My Way Home
Chapter 1
By Hotshot
Anthony 'Racetrack' Higgins
Not many people can remember things that happened when they were young, two or three-years-old. Anthony Higgins was one of the many exceptions to this rule. Through his entire life he remembered moments from the times when he had a family. When he was young he didn't think about them much and as he got older he tried to block them out. When he did think about it he understood why his parents had done what they did. Did he wish he'd spent more time with them? Of course. But did he wish they hadn't brought him here? No, this was his life and he loved it. He always had that picture to remind him he had a family and the account at the bank.
He had an Irish name, yes, but his family was Italian. His father had been one-fourth Irish; through some streak of luck his great-grandfather and his grandfather had both had sons to pass on the name. Other than that he was only Italian and that was how he looked. He had traditionally dark hair, skin, and eyes, plus that attitude.
Anthony was born in Queens, contrary to popular belief. His parents lived in a small apartment building because they had just moved from Italy. His father found a job at a factory relatively quickly but the place already felt like home so they stayed there. Many families there had just emigrated from other countries so there was a sea of languages and always someone to baby-sit. Anthony's parents insisted that Italian be his first language, but taught him as much English as they could. By the age of one, maybe one-and-a-half, he had an extremely large vocabulary for someone his age, mainly Italian. A few months after he turned two Anthony's mother was pregnant with her second child.
"Tony," she asked one day, very early in the pregnancy just out of curiosity, "Do you thins Mama's going to have a boy or a girl?"
"I have a little sister." He said plainly, before going back to playing with his toy horse.
"Well," his father, Joseph said, "Since the psychic has spoken it looks like we're going to have a little girl." He placed a hand on his wife's stomach, smiling.
Anthony spent every day with his mother, while his father worked in the factory. She let Tony help her cook and showed him how to sew up old clothes. He was very young when he began to count and learn numbers. His mother, Olivia, would just smile when he counted for her and recited his A, B, C's.
"Someday we are going to send you to school," she told him often, "You'll be better off here than me or your Papa was. Maybe you could be a teacher or a reporter for The World."
The little boy stuck his tongue out making his mother laugh. That was just the reason he did it, but at the time he did not see how appropriate it was for him.
Another job aspiration soon came, a lawyer. Sure they aren't called the terrible two's for nothing but Tony could be a little terror. He ran around the apartment making so much noise and was quick with coming up with something to say. He could argue himself out of almost any punishment.
His mother was not without work either. She was teaching many of the women in the building how to sew. Tony hated it when the older women would come to the house and take his mama away from him. At first he just sat and pouted until they left, but over time he realized they weren't going to stop coming. He then spent the time playing with a group of little boys who lived on his floor.
In one way it was good because it wore him out and he was quiet when his father came home tired from work. On the other hand everyone knows the little boy had a big mouth, and little boys love to fight. There were many nights that he came home with a bloody lip or black eye. On these nights he was sent to bed early in hopes of discouraging the behavior.
While the weeks were spent in the apartment with his mother weekends were reserved for Tony's father. Joseph loved to go to the tracks. He sat in the stands for hours every Saturday watching the races, just watching, and never betting. Most days he brought Tony with him. The few times he did bet Joseph was teaching Tony how to do it.
"You pick a horse and give this guy the money," he explained, "And if your horse wins you get your money and other peoples back."
"I pick a horse Papa?" he asked staring wide-eyed down at the line up.
"Sure," Joseph pulled a nickel out of his pocket, "Which one?" He proceeded to read the names of the horses off of the program.
"Little Italy!" Race exclaimed. Hearing the horse's name reminded him of home.
"Five cents on Little Italy," he told the man. The father and son sat down close to the rail to watch the race and Joseph pointed their horse out to his son. When the race started Tony stood on his chair, yelling along with the crowd. His father sat behind him, laughing. He laughed even harder when Little Italy crossed the finish line first.
The two entered their apartment happier than ever that evening.
"Look what we won at the tracks today, Olivia," Joseph said, placing a small pile of change on the table.
She turned around, "You were betting! I thought I told you not to do that anymore!"
"No Olivia, it's alright. Tony asked me why people were getting money and I showed him how it works. I let him pick a horse and we won."
Her frown softened to a smile and she said, "Well if he turns in to a addict I blame you."
"Don't worry, I won't let him bet that much."
"You better not," she warned scooping up her son, "Do you want to help Mama finish dinner Tony?"
"Yeah," he said, "My horse won Mama!"
"I heard. Did you have fun with your papa today?"
"Lotsa fun!"
"Speak properly Anthony."
"We had lots of fun Mama."
"That's better."
The family also started a tradition. On Sundays they would spend a few hours walking around the city. Anthony loved to see the different things being sold on the streets and in shops. He was also somewhat attracted to the dice and card games young boys played, which made his mother arch an eyebrow at his father. The dancing gypsies and the yelling newsboys always captured Tony's attention. One Sunday night every month they would go out to eat. They had enough money to go to more expensive places, but enjoyed one small café the most. Tibby's was the restaurant in Manhattan where they had first eaten in America. The food was cheap, and very good, ant the waiters were very nice. It didn't bother them at all that some of the people there were extremely poor.
The winter Anthony turned three was very cold. Mama was in bed a lot due to a difficult pregnancy. This was where Tony had learned many of the stories he told others. He usually played in her bedroom while she stitched some of his clothes, or his fathers. He learned a lot about Italy and his family members back there. He had a cousin, Jeffery, who was only one-year-old.
Olivia never went out unless she had to, usually to go grocery shopping. After one of these occasions she found herself sick with a horrible cold that was going around at work. She was worried because it was bad for the baby and she didn't want Tony to catch it.
The baby came in February. Tony was awakened in the middle of the night by his mother's screaming. He found his father sitting in the kitchen.
"Papa, what's wrong with Mama?" he asked.
His father smiled, "The doctors with her, and you know what?"
"What?" Tony asked, slightly scared.
"He told me that by the end of the night you're going to have a little sister." He left off the or brother that the doctor had mentioned because due to Tony's decision they had decided that it was definitely a girl.
Tony climbed into his father's lap. "What's her name gonna be, Papa?"
"I think your mother and I decided on Rosalyn."
"That's a pretty name," he yawned.
"Maybe you should go back to bed."
"But I wanna see my sister," Tony complained as his father stood and carried him back into his room.
"I'll come get you when she's born, until then stay in here and try to sleep a little more."
"Mr. Higgins?"
Tony's father gave him a warning look and went to meet the doctor in the kitchen. The older man whispered into Joseph's ear and a worried look came over his face. As soon as they had disappeared into his parents bedroom Tony snuck to the door with a new curiosity.
