CHAPTER NINE
Butterfly knew the pair of them must look like jackasses: standing outside Sheepshed Races and hysterical. Racetrack, because Sheepshed was like his home away from home and she trying to calm him down. Not to mention they were dripping wet and standing in the middle of very dry pedestrians.
Race couldn't control his beaming. "Dis, Canada, is da best damn place in whole New Yawk!"
Butterfly had a different opinion. She cocked her head at the building and tried to picture how someone could get so excited about a bunch of horses running in a circle. She couldn't see it.
"What da hell is so great about it?"
He looked at her incredulously. "Ya jokin', right?"
Butterfly shook her head. "Nah, I'se as serious as da cigah ya smokin' right now."
Racetrack, still looking at Butterfly as though she was some escaped lunatic ax murderer with blood dripping down her, a severed head in one hand, and an ax in the other, threw his cigar on the sidewalk and snubbed it out. "Well, den, you'se about ta see."
He took her hand and, weaving through the people, went to the stand to place bets. An overweight bald man, his stomach bulging out of his too tight shirt, was behind the booth, his back facing Racetrack and Butterfly.
Race cleared his throat.
The man, who was eating a monstrous sandwich, still didn't recognize their presence.
Butterfly's gaze flickered from the obese man to Racetrack, whose face was starting to burn up.
"Hey, Tubby, can we get some goddamn soirvice here?" he snapped.
Butterfly's mouth gaped and she looked incredulously at Race, but he never let his gaze linger from the man--only the grip on her hand get tighter. She glanced back to the very scary man, who had slowly turned around and was giving Racetrack a death glare.
Butterfly thought she and Race would be dead that very moment.
The man, who comically had mustard dripping down his chin and onto his shirt, lumbered over to the bar that separated he from the duo.
"I said, can we git some soivice here, or do we have ta wait all day foah ya ta eat ya damn sandwich?" Race challenged.
Butterfly's eyes widened and she stamped down on Race's foot. "Stop it, wiseass!" she hissed under her breath.
Racetrack let go of her hand. "Shut it, will ya, Canada?" He stepped closer to the booth.
"You can get service," the man growled. "What hoise d'ya want?"
"Dat's moah like it," Race said, obviously proud of himself, as he read the odds posted on card that hung in the back of the booth. "Hum...Spitfiah has pretty good odds...Canada, git da hell ovah here! Ya gotta pick a hoise!"
Butterfly, who still had her gaze locked on the obese, menacing man, was afraid to step forward. Racetrack finally spun around, grabbed her hand, and yanked her forward. "What hoise d'ya want?"
"I don't have no money," she whispered.
"It's okay. I won da whole lot of money in Brooklyn last night, it's on me. Now what damn hoise d'ya want?" Race said.
Butterfly, under the man's hot glare, murmured, "Uh....Tropical Punch."
Race looked incredulously at her. "Buttahfly, Tropical Punch has 14:1 odds, ya don't want dat hoise."
She looked him straight in the eye. "Yes I do, Colin. I want Tropical Punch, Mistah."
"How much?"
"A nickel," Race growled, sliding the currency under the bars.
The man took the nickel and slid Butterfly her ticket.
"Hum....I want Spitfiah. Bettin' a nickle, too," Race finally said.
The lumbering man exchanged the nickel for a ticket, before turning his back to them once again and returning to his sandwich.
"And you have a nice day, too, sir," Race called.
Butterfly didn't even turn around to see what the man's reaction was. She grabbed Race's wrist and tugged him out of there and into Sheepshed Races.
When they reached the heart of Sheepshed, the looming white stands, Butterfly let out a nervous laugh. "Are ya always such a smartass? We could have been eatin' alive back dere!"
Racetrack bowed, took one of her hands, and kissed it. "Mistah Colin Smartass Higgins at ya soivice!"
"Oh, you ass!" Butterfly giggled, yanking her hand out of his grasp, sweeping his hat off his head, and swatting him across the face.
Race retrieved his hat and looked around, inhaling a deep breath. "Welcome ta Sheepshed Races, Missus James."
Butterfly let her eyes scan the structure. A track with a bunch of bleachers on one side of it and drunken or down on their luck people betting on horses. Right...
Racetrack broke her thoughts as he took her hand and led her over to the middle section of seats behind a railing. he sat down and Butterfly did the same, her gaze surveying the track.
"Ya know, Canada, it's a secret dat only a select few know dat da middle section is da best section," Racetrack said, trying to impress her with his extensive knowledge of trivia on racing.
But Butterfly remained unimpressed. "Is dat why most people are sitting in the middle, Col?"
Racetrack only stammered. It was true. The majority of the visitors to the races were in the middle section. "All hoidy-toidy..." was all Butterfly could hear him mutter under his breath.
After a few boring minutes of staring at the track, the commentator's voice rocketed the stadium. Race perked up and grabbed Butterfly's upper arm. "Da race is about ta start, Canada!"
Butterfly watched, as the commentator continued his crackling speech, the horsed get lined up in the gates. Race was pushed over the brink of excitement with every passing moment.
"AND..."
He stood up, his eyes locked hungrily on the starting gate.
"...THEY'RE..."
He leaned on the railing.
"...OFF!"
Race would have fell onto the seats below if Butterfly hadn't have pulled him back by his suspenders.
The gate opened and a bell clanged.
"Dere off, Canada! Dere off! See! See! Dere's dat goddamn hoise Spitfiah. 'e's in da lead!" Racetrack cried, jumping.
Butterfly sat in her seat. "Dat's nice, Race."
"AND THE FAVORITE HORSE TO WIN, SPITEFIRE, IS IN THE LEAD. HERE THEY COME AROUND THE BEND...SPITFIRE STILL IN THE LEAD...NOW IT'S BLACK BEAUTY THAT HAS THE LEAD...NOW SPITFIRE...NOW BLACK BEAUTY...NOW SPITEFIRE..."
Racetrack jumped around as if he was having a seizure while Butterfly slouched in her seat, her eyes dully following the race.
"IT'S SPITFIRE WITH THE LEAD STILL...IT'S BLA...NO, WAIT, IT'S...I CAN'T BELIEVE IT...PUNCH, TROPICAL PUNCH HAS THE LEAD..."
At the mention of her horse, Butterfly leapt out of her seat and leaned on the railing.
"TROPICAL PUNCH STILL HAS THE LEAD COMING INTO THE LAST STRETCH..."
Now it was her turn to get hysterical. "Holy shit, Race, dat's me hoise! Dat's Tropical Punch! RUN, YA CRAZY BASTARD! RUN!!!!!!"
Racetrack had long since become quiet. He watched as his horse moved to third place and Butterfly's to first...and as her horse crossed the finish line.
