CHAPTER FIVE
"Where in hell is she?"
Rylie Lyner's sharp green eyes surveyed the row of thugish newsies that stood in a line in front of him.
Hornace Lyner stepped forward. "We'se don't know foah shoah, Ry."
"Then what the hell do you know, you over-gown oaf?" the wire-thin newsie snapped.
"Well, one of our newsies, Little Joe, helped 'is bruddah 'scape from da 'Ouse of Refuge last night. 'Is bruddah had been in dere 'bout a month. Anyhows, Little Joe's bruddah hoid 'im and anuddah newsie talkin' 'bout Sarah Sprites. Little Joe was 'scribin' da way dat she looks, and he said dat she had one green eye and one blue eye. Little Joe's bruddah tol' 'im dat 'bout a week ago two boys had 'scaped from da 'Ouse of Refuge at night while everyone was asleep..."
Rylie interupted his brother with an impatient sigh. "And the point being?"
"I'se gittin' dere, Rylie, I'se gittin' dere. Anyhows, Little Joe's bruddah said dat one of dat boys dat 'scaped had been dere before 'im. 'e always wore a black hood over 'is 'ead so ya couldn't see 'is face. Anyhows, one day Little Joe's bruddah walked by dis boy an swore dat 'e had one green eye and one blue eye..."
"And he assumed that it was Sarah Sprites?"
"Yeah, Ry. I means, how many poisins in New Yawk have damn different colored eyes?"
Rylie closed his eyes for a moment, as if deep in though. He finally opened them, his gaze boring into Horance's.
"I guess it could have been the stupid bitch," he said, sighing. "You can go, now."
One by one, the newsies filed out of Rylie's bedroom, Horance the last. He was about to shut the door behind him, when Rylie called out his name. He turned around. "Yeah, Ry?"
"You said that two boys escaped from the House of Refuge, is that not correct?"
"Yeah, Ry, so?"
"So, who was the other boy?"
Hornace put a finger to his temple, thinking hard. "Oh, yeah, Little Joe said 'is bruddah saw 'im befoah, dat's how 'e knew 'is name. What was it...oh, yeah! Trackrace or something?"
"Trackrace?" Rylie asked, letting the words flow over his tongue.
"Yeah, Rylie, dat's what Little Joe said..."
Rylie held a hand up. "It's alright, Horance. You may go."
"Alright, Ry," Horance said, shutting the door behind him.
Rylie sank back in his bunk, in a state of thought.
"Trackrace," he murmured. "What the hell does that mean?"
Then it hit him. And one word popped into his mind.
A devious smile crossed his thin lips. "Manhattan."
************
Butterfly watched in wonder as the perfect circles of smoke came from Racetrack's lips. She watched the ring sail up in the sky and then evaporate.
She looked at him in admiration. "Could ya teach me how ta do dat?"
Racetrack gave her a look, and then cocked his head back and blew another perfect ring of smoke.
"Smug bastard," Butterfly said under her breath.
"What did ya call me, Canada?" Race asked, inhaling on his cigar.
Butterfly rolled his eyes at him. "Will ya stop callin' me dat goddmn name? I'se not Canadian!"
Race smirked. "You'se said dat ya where from Quebec..."
Butterfly playfully pushed him, almost causing him to take a spill on the ground. "No, ya prick! I said dat I grew up near da restaurant Quebec. Not da damn city!"
"I'll make ya dis deal, Canada. When I see wit me own eyes dis restaurant dat ya grew up near called Quebec, I'se will stop callin' ya Canada."
"Alright, Racetrack. I'd show ya right now, but ya want ta go to dis pahty..."
"Hey!" Race exclaimed. "Spot's pokah pahties are da best!"
"Why?" Butterfly asked.
A smile lit up Race's face. "Cause I always win!"
"Hey, how far away is Brooklyn, anyway? I feel like I'se been walkin' forevah!" Butterfly whined.
"Stop ya whinin', Canada. We'se almost' dere. See dat's da Brooklyn Bridge right dere."
"Oh, da Brooklyn Bridge! Oh, Racetrack, I love da Brooklyn Bridge, Race! My friend from Brooklyn brought me here once! Oh, let's go!" she squealed, grabbing Racetrack's hand, and picking up her pace, causing him to cry out in suprise.
When they finally reached the bridge, Race was panting and his face was scarlett. Butterfly ran to the railing, and leaned over it, looking entranced with the splashing waters before her.
She turned to Race, smoothing down her hair that was blowing in the breeze caused by the waves. A smile dominated her face. "Ya know, when I was wit me friend, we climbed over da railing, 'e said dat it was da best view. And, oh my Lord, Race, is was, it really was. It looked like ya was flyin'. I mean really flyin'....."
She turned back to the waters. Race kept his gaze on Butterfly James. He had never met such an odd girl before. He didn't know who she was, where in hell the restaurant titled Quebec was, why she had been in the House of Refuge, or why she had asked to stay in the lodging house, and at that minute he didn't care. Words couldn't describe that moment that he had with the girl with the different colored eyes on the Brooklyn Bridge.
