This chapter is still going to be all in the city, because I'm not quite sure what's gonna happen to Spot yet. And just because I made myself very confused when I was trying to figure out what day it is, here's a handy dandy time line.

Thursday- Morning-Spot gets his letter and sets off
Thursday-night-boys go off to find that Spot's gone
Thursday-evening-Savannah finds Spot

Friday-very early morning(as in about five or six) -Jack tells Mush he's gonna kill Delancey's
Friday-morning-Spot awakes
Friday-morning-Delancey's hitch ride to city
Friday-morning (think 9 or 10)-Jack falls asleep and dreams that dream that I'm very proud of
Friday-morning (7 or 8)-Savannah drives Spot to Doc Flynn's
Friday-noon-the contents of this chapter begin with the second edition of The World for today.


There. Now I understand when it is. Do you?

#$#$#$#$#$#$#$#$


"Fifty papes." Race tossed his two bits onto the counter and grabbed the stack of newspapers handed out through the window. He looked back at where the others were stading and waved at them. He then set off to his selling spot, Sheapshead Bay. He sold eight of them on his way over, making an extra profit from the first one, when he had no change. It took him twice the usual amount of time to get to the tracks, owing to the fact that he had no sleep the night prior.

He sat down to read through the paper when he reached the gates, and was astounded at how dull the headlines were. The best one he found was 'Mayor's Prize Bulldog Run Over In Driveway'. He couldn't understand why the papers would actually write a whole article on something like that, but it was the best he could do. He stood up and began yelling. "Bloody death in Mayor's own Driveway! Senseless killings by our city's leaders!" That one sold ten.

There was an article on the back page about a missing wagon. "City wide crime spree! Nothing is safe!" That one sold twelve. Apparently, people were interested in robberies this morning. Right below the one about the wagon, there was an article about a ransacked vegetable cart. It talked about how it was the delivery cart for all the grocery supply places in Manhattan and Brooklyn. He smiled. 'That was probably where we was playing with the potatoes.' He thought to himself.

"Food becoming scarce! Severe food shortage in our country! Millions will starve!" fourteen bought that one. He had only been at it for two hours and he only had six papes left. 'Shoulda got more today.' He thought, before yawning. He shook his head to wake himself up a bit more. 'One more good headline should get rid a these.'

As he sat scanning the pages again, he almost fell asleep. He decided to find somewhere to lie down for a quick nap, and looked around. He settled on a box reserved for someone famous that had never actually been to the races. He just rented it out permanently, in case he ever decided to try his luck at gambling. Race walked over and, after a quick look around to make sure no one saw him, he pushed the door open. Surprisingly, there wasn't even a handle on the door. It just swung back and forth on the hinges. After wondering why for a fleeting moment, he laid down an the padded bench and fell asleep, arm slung protectively over his last few papes.

* * *

On another side of the park, a girl in a blue skirt and a brown, button-down shirt was running to fetch another drink for someone. She got half-way there, and was flagged down by someone else to show her where the restrooms were. She did that, and in that time, forgot all about the drink. She remembered it, after the man who wanted it spotted her again, this time getting a program for someone else. "Where is my drink girl?"

"Oh! I'm terribly sorry, sir. I got sidetracked."

"See that it dosen't happen again. Fetch it now, would you?"

"Oh, yes sir! Right away." She turned to get it, for real this time, her mousy brown hair whipping her in the face as she spun too quickly. After she had (finally) delivered it, she went to see Mr. Arnold. He was the current manager of Sheapshead Races, and she worked for him. He paid her twenty cents an hour to run errands for his customers. It was either this, or factory work, so she stuck with it.

"Mr. Arnold, sir, can I take my lunch break now?"

"Yes, but you must be back in a half an hour, because Mr. Defosset will be here. I want you to meet him at the gates and show him to his box."

"The Mr. Defosset who rented the luxury box for a lifetime but has never even been to a race before? That one?" She asked incredulously.

"Yes, that one. You will be running only for him and his wife the rest of the day. And no being sidetracked. Do you understand? One complain and you will be out of a job." He frowned down at her to let her know that he was serious.

She nodded, then ran to the little bar that was kept sectioned off from the rest of the tracks. She made her way into the kitchens and began to fix herself something. Eating quickly, she sat down back in the corner for a little rest before going to the gates.

She milled around for nearly twenty minutes before a fancy black and silver carrige pulled up. The driver jumped down to open the door for the passengers. A man with graying hair and a very hoity-toity suit got out, followed by an equally hoity-toity woman, wearing the largest, ugliest hat the girl had ever seen. She made her way over and, very politely, asked if they were Mr. and Mrs. Defosset. The woman sneered at her, but the man nodded and smiled kindly. "My name is Becky, and I will be serving you today. Follow me, please. Your luxury box is ready." She turned, and they followed. She pushed open the swinging door and stepped back so as they could go in first. She expected them to just sit and ignore her until they wanted something. She did not expect the woman to scream very loudly upon entering the box.