"AND NUMBER 15, TROPICAL PUNCH, IS THE WINNER!"
Boos erupted from the crowd as the horse favor to come in last place won. Butterfly was in shock, as was Race. He was the first to emerge from it as he clamped his hands on her shoulders and shook her.
"Ya did it! Buttahfly, ya damn hoise won!"
"Oh my God. OhmyGod. OHMYGOD! My hoise won! It won! I won!" Butterfly started to chant as she danced around Race.
Race had to break into a grin. "Congrats, Canada. Now let's go claim ya money."
Butterfly was in such a state of rapture that she didn't even mind going back to claim her money from the man Race had insulted earlier. He reluctantly handed her the winnings.
"T'ank ya, Mistah! T'ank ya!" she cried, causing Racetrack to crack up.
The man grunted and pulled the blind down over the booth.
"C'mon, Buttahfly, we bettah be goin'. I'se starvin'," Racetrack said, pulling her away.
"Can we go again, Race, can we go again?" she screeched, once they had exited Sheepshed Races.
"'Course, Race smiled. Anytime ya want ta go back we can."
"Den let's go back now!" she cried, tugging him back.
He shook his head. "Nah, Can, not now. I'se hungry."
Butterfly sighed as Racetrack took her wrist, pulling her away from her new passion, as she looked over her shoulder for one last look.
*******
"Central Pahk?"
Racetrack nodded. "Yeah, Canada, Central Pahk. Aftah sellin' me papes, I always come here ta eat. Dere's a vendah dat sells da best 'otdogs in da woild here!"
Butterfly was still in disbelief, but shrugged. "Alright, Col. If ya say so."
"Please stop callin' me Col, Canada."
"Please stop callin' me Canada, Col."
Racetrack sighed as he marched across the lush grass of Central Park to the vendors, Butterfly rushing to keep up with his strides. "I nevah shoahs have told ya me name, Canada."
Butterfly grinned. "I guess ya shoahdn't have, Col."
After a few moments of silent walking, they reached the vendor. "Dere it is."
A large, bright orange cart stood in front of them with a multicolored umbrella jutting up from it. A sign dangling on the cart proclaimed: THE BEST HOTDOGS IN NEW YORK.
Looking at the racks of cooking hotdogs made Butterfly realize just how hungry she was. She ran ahead of Racetrack and over to the cart. "I'se gonna have t'ree 'otdogs, please!"
A short, middle age man with a warm smile stepped out from behind the cart. "My, my, my, Miss, you must be hungry."
Butterfly eagerly nodded her head as she thrust her winnings from the racetrack to the man.
"Three hotdogs, is that?" the man asked, pulling three of them out of the roaster.
He was about to take her money, when a voice yelled out, "WAIT!"
Butterfly spun around to see Racetrack jogging towards the cart.
"Wait, Tony!" he cried out again, coming to a halt beside Butterfly.
"Yes, Mr. Racetrack?" the man asked.
"Don't take 'er money."
Butterfly looked at him, astonished. "Of course 'e'll take me money. I'se hungry!"
Race shook his head while catching his breath. "No...I mean, I'll pay foah it."
Butterfly turned around and handed the man her money. "Don't be foolish, Col. I'se got me own money..."
Racetrack grabbed her wrist and pushed it against her again. "I'll pay foah it," he softly said, looking at her with glittering brown eyes that made Butterfly stop and wonder.
He turned back to Tony. "She wants 't'ree? I'll have two. Give us five 'otdogs, please Tony."
Tony smiled as he reached for two more hotdogs. "Very good, Mr. Racetrack."
After the food was purchased, Racetrack led Butterfly over to a giant tree whose shade covered them from the broiling hot August sun. He sighed from exhaustion and collapsed against the trunk, Butterfly sitting cross legged beside him.
"Here ya are, Canada," he said, handing Butterfly her three hotdogs.
She watched as he bit down into his own hotdog and relished in the taste. His eyes met hers. "Dis really good," he said through a full mouth.
"Ya didn't 'ave ta do dat, Racetrack."
"Do what?"
"Ya know, pay foah me food back dere."
"It's okah..."
"No, I want to say t'anks," Butterfly genuinely said, her eyes glittering.
Race knew that his face was heating up yet again. "Ah, stop being so goddamn mushy, Canada, and eat ya goddamn food befoah it gets cold."
Butterfly grinned and moved closer to Race, to that he back touched the trunk of the tree also. "I'se so sahrry foah bein' so goddamn mushy and I'se gonna eat my goddamn food befoah it gets cold."
"Oh, shut ya goddamn mouth!" Race laughed, looking at her.
"Can, do, sir," she replied, taking a bit out of her food.
Both weren't even on their second hotdog, when the exhaustion from the heat finally caught up with them, and they fell into deep sleeps--he with his back to the tree, hat tipped over his brow, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, and she with her back leaning on the side of his arm.
**********
"I wondah how long 'e's been sleepin'," Mush asked himself, as he stood towering over the two sleeping beings.
Mush lightly kicked Racetrack's outstretched leg with his foot. "Hey, Race!"
Race's snoring ceased and he woke with a jump, causing Butterfly, who was leaning against him, to fall on his lap, still asleep.
He looked from her to Mush. "Mush, what da hell are ya doin'?"
"Ah, nuttin'. Jist goin' ta Tibby's. It's almost evenin', Race. How long 'ave ya been here---wit her," Mush said with a devious grin.
Racetrack furrowed his brow. "It's not like that..." Butterfly, breathing rhythmically, switched sides, so her face was now pointing towards Race. "Jesus Christ, goil, wake up!"
Due to Race's shaking, Butterfly woke with a start. "What d'ya want?" she asked groggily.
"Nuttin'..."
"Den why in hell did ya wake me up? I was havin' a nice dream."
"So sue me."
"Fuck you."
Mush watched with amusement the bickering between his friend and the gorgeous blonde. Race caught his amused look and immediately stood up. "Will ya stop it, Mush! It's not what it seems."
Mush didn't believe him. "Right, Race. Ya were jist out all day wit 'er because ya were showin' er 'round Manhattan, right?"
"Right!" Race cried.
Butterfly rose to her feet. "D'ya really t'ink I'd date an asshole like dis?"
"Yeah," Race said siding with her. "D'ya really t'ink she's date an asshole like me?"
Mush waved his arms in front of his face and let out a laugh. "Hey, hey, hey! I'se sahrry dat I'se even brought it up! All I wanted ta know is if ya wanted ta go ta Tibby's. I'se famished!"
"Yeah, shoah Mush..."
"I mean, it isn't my business if ya go cheating on ya goil..."
"I said shoah, Mush!" Racetrack thundered, stamping hard on Mush's foot.
Mush howled in pain as he hopped on one foot. "Alright, Race, alright. I didn't mean nuttin' by it!"