"Hey, Canada," he said softly.
"Yeah, Race?" she answered, her eyed bright and her tangles of hair blowing in the wind.
"I'se make ya a deal..."
"Anuddah one?"
"Yeah, Canada, anuddah one. If we can git ta Spot's pahty in da next cent'ry jist so I can play a few hands of pokah and win, I'll come back wit ya to dis spot ya said 'bout during da sun set."
Butterfly looked from Racetrack to the jeweled spackled water and back. She slowly nodded her head.
"Alright, let's go."
Racetrack had already started walking, but when he realized that Butterfly wasn't with him, he spun around. She stood, still looking out in the waters, as if they captivated her.
He walked back to her and took hold of her wrist. "C'mon, Canada. We'se gonna come back. Colin Higgins always keeps his promises."
Butterfly took one last look at the scene under the Brooklyn Bridge, and reluctantly let her hands slip free of the railings.
Butterfly and Racetrack walked in silence with matching strides for a few minutes before Butterfly broke up into snorts.
Racetrack stopped and stared at her. "What?"
She only looked at him and her snorts became hysterical laughter that almost caused her to fall to her knees. She put a hand on his shoulder for support.
"What da hell is so flippin' funny, Canada?"
"Ya...ya..."
"What?"
"Ya...ya...ya name is..C..C...Colin?" Butterfly was almost in tears.
Race raised his eyebrow. "What the hell is so goddamn funny about me name."
Butterfly maintained a straight face. "Nothing...Colin!" she laughed hysterically, unable to keep it.
Racetrack playfully shoved her. "And what's ya real name, Canada?"
Without thinking, Butterfly answered, "Sarah."
"Ooh, Sarah, now dat's a hoot!" Race forced a laugh.
But Butterfly had stopped her laughing immdediatly after she had realized her grave mistake. She had given away her real name. She felt a pit start in her stomach.
"Why did ya stop laughin', Sarah?"
"Don't call me by that goddamn name!" Butterfly snapped.
Racetrack help up his hands. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, Canada. No need ta toin intah a bitch! I'se didn't mean nuttin'! Let's hurry da hell up an' get ta Spot's. I hear a pokah game callin' out my name!"
Racetrack cheerfully linked arms with Butterfly and drug her the rest of the way to the lodging house. Butterfly was glad that Race was supporting her, she didn't know if her legs would work after what she said.
"Where in hell is she?"
Rylie Lyner's sharp green eyes surveyed the row of thugish newsies that stood in a line in front of him.
Hornace Lyner stepped forward. "We'se don't know foah shoah, Ry."
"Then what the hell do you know, you over-gown oaf?" the wire-thin newsie snapped.
"Well, one of our newsies, Little Joe, helped 'is bruddah 'scape from da 'Ouse of Refuge last night. 'Is bruddah had been in dere 'bout a month. Anyhows, Little Joe's bruddah hoid 'im and anuddah newsie talkin' 'bout Sarah Sprites. Little Joe was 'scribin' da way dat she looks, and he said dat she had one green eye and one blue eye. Little Joe's bruddah tol' 'im dat 'bout a week ago two boys had 'scaped from da 'Ouse of Refuge at night while everyone was asleep..."
Rylie interupted his brother with an impatient sigh. "And the point being?"
"I'se gittin' dere, Rylie, I'se gittin' dere. Anyhows, Little Joe's bruddah said dat one of dat boys dat 'scaped had been dere before 'im. 'e always wore a black hood over 'is 'ead so ya couldn't see 'is face. Anyhows, one day Little Joe's bruddah walked by dis boy an swore dat 'e had one green eye and one blue eye..."
"And he assumed that it was Sarah Sprites?"
"Yeah, Ry. I means, how many poisins in New Yawk have damn different colored eyes?"
Rylie closed his eyes for a moment, as if deep in though. He finally opened them, his gaze boring into Horance's.
"I guess it could have been the stupid bitch," he said, sighing. "You can go, now."
One by one, the newsies filed out of Rylie's bedroom, Horance the last. He was about to shut the door behind him, when Rylie called out his name. He turned around. "Yeah, Ry?"
"You said that two boys escaped from the House of Refuge, is that not correct?"
"Yeah, Ry, so?"
"So, who was the other boy?"
Hornace put a finger to his temple, thinking hard. "Oh, yeah, Little Joe said 'is bruddah saw 'im befoah, dat's how 'e knew 'is name. What was it...oh, yeah! Trackrace or something?"
"Trackrace?" Rylie asked, letting the words flow over his tongue.
"Yeah, Rylie, dat's what Little Joe said..."
Rylie held a hand up. "It's alright, Horance. You may go."
"Alright, Ry," Horance said, shutting the door behind him.
Rylie sank back in his bunk, in a state of thought.
"Trackrace," he murmured. "What the hell does that mean?"
