CHAPTER SEVEN
The slam startled the newsies. They cast their gazes up to the bunkroom door to see Mush standing in the doorway, his papes resting on his shoulders and a sheepish look plastered on his face. The majority of the newsies looked away and continued their morning ritual of getting ready before a long day of selling.
Mush squeezed through the newsies that crowded the bunkroom, making his way over to his bunk and laying the papes on it with a sigh.
"Heya, Mush. Why back so oily?"
Mush knew the familiar, raspy voice at once. "Heya, Race," he replied, ducking his head to find Racetrack sprawled on the lower bunk, inhaling on a cigar.
"Why ya back so oily?" Race asked again.
Mush sighed. "I forgot me hat."
Race let out a snort. "Ya hat's dat damn important ta come back foah it?"
Mush eagerly nodded. "Sure da 'ell is, Race. It's so hot out there I t'ought I was about ta melt!"
"Melt like a stick of buttah?"
Mush spun around to see Kid Blink perched on the top of a bunk, his blonde hair wet from a recent shower.
"You'se real funny, Blink," he sarcastically said.
"I know, Mushy, ya don't 'ave ta tell me."
"Blinky knows 'e's a riot," Racetrack commented.
Mush grabbed his derby hat and sat it on his head. "Well, guys, I'se bettah be goin'. Don't want to be too late."
Blink and Race exchanged glances.
Mush shrugged and turned on his heel when Blink jumped from the bunk and called, "Hey, Mush, what's da headlinah?"
Mush turned around, fumbling for a paper. "Oh..." he said, scanning it, "A moidah..."
This stuck Racetrack's interest. "Who?" he asked, standing up and grabbing the paper from Mush. Blink and Mush looked over his shoulder as Racetrack read the screaming headline:
BRUTAL HOMICIDE OF WEALTHY NEW YORK SOCILITE"S DAUGHTER
MANHATTAN--Courtney Anne Knox, daughter of wealthy New York stockbroker Arnold Knox and his wife Isa, was found brutally murdered this morning in Manhattan. Reports say that the 16-year-old girl's neck had been slashed by an unknown attacker. Events leading up to the murder are this at the moment: Arnold and Isa Knox had made plans to attend a charity ball last night. When questioned, Knox said that he specifically told his daughter to stay home. Armina Kellinah, Miss Knox's maid, was reached for questioning and said that indeed the girl disobeyed her father's wishes. Kellinah claims that Miss Knox told her that she was planning that night to have a rendez-vous with a young man that her father disapproved of. Kellinah was quoted as saying, "Courtney Anne told me that she was going to meet a young man last night. I strongly suggested against it. I told her that the streets of New York are very dangerous at night. Courtney agreed and said that she wouldn't visit him. I believed her. And when I heard early this morning that she had been murdered after sneaking out, I was devastated. She was such a sweet girl." It is speculated that Miss Knox snuck out after dark to meet up with her lover, but it was an ill trip, for she was snatched and her throat slashed. Bruises in the form of male fingerprints appeared on Miss Knox's cheeks and chin. It appeares who ever committed this grisly murder was of the male persuasion. It is also speculted that who ever committed the murder, hid out or is hiding out in Queens. A bloody knife and a precious ring identified as Miss Knox's was found near an abandoned warehouse early this morning by a civilian. When asked for who could have possibly committed this henious murder, Manhattan Police Chief Toby Hausterfut said, "At this time, we don't have any leads on who could have murdered Miss Knox. The ring and the knife found in Queens brought some speculation that the murderer resided in Queens. You never know...all those crazy newsboys over there, but we doubt that for it could have been a jealous lover or anyone at this point." STORY CONTINUED ON PAGE A-3.
The three sets of eyes darted over to the cover picture that was printed to the right of the article. The picture showed a smiling, gorgeous girl with big eyes and flowing blonde hair to match her flowing dress.
Blink let out a long whistle. "Pretty goil. Can't believe day dey even suggested dat Queens could 'ave killed 'er."
