DISCLAIMER: Basically, to put it in simple dictation, all the characters in Disney's Newsies belong to Disney. *SuRpRiSe* All the characters NOT in Disney's Newsies belong to me, with the exception of Angel-she belongs to herself. ^_^ And Rhapsody owns herself as well.

A.N. Dear me, dear me. I just keep getting more and more reviews for this story by the day. I never thought it'd grow into this huge mass of plots and such. Hmm. ^_^ And I love it when my readers love what they read! It makes me happy, ya know?

*Runner brings out tissue* There, there, Dewey. Just get on with the chapter, huh?

Heehee. But seriously, thanks to everyone who's reviewing! It really means a lot to me! On a side note, I sent in my admissions application to Rollins College today, so please keep me in your prayers and thoughts! *crosses fingers* I really want to go there! They have an excellent writing program!

~*Just A Little Bet*~

~*~*~*~*~ Runner Conlon was on cloud nine.

It had all started one morning following Snap's visit to Brooklyn in which the younger Conlon and his cousin were meandering about the borough exchanging small chat on matters of the heart, which was indeed a rare happening as they were more apt to keeping their feelings bottled up within most the time. But straying from the norm, they began opening up to each other and Spot was finally able to pry out unreleased stress from Runner's system.

"Lemme tell ya somethin' kid," the Brooklyn leader had said, draping an arm over the other's shoulders. "Youse can please as many people as ya like, go tah some richy school, and become the most respected gent in all a' New Yawk, but if youse aint happy wid a single thing about ya life, then ya only livin' a lie."

The words had hit close to home for Runner. He supposed he had always subconsciously realized the fact, but he'd never analyze it as so. He'd never come to the conclusion that he was only deceiving himself by continuing to meet everyone's expectations but his own. Upon grasping the concept, though, he was filled with mixed emotions-contempt, sadness, confusion. And so with that air, he had bid farewell to his cousin and started off for Morningside Heights (after having been in Brooklyn two days or so, and after having had his picture featured in the 'missing child' sections of the major paper chains all the while).

Marching down the city sidewalks, he had been rehearsing what he'd tell his father when a soft voice called out his name from behind. He turned quickly around; the greeting had broken his train of thought and more so had startled him. But nothing could surprise him more than finding himself standing before Mallory with not a clue as to what he should say. She was decked out in the school uniform, hair tied back with a black satin ribbon and a pair of books tucked under her arm.

"Hey," she had said to him when it was obvious he wouldn't be the one to initiate a conversation.

Runner shook his head as if trying to rid himself of the dewdrops of imagination and continued to stare at her. He hadn't even known from where she had come! Gathering his thoughts, then, he had remembered that it was noon and that classes were dismissed for a period of recreation. She had probably been visiting her father during the allotted time. "Uh..."

She sighed. "Listen, Lucas. I'm really honestly sorry about all that happened. I don't even have feelings for your cousin; I'd never do something like that to hurt you! What we had was special to me, and I cared about you so much. Spot wanted to...he wanted me to forget about you, but I couldn't, Lucas. And I didn't." Her voice had wavered, almost like it would before one is set to cry, but she regained control and started off again. "If you had listened to me that day when I was telling you...I didn't, I didn't get to finish, and then you became so mad and I..."

"Mallory..." He had always loved saying her name and it hadn't been an exception then. He slid the derby hat off from atop his head, glanced around him hesitantly, and then stepped closer to her. "Mallory, there really isn't any reason for you to be apologizing like this. I'm the one who totally went off on you, and made you feel like something you aren't. I acted like a jackass, to put it bluntly." He'd let out a sigh as he thought about what to say next. "I don't know what it is, girl. I've just been...stressed lately..."

"I understand, and it's okay. Really. I know that you're under a lot of pressure with your father and all..."

"You have no idea! It's like, he expects me to be some kind of prodigy or something! I can't live up to it anymore, you know? It's ruining my life!" He'd look at her and though he saw a friend willing to listen to his rant, he knew it wasn't the time or the place. "Mallory, I shouldn't have gone off on you like I did. It...I wasn't...damn, I don't know. It runs in the family I guess."