But he did.
**********
"D'ya have ta take 'er away so soon?" Kid Blink whined.
Butterfly smiled as she stood up and pushed in her chair. "Fraid he does," she yawned. "I'se tired."
The majority of the newsies groaned.
"Hey, hey, what da hell gives? She's gonna be stayin' at da lodgin' house wit us. Ya can see 'er den. I jist wanted ta introduce 'er ta all you'se," Racetrack exclaimed.
"Well," Blink said, rising out of his chair, taking her hand, and kissing it. "If ya evah git bored wit ole, Racey here, which I bet will be by tahmarrah, ya jist ask foah Blink."
Butterfly giggled as she released her hand from his grip. She and Race walked over to the door. "Well, g'night. It was really great ta meet ya all."
"You'se too!" the majority said.
"Hey, Buttahfly," Jack Kelly called from a booth. "If you'se asleep when I git back, g'night!"
Butterfly only grinned, and her grin only got wider as the rest of the Manhattan newsies wished her an early goodnight. Racetrack had trouble pushing her out the door she found them so charming.
The bell tinkled and the door to Tibby's closed.
The stifling, muggy twilight hit both as they started the journey back to the Manhattan Newsboys Lodging House.
"It is so damn hot out!" Butterfly exclaimed as she shucked out of her suspenders, leaving them hang loosely at her sides.
"Right about dat," Racetrack replied, falling into step with her.
There was silence for a few minutes before Race broke it. "So, uh, how d'ya like 'em?"
Butterfly locked gazes with him, her smile as dazzling as her eyes. "Oh Lord, Race, dey all seem so great. Da whole lot of 'em! Aftah not having no one foah so long, and den having everyone, it's....breathtakin'."
Race raised an eyebrow. "Breathtakin', is it, sweethaht?"
"Oh, shut-up, ya jackass!" Butterfly grinned, playfully pushing him.
Racetrack and Butterfly walked the remainder of the way to the lodging house trying to trip each other--Butterfly succeeding once.
They dragged their heels up the stairs and her bunk looked like heaven to Butterfly. She contently sighed and prepared to fall down on her bunk and never wake when race said, "Hey, Canada, wanna see da best sight of Manhattan?"
"What's that, Race?" she asked, catching herself and looking longingly at her bed.
"Come wit me."
Butterfly turned around to find that Race had lit up yet another cigar and had stripped out of his shirt and let his suspenders hand loose at his sides. She stood gaping at him.
"What?" he asked, standing in the middle of the bunkroom.
"N...nothin'," Butterfly stammered.
A small, private smile formed on Race's mouth. "Well, den c'mon, Canada."
Butterfly let Racetrack lead her out the window, up the fire escape, and onto the roof of the lodging house.
"Welcome ta da best site in New Yawk, Canada!" he said, making a sweeping movement with his arm.
She looked around, a light breeze sweeping the air and ruffling her hair. "Here?" she asked Race incredulously, who sat on the edge of the roof, his legs dangling over the end. "I t'ought ya said dat 'Sheepshed Races is da best damn place in New Yawk.'"
The embers from cigar made a stark contrast with the darkening sky. "I did say dat, didn't I? Well, Sheepshed is me favorite place in da whole woild...but da goils like dis view."
Butterfly rolled her eyes at the smug grin that formed over his mouth. "Awh, so what, Col, ya t'ought ya would bring me up here and I'se gonna fall madly in love wit ya jist cause ya showed me da New Yawk skyline? I t'ink not."
Racetrack cocked his head to the side, dumbfounded. "Touché'."
Butterfly mockingly bowed. "T'ank ya."
A slight breeze filtered through the heavy air. Both relished the escape from the stifling heat before Race said, "Well, are ya jist gonna stand dere like a damn statue or are ya gonna see da view?"
Butterfly was hesitant to join him on the edge of the roof. "I can see da view jist poifectly from here, t'ank ya very much."
Race laughed. "Oh, c'mon, ya scared little goil!"
She treaded over to the side, looking down. Her eyes grew wide. "Ya want me ta sit on da edge?"
Race's grin widened. "Yeah, Canada, it's da best view. I won't let ya fall, promise."
Butterfly felt something reassuring in his words and in his smile, so she dropped down next to him, keeping her eyes closed.
Racetrack laughed. "C'mon, Buttahfly, open ya eyes. Foah a goil dat stood on da outside of da railin' of da goddamn Brooklyn Bridge, den da rooftop of da lodgin' house should be a piece of cake."
Butterfly opened her eyes to see Race staring into hers with those kind of eyes that you could get lost in. That giving her courage, she looked in front of her and what she saw absolutely took her breath away.
The New York skyline was ablaze with thousands of tiny lights, looking somewhat like fireflies trapped in the vast net of darkness. She glanced at Race with glittering eyes. "Oh, Race...it's beautiful."
He gave her yet another gleaming smile. "I'se knew dat you'd like it, Canada."
After panning the awe-inspiring scene before her, she turned back to Racetrack. She caught him staring at her with those eyes, those deep eyes. "So, ya come up here a lot?"
Race nodded, blowing a series of smoke rings. "Yeah...I do. I come here ta t'ink. It always clears me mind..."
"Whadda 'bout da goils?" she grinned.
Racetrack looked taken off-guard by her slick smile. "Da goils?"
"Yeah, ya said dat da goils like dis view."
"I'se pos'tive ya don't wanna here a list of me conquests."
"Oh," Butterfly said mockingly. "Ya conquests are dey? It wouldn't please me more but ta here ya list of conquests, Col."
Race shook his head and swung his legs over the side of the roof, stretching them out in front of Butterfly and crossing them at the ankles. He inhaled deeply on his cigar. "Well, foist dere was Pauline..."
"Oh, Pauline..." Butterfly commented, pretending to be interested.
"Oh, ya bitch!" he grinned, swatting her knee.
She took no heed to this an continued. "I t'ought ya had a list of conquests, Col. Now, who was Pauline?"
"Da bakah's daughtah."
"Da bakah's daughter. Who's next?"
Race looked at her, his brown eyes glinting. "Rosemary," he finally said.
"Ooh, Rosemary. And she was...?"
"Snipeshootah's goil."
"So ya doublecrossed ya friend, didya, Col? Not very good. Who's next?"
"Jessey."
"Jessey, Now, who was she?"
"A goil I met at one of Spot's pokah games...now are ya done?"
"Is dat da end of all ya conquests, Col?"
Race sighed and shook his head. "No, t'ree more."
"And dey would be..."
"Katrina..."
Butterfly opened her mouth to reply when she was cut off by Racetrack as he quickly said. "...who was a goddamn friend of Jack's and Annie Moiphy who is me goil."