She rushed up to find a horrified couple staring at a very surprised and only half awake boy half on the bench, and half on the floor. Mr. Defosset's face was turning a very deep shade of red as he fanned his wife with one hand. Mrs. Defosset looked as if she was about to faint. 'I'll never understand rich people.' Thought Becky, as she rushed to the boy's side and stood him up. As she did, Mr. Defosset sat his wife down on the end of the bench and began to scream for Mr. Arnold. Becky began to hurry the still asleep boy out of there when Mr. Arnold came rushing in. He took one look around and began to yell at the poor boy, who didn't know what to say.

"You boy are going straight to prison! Tresspasser! This is a private box, boy, and you are not invited. Becky, go ring Warden Snyder at once!"

"NO! He was just resting here, right?" She didn't let the boy answer. "He's my friend, and I told him he could rest in here because we never use it. I ...I...I just forgot, was all, when I was on my lunch break...It's not his fault and I won't ring than horrible man!" She grabbed his arm and dragged him down the stairs behind her.

Mr. Arnold came out behimd her, seething over his embarrassment in front of his best clients. "You had better not ever show your face here again, Becky, or I will report YOU to Snyder!"

"I would never come back here in a million years! Go to hell, Arnold!" The eyebrows of all who heard this last part shot up as high as it was humanly possible. The girl...a female...had cursed! And in public! One old woman in an ugly hat fainted dead away.

~~~~^~~~~


Once they were about seven blocks away, the girl slowed down and looked back, almost in defeat. Race looked at her, and said the most suave, cool thing he had ever heard anyone say to a girl. "Who are you?"

"My name is Becky, but my friends call me Sidetracked. Who are you, and why *were* you in that box?"

"I'm Racetrack. Race for short. I's jus' sleepin. I ain't slept in two days."

"Why not?"

"Dey's some trouble at da Lodgin' House. Bad stuff. Hey, why'd you help me out back deah? You'se got in a woild a trouble fer it."

"I helped because...well...I dunno, I just did. I'm always in a world a trouble. But now I gotta find a new job. It's back to the factory, I guess. What kinda trouble at...where was it? The Lodging House?"

"Yeah. The Newsboys Lodging House of Lower Manhattan. One a ouah (our) friends dissapeahed. We thinks we know who caused it, though. Ummm...I was thinkin'...If you'se don' wanna go back to da fact'ry...You'se could com an be a newsie."

"A newsie? Me? But...I'm a girl!"

"Yeah, well...dere are some goil newsies. Jes...not in Manhattan. Dere's two in Queens, and one in Harlem...an deah used ta be two in Coney Island, but dey got married ta some fact'ry woikah's an now dey don' woik no moah. But goiols can be Newsies too."

"Maybe I'll give it a try...But...I don't know anything about it. But umm...about the Lodging House...Ummm...where do I live? I used to sleep at the tracks, but..." Sidetracked trailed off.

"I think Kloppman will let you stay with us...I know the othah goils stay in deah borough's login' houses. Why do dey call's ya Sidetracked?"

"Cause I get sidetracked easy. Can't keep my mind on nothing for more than a few minutes." Now they were turning onto Duane Street, with Race leading the way.

"Well, here we are. Dis is da Lodgin' House. Noone else'll be deah(there) yet, so's we might as well go on ta Tibby's." Race tossed his last six papes into the gitter. He wasn't in the mood to stop and sell now, on the way to dinner. Besides, he'd lost more than six cents before. "SO what did you'se do at da tracks ta get fiahed(fired) from?"

"I just ran around allday, running errands for the rich people, fetching drinks, that sort of thing. Hey, it's better than working in the factorys. And it got me twenty cents an hour."

"Twenty cents an houah! You'll be lucky ta make twenty cents a day heah, or in da fact'ry. I'm real sorry I got ya fiahed." Race pulled open the door to Tibby's and let her wank in first.

"Ah, it's nothing. I just been itching to tell that guy off. I never have liked him, but the pay was good."

"Yeah, well, I'se sorry anyways. Come ere an meet da guys." They walked over to the biggest table in the corner. There were eight people at it, but there was space for ten. Race sat in one of the chairs, motioning for Sidetracked to sit in the other one. "Hey, you'se guys. How's it goin'?"

They all greeted him with hi's and hello's and it's allright's. But they were all looking for him to introduce this new goil. "Guys, dis heah is Sidetracked, an I kinda got 'er fiahed taday, so I was thinkin' maybe she could be a Newsgoil, like dey got in some a da othah boroughs. Whatcha think, Jack?"

They all looked expectantly to a tall boy sitting in the very corner. He had on a cowboy hat over his blondish hair and a bandanna around his neck. One arm was wrapped around the shoulders of a dark-haired girl in a dress that reminded Sidetracked of Little Bo Peep. The boy sat foreward in his chair and said "Suah. I'se al right wid it, so long as she don' mind livin' wid a bunch of dumb guys." He smiled, jokingly.