A few minutes later the doctor left the room with his bag and a small bundle of cloth in his arms. Tony's father showed him out and then stood against the door for a moment before returning to his wife. Little Anthony almost cried himself when he heard his mother begin to cry. He pulled open his door and scurried (picture lil' Race doin' this) into his parents room. His father held his mother in his arms speaking to her quietly. His mother was still crying though not as hard as before.
"Mama? Papa?" Tony asked from the doorway.
His mother saw him and almost smiled, "Come here Anthony."
He ran into the room and climbed up on the bed. He didn't see a new sister anywhere but figured he might make his mother start crying again if he asked. She hugged him close to her and stared blankly into space. Joseph put an arm around her and with the other messed up Tony's hair.
He found out later that the baby had been stillborn and, yes, it was a girl. His mother seemed depressed for a while, especially if she saw a woman who was pregnant or a young child. She went back to sewing lessons to keep her mind off of what had happened. She paid more attention to Tony than ever and the two of them began daily walks around the area.
It was two months later that Joseph found himself out of a job. His employer had found he had more people than he could pay and fired several people at random. The couple figured that they could live off of their savings for a while and Joseph could find another job. For a few weeks he searched everywhere for a job but no one was hiring. They wrote family member, reluctantly asking for help.
About a month after Joseph had been fired they received a letter from his brother and sister-in-law whom had settled in Boston. They were inviting the couple to stay with them until they could get back on their feet. It was on that same day that their landlord told them they had to be out by the next morning.
Tony knew of his family's financial trouble and wished he could help, but being only 3 ½ there wasn't much he could do. He sat in bed that night listening to his parents talk.
"I would love to go to Boston Joseph, really I would, but they said we couldn't bring Tony. There isn't enough room, and it's too much money to bring him on the train. And if we walk or ride carriages we'll run out of money before we get there." Olivia told her husband.
"Maybe he could stay here," Joseph said thoughtfully.
"Joseph!"
"Listen to me for a minute Olivia." He didn't let her continue, "Some other people have left their children at orphanages with specific instructions. They go, build a good life and then either come back and get them or send for them. We could come back for Tony as soon as we have our own place and enough money."
"Joseph, I am not leaving my son alone in New York! God knows what could happen to him!"
"Olivia, please, listen to me," his father sounded worn out, "I don't like the idea of leaving him any more than you do, but it may be our only choice. If we bring him with us we risk him dying of sickness or getting lost along the way. You know how he likes to wander. At least if he's in New York he'll know where he is. You know he knows his way around here better than either of us. And I promise, we'll come back for him as soon as we're ready."
The ideas of what could happen to Tony his mother seemed to understand it was the only way. "Alright," she agreed, "But we have to find the right place for him."
As his parents started toward his room Tony curled up and pretended to be asleep. He didn't understand what those words meant but he would remember them and know their meaning when he got older.
The next morning the family packed the few things they owned and went to the orphanage. Tony's mother carried him in her arms. Joseph walked into an office with one of the workers who ran the establishment. Meanwhile Olivia looked around.
"Mama," Tony asked, "Are we here to find Rosalyn."
The woman sucked in a breath, "No sweetie, we're not." The more she looked around the place the less she liked it. It was extremely dirty and she was certain she saw one of the workers kick a child. The children were all underfed and older ones got what they want by beating on the younger ones.
She walked up to her husband and plainly told him, "My son is not staying here."
He just nodded, "Then we'll find somewhere else." He shook his head as they left the building.
"Youse lookin' for sumplace to leave youse kid?" a voice asked.
The parents turned to find a boy of about fourteen standing on the corner, "You should try the newsboys lodgin' house over by the statue a Greeley. Kloppman'll take 'im an' make sure he don't get hurt."
The couple thanked the young boy and headed in that direction. The old man saw them come in and asked in his hoarse as ever voice, "Can I help you?"
"We need someplace to leave our son," Joseph explained their situation and explained about the money they'd sent through the bank.
Kloppman nodded, "A course he can stay here. I'll send him ta school 'til he's old enough to sell."
Figuring they'd be back long before then the couple agreed. They spent an hour saying goodbye to their son and it was the one part of his life that Tony barely remembered.
After his parents left Tony spent the rest of the day in the office with Kloppman. The current leader, Maple, came in, followed by a dozen or so other boys.
He smiled, seeing Tony, "Who's the kid?"
"Parents left him and went up to Boston. They'll be back for him eventually." Kloppman said.
Maple and the other boys sat down around the room. Tony just made himself comfortable between Maple and the boy who'd told his parents to try the lodging house.
Maple laughed, "What's youse name, Kid?"
"Tony," he answered, not at all intimidated, but then you have to remember who this kid's gonna grow up to be.
"Tony," Maple frowned, "We'se gonna hafta come up wit' a newsie name for ya, but for now we'll jus' call ya Kid."
"Ok," he liked these people.
"Ambition," Maple spoke to the boy on Tony's other side, "It's youse job ta take care a this one."
Ambition just nodded, smiling down at Tony. The boys spent the rest of the afternoon showing Tony around the place.
It wasn't until that night that Race wondered where his parents were. If his mother went out she was always home by the time he went to bed. He stumbled over to Ambition's bed.
"Ambition?"
The boy rolled over, "Yeah Kid?"
"When are my parents comin' back?"
The tears in Tony's eyes made Ambition realize that he didn't know his parents had left for a long time. He decided it was best to be truthful, "They ain't?"
Tony's lip quivered ands he looked ready to cry.
"C'mere," Ambition pulled Tony up on his bunk, "They'se gonna come back and get youse eventually but youse gonna stay here and live wit' us for a while, ok."
Tony nodded, still looking upset.
"Stay here a minute," Ambition disappeared downstairs and appeared again a moment later holding a picture. "This is yours. We'll hang it in your bunk tomorrow." He gave Tony the picture of him with his parents. "Now go back to bed Kid."
Tony looked around the dark room, calming his crying, but still scared.
Ambition sighed, had he been this difficult for Maple, "You wanna stay wit' me tonight?"
Tony nodded.
"Ok, den lay down an' go ta sleep."
It was the next morning that Maple set down the rules that applied for every kid Tony's age that was left at the lodging house. You had to sell in a less crowded part of town and keep an eye on him at all times. Going anywhere near crowds, the docks, or the tracks was basically forbidden. Teaching him to sell, however, was encouraged. Ambition made up a headline and told Tony to yell it. He put the little boy on his shoulders and sold papers to those who wanted to buy from the 'adorable little boy'. ::if only they knew what he'd become later in life:: This was how the two of them spent there days for several months.