He gave her a hard look, which caused her to break into a smile as she crossed her legs, facing him. "And the thoid one?"
Race shook his head. "Dere is no thoid one."
"But ya said t'ree..."
"Did I?"
"Yeah, Col. So who is she?" Butterfly asked, leaning forward, her eyes glinting.
Race held her gaze, inhaling on his cigar, trying to form the words. "It hasn't happened yet."
"It hasn't happened yet?" she asked, cracking up into laughter.
Racetrack looked at her with sharp eyes. "It's not funny in da least goddamn way when ya wit da poisin ya know ya should be wit and yet ya love anuddah poisin!"
Butterfly's laughing immediately subsided as guilt washed through her. "Jiminy, Race, I'se really sahrry. I, uh, didn't mean ta pry," she said quietly, hopping down from the edge and heading for the fire escape. "I'se t'ink I'll go ta bed, now."
Race watched, feeling blameworthy, as Butterfly's silhouette got dimmer and dimmer. "Hey, Buttahfly, wait!"
Butterfly halted and looked over her shoulder. "Yeah, Race?"
"Ah, Canada," Race stammered. "I...I didn't mean it. I'se jist actin' like a son of a bitch...I'se sahrry..."
He breathed a sigh of relief as he saw in the very dim light Butterfly retake her seat next to him.
She clasped her arms around her knees and rested her head on them, looking out at the flickering lights. "I'se sahrry. I'se was jist giddy...I guess. I mean, I really have friends. People dat said goodnight to me. It's been forevah since anyone said sat ta me..."
Racetrack, feeling even guiltier, snubbed out his cigar and flicked it over the side of the roof. "I can undahstand. I mean, the time span aftah me family died and befoah I became a newsie...my life was basically horrible."
Butterfly caught his gaze. "Ya family died?"
He nodded.
"How?" she asked, but stopped when she saw the somewhat pained look on his face. "I mean...Jesus Christ! Dere I go again!"
Race released a low laugh. "It's okay, Buttahfly."
Racetrack had Butterfly's full attention, as she rest her chin on her knees and as her eyes glinted their last in the nearly full darkness. "Believe it or not...I ac'tually came from a wealthy family. Me muddah, faddah, and me sistah Lyn, we were really happy." He paused, as is reminising. "Anyway, I remembah one day me friend's dad took me to da coicus. I remambah dat it was great. Me and my friend, Bill, were watchin' da elephants when dis man came up to us. He looked really frantic and stahted whisperin' ta Bill's dad. Bill's dad pulled us out of da coicus, and I remembah bein really furious 'cause I wanted ta see da elephants, ya know? Anyway, I remambah bein' dropped off on da street dat I lived on. Dere was a lotta commotion goin' on and all. I looked foah my parents and Lyn, but I couldn't find 'em anywhere. So I stahted wanderin' t'rough all da commotion and I asked da foist bull I saw, "Where's me parents?'"
He stopped. Butterfly noticed this and moved closer to him, nearly touching his side. "What happened, Race?"
"I loined dat dat day we had had some new cook or sumptin'. She was cookin' sumptin' in da oven, and she left it boinin' foah too long and da house caught fire. Me whole family died. Even me toitle..."
"Oh, Race," Butterfly said softly, putting a hand on his bare shoulder. "I'se so sahrry."
"Dey all died. Me faddah, 'e had a law foim wit 'is bruddah. In me faddah's will it said dat da whole estate would go to me...but me uncle was in charge of da will and 'e was too goddamn greedy. He changed da will so 'e got eveyt'ing and I got nuttin' but being' kicked out on da streets."
"Dat's horrible..."
"I had it really rough foah a while. I'd always lived in luxury me whole life. But dat's when I met Jack...and he became me best friend and taught me how ta be a newsie." He locked gazes with Butterfly, even though he could hardly see her in the darkness that had fallen.
"I'se sahrry..." she said quietly.
Race let out a soft laugh. "But, hey. If I let it git ta me, I could nevah git on wit me life. 'sides, bein' a newsies ain't all dat bad. Aftah all, we shoah are free as fishes..."
Butterfly was silent, as she comprehended Racetrack Higgins's story. She almost jumped out of her skin when he asked her, "So, what's ya life story?"
She quickly turned her head towards his. Although she couldn't see him, she knew he was there. She proceded to tell him the truth, leaving the key factors out. "I can say dat I nevah was wealthy. Me muddah died givin' boith ta what was 'sposed ta be me youngah sistah Amy. Me faddah had been a drunk asshole foah as long as my mind would allow me ta remembah. Me bruddah, who was two years oldah dan me, was my guardian angel. He took care of me. When me faddah was out getting drunk all day and night, he woiked odd jobs ta provide da little 'e could foah me. When I was little, I always wandered about because I nevah wanted ta be home. Once in a blue moon, me faddah would come home, drunk as a skunk, and would beat me bruddah and me. When I was old enough ta woik, I did. I nevah evah wanted ta be home. Well, one day me faddah nevah came home. He and some oddah drunk had got inta some brawl in da bar and killed each oddah. It really wasn't a loss...'cept dat me bruddah and I had ta live on da streets poimenatly. It wasn't so bad. We met a group of street rats, too, and while dey would steal food ta eat, me bruddah would woik all day ta buy us food. He nevah let me steal any. He was dat good..."
It was at that point that Butterfly, try as she might, broke into tears. "He was so good..."
She felt a protective arm find its way to her shoulder and pull her close.
"It's okay, Canada."
"I lived wit me bruddah 'till jist about a few years ago, when dere was a spat and 'e was....moidahed," she told through tears.
Butterfly felt all the memories rush back as her sobs became more intense. She fell against Racetrack. "I...h...ad t..ta fend foah m...meself. And..and I didn't have no money, s...so I stole some food, a..and dat sonofabitch S..snydah stuck me in da H..house of Re..fuge."
"And den ya met me."
The soft yet blunt words echoed in Butterfly's head, making her feel safe and protected, something she hadn't been since her brother's death. She didn't fight it off as Racetrack pulled her closer. She didn't care if he was doing that just to protect her or not, she wanted to be looked after. To have all the bad memories erased. To have Queens disappear.
Butterfly James had had a broken past too, just like him. Just like the majority of newsies. Racetrack lent out a protective arm as he felt Butterfly go limp against him, her shoulders shaking under his arm and her tears trickling down his chest. He did the one and only thing that occurred to him at that moment--alone on the rooftop of the Manhattan Newsboys Lodging House in the pitch black, looking at the twinkling lights with the mysterious Butterfly James. He felt for her face in the dark, and gently pressed his lips to hers. She didn't struggle out of the kiss. The fire he felt in it only made the humid night more feverish.
It was at that moment that Racetrack Higgins officially knew he had lost his heart.
