Chapter2- through the arch
" so wheah's our spot?" racetrack asked.
"I dunno," pagan said. "ise feelin' dangerous. Been considerin' settin' up a partnership in Chinatown."
"huh? Wheah?" Chinatown, where's that? It sounded dangerous, all right. This was the first time racetrack ever heard of the place, if such a place existed.
"you game?" pagan challenged, catching the bewildered look on race's face.
"got my attention," race said.
If little italy was a big secret, then "Chinatown" was an even bigger one. It did exist, but it was difficult to find; and if you were hapless enough to have wandered accidentally into it, it was even harder to find your way out of it. Only a handful of newsies really knew where it was, and those who did simply refused to talk about it. "Chinatown" had almost as many myths surrounding it as Brooklyn.( Of course, brooklyn's newsie contingent was legendary. The mere mention of it was enough to strike fear in the heart of any newsie, especially if that newsie was no friend of spot conlon's.) since nobody really knew about "Chinatown", nobody could say for sure whose turf it was, but racetrack had the feeling that pagan already knew.
"it's a small community," pagan explained. "small, but very close-knit. Youse gotta be outta yah wits or just plain stupid to go dere not knowin' no one from the inside."
After passing through numerous winding alleyways, they came upon an imposing arch with red dragons on its crest. It didn't take a genius to know that they had reached their destination. True enough, on the other side of the arch was a village bustling with activity. Children were running around playing, merchants were lugging their wares. It looked like downtown manhattan and it sounded like downtown manhattan, except, everywhere that racetrack looked were pale faces and slit eyes. He felt like a foreign land had opened up before his eyes and he was only a couple of steps away from crossing over to it.
A familiar aroma attacked his senses as pagan led the way through the arch. horse manure. There was no mistaking it. At least there's a familiar element! He thought, ignoring the stares they were producing from the locals.
"why do I get the feeling we's bein' watched?" he asked.
"cause we are." Was pagan's succinct answer. "stay close tah me, race. We ain't in manhattan no more."
Racetrack was far too entranced by the sights around him to pay much attention to pagan's last statement. By the sidewalk, vendors sold their curio- gold-plated lamps, figurines of fat little men, masks, paper lanterns and bottles filled with murky liquid and various dubious herbs.
In dark corridors, old men in sleeveless undershirts sat huddled around small square tables. Blocks of ivory spread before them made crunching noises as they mixed them around.
What a strange game...racetrack thought. His eyes were glued to the players. Coins were being tossed about this way and that over the table. The sight was enough to reel him in, for although he understood not a single word that was being exchanged by the players, the language of gambling was a language he understood only too well.
He continued to gawk, eyes darting around, trying to understand the object of the game. " 'ey, pagan, lookit dis- pagan?"
He'd lost her! Where was she? She was just walking ahead of him moments ago. She couldn't have gotten that far, he thought sauntering into an alley.
Racetrack had the nagging feeling he was being followed and so could not avoid shooting nervous glances behind him every so often. There was nothing worse than losing yourself in a strange place-
"OW!"
-except being found in a strange place by an even stranger person.
Race stepped back to see who he had collided with.
In front of him stood a Chinese boy wearing a sleeveless undershirt and a sneer. His words came out in bullets as he backed race up against a wall.
Oh sweet jesus! Race thought. Ise a goner fah sure! "please don't hoit me!" he shouted, closing his eyes, crouching low in fear and surrender. He braced himself for some kind of sharp blow to the head, which never came.
A voice called out from the opening of the alley. Race heard someone call out his name. Opening one eye, he saw pagan running toward him with a tall, thin, young Chinese man.
Race's knees buckled from beneath him. Weak with relief at the intervention, he leapt up away from his "attacker".
"we gotta scram!" he yelled, pulling pagan away from the two Chinese boys, who had started yelling at each other.
"wha- wait! but- we just got here!" she protested.
"yeah, well ise almost got whacked!" race shot back, almost tearing her shirt off. "let's go!" his eyes widened with refreshed horror as his "attacker" flew over to where they were standing. Just as race was about to duck, anticipating a death blow, the boy had grabbed pagan from behind, lifted her up and started to swing her around.
Pagan screamed. Racetrack didn't know whether to fight him or to run away. So he stood there, rooted to his spot. Then he realized pagan wasn't only screaming- she was also laughing!
"put me down!" she screamed. "put me down! fourth leeeeeeeeee!"
fourth lee set pagan back on the ground and said something to her in chinese. To race's ever growing awe, pagan answered in English. "yeah, yeah, I know. Hey, youse gave me friend racetrack quite a scare."
Fourth lee scratched the back of his head guiltily. "oh...yeah," he said, without a trace of an accent. He looked at racetrack, who was still recovering from the shock of it all. " sorry 'bout dat." A small laugh escaped him. "ise fourth. Dis heah's me brudda, profit."
The taller boy held up his hand in greeting. "fourth here goes crazy sometimes," he said, also without an accent. "he loves messin' around wit' youse white ghosts. No offense."
"none taken," racetrack replied.
Fourth lee giggled again and squeezed pagan's arm affectionately. he said something else to her in Chinese, which made pagan swipe at fourth in annoyance. "shut up!" she said.
Quirky, he thought. dat girl chucked out as many surprises as a magician's hat. Oh boy, this is toinin' out tah be a really interesting day...