In September Kloppman began teaching him to read and count. Being very bright Tony picked everything up quickly. Kloppman wasn't always impressed when the older boys added obscenities to Tony's ever-growing vocabulary. Several letters from Tony's parents came to the lodging house. He put the money into Tony's bank account and took out only what was needed for board. He saved the letters in a box to give to Tony when he was older and able to understand. It wasn't that he doubted the Higgins' love for their son. It was just, many families never made enough to come back.
Two other boys arrived during the next few years, both of them older than Tony. The group became friends and Tony contributed to one of their names. His proper speech had deteriorated to the street slang the rest of the boys used. In early 1890 Maple gave up his role as leader. Ambition took over for him, while Maple still stayed at the lodging house Ambition was in control.
More boys around Tony's age poured into the lodging house. Out of nothing but pure luck he remained the youngest. Early on Spade had taught the young boy how to play Poker and Tony was extremely good at it. Out of the new boys no one could beat him. Maple had given Spade a long lecture on teaching kids to gamble, but he would have learned eventually.
When Tony was eight Digits asked him to sell with him one day. He'd heard how Tony was a good selling partner and wanted to see if it could help him sell. He brought the boy down to Sheepshead Races and Tony sold his papers within the first few hours. While he waited for Digits he bet on a few of the horses, usually winning (beginners luck). He loved the track; it reminded him of his father and a good time he'd had once.
Ambition would disapprove of Tony being at the tracks. So Tony didn't tell him. The few others who knew where he sold every day knew better than to tell. Sometimes Tony was lucky, and won all day, and others he lost every race he bet on. He really didn't care all that much.
One particularly good day he'd just won the fourth race in a row and had three whole dollars in his pocket, just from that race. Seeing that he had another forty cents from selling he couldn't help yelling with happiness. There's just one problem, yelling attracts people. A hand on the collar of his shirt brought him back to reality. Not allowing him to turn around that person was dragging him out of the racetrack. He fought and yelled, trying to break the firm hold but was unsuccessful. They dragged him all the way back to the lodging house where he was thrown on his bunk. He turned around and cursed, Ambition was standing in front of him.
"So that's where youse been sellin' all these months; the racetrack. Ya know I was startin' to wonder where you was getting' all dat money." He yelled.
Tony glared at him, "I'se can sell where eva I wants!"
"Tony," Ambition groaned, not knowing how to deal with the eight-year-old, "I know you like selling there but youse gonna lose all your money on a race one day. I watched you today; ya bet on five races."
Tony was starting to see his point. He remembered the man outside every day begging for coins because he'd lost so many races he was in debt. "Alright Ambition, I won't go back there no more."
Ambition grinned suddenly, "That's not what I meant. Go ahead and sell there, 'cause you sell really good there. If youse gonna bet though, put money away for dinner and board first. An' only three races a day, at most."
"But Am-"
"Not negotiable," his grinned widened, "Ya know it's about time I thought up a newsie name for you."
"You came up with a name for me?" Tony looked at him confused.
Ambition nodded, "Racetrack, Race for short."
The name definitely fit, and spread through the newsies like fire. Any new newsies didn't know him as Tony or Kid, but as Race. It was then that he became famous for playing Poker and other games that involved betting.
By the age of ten Race was undefeated in the lodging house. Even in a game against Brooklyn's leader, Rebel, and his best he won. Rebel's apprentice of sorts, a well-known Brooklyn newsie named Spot, turned red with fury when he was beat. The kid had a bit of a temper. A feminine looking boy begged Rebel to let him play Race but Rebel threw him a look followed by, "Not tonight, Hotshot."
He also knew about his parents by then. The letters had stopped by the time he turned eight and Kloppman had deemed him old enough to read them at age ten. Reading the letters brought back memories about his parents. He pushed these thoughts into a tiny space in the back of his brain reserved for a few emotional thoughts and ignored them. He wasn't the youngest anymore either. Crutchy was almost a month and a half younger than him and Swifty was almost a month younger than Crutchy.
More years passed and more newsies arrived, including one of Racetrack's cousins from Italy. Thankfully, Race was still fluent in Italian as the boy would babble on in Italian whenever he got scared or nervous. Race also brought his first newsie to the lodging house right before he turned fifteen. On a particularly cold morning he'd found the young boy asleep on the statue of Horace Greeley in the square. It was the first day Racetrack had taken off from selling in years, but he took the boy back to Kloppman and got him settled. The little boy idolized Racetrack after that. Unfortunately, he picked up the bad habits of having a smart mouth and stole Race's cigars occasionally. Therefore the two of them argued constantly and the young boy became closer with Boots. This kid was the last, as Race had been the first to be named by Ambition. He was aptly named Snipeshooter for accidentally hitting Ambition in the head when he fired a marble form a slingshot. Many later got on Ambitions case when Snipeshooter did a series of sneak attacks.
Race's birthday passed with a deck of cards from the boys and a box of Havana Cigars from Ambition. It was without a word in early January that their leader left. Some of his things were found on different bunks as gifts. A note was on the desk announcing that the boys should choose their own leader. While many were quick to nominate Race, the young Italian didn't accept the offer. Instead he suggested Jack, who was equally popular. In early spring new events were pulled into the still carefree Italian's life.
* * *
Race was walking around the tracks after betting on his fifth race of the day. Sure, if Ambition had still been leader he would've had it coming, but Jack was leader now. Jack knew that Race was the smartest guy in the lodging house when it came to the tracks. Race never, well almost never, got himself in too deep. He leaned down along the rail as the horses flew around the last turn.
"C'mon Fiahbird!" he yelled. If he won he'd have two extra dollars to add to his savings. Firebird, through some miracle sailed across the finish line a full length in front of the next horse. Race turned on a dime and charged toward his bookie, "Where's me money Harris?"
Harris smiled; He'd been Race's bookie since the first day he'd come to the tracks. Sure he'd fooled the ignorant little kid a few times back then but now Race was almost smarter than he was when it came to placing bets. "Seventy-five cents." He handed the money over to Race with a grin, "Don't spend it all in one place."
"Nevah," out of habit Race quickly counted over the change and nodded, "I'll see you tomorrow Harris."
"Tomorrow Race," Harris tipped his hat as the newsie strolled off.
Race smiled to himself as he stuffed the money in his pocket. He chanced a glance into the middle class section of the stands, a few rows up from where he was standing. He saw a woman and a man pointing someone out to a guard. He looked around and found no other conspicuous characters around. It was about that time he noticed the woman was pointing directly at him. Being one who noticed trouble so easily he started to run. Before the guard could reach the walkway he was gone. Race ran until he was a block from the racetrack. What had he done this time? He never touched that lady. Had she thought he was too young to be betting or just asked to have him thrown out. The middle class didn't have the power of the rich men who bet hundreds on a single race, but they could complain about people and have them thrown out. The man and women had looked barely rich enough to be in that section.