Butterfly knew the pair of them must look like jackasses: standing outside Sheepshed Races and hysterical. Racetrack, because Sheepshed was like his home away from home and she trying to calm him down. Not to mention they were dripping wet and standing in the middle of very dry pedestrians.
Race couldn't control his beaming. "Dis, Canada, is da best damn place in whole New Yawk!"
Butterfly had a different opinion. She cocked her head at the building and tried to picture how someone could get so excited about a bunch of horses running in a circle. She couldn't see it.
"What da hell is so great about it?"
He looked at her incredulously. "Ya jokin', right?"
Butterfly shook her head. "Nah, I'se as serious as da cigah ya smokin' right now."
Racetrack, still looking at Butterfly as though she was some escaped lunatic ax murderer with blood dripping down her, a severed head in one hand, and an ax in the other, threw his cigar on the sidewalk and snubbed it out. "Well, den, you'se about ta see."
He took her hand and, weaving through the people, went to the stand to place bets. An overweight bald man, his stomach bulging out of his too tight shirt, was behind the booth, his back facing Racetrack and Butterfly.
Race cleared his throat.
The man, who was eating a monstrous sandwich, still didn't recognize their presence.
Butterfly's gaze flickered from the obese man to Racetrack, whose face was starting to burn up.
"Hey, Tubby, can we get some goddamn soirvice here?" he snapped.
Butterfly's mouth gaped and she looked incredulously at Race, but he never let his gaze linger from the man--only the grip on her hand get tighter. She glanced back to the very scary man, who had slowly turned around and was giving Racetrack a death glare.
Butterfly thought she and Race would be dead that very moment.
The man, who comically had mustard dripping down his chin and onto his shirt, lumbered over to the bar that separated he from the duo.
"I said, can we git some soivice here, or do we have ta wait all day foah ya ta eat ya damn sandwich?" Race challenged.
Butterfly's eyes widened and she stamped down on Race's foot. "Stop it, wiseass!" she hissed under her breath.
Racetrack let go of her hand. "Shut it, will ya, Canada?" He stepped closer to the booth.
"You can get service," the man growled. "What hoise d'ya want?"
"Dat's moah like it," Race said, obviously proud of himself, as he read the odds posted on card that hung in the back of the booth. "Hum...Spitfiah has pretty good odds...Canada, git da hell ovah here! Ya gotta pick a hoise!"
Butterfly, who still had her gaze locked on the obese, menacing man, was afraid to step forward. Racetrack finally spun around, grabbed her hand, and yanked her forward. "What hoise d'ya want?"
"I don't have no money," she whispered.
"It's okay. I won da whole lot of money in Brooklyn last night, it's on me. Now what damn hoise d'ya want?" Race said.
Butterfly, under the man's hot glare, murmured, "Uh....Tropical Punch."
Race looked incredulously at her. "Buttahfly, Tropical Punch has 14:1 odds, ya don't want dat hoise."
She looked him straight in the eye. "Yes I do, Colin. I want Tropical Punch, Mistah."
"How much?"
"A nickel," Race growled, sliding the currency under the bars.
The man took the nickel and slid Butterfly her ticket.
"Hum....I want Spitfiah. Bettin' a nickle, too," Race finally said.
The lumbering man exchanged the nickel for a ticket, before turning his back to them once again and returning to his sandwich.
"And you have a nice day, too, sir," Race called.
Butterfly didn't even turn around to see what the man's reaction was. She grabbed Race's wrist and tugged him out of there and into Sheepshed Races.
When they reached the heart of Sheepshed, the looming white stands, Butterfly let out a nervous laugh. "Are ya always such a smartass? We could have been eatin' alive back dere!"
Racetrack bowed, took one of her hands, and kissed it. "Mistah Colin Smartass Higgins at ya soivice!"
"Oh, you ass!" Butterfly giggled, yanking her hand out of his grasp, sweeping his hat off his head, and swatting him across the face.
Race retrieved his hat and looked around, inhaling a deep breath. "Welcome ta Sheepshed Races, Missus James."
Butterfly let her eyes scan the structure. A track with a bunch of bleachers on one side of it and drunken or down on their luck people betting on horses. Right...
Racetrack broke her thoughts as he took her hand and led her over to the middle section of seats behind a railing. he sat down and Butterfly did the same, her gaze surveying the track.
"Ya know, Canada, it's a secret dat only a select few know dat da middle section is da best section," Racetrack said, trying to impress her with his extensive knowledge of trivia on racing.
But Butterfly remained unimpressed. "Is dat why most people are sitting in the middle, Col?"
Racetrack only stammered. It was true. The majority of the visitors to the races were in the middle section. "All hoidy-toidy..." was all Butterfly could hear him mutter under his breath.
After a few boring minutes of staring at the track, the commentator's voice rocketed the stadium. Race perked up and grabbed Butterfly's upper arm. "Da race is about ta start, Canada!"
Butterfly watched, as the commentator continued his crackling speech, the horsed get lined up in the gates. Race was pushed over the brink of excitement with every passing moment.
"AND..."
He stood up, his eyes locked hungrily on the starting gate.
"...THEY'RE..."
He leaned on the railing.
"...OFF!"
Race would have fell onto the seats below if Butterfly hadn't have pulled him back by his suspenders.
The gate opened and a bell clanged.
"Dere off, Canada! Dere off! See! See! Dere's dat goddamn hoise Spitfiah. 'e's in da lead!" Racetrack cried, jumping.
Butterfly sat in her seat. "Dat's nice, Race."
"AND THE FAVORITE HORSE TO WIN, SPITEFIRE, IS IN THE LEAD. HERE THEY COME AROUND THE BEND...SPITFIRE STILL IN THE LEAD...NOW IT'S BLACK BEAUTY THAT HAS THE LEAD...NOW SPITFIRE...NOW BLACK BEAUTY...NOW SPITEFIRE..."
Racetrack jumped around as if he was having a seizure while Butterfly slouched in her seat, her eyes dully following the race.
"IT'S SPITFIRE WITH THE LEAD STILL...IT'S BLA...NO, WAIT, IT'S...I CAN'T BELIEVE IT...PUNCH, TROPICAL PUNCH HAS THE LEAD..."
At the mention of her horse, Butterfly leapt out of her seat and leaned on the railing.
"TROPICAL PUNCH STILL HAS THE LEAD COMING INTO THE LAST STRETCH..."
Now it was her turn to get hysterical. "Holy shit, Race, dat's me hoise! Dat's Tropical Punch! RUN, YA CRAZY BASTARD! RUN!!!!!!"
Racetrack had long since become quiet. He watched as his horse moved to third place and Butterfly's to first...and as her horse crossed the finish line.
"AND NUMBER 15, TROPICAL PUNCH, IS THE WINNER!"
