Newsies© isn't mine!! It belongs to Disney©
~Please enjoy~
Piker wiped her brow as she walked towards Tibby's. It had been a hard day. The headlines were horrible and not even lying could improve them. She didn't steal that day since all she could remember is David going, "You steal from your customers.....that's horrible!". She sold all her papers honestly today. Something she'd hadn't done since the beginning of her newsie career. She remember the day perfectly:
She had just gotten her papers and was walking towards Central Park to sell. She crossed the street and stood on the corner calling out the real headlines. No one would even look at her let alone stop for a paper. She sat down and sighed. This was going to take some time, Emily thought. This went on for a week. Every night she had to take her papers to a trash collector. One day she finally decided that she had to find a way to make money. She thought all day until it hit her like a milk truck. Steal the money! But only from the rich people, they could spare it. And she started her pick pocketing. It wasn't easy, but she made it. One day she noticed an Italian about her age who looked pretty well off. He was walking to a restaurant, which meant he had to have some kind of money. She followed him in and sat in the booth across from him. When he was seated and looked occupied she pulled the usual trick. The "Oops, I'm sorry I drop something" trick. She stood up with her newspaper (she was still trying at the newsie idea) and passed him and dropped it "accidentally" on his table. He looked up and leaned over towards the table. This is my chance. She bent over at the same time and grabbed his watch, acting like she was going for the newspaper. Just as she stood up to retrieve the newspaper from the boy, he grabbed her wrist and said-
"Youse gonna need ta do betta den dat if youse gonna steal from me"
"What!?!" Emily exclaimed.
"Don't even try to act like ya don't know what I'se talking about! You'd try to steal from me!" The Italian stated.
"No, not that. It's just that I've just never been caught before. It's a little scary." Emily breathed.
"Sit down. I 'dink we'se need to tawk about dis. Youse seem like a newsie, but your not doing too well."
"No..... not at all. How did you know?"
"I'se just good like 'dat. Anyway, foist 'dings foist. My name's Racetrack. Racetrack Higgins. And youse be?"
"Um.......uh....."
"O........I see......youse just ran away and need a newsie name so your not found! Ok.....let me think....." Racetrack pondered.
Emily watched in awe as he thought of a name. This was a real newsie and one of the original strike newsies! She remembered him from the pictures.
"I knows.....Piker!" He suddenly exclaimed.
Emily jumped and looked at Racetrack, "Piker?"
"Yeah, it means Gypsy or a cheap person, but I was thinking gypsy when I'se thought of it."
"Ok, sounds good....now tell me everything I need to know about being a newsie." Emily, now Piker, asked.
"I'll do betta'...come join me and be my partna' and we'll tawk." He negotiated.
Piker nodded and they headed out into the busy streets of New York and thus was born Piker, best pick pocket in Manhattan.
She pushed the door to Tibby's opened and sauntered in. She was greeted by many other newsies stopping for a break. She walked over to Jack's usual spot. As she neared the table she grabbed Racetrack's hat and put it on her head as she sat down.
"I hates it when youse do dat!"
"Ahhhh......is Racey gonna cry because he's hat was taken." Piker teased.
"Shut up" Racetrack retorted as he reached for his hat.
Piker let him have it while she scanned the restaurant. Besides David and Les, no one new. She turned to see if Jack was there. She hadn't seen him when she came in. This puzzled her because by lunchtime he usually was done with selling. She turned to Racetrack for some answers.
"Hey Race, where's Jacky?"
"Oh, he needed ta tawk to Spot....I'se gonna go to da tracks lata, youse coming?"
"Showa, just let me stop by the lodge to pick some more money up." Piker said
"Not havin' a good day, I will presume."
"Lousy....I'se couldn' t'ink about nottin, but what Davey said."
Racetrack nodded his agreement. They got up to go to the lodge before heading to the tracks. They had been going to the tracks and other places of gambling more and more often. It was a little weird, but Piker still liked it because it was typically the only time she got alone with her best friend. As soon as they got their money and started towards the tracks, she grabbed him and gave him a huge noogie. Racetrack wasn't thrilled with this, so he tried to reciprocate this action. He failed in doing so. Piker laughed as she raced ahead towards the sounds of cheers and moans. They walked in together, each placed bets, got food, and finally sat down to watch the races. Things were going ok until Race started asking questions.
"Youse know what I'se was t'inkin about today? I'se was t'inkin about the foist time I'se met you." Racetrack stated.
"Really? I'se did too. Weiod."
"Youse never did tell me your real name."
"Dat don't matta anymore. I'se Pika' through and through." She said forcefully.
"I'se just wondering....."
"Look, lets just watch the race."
That tactic worked and the rest of the day went great. Piker won 3 times, winning a total of $1.43 and Racetrack actually won $.50! That was amazing and they couldn't stop talking about it the whole way home. The kept replying the events over and over. It was funny to see the other guys' faces when they told them. Piker had never laughed so hard in her entire life.
"Hey Pika, some of the guys wanna play a couple hands of poker....wanna join?" Skittery called out.
"Showa" was Piker's reply. She walked over to where the guys were sitting. She joined in heartily betting. It was fun and enjoyable even though she lost money. Soon, the rest of the guys started quitting and heading up for bed and all of a sudden it was just Racetrack and Piker. She was tired and poor and wasn't very interested in a game of poker.
"Just one more hand. We'se won't bet money....something else." Racetrack pleaded.
"Ok, but what?" Piker inquired sleepily.
"A secret for a secret. Fair enough deal." Racetrack negotiated.
"Showa, Showa. Just deal." Piker was tired and the bet really didn't register in her brain.
Needless to say due to her sleepiness, she lost. She didn't mind until she thought of the wager. She didn't keep secrets from Race, except for one. She couldn't tell him that. Could she?
"I'se don't have any secrets from you." Piker tried.
"Yea youse do....your name...lets hear it."
"Ok.....ok......but only if you swear dat youse would never tell a soul and dat if youse did I could rip out your heart and watch you bleed." Piker pushed.
"Awright"
Sighed "My name is Emily. I'se really a goil. I ran from my family when 'dey tried to arrange my marriage. I ran here to become a newsie. And dat is my story."
"Well.....I'se t'ought you was a goil." Racetrack shrugged.
"What! How did youse guess dat?"
"Well, I'se your best friend. I was bound to notice some t'ings." He said nonchalantly.
Piker sighed as she picked up her drink, "Here's to no more secrets."
"No more secrets"
They drank in silence, both contemplating the story that just escaped from a once trapped soul. It was a good silence between best friends.