"How was your day at the track, Race?" Kid Blink asked as he entered the bunkroom.
Race shrugged, "Three outta five. Some woman sent a guard afta me though so I didn't have time for a sixth."
"What'd ya do this time?" Mush asked.
"Nothin'! I was nowhere near her she was jus' pointin' me out to the guard so I ran."
"Sure Race," Jack nodded, "Ya didn't do nothin'."
As everyone went back about their business Race dug the change out of his pocket. Two whole dollars to add to his savings. And he still had fifty cents for the morning and afternoon editions tomorrow. He pulled out a small drawstring bag that hung under his bed and added the change to it. The bag was getting heavy; he'd have to go to the bank this weekend and make a deposit. He added the money and hung the bag back on the bent nail under his bed.
Pulling fifty cents out of his pocket he plopped himself down in an empty corner. "Blackjack boys; who's in!?" he yelled. Several other newsies crowded around pulling various coins and items out of their pockets. Race smirked pulling a pack of cards out of his back pocket, yelling out the rules as if no one except him could remember them.
Several hours later Kloppman came upstairs ordering the boys to bed. Racetrack grinned as he climbed into his bunk. Sure he was twenty-five cents poorer than when he'd started playing but the rush of adrenaline was still pumping through his veins. He mindlessly shuffled through his cards until Kid Blink almost kicked him in the face climbing into the top bunk.
"Watch it ya bum!" he yelled.
"Race, go ta sleep," a very grouchy Skittery complained.
Several other complaints ensured Race that he wouldn't win if he started an argument. He reluctantly pulled off his vest, shirt and suspenders. Snipeshooter grinned, laughing at him from the next bunk over. Sure he'd sorta saved the kids life a few years ago; did the kid care. No. Reluctantly he slid down under the thin sheet issued to each of them and drifted into sleep.
The next morning Race decided not to go to the racetrack just to be safe. He stumbled through the washroom in a sleepy stupor trying to figure out another place to sell. He was still half asleep and without a place to sell when he got outside. A bit of coffee from the nuns woke him up but when he bought fifty papers at the distribution station he had no idea where to sell them.
"Hey bum," he said to no one in particular.
Bumlets, one of the boys who'd been at the lodging house the longest, turned to look at him, "What's up Race?"
"Ya know anyplace good ta sell? I'se wanna avoid the tracks taday, jus' ta be safe."
"Sure, I'se goin' ta Bottle Alley, wanna come?" He slung fifty papers over his shoulder and began to walk toward the gates.
Race shrugged, "Why not."
Both of them looked over there papers for improvable headlines on the short hike. They stopped at the entrance to Bottle Alley for a moment, taking it all in. The place was a small street crowded with stands and carts. People of many origins and speaking different languages walking all over the place. It was where Bumlets had grown up, before becoming a newsie, but Race hadn't been there in years.
"Anything good?" Bumlets asked as they started in.
"Mayor invited governor's family to estate dinner," he grinned, "or as I like to call it Scandal involving Mayor and governor's wife."
"You can still translate that into Italian right?"
"Il Sindaco di coinvolgere di scandalo ed il governatore's la moglie!" Race smirked as he walked down the road yelling the headline.
He'd sold his last paper to the owner of a cart in exchange for half a loaf of bread and was looking forward to meeting up with the guys at Tibby's three hours later. He heard a familiar voice talking in Italian behind him. He turned to find a woman and man talking to a cart owner. The old man who owned the cart pointed to him and he noticed the couple was the same one from the tracks the previous day. The man started toward him, "Il giovane uomo-[1]"
Race turned on his heel and began running toward the entrance with the man close behind him. "See ya Bumlets!" he called as he passed his friend. He looked behind him once he made it to the street to see the man was still behind him.
"Fermata![2]" the man yelled.
Race ignored the man's protests and kept funning. He dodged through numerous alleys and through crowds until he was sure the man was no longer following him. He then slowed his pace and walked the rest of the way to Tibby's. Jack was standing out front, red with anger. "Where have you been. We been waitin' for you for half an hour?"
"Huh?" Racetrack asked.
Jack threw up his hands in frustration, "I told you in the washroom this mornin'. Spot's doin' that peace treaty b'tween all the boroughs. The leada from each one has to bring three newsies wit' him an' we'se stayin' for a few days to be sure we get it figured out. You, me, Kid Blink, an' Specs are goin'."
"I was asleep on me feet this mornin'. Guess I didn't hear."
Jack sighed and ran back to the lodging house with Race. Specs and Kid Blink were waiting on the front steps so Race quickly packed his stuff and joined them.
"So Jack, I get why you brought me an' Kid, but why's Specs comin'." Race didn't mean any offense but Specs wasn't as close to the taking over position for leader as most of the other boys. Race also knew that the older boy wasn't particularly fond of Brooklyn.
"He's smart Race,' Jack said, "real smart. We want someone smart to see tricks the otha guys might try ta pull."
The group of Manhattan newsies continued until they reached the Brooklyn lodging house. They were the last to arrive but Racetrack still came into the room cheerfully.
"Heya boys. Whadda ya hea, whadda ya say?" he said.
Race was known all over New York so every newsie in the room knew him. Most of them only rolled their eyes and made obscene gestures at him. Spot Conlon was the only to really greet him.
"Hey Race." Spot grinned, he made it his business to know every newsie in New York. He went on to greet the other three and invited them to sit down.
There were roughly 35 newsies in the room, including the ones from Manhattan. The Manhattan boys seated themselves on crates. Race looked around, he knew all the leaders in the room and was probably one of the only newsies who could name all the leaders.
There was Jack and Spot, but everyone knew them. Mayhem Boyle was the leader of Harlem and lived up to his name. Outrage Amadeo from the Bronx was named for having absolutely no temper, ever. Race had lived in the same housing project, as the Queens leader, Night Matthews and the two were good friends. Hawk Feldman of Midtown was commonly in Manhattan. The leader of the Battery, Blue Warren was a jazz singer. Life McGowan of East Side was a good friend of Jacks, and Pyro Foster was usually trying to set something on fire.
"Why'd you bring him?" one of the lower newsies from a different borough asked Jack.
Spot made the reply, "Racetrack Higgins has been a newsie longer than any other newsie in New York. He knows more about these streets and bein' a newsie than anyone here."
Race raised an eyebrow; he'd been a newsie longer than any of the others? He must've been the last to know it. Race looked over Spot's chosen newsies. Pickpocket Dolan and Hotshot Lynn were standing behind him as always. They'd been his second in commands since before he was leader. Race's eyes landed on the girl behind Spot. Spot introduced her as Laze Lada.