She smiled at him. She definitely hadn't a problem with believing that statement. Their words became silence once again and an uncomfortable air fell upon them. Neither knew what to do or how to act; it was almost as if they were strangers again meeting for the first time. Runner fidgeted with the hat in his hands, attempting with much frustration to find something...anything to say! When a possible topic dawned on him, he looked up with sparkling eyes and parted his lips to speak.

But Mallory stole the opportunity from him when she neared him in one step, put a hand behind his head, and pulled him close to her for that first kiss they had never shared.

It was spell-binding. Both felt a rush of excitement and weightlessness surge through them like a storm, and it was seductive indeed. Runner's hat fell from his hands as he returned the kiss and wrapped his arms around the girl's lower waist, pulling her closer to him as the embrace deepened. Mallory's fingers combed through his golden locks while she let her heart pour out into the kiss, declaring to him that he was the only one she wanted. It was ecstatic, two forces of nature clashing to coalesce into one.

He kissed her as if his salvation lied within her, as if his very existence depended on her. She was his world, and every last thought in his mind was revolving around her. The silk touch of her lips, the sweetness of her mouth, feeling her beating heart against his chest...he took everything in, and would have gone further, but a pressing matter was pulling on his heart strings and he couldn't put it off for any longer.

He reluctantly pulled away from her moments later, staring into her eyes with a lovesick smile. "That has got to be, without a doubt, the single greatest moment in my life up to date." She laughed in response and he kissed her lightly on the forehead. They stood there in each other's arm for quite some time, merely holding one another, for nothing more had to be said.

~*~*~*~*~

"Father Conlon, there isn't very much we can do anymore. The authorities have searched the streets for a 'Lucas Isaiah Conlon' for days now. Every major morning and afternoon edition has announced his disappearance, we post ads at local taverns, inns, and schools in case the people come across him. What more would you ask of us?"

The head priest at St. John's rested his face in his hands, his arms propped up on their elbows, as he sat at his desk listening to the facts from Chief Reynolds. Mother Conlon sat in a chair across from him, a shadow of grey under her beautiful eyes giving evidence to her mourning and a tissue in her hands which she from time to time would use to dry away the tears that cascaded down her face. Their son had been gone for much too long, and the harsh realities of their violent society drilled fear into their hearts.

"I just don't understand," the Father said after a long while. "I mean, there are only so many possibilities as to where he could be. I'd hate to result to the negative ones, but have you even bothered to look into the lesser neighborhoods in the city. How do we know he wasn't...well, God forbid, but how do we know he wasn't abducted from the campus?"

Mother Conlon went into hysteria at the notion, causing the chief to look back in concern, but the Father assured him the woman would be fine and was best left alone. There would never be anything to remedy a mother's grieving heart. The men talked some more about the matter over her light sobs when a knock sounded on the door. Annoyed by the disturbance but knowing he'd have to answer to it, the priest called out a "come in" and waited for the individual to show himself as he once again placed his head in his hands as if in defeat.

The door opened, footsteps sounded as someone entered, and then the wooden structure closed. Not a single word of greeting was uttered. Curious who the visitor was, Mother Conlon looked up from her crying with a sniffle; though her vision was blurred by tears, she instantly registered the appearance of the one before her. "Lucas!" she nearly screamed, as she rushed from her seat and collected the boy in her arms, smudging his face and hair with kisses and squeezing him with a suffocating grip he didn't know she was capable of applying.

With remarkable speed, she began asking him the obvious question of where he had been, but before he could answer, she only continued to press an endless supply of inquiries. Are you okay? Did anyone hurt you? Why didn't you contact us? Have you eaten anything? Baby, where were you? She checked his face and arms for any signs of physical abuse, and then started up the kisses again. Runner tried to maintain a serious composure, but had to smirk at the treatment. He never did feel unnoticed when his mother was in the equation.

Chief Reynolds rose from his seat with a grand smile. "Well now, son," he said, patting Runner on the shoulder. "You sure gave your family a scare. When you're ready to report what happened, just stop by the station any time this week, all right? I'll leave you with your family now." He nodded at the Father, and then showed himself out.

Runner knew the wrath was forthcoming. Though his mother showered him with an abundance of love, his father's current mood was...rather foul.

"Lucas, do you mind telling us where you were these past few days? Hopefully not gallivanting through the borough while your mother was worried sick about you!"

"Only my mother?" the boy asked with the slightest hint of disdain.

"Don't you dare take that tone with me, you understand me?"