"I don't see why not," Mush said quietly. "It's a known fact dat Queens went to da dogs aftah Jimmy Sprites was killed."
Racetrack shook his head. "Poor girl," he commented, before breaking the subject as abruptly as it had been started. "So, are you'se gonna sell papes tahday?"
Kid Blink gave him an incredulous look before breaking out into a string of wild laughter. "Whattah comedian, Mush! Racetrack, old boy, ya crack me up! 'Course we'se gonna sell!We'se goddamn newsies, foah Christ's sake! What do ya want us ta do? Twiddle our damn thumbs all day?"
Race rolled his eyes as Mush stifled his laughter by putting a hand to his mouth.
Blink's laughter died away. "Why, Race? What da 'ell are you gonna do?"
Racetrack could feel his cheeks fire up as he stumbled for the words to say. "Well, uh, since ya know, Canada..."
"Canada?" Blink asked, lifting an eyebrow.
"Buttahfly..." Race stammered.
Blink and Mush exchanged sly glances. "Yeah, Race, I know 'er..." He pointed to the bunk below his, to the left of Racetrack's. Butterfly was curled up on the bed, a peaceful expression on her face, the sun beams streaming from the window creating sparkling highlights in her hair. "...I sleep on top of 'er at night!"
That caused Blink to burst out into laughter, and Mush, not being able to control himself, to do the same, while slapping Blink on the back. Race felt his face become scorching red.
"Ya asshole!" Race stammered, rolling up the newspaper and smacking the back of Blink's head with it.
"Owh!" Blink cried out through his howls. That just caused Mush to fall to his knees from laughter.
After what seemed like hours, Mush was finally able to stand up without collapsing from laughter, and Blink was able to control himself, while rubbing the back of his head.
"Dat really hoit!" Blink whined, causing Mush to snort.
Racetrack only rolled his eyes and blew cigar smoke into Blink's face. Blink fell back on the edge of Butterfly's bunk, coughing and waving his hands in front of his face. Once the smoke had cleared, Blink could open his eyes. Being that his normally brilliant blue eyes were bloodshot from the smoke, just set Mush off into hysterical laughter again.
Kid Blink's brow furrowed in anger and his red eyes glittered. He thrust himself off the bunk (surprisingly not waking Butterfly) and heaved himself at Race, grabbing his derby hat off his head and swatting it across his face.
"Ya know dat I'se 'llergic ta smoke, ya ass!" Blink cried.
Mush's laughter immediatly subsided and guilt rushed through Racetrack as Blink let out a growl and rubbed his eyes, just irritating them more.
Race sheepishly got off his bunk and put a hand on Blink's shoulder. "Blink..."
Kid Blink angerly shook it off. "Leave me alone, Higgins!" he spat.
Racetrack and Mush both watched their friend thunder to the washroom, and jumped when he slammed the door.
"What da 'ell's wrong wit Blink?" they heard a fellow newsie ask in the background.
Mush quietly scooped his papes up once again, resting them on his shoulder. He looked Race in they eye and gave him an encouraging smile. "Don't worry, Race. Ya know Blink. 'e'll be ovah it quick as a snap. Ya know 'im. 'e's so goddamn emotional."
Racetrack forced a smile as he snubbed out the ill-purposed cigar. "Yeah, Mush, I guess ya right..."
"Dat's it. Well, Race, I'se bettah be goin'. I'se late as it is already!" Mush chirpily said.
"Right, Mush, bye," Race said without emotion.
"Bye, Race," Mush said, walking out of the bunkroom whistling an upbeat tune.
Race sighed and flopped back onto his bunk, feeling horrible that one of his best friends was furious at him.
Oh, screw him, Racetrack thought. If he wanted to put his plan into action for that day, he better wake Butterfly.
He rolled over, planning to have to shake her awake, but instead Race almost jumped out of his skin. Butterfly was laying on her side, her head propped up on her elbow, a sly grin on her face. Her hair glinted white and odd eyes dazzled hauntingly in the sun. Racetrack was mesmerized by her eyes, before Butterfly broke the trance.