The meetings lasted all afternoon with the newsies deciding that they needed to stop any territory wars, which had been very frequent over the past few years. All afternoon they argued over boundaries and rules. By the time they had dinner Race was in desperate need of some fun. He almost cried in happiness when Laze started a game of poker. The numerous games started but he was able to join the one with Laze, Spot, Night, Jack, and Outrage.
Spot lost the first game pitifully and swore, "Laze you cheat!"
A glare flashed in her eyes, "Spot you know for a fact that I do not cheat. It ain't my fault you're always cranky 'cause you're too short to see over the table."
"Don't start wit' me Laze. You'se shorter than I am."
"Stop while you're ahead Spot. I might just hafta tell everyone how small…" she trailed off because all the boys were able to fill the rest in themselves. One of Spot's seconds, Hotshot came over and clapped Laze on the back.
"One more game wit' the other leaders and you're out Hotshot. Same wit' you Laze." They both turned to him at the unfairness. "I ain't changin' me mind. I don' want all the boys hatin' you cause you beat 'em too many times."
Race looked over at them as the two walked off. Everyone knew Spot's other second Pickpocket but they only occasionally heard of Hotshot. He wondered why. Too bad Laze seemed so close to Hotshot, Race liked her attitude and she was pretty. He walked outside a few minutes later and found that the two had split up. Hotshot was standing by himself at the end of the dock, twisting a slingshot around in his hands. Race made his approach somewhat more cautious knowing that was a death threat around most Brooklyn newsies. Hotshot heard his approach and looked up.
"Heya Race," the boy placed his slingshot in his pocket and moved over to let Race sit.
Race sat down, "So why'd Spot kick you an' Laze outta the poker game?"
He smirked, "Well I'd beat everyone in there an' Laze has a tendency to be a bit overly sarcastic."
"I'd noticed," Race grinned too, "So how long the two a you been together?"
"What, me an' Laze together?" Hotshot laughed, "She ain't my goil."
"Is she wit' Spot?" Race was hopeful now.
"Nope, far as I know she don't have a boyfriend, an' we'se pretty good friends."
"How old is she?"
"Turned fourteen last Novemba. You like 'er Race?"
"I guess I do," He smiled. She'd be the first girl he went out with if he could get up the guts to ask her.
"She's right over there, why don't you go ask her?"
"What!? I can't ask her now!" He turned to notice a strange gleam in Hotshot's eyes and an almost scary smirk.
"Hey Laze!" Hotshot called, "C'mere, Race wants ta ask you sumthin'." With a smile he patted Race on the shoulder and walked off.
"Hey Race," Laze said somewhat shyly because the two of them were alone.
Race ran a hand through his hair. How was Mush able to ask girls out so easily? "I was wonderin' if you maybe wanted to get a bite to eat some night afta all this was ova?"
She smiled, "I'd love to."
"Alright, maybe afta that youse could help me kill that friend a yours over there." He nodded in Hotshot's direction.
She smirked, "With pleasure." Race had found that any Brooklyn newsie's smirk usually meant trouble. Maybe he should move to Brooklyn?
The next morning the leaders were all up early arguing away on random rules. They were arguing over which borough would be the place where they would meet when needed. Though Manhattan and another borough supported the Brooklyn decision, two other wanted Harlem. Race was falling asleep when he was dragged into it. His face was in his hand when it slipped and he pitched forward hitting his forehead on the table, "Arginato [3]!" he yelled sitting up completely awake.
"Well Race," one of Blue's cronies said, "Since youse finally decided to join the land of the living why don't you share you're opinion wit' us." Meanwhile Laze was laughing into her hand.
"Fine," Race said. "No matter what any a youse bums think we'se gonna end up holdin' meetings in Brooklyn. Now think about it this way, if any borough, no two, make it any two boroughs went up against Spot and the Brooklyn newsies they'd lose. Here we'se got the most protected place for meetings and everyone can get here 'cause it's the most central borough in the whole goddamn city!" He looked around the now silent room.
"Any objections to Brooklyn?" Script, a Queens newsie asked. No one said a word. "Brooklyn it is then." He scribbled furiously on the piece of paper. More laws and agreeances were written that day and the next before the newsies returned to their boroughs. Racetrack left promising to come find Laze the next night.
She met him at the bridge and they walked to Tibby's. Instead of following Mush's advice the two of them just talked the entire night, enjoying each other's company. Okay, so it wasn't exactly normal conversation. Sarcastic remarks about everyone usually weren't, but they had a good time.
Laze began to spend more time in Manhattan after that. Though she was still a Brooklyn newsie and refused to move from her home she was seen in by the Manhattan newsies almost daily. She'd meet up with Race at the tracks or wait for him to show up at Tibby's. Occasionally she'd sell with him, but tried not to make it a habit. Their dates usually consisted of poker games, trips to the tracks, or talking at Tibby's or the bridge. When at the lodging house the two knew how to push everyone's buttons, which was always a good thing, unless Spot was there. Being with Laze made Race forget about the couple that seemed to be following him. He didn't see them through the spring and as summer started he figured they'd given up looking for him.
It was late July, and a fifteen-year-old Racetrack was walking back from the tracks to meet up with Laze, and probably some f the guys at Tibby's. He'd been seeing Laze for a little more than four months now and had finally gotten up his courage to ask her to be his girl. He'd begged and pleaded until Kloppman allowed him to take a little money out of the savings his parents had left for him. Lying in his pocket now was a small ring. Nothing fancy, but Laze would like it, he hoped.
"Heya Race," Itey called as he entered the restaurant, "How was your day at the tracks?"
Race shrugged, "What can I say, Fiahboid ain't runnin' as good as he used to."
He went over to a table where Jack, Skittery, Kid Blink, Mush, and Crutchy were seated. He slid into a seat, grinning. Jack looked over at him after a few moments and noticed the smirk the younger Italian was wearing. Realization dawned on Jack, "You got her the ring?"
Race nodded, "Finally, I hope she likes it."
"Race, she already said she'd be youse goil, ya didn't hafta get her nuthin'." Mush said.
"Well I wanted ta. Mush youse got a new goil every few weeks, but I plan on Laze bein' me goil for a while. I love her."
Mush chose to ignore the insult to his dating methods, knowing he'd never win in an argument against Race. "If this ring is so wonderful why don' you let us see it?"
Race grinned, he'd been telling everyone about the ring for. Glancing around to make sure she wasn't there yet he pulled it out of his back pocket and placed it on the table. It wasn't much, a silver band with an interesting design carved into it. He picked it up after Mush nodded and put it back in his pocket.
Not a minute too soon either. As he settled into his chair and ordered a drink the door clanged open and the familiar voice drifted through the air.