"Okay, den, Sidetracked, dis heah is Puppy, dis is Jumpah, the little one is Les, then Davey, that's Sarah, and Jack, Mush, den next ta you'se is Fox."

"Hi. Umm...It's gonna take me forever to learn all of your names. Sorry."

"Hey dat's allright. We all ansah(answer) to streetrat, an boy, and stuff like dat too." The one with very dark, curly hair added. She thought that his name was Mush. He smiled at her. After that, they went back to what she assumed they were talking about before she got there. Medda's. By being quiet and listening a bit, she fould out that Medda's was some sort of theatre. But she soon lost interest in the conversation that she wasn't a part of. She looked around the room to see that there were several other boys in there, most right around the age of the ones she was sitting with, but some looked younger.

She wondered if they were all newsies, but just then a waiter brought out a tray of food, in large bowls, and ten plates to their table. There were others doing the same to the other tables. She sat there, wondering about how to get herself some food, when Race grabbed two plates and handed one to her. "Jus grab some befoah it's all gone." He told her, while filling his own plate. Eeveryone else at the table was doing the same thing, and she felt horribly out of place.

The boy next to her, Fox, smiled and said "It feels kinda funny jus jumpin' right in, but it'll get bettah. Promise. I only been here a short time. But you better grab some food now. They always serve it like this to us, because we'd end up passing food around anyways. But when it's gone, it's gone." He picked up a chicken leg, and began to eat. She shrugged, and her stomach growled. She frowned at it, wondering how she could be so hungry, when she eaten only an hour and a half ago.

She spooned herself some mashed potatoes and corn, then reached over and grabbed a chicken leg from the plate in front of Fox. Eating quietly, she decided she would like this place a lot when she had been there long enough to find her little place with them. It was a lot easier when people weren't fawning over you, too. She thought back to when she first got her job at the tracks, and how all the waitresses and cooks in the little bar area were always getting her things, and trying to cook for her. She had hated that, but after nearly a month of it, they just let off. But so far, so good with the newsies. They were used to new people coming and going, apparently.

After the plates and bowls were emptied, conversation went back to Medda's. There was a new act tonight, who wanted to go see it? They were all game except for Sarah, who thought that Les had seen enough vaudille shows to last their mother's lifetime. Apparently, Les sang in his sleep. The little boy blushed furiously at this, and said bye very quickly before going home with Sarah.

Race leaned over to her and asked "Sidetracked, so you wanna go with us ta Medda's, or do you wanna go back to da House?"

"I'll go to Medda's. Don't really wanna go back alone. Not much to do by yourself."

"All right. Come on, den." She got up, and he held his arm out to her. She smiled, and looped hers through. They then proceeded to follow the others down the street. It was kind of funny, watching them all walk, because they had to jump on every barrel, and walk on every set of steps all the way to the theatre. Except for Racetrack. He stayed with her. Sidetracked smiled, and was suddenly very glad that she had been fired.














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Whew! That one was long! And I'm not exactly sure wether I like it or not. I just wanted it to be a little short thing where he meets this girl, but then it grew. I don't know how. It wouldn't let me end it either. Finally, I just had to put my foot down and tell them all that I was absolutely not writing about the show. Then they got mad and wouldn't talk anymore and how can one write a story in which the characters refuse to speak? Well, one can't. So I ended it.

Thanks Go out To:

Rebellious Observer-Thanks. Wow! You must have liked it then, eh? I am *really* proud of that dream sequence, though. And I feel your pain over exams. I totally bombed my Geometry one.

MooBug (who forgot to sign it, but I knew who's it was)-Yeah. They are great books. I have them memorized!!Gred and Forge are the greatest, though. My faves are: Draco, Ron, George, Seamus, Fred. I don't know why I like George better. I just do.

SexyDaddyMagnet69-Thanks for signing it!! Just wait...you'll get your bit in here with Mush soon!!



Please Review, and answer my silly question:

If you were scuba-diving, and were attacked by a rabid giraffe, what would your favorite kind of cheese be?

A) Cheddar
B) Gouda
C) Mozerella
D) Swiss
E) Colby
F) Blue
G) Limburger
H) Any of the gross, moldy ones that all look the same
I) Skeezy Cheeses that I can't describe...(Xander, Once More With Feeling)
J) Cheese? What's cheese?
K) Eggplant


Review!!!
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