Then it hit him. And one word popped into his mind.
A devious smile crossed his thin lips. "Manhattan."
************
Butterfly watched in wonder as the perfect circles of smoke came from Racetrack's lips. She watched the ring sail up in the sky and then evaporate.
She looked at him in admiration. "Could ya teach me how ta do dat?"
Racetrack gave her a look, and then cocked his head back and blew another perfect ring of smoke.
"Smug bastard," Butterfly said under her breath.
"What did ya call me, Canada?" Race asked, inhaling on his cigar.
Butterfly rolled his eyes at him. "Will ya stop callin' me dat goddmn name? I'se not Canadian!"
Race smirked. "You'se said dat ya where from Quebec..."
Butterfly playfully pushed him, almost causing him to take a spill on the ground. "No, ya prick! I said dat I grew up near da restaurant Quebec. Not da damn city!"
"I'll make ya dis deal, Canada. When I see wit me own eyes dis restaurant dat ya grew up near called Quebec, I'se will stop callin' ya Canada."
"Alright, Racetrack. I'd show ya right now, but ya want ta go to dis pahty..."
"Hey!" Race exclaimed. "Spot's pokah pahties are da best!"
"Why?" Butterfly asked.
A smile lit up Race's face. "Cause I always win!"
"Hey, how far away is Brooklyn, anyway? I feel like I'se been walkin' forevah!" Butterfly whined.
"Stop ya whinin', Canada. We'se almost' dere. See dat's da Brooklyn Bridge right dere."
"Oh, da Brooklyn Bridge! Oh, Racetrack, I love da Brooklyn Bridge, Race! My friend from Brooklyn brought me here once! Oh, let's go!" she squealed, grabbing Racetrack's hand, and picking up her pace, causing him to cry out in suprise.
When they finally reached the bridge, Race was panting and his face was scarlett. Butterfly ran to the railing, and leaned over it, looking entranced with the splashing waters before her.
She turned to Race, smoothing down her hair that was blowing in the breeze caused by the waves. A smile dominated her face. "Ya know, when I was wit me friend, we climbed over da railing, 'e said dat it was da best view. And, oh my Lord, Race, is was, it really was. It looked like ya was flyin'. I mean really flyin'....."
She turned back to the waters. Race kept his gaze on Butterfly James. He had never met such an odd girl before. He didn't know who she was, where in hell the restaurant titled Quebec was, why she had been in the House of Refuge, or why she had asked to stay in the lodging house, and at that minute he didn't care. Words couldn't describe that moment that he had with the girl with the different colored eyes on the Brooklyn Bridge.
"Hey, Canada," he said softly.
"Yeah, Race?" she answered, her eyed bright and her tangles of hair blowing in the wind.
"I'se make ya a deal..."
"Anuddah one?"
"Yeah, Canada, anuddah one. If we can git ta Spot's pahty in da next cent'ry jist so I can play a few hands of pokah and win, I'll come back wit ya to dis spot ya said 'bout during da sun set."
Butterfly looked from Racetrack to the jeweled spackled water and back. She slowly nodded her head.
"Alright, let's go."
Racetrack had already started walking, but when he realized that Butterfly wasn't with him, he spun around. She stood, still looking out in the waters, as if they captivated her.
He walked back to her and took hold of her wrist. "C'mon, Canada. We'se gonna come back. Colin Higgins always keeps his promises."
Butterfly took one last look at the scene under the Brooklyn Bridge, and reluctantly let her hands slip free of the railings.
Butterfly and Racetrack walked in silence with matching strides for a few minutes before Butterfly broke up into snorts.
Racetrack stopped and stared at her. "What?"
She only looked at him and her snorts became hysterical laughter that almost caused her to fall to her knees. She put a hand on his shoulder for support.
"What da hell is so flippin' funny, Canada?"
"Ya...ya..."
"What?"
"Ya...ya...ya name is..C..C...Colin?" Butterfly was almost in tears.
Race raised his eyebrow. "What the hell is so goddamn funny about me name."
Butterfly maintained a straight face. "Nothing...Colin!" she laughed hysterically, unable to keep it.
Racetrack playfully shoved her. "And what's ya real name, Canada?"
Without thinking, Butterfly answered, "Sarah."
"Ooh, Sarah, now dat's a hoot!" Race forced a laugh.
But Butterfly had stopped her laughing immdediatly after she had realized her grave mistake. She had given away her real name. She felt a pit start in her stomach.
"Why did ya stop laughin', Sarah?"
"Don't call me by that goddamn name!" Butterfly snapped.
Racetrack help up his hands. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, Canada. No need ta toin intah a bitch! I'se didn't mean nuttin'! Let's hurry da hell up an' get ta Spot's. I hear a pokah game callin' out my name!"
Racetrack cheerfully linked arms with Butterfly and drug her the rest of the way to the lodging house. Butterfly was glad that Race was supporting her, she didn't know if her legs would work after what she said.