" so wheah's our spot?" racetrack asked.
"I dunno," pagan said. "ise feelin' dangerous. Been considerin' settin' up a partnership in Chinatown."
"huh? Wheah?" Chinatown, where's that? It sounded dangerous, all right. This was the first time racetrack ever heard of the place, if such a place existed.
"you game?" pagan challenged, catching the bewildered look on race's face.
"got my attention," race said.
If little italy was a big secret, then "Chinatown" was an even bigger one. It did exist, but it was difficult to find; and if you were hapless enough to have wandered accidentally into it, it was even harder to find your way out of it. Only a handful of newsies really knew where it was, and those who did simply refused to talk about it. "Chinatown" had almost as many myths surrounding it as Brooklyn.( Of course, brooklyn's newsie contingent was legendary. The mere mention of it was enough to strike fear in the heart of any newsie, especially if that newsie was no friend of spot conlon's.) since nobody really knew about "Chinatown", nobody could say for sure whose turf it was, but racetrack had the feeling that pagan already knew.
"it's a small community," pagan explained. "small, but very close-knit. Youse gotta be outta yah wits or just plain stupid to go dere not knowin' no one from the inside."
After passing through numerous winding alleyways, they came upon an imposing arch with red dragons on its crest. It didn't take a genius to know that they had reached their destination. True enough, on the other side of the arch was a village bustling with activity. Children were running around playing, merchants were lugging their wares. It looked like downtown manhattan and it sounded like downtown manhattan, except, everywhere that racetrack looked were pale faces and slit eyes. He felt like a foreign land had opened up before his eyes and he was only a couple of steps away from crossing over to it.
A familiar aroma attacked his senses as pagan led the way through the arch. horse manure. There was no mistaking it. At least there's a familiar element! He thought, ignoring the stares they were producing from the locals.
"why do I get the feeling we's bein' watched?" he asked.
"cause we are." Was pagan's succinct answer. "stay close tah me, race. We ain't in manhattan no more."
Racetrack was far too entranced by the sights around him to pay much attention to pagan's last statement. By the sidewalk, vendors sold their curio- gold-plated lamps, figurines of fat little men, masks, paper lanterns and bottles filled with murky liquid and various dubious herbs.
In dark corridors, old men in sleeveless undershirts sat huddled around small square tables. Blocks of ivory spread before them made crunching noises as they mixed them around.
What a strange game...racetrack thought. His eyes were glued to the players. Coins were being tossed about this way and that over the table. The sight was enough to reel him in, for although he understood not a single word that was being exchanged by the players, the language of gambling was a language he understood only too well.
He continued to gawk, eyes darting around, trying to understand the object of the game. " 'ey, pagan, lookit dis- pagan?"
He'd lost her! Where was she? She was just walking ahead of him moments ago. She couldn't have gotten that far, he thought sauntering into an alley.
Racetrack had the nagging feeling he was being followed and so could not avoid shooting nervous glances behind him every so often. There was nothing worse than losing yourself in a strange place-
"OW!"
-except being found in a strange place by an even stranger person.
Race stepped back to see who he had collided with.
In front of him stood a Chinese boy wearing a sleeveless undershirt and a sneer. His words came out in bullets as he backed race up against a wall.
Oh sweet jesus! Race thought. Ise a goner fah sure! "please don't hoit me!" he shouted, closing his eyes, crouching low in fear and surrender. He braced himself for some kind of sharp blow to the head, which never came.
A voice called out from the opening of the alley. Race heard someone call out his name. Opening one eye, he saw pagan running toward him with a tall, thin, young Chinese man.
Race's knees buckled from beneath him. Weak with relief at the intervention, he leapt up away from his "attacker".
"we gotta scram!" he yelled, pulling pagan away from the two Chinese boys, who had started yelling at each other.
"wha- wait! but- we just got here!" she protested.
"yeah, well ise almost got whacked!" race shot back, almost tearing her shirt off. "let's go!" his eyes widened with refreshed horror as his "attacker" flew over to where they were standing. Just as race was about to duck, anticipating a death blow, the boy had grabbed pagan from behind, lifted her up and started to swing her around.
Pagan screamed. Racetrack didn't know whether to fight him or to run away. So he stood there, rooted to his spot. Then he realized pagan wasn't only screaming- she was also laughing!
"put me down!" she screamed. "put me down! fourth leeeeeeeeee!"
fourth lee set pagan back on the ground and said something to her in chinese. To race's ever growing awe, pagan answered in English. "yeah, yeah, I know. Hey, youse gave me friend racetrack quite a scare."
Fourth lee scratched the back of his head guiltily. "oh...yeah," he said, without a trace of an accent. He looked at racetrack, who was still recovering from the shock of it all. " sorry 'bout dat." A small laugh escaped him. "ise fourth. Dis heah's me brudda, profit."
The taller boy held up his hand in greeting. "fourth here goes crazy sometimes," he said, also without an accent. "he loves messin' around wit' youse white ghosts. No offense."
"none taken," racetrack replied.
Fourth lee giggled again and squeezed pagan's arm affectionately. he said something else to her in Chinese, which made pagan swipe at fourth in annoyance. "shut up!" she said.
Quirky, he thought. dat girl chucked out as many surprises as a magician's hat. Oh boy, this is toinin' out tah be a really interesting day...