Runner rolled his eyes and slowly stepped out of his mother's hold to walk closer to the desk behind which Father Conlon now stood. He collapsed into one of the office chairs with a huge sigh and waited for the man to scold him. "Patricia," the priest said, "maybe it'd be best if Lucas and I spoke alone..."

Mother Conlon nodded quickly, strode towards her son to kiss and hug him once more, and then exited out the room with a glad heart. Runner watched her leave forlornly and then turned his gaze back onto his father, knowing full well he had it coming.

"So?"

The young Conlon looked at him and feigned naivety. "So what?"

"Lucas, don't play this ignorant game with me. You've missed three days of school, church services, and ministerial duties and I'd very much like to know why. I won't stand this slipshod attitude of yours any longer. You have countless responsibilities to uphold and I won't see you slack off like some worthless street rat." He slammed a hand onto the desk to emphasize his point and stared down at his son with a fierce parental look.

"Father, I'm not slacking off, I'm going to make up all that I..."

"Not another word about it. Where were you?"

Runner inwardly screamed for having been interrupted as was custom whenever speaking to his father. He figured he should have known he wouldn't be able to get anything across, but he'd kind of hope it'd be different this time around. He diverted his attention to his shoelaces and sighed; the truth would have to come out sooner or later. "I was in Brooklyn," he said steadily, "staying with Sp...uh, Andrew for a while."

He didn't even have to look up to know the man's neck veins had tightened with rage. It was only a matter of seconds now. Runner could already hear the derogatory comments echoing in the room. "You aren't to see Andrew any longer, do you understand me?"

Holding up a chastising finger, he pointed it at the boy as if it were a spear by which he hoped to condemn his very own son. "You'll never amount to anything if you continue to make company with a piece of trash like your cousin. Don't you remember his father, Lucas? You weren't too young. The man was a wasted drunk! Do you seriously want to end up like that? Andrew's only heading in the same direction, what with his confounded newspapers and the sort. We offered him the fine life, and what did he do? He threw it back into our faces like an ungrateful brat!"

"Not everyone thinks like you, father," Runner said softly, not trying in any way to be disrespectful. "Andrew simply didn't want to be boxed up."

"So he'd much rather live in a world of chaos? Typical, just like his father." The priest walked from behind his desk with a certain air of prestige and came to stand right beside his son. He looked down at him, almost in a condescending manner and pulled his lips into a straight line. "Which brings me to another matter that's been brought to my attention. Rumor has it that my son has been seen around school holding hands with a young lady by the name of Mallory Alexandria Carter?"

Runner froze. Damn, it had been a sly attack. Why hadn't he seen where this was leading all along? He shifted under the tension of his father's stare and tried to connive a worthy lie, but the words died down at the base of his tongue. What was the use? He was already this deep in trouble; he might as well go the full distance. "Well, father, I'd be more than happy to indulge you with the facts. Mallory just happens to be my girlfriend." The voice hadn't even sounded like his own once his ears had picked up the words, but after they were said, a smile played on his lips and he waited for a response.

"Your, your what?!" The man's form stood rigid, his fists clenching and unclenching as waves of anger washed over him. "You would make me the laughing stock of the church! You know more than anyone else that relationships defy the vows for priesthood you will be making next week! Why do you continue to act in the manner of a fool, Lucas? This is a disgrace, and utter nonsense!"

Runner sat up straight in his chair as to not come across as some nonchalant youth who didn't know what he wanted in life. His father thought so lowly of him already, and he needed to announce his decision with an aura of calmness and wisdom. "I never in my life said I wanted to be a priest. I only did it to please you, but it didn't..." He paused to consider his words, but primarily to deliberate over whether he was finally ready to stand up to his father. It was harder than he had originally thought, being open and honest as so. "You never...you never were happy with what I did, even when it was my best. But I tried so hard, father. I couldn't seem, I....it was..."

"How dare you sit there and even fathom reiterating this pure excrement! You think you're able to map out your life on your own and you can't even spit five words out your mouth without stuttering." He shook his head in disapproval. This was ridiculous and he didn't understand why of all people, his son was the one acting mindlessly. "You will end the relationship with the girl, take your vows next week, and obey me the way a young man is expected to obey his father. Are we clear on this?"

