink shook his head. "We only know that dere's a dead newsie, an' dat Mush is missin'. Jack don't know nothin'."
"Oh, really?" Jack glared, turning to scowl at Blink.
"Yeah. I don't know what's wrong wit'cha, but you don't seem ta care 'bout eidda' Race or Mush, an' I don't get it."
"Maybe I don't get it eitha', eva' think a dat?" Jack yelled.
"Why aren't you carin' about them, Jack?" Blink asked.