"What in hell was 'is problem?"
In spite of himself, he had to smile. As he sat on the edge of his bunk he replied, "I blew smoke in 'is face and 'e jist got all furious."
Butterfly seemed to take this in, before grinning, "Well, good mornin', Colin Higgins. Aren't ya gonna see ya papes taday?"
Racetrack, stuffing the pape under his pillow, felt his cheeks flush again for the fourth time that day, all on account of Butterfly James. That had never happened to him before, save the time that Annie had agreed to become his girl when he had asked her. "Act'lly, no, Canada," a shy smile crossing his face. "Since you'se gonnabe livin' wit us in Manhattan, I t;ought maybe I'd show ya all da 'ot spots?" He posed it more as a question than as a statement.
Butterfly's eyes lit up. "Really, Col?"
Racetrack knew his whole face had to be as red as a fire engine. What the hell kind of effect did this girl have over him? "Really, Canada."
Butterfly swung her legs over the edge of her bunk and streched her arms over her head.
"Have a nice sleep?" Race asked, reaching for a cigar.
She nodded her head furiously. "Oh, hell yes, Racetrack. Aftah spendin' eighteen goddamn months in the Dump of Refuge, anyt'ing seems like a five stah 'otel. I was out all night. All I remembah is fallin' asleep in Brooklyn...and den wakin' up here." She shook her head in disbelief and locked eyes with Racetrack. "I must be goin' crazy. How could I have been in Brooklyn and ended up here?"
Butterfly stood up. "Well, Col, when are we goin'?"
Race absently minded nodded his head.
"Can I use the washroom?"
Race shook his head.
Butterfly gave him a strange look. Racetrack Higgins looked like he was in his own little world.
"I'se not gonna run inta any naked newsies in dere, Race, am I?"
Race shook his head.
Now Butterfly knew he was off his rocker. A smile crept across her face. "Col, am I da Queen of England?"
Race shook his head.
Butterfly let out a giggle. "Ya outta it, Race. I'll be in da washroom one minute."
Racetrack watched as Butterfly, strode to the washroom. In fact, he wasn't out of it. He had just been cuaght off guard when she made reference to falling asleep in Brooklyn and waking up in Manhattan. He remembered carrying her in his arms and her rhythmic breathing. How her eyes took his breath away when they sparkled in the sun. How only she could get away by calling him Colin, and it actually sound good coming from her lips.
Racetrack shook his head, banishing those thoughts from his head as he lit up a cigar. What the hell was she doing to him? He didn't know anything about the mysterious Butterfly James. And anyway, he was dating Annie. Annie Murphy. Annie was a nice girl...but Butterfly was better.
********
"What the FUCK is this?"
Rylie Lyner's booming voice rocketed in the bunkroom. His normally pale face was flushed red with fury beyond belief.
"What is this?" he bellowed, holding up that day's newspaper, pointing to the headline.
The oafish newsies standing in the familar line read the blaring headline: BRUTAL HOMICIDE OF WEALTHY NEW YORK SOCILITE'S DAUGHTER.
They looked into his shocking green eyes, actually feeling fright. Although he was small and thin, no one wanted to witness the side of Rylie Lyner when he was furious. Alike were he and Spot Conlon, little yet commanding.
"What is this?" he boomed again.
Some of his powerful newsies even flinched.
Rylie struck the picture of the smiling blonde with his index finger. "Who the hell is this? Jasper, Ulf, who the FUCK did you murder?"
Jasper Johnston and Ulf Uberstein stepped forawrd from the line-up.
"WELL?"
Jasper spoke. "Ya told us ta kill Sarah Sprites. And ya said dat she was blonde. It was dark as hell out and me and Ulf saw a blonde goil...."
"But it wasn't Sarash Sprites," Rylie said in a sing song voice. Then he exploded. "It was some rich bitch named Courtney Anne Knox. Now Sarah Sprites. Courtney Anne fucking Knox! How could you be so stupid!"