"I ain't seen a bugger bunch a lazy bums since last time I was here. Do any a youse eva work?"
"We missed you too Laze." Specs commented, not even turning to look at her. Then he picked up where he had left off talking to Dutchy. Specs was Laze's best friend, unless you counted Race.
Race stood up and wrapped an arm around her waist, and kissed her quickly. Several of the Manhattan girls commented and the boys made catcalls. Race pulled away with a grin on his face and yelled over his shoulder, "Alright already, enough comments from the Peanut Gallery." He walked with Laze over to an empty booth and sat down. "So how was sellin' in Brooklyn today?"
She rolled her eyes, "Awful, The World needs a new headline writer."
"I told ya you should have come to the tracks wit' me today," he grinned his favorite I-told-you-so grin.
She swatted at him with her gray newsie cap and complained, "Why are you so arrogant? Youse almost as bad as Spot."
"Yeah, but that's why you love me."
She shook her head, muttering sarcastically, "Unfortunately."
"So you wanna sell wit' me tomorrow?"
"You comin' to the big poker game in Brooklyn this weekend?"
"Don't answer a question with a question."
"Answer the question."
"It's only Monday, Laze, the game ain't till Saturday," Race sighed, "but yes."
"Then yes."
He sighed and stared at her for a moment before reaching into his back pocket, "I got sumthin' for ya."
Laze raised an eyebrow. Race lost a majority of his money betting and when he didn't barely had any left over to begin with. How on earth was he able to afford something for her.
"Race, you don't need to get anything for me." She argued.
"I wanted to," he said back, "All the other guys who got girlfriends give 'em sumthin' a theirs to show they'se together but I don't got nuthin' like that ta give you so I got you sumthin'." He placed the ring on the table between them.
Laze picked it up and examined the design. As much as she hated to admit it she loved the ring. She didn't want Race spending his hard earned money on her but wanted to keep it. He was giving her something to show he loved her. Unlike other guys she'd met Race was often nervous about their relationship and wanted to do everything right. She was also sure he was keeping something from her. She'd dig it out of him eventually. "Race, I love it." She spoke without thinking. Several 'awws' came from the next booth over.
Race muttered something about 'the damn peanut gallery' under his breath but smiled as she slipped the ring onto her finger.
"How the hell did you afford this?" she asked.
"That's for me to know, and you…well…not to." He supplied unable to think of a proper ending.
She laughed, "You muttonhead." She stood up to rejoin their friends and reached down to mess up his hair, "I love you."
He sat there grinning as she walked over away and relaxed, waiting for her to get off his lazy rear and move.
"Racetrack!" It was Jack's voice, not hers that called to him.
"Race!" There was Laze's voice but it sounded confused.
Race slid out of the seat and found himself looking at the couple from the tracks from earlier that month. By the time he recognized them he was standing in the center of the small diner and froze on the spot. If the bulls carried him away for doing something he was still young enough to be sent to an orphanage, or worse, the refuge. He took a second to control his rapid breathing before asking calmly, "What's up Jack?"
"These fine people here were askin' for you."
"What'd they ask for, the short Italian kid. Must be lookin' for Itey." He kept talking as if they weren't there in hopes that they'd take the hint and go away.
"Nah, they didn't ask for the Italian kid, or the newsie from the tracks neither. They asked for Anthony Higgins."
As his name spilled from Jacks mouth Race's blood ran cold; he hadn't even been called Tony in years, let alone heard his last name.
"Who?" Snipeshooter asked.
"Dats me Snipes," Race said, "Go sit down."
It had been a long time since Snipeshooter had actually done what Race said but that day he followed orders.
"So," Race took a few steps so he was standing directly in front of the couple, "Who are you?" He met the man's eyes and was almost suddenly thrown into a series of tiny flashbacks, not a whole scene together but a series of flashes from his childhood. He saw a little boy, the racetrack, Tibby's years ago, a woman pregnant with a child, then crying, and a night laying in Ambition's bunk crying.
"You don't recognize us?" the woman's voice was strangely comforting.
"We're your parents," the man supplied.
For a moment Race's face softened, but then a frown creased his features. "Whatta you want?"
"Anthony," his mother said quietly, "I'm sorry it took so long for us to get back here but it was impossible to keep enough money for the trip until last year. Your father is the head of a famous newspaper up in Boston."
"We want to get you out of this awful place and bring you up to Boston with us." His father said, "We almost gave up searching for you after we saw you in Bottle Alley but some nice newsie told us he knew a newsie like you when we described you-"
"Which one?" Race broke in.
"I didn't catch a name. He's about your height with curly dark hair, some blue checkered shirt-"
Race cut him off again, "That would be Itey or you'd probably call him Jeffery, your nephew."
"The point of the matter is we want you to come live with us in Boston, your cousin as well. Since it took you so long to find you our train leaves tomorrow afternoon. Be at the hotel on main street by five tonight."
"What!?" Race asked.
"You heard me young man. You and your Jeffery are coming to Boston with us tomorrow. It took me and your mother twelve years to get enough money to come and find you. Now that we've found you we aren't going to let you stay in this infested rat hole of a city and that filthy lodging house.
"What the hell is the matter with you!?" Racetrack shouted. His mother audibly gasped as he cursed. Most Manhattan newsies didn't swear often and Race almost never. He dropped unknowingly into the language that he had used so frequently in his childhood and when he wanted to talk to Laze privately. "Lei pensa che lei possa appena è ritornato qui dopo che il me di lasciare solo per dodici anni e lo decide vuole essere i miei genitori ancora. Lei me lasciato in un che l'alloggiando casa quando avevo tre anni e lei me aspetta a giusto ha incontrato il suo simile a braccia un piccolo bambino. Ho pianto nelle braccia dell'Ambizione la notte che lei lasciata. Me ha detto il pieno di notizie andavano aumentarme, e lei sa ciò che, hanno fatto! Dove l'erano quando ero malato da giocare nella neve troppo lungo. Dove l'erano quando alcuno vagabondo sulle strade ha ucciso uno dei miei amici. Dove l'erano quando sono stato battuto la metà alla morte sulle strade per un dollaro schifoso. Dove l'inferno lo erano quando ho avuto bisogno dei miei genitori. Lei non erano mai lí quando ho avuto bisogno di lei, quando avrei potuto usare il suo consiglio. Lei non erano lí, ma i miei amici erano. Lei ha assolutamente nessuna destra per voi chiamarstessi i miei genitori, ed anche meno di una destra di dire me ciò che fare. Il cosa di qualunque la ragione lei pensa che lei può ritornare qui e tenta di trascinarme fuori della sola vita che mai ho saputo ha torto. Dunque esce da appena la mia città e ritorna a Boston, o dovunque lei è venuto da e lascia il me l'inferno solo.[4] (I know it's a lot and it's confusing, but the translation is at the bottom.)" With that he shoved his way past them and hurried out the door, leaving Bumlets translating what he'd said to the guys while his parents, Itey, Jack, and Laze stood there shocked.