Runner almost nodded like the numerous times he had done before. Like a cowardly dog backing away from a fight with its tail between its legs, he almost accepted failure. It would have been so easy to simply say a heartless "yes, father" and enter back into the melancholia of his systemized life. It would have been less of a challenge on his part to pass the victor's prize to his father and admit to the foolhardiness of his youth.

But he was sick and tired of not being listened to, of being bossed around as if he were the servant of some castle court, and most of all, of never having known fatherly love. His father was too absorbed with other matters to even take his son out to lunch one afternoon and talk about simple things like sports, current events, and the ways of life. Runner had been raised by his elder cousin, not the father who preached about love yet never showed it. The young Conlon knew the time had come to make his stand.

He moistened his lips in preparation, his heart thumping wildly in his ears, and gulped down his fears. Now or never, now or never. "I won't do any of that," he said, power in each syllable.

His father gave him an incredulous look. "Excuse me?"

"Sadly enough, Mallory's a bigger part of my life than you are, and so I won't end one of the few things in my life that keeps me wanting to see another day." Gaining confidence, he rose from his chair and casually began to walk the length of the room, heading towards the door. "As for priesthood, I won't take vows that aren't heartfelt. There's more than one way to serve God, and I intend on doing just that without the hypocrisy of the clergy." He grasped the doorknob behind him, ready for the final offense. It'd take serious courage, and he was ready to release it once and for all. "And obedience? Well, you may be my father, but I'd be damned if you ever acted like one."

With that, he sent a glare to his father, who could only gape in shock, and then left the room with head held high.

~*~*~*~*~

The day proved to be just as eventful at Tibby's. Race had somehow managed once again to pull Becca out the confines of her house and Sheepshead world and now the girl sat aside him at one of the restaurant tables trying to learn, with the aid of Blink and Angel, how to play poker.

She combed her carrot-shaded hair behind her ears and tried her best to look upset, but she only ended up laughing all the more. "I don't understand this at all!" she confessed at last. "How the heck am I supposed to know which cards to trade in for new ones?"

"It's all a game of chance," Angel replied with a grin. "But ya know what? I don't even know why you bother playing the game with Race. Isn't it weird how he wins every single game?" She gave him a playful accusing look.

"Heya, I resent that!" Race put the cigar he was currently smoking back in his mouth and took a few swigs of it as if in deep thought while he examined his hand of cards. "And it aint no game of chance, Angel. The real players know how to make the best of everything."

"Suuure, Racey-boy. If you say so." Growing bored with the game, however, she laid down her cards and yawned lazily. It had been a tiring chore having to work at the hospital today. Her boss always kept her on her feet, whether it was to check in patients or write up prescriptions, or simply file away records. It'd be months before she was admitted into the emergency rooms, and the wait was starting to grow tedious. "I think I'm going to head on out, take a walk or something. I need fresh air."

As she started to rise from her seat, Blink followed suit and laid down his cards as well, fully thinking it was a blatant invitation for him to accompany her. But she turned to face him as he pushed in his chair and gave him an amused look. "Sweety," she said, "I think it'd actually be better if you stay here..."

Offended by the suggestion but not letting it show on his face, he laughed it off and walked with her to the door so that the conversation was solely between them. "Whaddya mean? Ya don't want me wid youse?"

She sighed. She knew it would eventually come to this, that he would automatically assume that her forgiving him instantly meant they were a couple again. But they weren't! And she wasn't going to let him forget that. "Blink, we're not even together. Why are you acting like this? Didn't we agree that we'd be friends for now?"

"Friends! What about that kiss ya gave me the other night, huh?"

"That was just for kicks," she shrugged. "A sort of spurt of the moment thing, ya know?"

His face flushed at the words and he crossed his arms, not knowing what to do with them and too angry to figure it out. "What!"

"Don't give me that!" She glared right back at him. "Don't you remember, you use to do the same things! Why should it be any different now?" When he had nothing more to say, she started to reach for the door behind her to exit, but he gently grabbed her hand before she could complete the task and sighed.

"Angel, hear me out, goil. I know I'se been anything *but* a good boyfriend tah youse when we'se was together, but I said I was sorry! I don't know what more ya want me tah do. Tell me, and I will, though. Honestly. Ya want me tah get on me knees and beg?"