Boos erupted from the crowd as the horse favor to come in last place won. Butterfly was in shock, as was Race. He was the first to emerge from it as he clamped his hands on her shoulders and shook her.
"Ya did it! Buttahfly, ya damn hoise won!"
"Oh my God. OhmyGod. OHMYGOD! My hoise won! It won! I won!" Butterfly started to chant as she danced around Race.
Race had to break into a grin. "Congrats, Canada. Now let's go claim ya money."
Butterfly was in such a state of rapture that she didn't even mind going back to claim her money from the man Race had insulted earlier. He reluctantly handed her the winnings.
"T'ank ya, Mistah! T'ank ya!" she cried, causing Racetrack to crack up.
The man grunted and pulled the blind down over the booth.
"C'mon, Buttahfly, we bettah be goin'. I'se starvin'," Racetrack said, pulling her away.
"Can we go again, Race, can we go again?" she screeched, once they had exited Sheepshed Races.
"'Course, Race smiled. Anytime ya want ta go back we can."
"Den let's go back now!" she cried, tugging him back.
He shook his head. "Nah, Can, not now. I'se hungry."
Butterfly sighed as Racetrack took her wrist, pulling her away from her new passion, as she looked over her shoulder for one last look.
*******
"Central Pahk?"
Racetrack nodded. "Yeah, Canada, Central Pahk. Aftah sellin' me papes, I always come here ta eat. Dere's a vendah dat sells da best 'otdogs in da woild here!"
Butterfly was still in disbelief, but shrugged. "Alright, Col. If ya say so."
"Please stop callin' me Col, Canada."
"Please stop callin' me Canada, Col."
Racetrack sighed as he marched across the lush grass of Central Park to the vendors, Butterfly rushing to keep up with his strides. "I nevah shoahs have told ya me name, Canada."
Butterfly grinned. "I guess ya shoahdn't have, Col."
After a few moments of silent walking, they reached the vendor. "Dere it is."
A large, bright orange cart stood in front of them with a multicolored umbrella jutting up from it. A sign dangling on the cart proclaimed: THE BEST HOTDOGS IN NEW YORK.
Looking at the racks of cooking hotdogs made Butterfly realize just how hungry she was. She ran ahead of Racetrack and over to the cart. "I'se gonna have t'ree 'otdogs, please!"
A short, middle age man with a warm smile stepped out from behind the cart. "My, my, my, Miss, you must be hungry."
Butterfly eagerly nodded her head as she thrust her winnings from the racetrack to the man.
"Three hotdogs, is that?" the man asked, pulling three of them out of the roaster.
He was about to take her money, when a voice yelled out, "WAIT!"
Butterfly spun around to see Racetrack jogging towards the cart.
"Wait, Tony!" he cried out again, coming to a halt beside Butterfly.
"Yes, Mr. Racetrack?" the man asked.
"Don't take 'er money."
Butterfly looked at him, astonished. "Of course 'e'll take me money. I'se hungry!"
Race shook his head while catching his breath. "No...I mean, I'll pay foah it."
Butterfly turned around and handed the man her money. "Don't be foolish, Col. I'se got me own money..."
Racetrack grabbed her wrist and pushed it against her again. "I'll pay foah it," he softly said, looking at her with glittering brown eyes that made Butterfly stop and wonder.
He turned back to Tony. "She wants 't'ree? I'll have two. Give us five 'otdogs, please Tony."
Tony smiled as he reached for two more hotdogs. "Very good, Mr. Racetrack."
After the food was purchased, Racetrack led Butterfly over to a giant tree whose shade covered them from the broiling hot August sun. He sighed from exhaustion and collapsed against the trunk, Butterfly sitting cross legged beside him.
"Here ya are, Canada," he said, handing Butterfly her three hotdogs.
She watched as he bit down into his own hotdog and relished in the taste. His eyes met hers. "Dis really good," he said through a full mouth.
"Ya didn't 'ave ta do dat, Racetrack."
"Do what?"
"Ya know, pay foah me food back dere."
"It's okah..."
"No, I want to say t'anks," Butterfly genuinely said, her eyes glittering.
Race knew that his face was heating up yet again. "Ah, stop being so goddamn mushy, Canada, and eat ya goddamn food befoah it gets cold."
Butterfly grinned and moved closer to Race, to that he back touched the trunk of the tree also. "I'se so sahrry foah bein' so goddamn mushy and I'se gonna eat my goddamn food befoah it gets cold."
"Oh, shut ya goddamn mouth!" Race laughed, looking at her.
"Can, do, sir," she replied, taking a bit out of her food.
Both weren't even on their second hotdog, when the exhaustion from the heat finally caught up with them, and they fell into deep sleeps--he with his back to the tree, hat tipped over his brow, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, and she with her back leaning on the side of his arm.
**********
"I wondah how long 'e's been sleepin'," Mush asked himself, as he stood towering over the two sleeping beings.
Mush lightly kicked Racetrack's outstretched leg with his foot. "Hey, Race!"
Race's snoring ceased and he woke with a jump, causing Butterfly, who was leaning against him, to fall on his lap, still asleep.
He looked from her to Mush. "Mush, what da hell are ya doin'?"
"Ah, nuttin'. Jist goin' ta Tibby's. It's almost evenin', Race. How long 'ave ya been here---wit her," Mush said with a devious grin.
Racetrack furrowed his brow. "It's not like that..." Butterfly, breathing rhythmically, switched sides, so her face was now pointing towards Race. "Jesus Christ, goil, wake up!"
Due to Race's shaking, Butterfly woke with a start. "What d'ya want?" she asked groggily.
"Nuttin'..."
"Den why in hell did ya wake me up? I was havin' a nice dream."
"So sue me."
"Fuck you."
Mush watched with amusement the bickering between his friend and the gorgeous blonde. Race caught his amused look and immediately stood up. "Will ya stop it, Mush! It's not what it seems."
Mush didn't believe him. "Right, Race. Ya were jist out all day wit 'er because ya were showin' er 'round Manhattan, right?"
"Right!" Race cried.
Butterfly rose to her feet. "D'ya really t'ink I'd date an asshole like dis?"
"Yeah," Race said siding with her. "D'ya really t'ink she's date an asshole like me?"
Mush waved his arms in front of his face and let out a laugh. "Hey, hey, hey! I'se sahrry dat I'se even brought it up! All I wanted ta know is if ya wanted ta go ta Tibby's. I'se famished!"
"Yeah, shoah Mush..."
"I mean, it isn't my business if ya go cheating on ya goil..."
"I said shoah, Mush!" Racetrack thundered, stamping hard on Mush's foot.
Mush howled in pain as he hopped on one foot. "Alright, Race, alright. I didn't mean nuttin' by it!"