Race hurried back to the lodging house and passed Kloppman. ignoring the old mans questions of why he was back early he hurried up to the bunkroom. He pulled the picture of his family out of the place it hung in his bunk and prepared to rip it to shreds. He caught sight of the picture and couldn't bring himself to do it. He held the picture in front of himself and looked at the little boy and the proud parents in the picture. With a sigh he placed the picture back where he kept it. Several minutes later he jumped as a hand rested on his shoulder.
"You told me your parents were dead." Laze said.
"Well to me they were," he sighed turning to face her, "I mean c'mon Laze. They left me at the lodging house twelve years ago and promised in every letter they sent that they'd have the money to come get me soon. Even then they stopped sending letters a few years ago. Seriously Laze, what would you think?" He turned to her with wide, deep brown eyes. If he were any of the other newsies Laze knew he would probably be crying, but Race never let himself cry.
"I'd think they weren't comin' back," she admitted. She stepped up to the edge of the bunk and Race wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her onto the bunk. He wrapped her in his arms and sighed. Laze continued, "But they did, Race, they came back." She pulled away and turned to face him.
"They're not my parents anymore," Race said, "Ambition was the closest thing I ever had to a parent."
"I understood everything you told them Race," she said, "I don't care what you say, they are your parents and they want you."
He looked up to meet her gaze, "Are you saying that I should go back to Boston with them?"
She stood up as though she couldn't stand to be so close to him anymore. "I see you look at that picture whenever we're here Race. When I thought they were dead I thought you just missed them, like I do my dad, but they'se alive. You still want to be part of that family Race, deny it all you want but you do. If you went with them you'd have a future, you know most of us newsies are gonna end up as nuthin'. I'm not saying that you should go with them or that you should stay here. I'm saying you should do what makes you happy."
Race sighed, he wasn't sure what he wanted to do. As though suddenly overcome by a headache he put a hand over his face, "Will ya help me find Itey?"
"Yes," her voice was quiet but determined, "Let's go."
He took her hand in his as they left the building, feeling the cool ring of the ring he'd given her. They walked to Snitch and Itey's usual selling spot. Laze took Itey's papers and he and Race went for a walk. After a few moments of silence Race finally spoke.
"Do you wanna go to Boston Itey?"
Itey looked at his cousin, "Nah, I'se got a better life here than I did in Italy an' for me this is as good as it gets. Don't let me hold you back though Race. Go if you wanna go."
"If I do will you keep an eye on Snipe for me?"
"Sure," Itey smiled.
The two talked more and when they returned to the selling spot found Snitch and Laze gone. They made their way back to the lodging house and found all of the newsies, even Spot there.
"Would you hate me if I went with them?" he asked, "If I came back after would you even look at me?" His question was directed to three people in the room though he asked everyone.
"We wouldn't hate you, Race." Spot said.
"Get out of here, Race," Jack prompted, "Any newsie here would kill to be in your shoes."
Race turned, "Laze?"
She hugged him, "I could never hate you. I just want you to be happy."
The next morning Race was at his parents' hotel room early. His father opened the door with a surprised look on his face. After being invited in Race apologized, "I'se sorry about my behavior yesterday. I guess I was just a little surprised. If the offer still stands I'd like to go to Boston wit' you."
His mother hugged him and he hugged her back, though somewhat awkwardly. "Of course you can still come."
* * *
That afternoon all the newsies were at the train station to see Race off. "You sure you don't want me to stay?" he asked Laze.
"I want you to be happy," she said, "I love you, Race." She twisted the ring around on her finger as she spoke.
He kissed her forehead and she pulled away retreating into the crowd. Race kew if he went after her he'd lose his nerve so he turned to Itey.
"You sure you wanna stay here?"
His cousin nodded, "New York is my home. We might be considered the scum of the streets but we have family here, the newsies, and it's my home."
He hugged his cousin and bid everyone farewell one last time before boarding the train with his parents. He looked out the window as the train pulled away and could see Laze standing at the end of the platform waving. He waved back.
"Who was that?" Olivia asked, "One of your friends?"
"Yeah," Race replied, "My goilfriend." A silence filled the car for several minutes before another conversation was started. Race's parents went on and on about life in Boston. Race, despite his love of New York, found himself almost excited about this new place.
Race's parents didn't mind his heavy New York accent and accepted the fact that he still wanted to be a newsie. He spent he first week with them, wandering the streets, learning them for him, and at his father's office. He quickly learned how the presses worked and proved to his parents that he was educated. The Higgins' home was a small but spacious house that reminded him of when he was younger.
Almost a week and a half after he'd arrived in Boston Race left the house early and walked to the distribution center. He was waiting by the gates when a group of newsies came up.
A tall, muscular one with messy blonde hair and bright blue eyes seemed to be their leader. He wasn't half the size of the bigger Brooklyn guys, and wasn't as intimidating as Spot, or even Jack. "Who ah you?" he asked.
Race decided to mouth off and see what kind of guy this was, "Depends on who wants ta know?"
"Do you have any idea who you're talking to?"
"Well, as I see it I'se talkin' to a poor Boston newsie wit' a big mouth and an attitude nowhere near the size a Spot Conlon's tryin' ta intimidate me." Race smirked.
"Print McLean, leader of the newsies in this section of Boston." He held out his hand.
Race spit in his hand and shook with the other boy.
"You're a newsie?"
"Racetrack Higgins. Call me Race. Second in command in Manhattan."
"New York?" another boy asked.
"Yeah, 'til I left I was the newsie who'd been there the longest."
The gates opened and Race was the first one to buy papers. Print caught up with him as he was leaving, "So who's this Spot Conlon."
Race stopped dead in his tracks. "I'se got a lot of explaining to do."
Over the next month and a half Race's life in Boston grew steadily better. He grew very close with his parents and became friends with a number of Boston newsies. He, however, still sold alone and was considered a loner as he had been in Manhattan. He told all the boys stories of Spot Conlon, Jack Kelly, and numerous other newsies. Many of the girls in Boston loved his accent and practically hung all over him. Several boys even urged him to take a few of them out. Race declined without giving a reason and changed the subject.