Jasper and Ulf stood silent.
"How could you be? The bull chief even makes reference to Queens newsies! How could you just drop the goddamn knife and her ring in Queens? How could you be so goddamn stupid?" Rylie blared.
"We'se sahrry, Rylie," Jasper and Ulf said in unison.
Rylie slunk off his bunk and over to the two newsies, who towered over him by more than a foot. "You're sorry? Sorry are you? Well, sorry is not going to get us out of this mess." As quick as lightning, Rylie's hand went to his back pocket, grabbed the hilt of his knife, and slashed it across Jasper Johnson's throat. Jasper fell to his knees, clutching his neck, but to no avail. Blood gushed through his fingers. He finally fell like a sack of potatos to his stomach.
Ulf looked at the fallen newsie with horror eched in his face. He then looked to Rylie, as he backed away. "Rylie, no, no, please don't kill me!"
Rylie strode up to him. "Now, now, don't be silly, Uberstein, why the hell would I kill you?"
Ulf let out a sigh of relief.
"Actually, I would kill you because you just fucked me over with your stupidity. Good-bye, Ulf," Rylie stated, before driving his knife into the side of Ulf's neck.
Rylie let go of the hilt as the newsie fell to the floor.
Rylie, wiping his bloody hands together and acting as though nothing had happened, walked back to his bunk. He then turned to the other newsies who looked in horror at the two dead corpses on the floor.
"What?" Rylie asked nonchalantly.
"N...nothing," Horance Lyner stammered.
"Good!" Rylie cheerfully exclaimed. "Now, be good little newsies and get these two rotting bodies out of here. This is just a warning for you not to mess up. but I know you won't because you are all good little newsies, right?"
The newsies murmered in agreement as they scooped up the two fallen newsies, dragging them out of Rylie's room.
As Horance was shutting the door behind him, Rylie called out.
"Yeah, Ry," his brother asked somberly.
A shadow fell across Rylie Lyner's face. "Find her, Horance. Go to Manhattan and find that bitch. I want her dead. And don't fail."
The slam startled the newsies. They cast their gazes up to the bunkroom door to see Mush standing in the doorway, his papes resting on his shoulders and a sheepish look plastered on his face. The majority of the newsies looked away and continued their morning ritual of getting ready before a long day of selling.
Mush squeezed through the newsies that crowded the bunkroom, making his way over to his bunk and laying the papes on it with a sigh.
"Heya, Mush. Why back so oily?"
Mush knew the familiar, raspy voice at once. "Heya, Race," he replied, ducking his head to find Racetrack sprawled on the lower bunk, inhaling on a cigar.
"Why ya back so oily?" Race asked again.
Mush sighed. "I forgot me hat."
Race let out a snort. "Ya hat's dat damn important ta come back foah it?"
Mush eagerly nodded. "Sure da 'ell is, Race. It's so hot out there I t'ought I was about ta melt!"
"Melt like a stick of buttah?"
Mush spun around to see Kid Blink perched on the top of a bunk, his blonde hair wet from a recent shower.
"You'se real funny, Blink," he sarcastically said.
"I know, Mushy, ya don't 'ave ta tell me."
"Blinky knows 'e's a riot," Racetrack commented.
Mush grabbed his derby hat and sat it on his head. "Well, guys, I'se bettah be goin'. Don't want to be too late."
Blink and Race exchanged glances.
Mush shrugged and turned on his heel when Blink jumped from the bunk and called, "Hey, Mush, what's da headlinah?"
Mush turned around, fumbling for a paper. "Oh..." he said, scanning it, "A moidah..."
