Author's Note: I have decided to do each chapter from a different character's perspective. I will include the name of the character at beginning of each chapter to clarify for the reader. Thanks so much for your reviews, they mean the world to me.

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Jack

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Not only is Mrs. Jacobs a beautiful woman, she can also cook a wonderful meal. The Jacobs family always welcomes me at their table, and I am more than happy to join them. I can save up my money and still be able to eat. They add a little water to their soup and cut their bread thinner, just so I can tuck in with them. They're great. I always feel at home here.


David has been giving me meaningful, worried glances all throughout dinner. There is a little bit of soup left in the bottom of my bowl, but I drop my spoon and thank Mrs, Jacobs for the delicious meal. I follow my best friend to the fire escape outside of his house, where I've slept whenever I have to get out of the Lodging House. We both lean against the rail, staring into the empty street below us.


"Twitch's been lookin' to take Manhattan from you, Jack," Dave tells me, his voice low as though he's trying to keep it from cracking.


"I know that," I shrug. David already knows that I am aware of this. Spot and I have already begun discussing how we'll keep the Harlem bastard in his place. For now, all I can do is tighten my defenses and keep a careful eye on all newcomers.


"Starting from the inside out." My curly-haired friend turns away, finding a black stair to sit on. The metal is cold, so I don't follow suit. What is he playing at?


"What?" I sound thick-tongued and ignorant, like a two year old. Thank goodness none of the boys are here.


"He's trying to get at you by using someone we trust." I've never seen the Walking Mouth look so serious, or so terrified. In the night, his blue eyes seem even darker and larger than usual.


It takes several moments for me to understand what he is saying. When comprehension hits me, I feel cold, from the very tips of my fingers to my toes, though they are encased in rough leather boots. I tap my fingers against the rail. "Do you know who?" I finally ask. My voice is hoarse.


"Yes," David whispers. He shivers in the chilly air, watching my face carefully. For a second he is about to say something, then stops himself. My face is open, trusting. I watch him steadily.


"Racetrack," My friend admits, covering his face with his hands as though the information he has just given me is too much. I wish he would meet my eyes. Perhaps then I could see a reflection of my own horror, my terror at hearing that one of my best friends is...betraying me.


Racetrack.


He's been with me since the beginning. Loose with insults but tight with important information, I have always trusted the Italian newsie. I tease him mercilessly about his obsession with horses and betting, and he's even been known to beat me at cards. He constantly gets himself into trouble, and I constantly get him out of it.


How could he do this to me?


"How d'you know?" As soon as the words are out of my mouth I regret them. I don't want to know. I don't even want to think.


"I heard him talking. Les and I were waiting for you and Sarah to get back, and he was in this dingy old shop with a Harlem newsie. The kid was short, kind of looked like Snipe. And Race said..." David trails off, hurt written all over his face.


"Yeah?" I prompt him, swallowing hard.


"He was tellin' the Harlem newsie all about the Lodging House. And about how you eat with my family, and what you wear, and how you talk, and who you trust. Everything, Jack. He told him everything." It's too much for David. He's never been good with this side of the newsie lifestyle. He's shaking now, though he's trying not to let me see. His shoulders tremble, coming into view as once again he turns away from me.


"Shit." My mind is so befuddled that I can't think of anything to say. This has all come at me too hard, too fast. I know how to handle injustices thrown at me by my employer. I know how to openly insult our newspaper distributer, and how to make alliances when they're needed. I've held secret meetings before, proposed wars between different groups of newsies, protected my borders ever since I rose to the position of leader of the Manhattan newsies.


But I don't know what to do with a friend who has betrayed me.


The Walking Mouth has an answer for me, though. "We have to let Race know that we know. If he admits what he's done, then he can stay with us. But if he refuses to confess...Jack, we have to make sure the rest of the newsies are kept safe. We can't keep someone in the Lodging House who might go and slit the throats of the newsies while they sleep."


"Race wouldn't kill nobody," I protest.


"We never thought he would betray us, either." David's face crumples.


The truth of that statement hurts. "I...I'll tell him in the morning. But, Dave, you gotta come wit' me."


"I'll come, I promise. You should probably sleep at my place tonight. You can't walk back to the House in the dark...you never know who's working for Twitch." For some reason, David's warning seems too earnest. I jerk my head, disagreeing.


"If I can't walk 'round my own territory at night, Davey, what sort of leader am I?"


"A smart one," David counters, tucking his chin downwards.


"I can't leave the boys wit' Race for t'night!"


But the Walking Mouth always has an answer. "Twitch doesn't want them, Jack. He wants you."


I'm supposed to be brave. The fearless Cowboy, who stands up to Spot Conlon and is as fair as he is smart. I beat Pulitzer, didn't I? Surely I can beat one stupid, arrogant Harlem boy who thinks he can monopolize the enterprise newsies.


"I'll say for t'night, but I'm gonna get up real early," I finally decide. David nods, looking triumphant. I've accepted his idea. Whenever I approve of something he comes up with, he always looks so pleased.


"You can sleep in my bed. I'll take the floor," My friend offers. I grin at him. David will always be there for me when I need him, with a solution to my problems. He always knows what to do.


"Thanks, Davey." He goes inside to inform his mother that I will be staying. Sarah's window is shut tightly, a fact that I'm glad of. No one can know of the conversation that just took place. I look below, satisfied that no one is on the deserted, dark street.


I'll sleep heavily tonight, but I'll be gone before the sun rises. My boys need me.


And I need them.