But he did.
**********
"D'ya have ta take 'er away so soon?" Kid Blink whined.
Butterfly smiled as she stood up and pushed in her chair. "Fraid he does," she yawned. "I'se tired."
The majority of the newsies groaned.
"Hey, hey, what da hell gives? She's gonna be stayin' at da lodgin' house wit us. Ya can see 'er den. I jist wanted ta introduce 'er ta all you'se," Racetrack exclaimed.
"Well," Blink said, rising out of his chair, taking her hand, and kissing it. "If ya evah git bored wit ole, Racey here, which I bet will be by tahmarrah, ya jist ask foah Blink."
Butterfly giggled as she released her hand from his grip. She and Race walked over to the door. "Well, g'night. It was really great ta meet ya all."
"You'se too!" the majority said.
"Hey, Buttahfly," Jack Kelly called from a booth. "If you'se asleep when I git back, g'night!"
Butterfly only grinned, and her grin only got wider as the rest of the Manhattan newsies wished her an early goodnight. Racetrack had trouble pushing her out the door she found them so charming.
The bell tinkled and the door to Tibby's closed.
The stifling, muggy twilight hit both as they started the journey back to the Manhattan Newsboys Lodging House.
"It is so damn hot out!" Butterfly exclaimed as she shucked out of her suspenders, leaving them hang loosely at her sides.
"Right about dat," Racetrack replied, falling into step with her.
There was silence for a few minutes before Race broke it. "So, uh, how d'ya like 'em?"
Butterfly locked gazes with him, her smile as dazzling as her eyes. "Oh Lord, Race, dey all seem so great. Da whole lot of 'em! Aftah not having no one foah so long, and den having everyone, it's....breathtakin'."
Race raised an eyebrow. "Breathtakin', is it, sweethaht?"
"Oh, shut-up, ya jackass!" Butterfly grinned, playfully pushing him.
Racetrack and Butterfly walked the remainder of the way to the lodging house trying to trip each other--Butterfly succeeding once.
They dragged their heels up the stairs and her bunk looked like heaven to Butterfly. She contently sighed and prepared to fall down on her bunk and never wake when race said, "Hey, Canada, wanna see da best sight of Manhattan?"
"What's that, Race?" she asked, catching herself and looking longingly at her bed.
"Come wit me."
Butterfly turned around to find that Race had lit up yet another cigar and had stripped out of his shirt and let his suspenders hand loose at his sides. She stood gaping at him.
"What?" he asked, standing in the middle of the bunkroom.
"N...nothin'," Butterfly stammered.
A small, private smile formed on Race's mouth. "Well, den c'mon, Canada."
Butterfly let Racetrack lead her out the window, up the fire escape, and onto the roof of the lodging house.
"Welcome ta da best site in New Yawk, Canada!" he said, making a sweeping movement with his arm.
She looked around, a light breeze sweeping the air and ruffling her hair. "Here?" she asked Race incredulously, who sat on the edge of the roof, his legs dangling over the end. "I t'ought ya said dat 'Sheepshed Races is da best damn place in New Yawk.'"
The embers from cigar made a stark contrast with the darkening sky. "I did say dat, didn't I? Well, Sheepshed is me favorite place in da whole woild...but da goils like dis view."
Butterfly rolled her eyes at the smug grin that formed over his mouth. "Awh, so what, Col, ya t'ought ya would bring me up here and I'se gonna fall madly in love wit ya jist cause ya showed me da New Yawk skyline? I t'ink not."
Racetrack cocked his head to the side, dumbfounded. "Touché'."
Butterfly mockingly bowed. "T'ank ya."
A slight breeze filtered through the heavy air. Both relished the escape from the stifling heat before Race said, "Well, are ya jist gonna stand dere like a damn statue or are ya gonna see da view?"
Butterfly was hesitant to join him on the edge of the roof. "I can see da view jist poifectly from here, t'ank ya very much."
Race laughed. "Oh, c'mon, ya scared little goil!"
She treaded over to the side, looking down. Her eyes grew wide. "Ya want me ta sit on da edge?"
Race's grin widened. "Yeah, Canada, it's da best view. I won't let ya fall, promise."
Butterfly felt something reassuring in his words and in his smile, so she dropped down next to him, keeping her eyes closed.
Racetrack laughed. "C'mon, Buttahfly, open ya eyes. Foah a goil dat stood on da outside of da railin' of da goddamn Brooklyn Bridge, den da rooftop of da lodgin' house should be a piece of cake."
Butterfly opened her eyes to see Race staring into hers with those kind of eyes that you could get lost in. That giving her courage, she looked in front of her and what she saw absolutely took her breath away.
The New York skyline was ablaze with thousands of tiny lights, looking somewhat like fireflies trapped in the vast net of darkness. She glanced at Race with glittering eyes. "Oh, Race...it's beautiful."
He gave her yet another gleaming smile. "I'se knew dat you'd like it, Canada."
After panning the awe-inspiring scene before her, she turned back to Racetrack. She caught him staring at her with those eyes, those deep eyes. "So, ya come up here a lot?"
Race nodded, blowing a series of smoke rings. "Yeah...I do. I come here ta t'ink. It always clears me mind..."
"Whadda 'bout da goils?" she grinned.
Racetrack looked taken off-guard by her slick smile. "Da goils?"
"Yeah, ya said dat da goils like dis view."
"I'se pos'tive ya don't wanna here a list of me conquests."
"Oh," Butterfly said mockingly. "Ya conquests are dey? It wouldn't please me more but ta here ya list of conquests, Col."
Race shook his head and swung his legs over the side of the roof, stretching them out in front of Butterfly and crossing them at the ankles. He inhaled deeply on his cigar. "Well, foist dere was Pauline..."
"Oh, Pauline..." Butterfly commented, pretending to be interested.
"Oh, ya bitch!" he grinned, swatting her knee.
She took no heed to this an continued. "I t'ought ya had a list of conquests, Col. Now, who was Pauline?"
"Da bakah's daughtah."
"Da bakah's daughter. Who's next?"
Race looked at her, his brown eyes glinting. "Rosemary," he finally said.
"Ooh, Rosemary. And she was...?"
"Snipeshootah's goil."
"So ya doublecrossed ya friend, didya, Col? Not very good. Who's next?"
"Jessey."
"Jessey, Now, who was she?"
"A goil I met at one of Spot's pokah games...now are ya done?"
"Is dat da end of all ya conquests, Col?"
Race sighed and shook his head. "No, t'ree more."
"And dey would be..."
"Katrina..."
Butterfly opened her mouth to reply when she was cut off by Racetrack as he quickly said. "...who was a goddamn friend of Jack's and Annie Moiphy who is me goil."