"Please don't," she said with a small smile. "I really have no idea what I want you to do, Blink. I guess for now, I just want space. Just space and time to think about things."

He nodded, completely understanding. The only way he was going to get through this was by letting her re-evaluate the situation. "All right then. Youse take all the time ya need, ya hear me?" He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it softly. "And I'll be waitin' for ya the whole time."

She slowly pulled her hand back, her smile widening. "Thanks," she whispered to him. Then she said goodbye and walked out the door, only once looking back to wave at him.

Meanwhile, Race and Becca had since retired the game of poker after Angel's leave and had instead resulted to talking. Though it was mostly teasing. Race combed his fingers through the girl's long tresses and grinned at her. "I can't believe youse is thinking 'bout leavin' Sheepshead for other woik. Youse was attached to them stables at the hip!"

She laughed and shooed his hand away, scooting closer to him on the booth as he draped an arm around her shoulders. "Well, I never said I had made a final decision on the matter. To be truthful, I can't even see myself being away from those horses for the rest of my life. Like I told ya before, they're like my family."

Race nodded in agreement. He had seen the way she worked with the animals. It was unmistakable how much she loved and cared for them, as if they were her children and she their guardian angel. Everything she did for the horses was out of care and concern, and her days with them were never spiteful ones. Musing upon this for a moment, he wondered about another thing. "Becca?"

"Yea?"

"D'ya........." he sighed and suddenly felt incredibly stupid for posing the inquiry. "D'ya consider me a part of ya family now?"

She looked at him with warm eyes, her smile brighter than ever and her look clearly giving him the answer she thought he had already known. "Of course, Race! But why do I get the feeling that was just your sly way of getting a pity kiss from me?"

"I haven't a clue," he said simply before stealing one from her.

On the other side of the restaurant carried on yet another conflict. Jack Kelly was presently reiterating the details of the famous strike to a new kid Specs had brought to the lodging house that morning. Even though they had heard the tale hundreds of times before (each telling growing more dramatic and making the newsboys sound like war heroes with Pulitzer as a demonic monarch), Itey, Dutchy, Snoddy, Pie, and Specs all listened in nonetheless, occasionally adding a forgotten detail here and there.

At the table across from them sat Vixen, Mush, Bumlets, and Snitch, all of which were making fun of Jack's story-time. It worked our fairly well, for everyone knew the petty debate was in truth a heated argument between Jack and Vixen.

"If I remember correctly," Vixen said at one point, loud enough for both tables to hear, "according to Brooklyn account, when youse went into the Woild office tah speak tah Pulitzer, ya got kicked out for bein' a street rat."

Jack glared at her; this time around he had claimed to have led a riot in Pulitzer's office but she had just managed to shatter his story. "Well anyone should know that Brooklyn boys aint too good at remembering things when they's had no part in it."

"Youse implyin' that they's illiterate?"

"Nah, just that they tend tah think a story aint woith tellin' if it doesn't draw 'em out tah be gods."

She stood to her feet and walked over to him, hips swinging in that flirtatious manner, except the offended look on her face made it seem almost deadly, as if she were a lioness about to slaughter her prey. "Yea, like youse is one tah talk, Jack. Ya got an ego bigger than New Yawk, ya know that? Too proud tah say what ya really feel."

By now, the other newsies were completely lost in understanding what was passing between their leader and the girl, and so they casually dispersed and left the two alone. Naturally, this only meant seeking a table two yards away where they could still eavesdrop on the conversation.

Jack remained seated and pushed his plate of food away, having lost his appetite. "Ya know what, Vixen? Ya a damn hoity-toity for thinkin' I'se even got anything tah confess tah youse tah begin with!"

"Oh yea? That's the way ya gunna play it, huh?" She snatched a glass of tea from the table and threw its contents upon his face, her eyes narrowed in rage. "Fine! I'm through wid youse!"

"You bitch!" Jack jumped to his feet in surprise and held his hands out as tea dripped down his face onto his shirt. "Ya friggin' insane, ya know that?" he yelled after her while she stormed away.

"Yea," she replied, "but I least I aint a jackass." The door slammed and its resounding thud reverberated throughout the restaurant.

~*~*~*~*~

Maybe 2 more chapters left. Maybe not. ^_^ I sent in an application to Rollins College last week, please pray that I get in! AHHHHHHHHHH!!!!