This stuck Racetrack's interest. "Who?" he asked, standing up and grabbing the paper from Mush. Blink and Mush looked over his shoulder as Racetrack read the screaming headline:
BRUTAL HOMICIDE OF WEALTHY NEW YORK SOCILITE"S DAUGHTER
MANHATTAN--Courtney Anne Knox, daughter of wealthy New York stockbroker Arnold Knox and his wife Isa, was found brutally murdered this morning in Manhattan. Reports say that the 16-year-old girl's neck had been slashed by an unknown attacker. Events leading up to the murder are this at the moment: Arnold and Isa Knox had made plans to attend a charity ball last night. When questioned, Knox said that he specifically told his daughter to stay home. Armina Kellinah, Miss Knox's maid, was reached for questioning and said that indeed the girl disobeyed her father's wishes. Kellinah claims that Miss Knox told her that she was planning that night to have a rendez-vous with a young man that her father disapproved of. Kellinah was quoted as saying, "Courtney Anne told me that she was going to meet a young man last night. I strongly suggested against it. I told her that the streets of New York are very dangerous at night. Courtney agreed and said that she wouldn't visit him. I believed her. And when I heard early this morning that she had been murdered after sneaking out, I was devastated. She was such a sweet girl." It is speculated that Miss Knox snuck out after dark to meet up with her lover, but it was an ill trip, for she was snatched and her throat slashed. Bruises in the form of male fingerprints appeared on Miss Knox's cheeks and chin. It appeares who ever committed this grisly murder was of the male persuasion. It is also speculted that who ever committed the murder, hid out or is hiding out in Queens. A bloody knife and a precious ring identified as Miss Knox's was found near an abandoned warehouse early this morning by a civilian. When asked for who could have possibly committed this henious murder, Manhattan Police Chief Toby Hausterfut said, "At this time, we don't have any leads on who could have murdered Miss Knox. The ring and the knife found in Queens brought some speculation that the murderer resided in Queens. You never know...all those crazy newsboys over there, but we doubt that for it could have been a jealous lover or anyone at this point." STORY CONTINUED ON PAGE A-3.
The three sets of eyes darted over to the cover picture that was printed to the right of the article. The picture showed a smiling, gorgeous girl with big eyes and flowing blonde hair to match her flowing dress.
Blink let out a long whistle. "Pretty goil. Can't believe day dey even suggested dat Queens could 'ave killed 'er."
"I don't see why not," Mush said quietly. "It's a known fact dat Queens went to da dogs aftah Jimmy Sprites was killed."
Racetrack shook his head. "Poor girl," he commented, before breaking the subject as abruptly as it had been started. "So, are you'se gonna sell papes tahday?"
Kid Blink gave him an incredulous look before breaking out into a string of wild laughter. "Whattah comedian, Mush! Racetrack, old boy, ya crack me up! 'Course we'se gonna sell!We'se goddamn newsies, foah Christ's sake! What do ya want us ta do? Twiddle our damn thumbs all day?"
Race rolled his eyes as Mush stifled his laughter by putting a hand to his mouth.
Blink's laughter died away. "Why, Race? What da 'ell are you gonna do?"
Racetrack could feel his cheeks fire up as he stumbled for the words to say. "Well, uh, since ya know, Canada..."
"Canada?" Blink asked, lifting an eyebrow.
"Buttahfly..." Race stammered.
Blink and Mush exchanged sly glances. "Yeah, Race, I know 'er..." He pointed to the bunk below his, to the left of Racetrack's. Butterfly was curled up on the bed, a peaceful expression on her face, the sun beams streaming from the window creating sparkling highlights in her hair. "...I sleep on top of 'er at night!"
That caused Blink to burst out into laughter, and Mush, not being able to control himself, to do the same, while slapping Blink on the back. Race felt his face become scorching red.
"Ya asshole!" Race stammered, rolling up the newspaper and smacking the back of Blink's head with it.
"Owh!" Blink cried out through his howls. That just caused Mush to fall to his knees from laughter.
After what seemed like hours, Mush was finally able to stand up without collapsing from laughter, and Blink was able to control himself, while rubbing the back of his head.
"Dat really hoit!" Blink whined, causing Mush to snort.
Racetrack only rolled his eyes and blew cigar smoke into Blink's face. Blink fell back on the edge of Butterfly's bunk, coughing and waving his hands in front of his face. Once the smoke had cleared, Blink could open his eyes. Being that his normally brilliant blue eyes were bloodshot from the smoke, just set Mush off into hysterical laughter again.