One of Race's few chores was to get the mail on his way home every night. Print and him had become close and the Boston leader often accompanied him. He'd been there for two and a half months on the day he got a very important message. As the walked out of the post office Print talked about his latest girl while Race sorted through the mail. He came to a letter addressed to him in a slightly familiar handwriting. He ripped it open and scanned it, catching sight of the signature he stopped and read the whole thing. Laze missed him terribly and had finally sat down and written him a letter. It told him that her friends had saved their money and offered to but her a train ticket to be with him in Boston but she couldn't leave because New York was her home. Much of the letter was smudged from her crying. She went on to say that she hoped to get a letter back from him, and she couldn't write him anymore because it was too painful.
"Who's it from?" Print asked.
"Laze." Race said.
"Who's he?"
"She's my goil."
"You have a girl back in New York?"
"New York is my home." He read to himself under his breath before running off, "I'll see you Monday Print."
He couldn't get up the courage to ask his parents that night and the next morning the three of them went out early. They both refused to tell him where they were going and Race almost fell over when they approached a racetrack. He was instantly at the fence watching the races once they got inside.
"Do you wanna make a bet?" his father asked.
Race turned to his father with a smile on his face, "Can we?"
Joseph handed his son the money and Race ran toward the nearest bookie to place the bet.
"Who'd you bet on?" his mother asked when he came and sat with them.
"Cherokee," he said grinning, "Five ta one."
True to his good luck streak when his parents were around Cherokee won. His father collected the money and they sat down again, Race accepting the fact that he couldn't bet anymore that day. As he reached his hands into his pockets he found a piece of folded paper, Laze's letter. He kept up his happy façade for his parents but some of his enthusiasm was forgotten.
He approached his parents later that night, "I need to talk to you."
"Sit down then," his father indicated the empty chair at the table.
"Now that I'se gotten to know you I care about both of you very much, but I need to know, will you support my decision no matter what I decide to do?"
"Of course Tony. We only want you to be happy." His mother's words echoed in his ears. Laze had said the very same thing to him before he left New York.
"Before we came here my very smart cousin told me 'New York is my home. We might be considered the scum of the streets but we have family here, the newsies, and it's my home.' The newsies in New York are my home. I love you both but I gotta go back there."
"That girl?" his father asked.
Race nodded.
"We'll get you tickets I the morning." His mother smiled as she said it.
Race spent the next week tying up loose ends in Boston, and packing. He'd gotten some nicer, plaid vests and a jacket in Boston to replace the ripped stuff from New York. His parents were the only ones to see him off at the station, which made him realize that his real friends were in New York. He hugged both his parents, promising to write and boarded the train.
The ride back to New York seemed agonizingly slow and he arrived early the next afternoon. He all but ran to the lodging house and was almost amazed to see it was still standing. Kloppman looked up at him as he came in the door. "Well it's about time you got back here. I think Itey won the bet for how long you'd stay away."
"They was bettin' on how long I'd be gone for?" Race asked.
"Of course," the old man smiled, pushing a worn log book across the counter, "Sign in, your first night's free."
Race signed his name and threw his stuff into his old, and still empty bunk upstairs. He ran back down through the lobby, yelling goodbye to Kloppman and headed to Tibby's. As he looked through the window. Everyone was there, minus those from Brooklyn. He walked in with a wide grin on his face. "I swear, Laze is right, do you bums ever work."
The diner became deathly silent and then exploded with noise and a surge of people came toward Race. He said hello to almost everyone else before he found Itey and Jack.
"Thanks for the advice," he told his cousin, "You were right New York is my home." He hugged Itey and tuned to spit-shake with Jack. "So how's the headline?"
"How's this?" he asked, "New York's most famed celebrity back after break."
"Perfect, I tell ya man newsies in Boston don't got nuthin' on us."
"What'd you expect?"
"Is Laze around?"
"Go check Brooklyn. My guess is Spot'll wanna se you too."
By the time Jack finished his sentence Race was out the door. He made it to Brooklyn in a time that could rival some of Swifty's. The pier was crowded with boys swimming in the late summer sun.
"Spot," he yelled approaching the leader.
Spot turned around and a wide grin broke across his face. "It's about time you got your lazy self back here."
The two spit shook and Spot asked, "So how was Boston."
"Ok, New York's better though. Up there they ain't never heard of Spot Conlon."
Spot almost looked amazed.
After the two briefly caught up with each other Race asked, "Where's Laze?"
Spot looked at his pocket watch, "She'll be at the bridge in five minutes. Usually meets Hotshot up there to talk, but don't worry they ain't darting and I'll tell him to stay here today." He gave Race a push, but Race didn't need anymore of as comment. He ran to the Brooklyn Bridge as fast as his legs would carry him and slowed only when Laze cam into view. He slowed to a stop behind her.
She was silent for a few moments, "I can't believe he hasn't written back yet Hotshot. I thought he loved me." She played with the ring Race had given her, which was still on her finger. "I miss him so much. Could Boston really be that much better than here?"
"There's no way it's better than here because I have you here," Race said slipping his arms around her waist and I do love you."
She turned in his embrace and gasped, "Race." She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately, "What are you doing here?"
"Itey gave me some advice before I left. He made me realize that New York was my home and it took me a while to understand that I cared about so many more people here than I do there, especially you."
"You're back for good."
"For good, I promise." He smirked, "You wanna go walk over to the lodging house.
"Sure." She smirked back, "I haven't made fun of Manhattan in awhile. I love you Race."
"I love you too."
Race grew closer to the Manhattan guys and Laze. He practically lived at the tracks and basically didn't change that much from his old self, but he loved New York now more than before and was determined to stay there. It was several months later and he was sixteen. He woke up to Kloppman's yelling. He sat up with a smile on his face knowing that he had a date with Laze at the tracks and then noticed that Snipeshooter had stolen one of his Havana cigars.
"Dat's my cigar…" he sang……
You know the rest…
[1] Young man-
[2] Stop!
[3] Damn!
[4] You think you can just come back here after leaving me alone for twelve years and decide you want to be my parents again. You left me in a lodging house when I was three years old and you expect me to just run into your arms like a little kid. I cried into Ambition's arms the night you left. He told me the newsies were going to raise me, and you know what, they did! Where were you when I was sick from playing in the snow too long. Where were you when some bum on the streets killed one of my friends. Where were you when I was beaten half to death on the streets for a lousy dollar. Where the hell were you when I needed my parents. You were never there when I needed you, when I could have used your advice. You weren't there, but my friends were. You have absolutely no right to call yourselves my parents, and even less of a right to tell me what to do. Whatever the reason you think you can come back here and try to drag me out of the only life I have ever known is wrong. So just get out of my city and go back to Boston, or wherever you came from and leave me the hell alone.
A/N: I hope you all like this and I apologize for it taking so long to type. Make your guess for the next character. I have to go to bed 'cause I'm getting screamed at but I'll leave a longer note in the next chapter. Promise.
~Hotshot~~~