He gave her a hard look, which caused her to break into a smile as she crossed her legs, facing him. "And the thoid one?"
Race shook his head. "Dere is no thoid one."
"But ya said t'ree..."
"Did I?"
"Yeah, Col. So who is she?" Butterfly asked, leaning forward, her eyes glinting.
Race held her gaze, inhaling on his cigar, trying to form the words. "It hasn't happened yet."
"It hasn't happened yet?" she asked, cracking up into laughter.
Racetrack looked at her with sharp eyes. "It's not funny in da least goddamn way when ya wit da poisin ya know ya should be wit and yet ya love anuddah poisin!"
Butterfly's laughing immediately subsided as guilt washed through her. "Jiminy, Race, I'se really sahrry. I, uh, didn't mean ta pry," she said quietly, hopping down from the edge and heading for the fire escape. "I'se t'ink I'll go ta bed, now."
Race watched, feeling blameworthy, as Butterfly's silhouette got dimmer and dimmer. "Hey, Buttahfly, wait!"
Butterfly halted and looked over her shoulder. "Yeah, Race?"
"Ah, Canada," Race stammered. "I...I didn't mean it. I'se jist actin' like a son of a bitch...I'se sahrry..."
He breathed a sigh of relief as he saw in the very dim light Butterfly retake her seat next to him.
She clasped her arms around her knees and rested her head on them, looking out at the flickering lights. "I'se sahrry. I'se was jist giddy...I guess. I mean, I really have friends. People dat said goodnight to me. It's been forevah since anyone said sat ta me..."
Racetrack, feeling even guiltier, snubbed out his cigar and flicked it over the side of the roof. "I can undahstand. I mean, the time span aftah me family died and befoah I became a newsie...my life was basically horrible."
Butterfly caught his gaze. "Ya family died?"
He nodded.
"How?" she asked, but stopped when she saw the somewhat pained look on his face. "I mean...Jesus Christ! Dere I go again!"
Race released a low laugh. "It's okay, Buttahfly."
Racetrack had Butterfly's full attention, as she rest her chin on her knees and as her eyes glinted their last in the nearly full darkness. "Believe it or not...I ac'tually came from a wealthy family. Me muddah, faddah, and me sistah Lyn, we were really happy." He paused, as is reminising. "Anyway, I remembah one day me friend's dad took me to da coicus. I remambah dat it was great. Me and my friend, Bill, were watchin' da elephants when dis man came up to us. He looked really frantic and stahted whisperin' ta Bill's dad. Bill's dad pulled us out of da coicus, and I remembah bein really furious 'cause I wanted ta see da elephants, ya know? Anyway, I remambah bein' dropped off on da street dat I lived on. Dere was a lotta commotion goin' on and all. I looked foah my parents and Lyn, but I couldn't find 'em anywhere. So I stahted wanderin' t'rough all da commotion and I asked da foist bull I saw, "Where's me parents?'"
He stopped. Butterfly noticed this and moved closer to him, nearly touching his side. "What happened, Race?"
"I loined dat dat day we had had some new cook or sumptin'. She was cookin' sumptin' in da oven, and she left it boinin' foah too long and da house caught fire. Me whole family died. Even me toitle..."
"Oh, Race," Butterfly said softly, putting a hand on his bare shoulder. "I'se so sahrry."
"Dey all died. Me faddah, 'e had a law foim wit 'is bruddah. In me faddah's will it said dat da whole estate would go to me...but me uncle was in charge of da will and 'e was too goddamn greedy. He changed da will so 'e got eveyt'ing and I got nuttin' but being' kicked out on da streets."
"Dat's horrible..."
"I had it really rough foah a while. I'd always lived in luxury me whole life. But dat's when I met Jack...and he became me best friend and taught me how ta be a newsie." He locked gazes with Butterfly, even though he could hardly see her in the darkness that had fallen.
"I'se sahrry..." she said quietly.
Race let out a soft laugh. "But, hey. If I let it git ta me, I could nevah git on wit me life. 'sides, bein' a newsies ain't all dat bad. Aftah all, we shoah are free as fishes..."
Butterfly was silent, as she comprehended Racetrack Higgins's story. She almost jumped out of her skin when he asked her, "So, what's ya life story?"
She quickly turned her head towards his. Although she couldn't see him, she knew he was there. She proceded to tell him the truth, leaving the key factors out. "I can say dat I nevah was wealthy. Me muddah died givin' boith ta what was 'sposed ta be me youngah sistah Amy. Me faddah had been a drunk asshole foah as long as my mind would allow me ta remembah. Me bruddah, who was two years oldah dan me, was my guardian angel. He took care of me. When me faddah was out getting drunk all day and night, he woiked odd jobs ta provide da little 'e could foah me. When I was little, I always wandered about because I nevah wanted ta be home. Once in a blue moon, me faddah would come home, drunk as a skunk, and would beat me bruddah and me. When I was old enough ta woik, I did. I nevah evah wanted ta be home. Well, one day me faddah nevah came home. He and some oddah drunk had got inta some brawl in da bar and killed each oddah. It really wasn't a loss...'cept dat me bruddah and I had ta live on da streets poimenatly. It wasn't so bad. We met a group of street rats, too, and while dey would steal food ta eat, me bruddah would woik all day ta buy us food. He nevah let me steal any. He was dat good..."
It was at that point that Butterfly, try as she might, broke into tears. "He was so good..."
She felt a protective arm find its way to her shoulder and pull her close.
"It's okay, Canada."
"I lived wit me bruddah 'till jist about a few years ago, when dere was a spat and 'e was....moidahed," she told through tears.
Butterfly felt all the memories rush back as her sobs became more intense. She fell against Racetrack. "I...h...ad t..ta fend foah m...meself. And..and I didn't have no money, s...so I stole some food, a..and dat sonofabitch S..snydah stuck me in da H..house of Re..fuge."
"And den ya met me."
The soft yet blunt words echoed in Butterfly's head, making her feel safe and protected, something she hadn't been since her brother's death. She didn't fight it off as Racetrack pulled her closer. She didn't care if he was doing that just to protect her or not, she wanted to be looked after. To have all the bad memories erased. To have Queens disappear.
Butterfly James had had a broken past too, just like him. Just like the majority of newsies. Racetrack lent out a protective arm as he felt Butterfly go limp against him, her shoulders shaking under his arm and her tears trickling down his chest. He did the one and only thing that occurred to him at that moment--alone on the rooftop of the Manhattan Newsboys Lodging House in the pitch black, looking at the twinkling lights with the mysterious Butterfly James. He felt for her face in the dark, and gently pressed his lips to hers. She didn't struggle out of the kiss. The fire he felt in it only made the humid night more feverish.
It was at that moment that Racetrack Higgins officially knew he had lost his heart.