Kid Blink's brow furrowed in anger and his red eyes glittered. He thrust himself off the bunk (surprisingly not waking Butterfly) and heaved himself at Race, grabbing his derby hat off his head and swatting it across his face.
"Ya know dat I'se 'llergic ta smoke, ya ass!" Blink cried.
Mush's laughter immediatly subsided and guilt rushed through Racetrack as Blink let out a growl and rubbed his eyes, just irritating them more.
Race sheepishly got off his bunk and put a hand on Blink's shoulder. "Blink..."
Kid Blink angerly shook it off. "Leave me alone, Higgins!" he spat.
Racetrack and Mush both watched their friend thunder to the washroom, and jumped when he slammed the door.
"What da 'ell's wrong wit Blink?" they heard a fellow newsie ask in the background.
Mush quietly scooped his papes up once again, resting them on his shoulder. He looked Race in they eye and gave him an encouraging smile. "Don't worry, Race. Ya know Blink. 'e'll be ovah it quick as a snap. Ya know 'im. 'e's so goddamn emotional."
Racetrack forced a smile as he snubbed out the ill-purposed cigar. "Yeah, Mush, I guess ya right..."
"Dat's it. Well, Race, I'se bettah be goin'. I'se late as it is already!" Mush chirpily said.
"Right, Mush, bye," Race said without emotion.
"Bye, Race," Mush said, walking out of the bunkroom whistling an upbeat tune.
Race sighed and flopped back onto his bunk, feeling horrible that one of his best friends was furious at him.
Oh, screw him, Racetrack thought. If he wanted to put his plan into action for that day, he better wake Butterfly.
He rolled over, planning to have to shake her awake, but instead Race almost jumped out of his skin. Butterfly was laying on her side, her head propped up on her elbow, a sly grin on her face. Her hair glinted white and odd eyes dazzled hauntingly in the sun. Racetrack was mesmerized by her eyes, before Butterfly broke the trance.
"What in hell was 'is problem?"
In spite of himself, he had to smile. As he sat on the edge of his bunk he replied, "I blew smoke in 'is face and 'e jist got all furious."
Butterfly seemed to take this in, before grinning, "Well, good mornin', Colin Higgins. Aren't ya gonna see ya papes taday?"
Racetrack, stuffing the pape under his pillow, felt his cheeks flush again for the fourth time that day, all on account of Butterfly James. That had never happened to him before, save the time that Annie had agreed to become his girl when he had asked her. "Act'lly, no, Canada," a shy smile crossing his face. "Since you'se gonnabe livin' wit us in Manhattan, I t;ought maybe I'd show ya all da 'ot spots?" He posed it more as a question than as a statement.
Butterfly's eyes lit up. "Really, Col?"
Racetrack knew his whole face had to be as red as a fire engine. What the hell kind of effect did this girl have over him? "Really, Canada."
Butterfly swung her legs over the edge of her bunk and streched her arms over her head.
"Have a nice sleep?" Race asked, reaching for a cigar.
She nodded her head furiously. "Oh, hell yes, Racetrack. Aftah spendin' eighteen goddamn months in the Dump of Refuge, anyt'ing seems like a five stah 'otel. I was out all night. All I remembah is fallin' asleep in Brooklyn...and den wakin' up here." She shook her head in disbelief and locked eyes with Racetrack. "I must be goin' crazy. How could I have been in Brooklyn and ended up here?"
Butterfly stood up. "Well, Col, when are we goin'?"
Race absently minded nodded his head.
"Can I use the washroom?"
Race shook his head.
Butterfly gave him a strange look. Racetrack Higgins looked like he was in his own little world.
"I'se not gonna run inta any naked newsies in dere, Race, am I?"
Race shook his head.
Now Butterfly knew he was off his rocker. A smile crept across her face. "Col, am I da Queen of England?"
Race shook his head.
Butterfly let out a giggle. "Ya outta it, Race. I'll be in da washroom one minute."
Racetrack watched as Butterfly, strode to the washroom. In fact, he wasn't out of it. He had just been cuaght off guard when she made reference to falling asleep in Brooklyn and waking up in Manhattan. He remembered carrying her in his arms and her rhythmic breathing. How her eyes took his breath away when they sparkled in the sun. How only she could get away by calling him Colin, and it actually sound good coming from her lips.
Racetrack shook his head, banishing those thoughts from his head as he lit up a cigar. What the hell was she doing to him? He didn't know anything about the mysterious Butterfly James. And anyway, he was dating Annie. Annie Murphy. Annie was a nice girl...but Butterfly was better.
********
"What the FUCK is this?"
Rylie Lyner's booming voice rocketed in the bunkroom. His normally pale face was flushed red with fury beyond belief.
"What is this?" he bellowed, holding up that day's newspaper, pointing to the headline.
The oafish newsies standing in the familar line read the blaring headline: BRUTAL HOMICIDE OF WEALTHY NEW YORK SOCILITE'S DAUGHTER.
They looked into his shocking green eyes, actually feeling fright. Although he was small and thin, no one wanted to witness the side of Rylie Lyner when he was furious. Alike were he and Spot Conlon, little yet commanding.
"What is this?" he boomed again.
Some of his powerful newsies even flinched.
Rylie struck the picture of the smiling blonde with his index finger. "Who the hell is this? Jasper, Ulf, who the FUCK did you murder?"
Jasper Johnston and Ulf Uberstein stepped forawrd from the line-up.
"WELL?"
Jasper spoke. "Ya told us ta kill Sarah Sprites. And ya said dat she was blonde. It was dark as hell out and me and Ulf saw a blonde goil...."
"But it wasn't Sarash Sprites," Rylie said in a sing song voice. Then he exploded. "It was some rich bitch named Courtney Anne Knox. Now Sarah Sprites. Courtney Anne fucking Knox! How could you be so stupid!"
Jasper and Ulf stood silent.
"How could you be? The bull chief even makes reference to Queens newsies! How could you just drop the goddamn knife and her ring in Queens? How could you be so goddamn stupid?" Rylie blared.
"We'se sahrry, Rylie," Jasper and Ulf said in unison.
Rylie slunk off his bunk and over to the two newsies, who towered over him by more than a foot. "You're sorry? Sorry are you? Well, sorry is not going to get us out of this mess." As quick as lightning, Rylie's hand went to his back pocket, grabbed the hilt of his knife, and slashed it across Jasper Johnson's throat. Jasper fell to his knees, clutching his neck, but to no avail. Blood gushed through his fingers. He finally fell like a sack of potatos to his stomach.
Ulf looked at the fallen newsie with horror eched in his face. He then looked to Rylie, as he backed away. "Rylie, no, no, please don't kill me!"
Rylie strode up to him. "Now, now, don't be silly, Uberstein, why the hell would I kill you?"
Ulf let out a sigh of relief.
"Actually, I would kill you because you just fucked me over with your stupidity. Good-bye, Ulf," Rylie stated, before driving his knife into the side of Ulf's neck.
Rylie let go of the hilt as the newsie fell to the floor.
Rylie, wiping his bloody hands together and acting as though nothing had happened, walked back to his bunk. He then turned to the other newsies who looked in horror at the two dead corpses on the floor.
"What?" Rylie asked nonchalantly.
"N...nothing," Horance Lyner stammered.
"Good!" Rylie cheerfully exclaimed. "Now, be good little newsies and get these two rotting bodies out of here. This is just a warning for you not to mess up. but I know you won't because you are all good little newsies, right?"
The newsies murmered in agreement as they scooped up the two fallen newsies, dragging them out of Rylie's room.
As Horance was shutting the door behind him, Rylie called out.
"Yeah, Ry," his brother asked somberly.
A shadow fell across Rylie Lyner's face. "Find her, Horance. Go to Manhattan and find that bitch. I want her dead. And don't fail."