Anthony 'Racetrack' Higgins wasn't a fool and he normally didn't let
emotions dictate his actions. Normally seen as one of the more brash
newsies because of his incontrollable love for gambling, he was actually
quite usually in control of everything else in his life. Until Misery came
along, that is.
It was so strange to him, this powerful ache in his heart that occurred whenever he thought of her, or looked at her. Strange not only because she was the first girl that he had felt like this about, but also because he had known her a total of what, three or four days? And then there was Spot Conlon.
Race had met Spot through Jack before the infamous Brooklynite had become the leader of the Brooklyn newsies. He and Spot had gotten along well, they both loved to play poker and they both liked trying out their charm on pretty girls. Race had a smart mouth that Spot had found highly amusing and Spot had a highly charismatic yet aloof and tough personality that Race looked up to. Spot, Jack and he had become a constant trio for a while, always running around Manhattan and Brooklyn together after they were done selling for the day.
Now with Misery here, he and Spot's friendship had gotten quite strained. Race was upset that this had happened. He knew deep down inside that Spot wasn't just doing this to piss Race off. He knew that Spot was attracted to Misery just as much as he. This put all of them into quite a quandary. In any other circumstance Racetrack would be expected to bow down to Spot and let him pursue Misery as Spot was higher up on the status hierarchy. But Race wasn't so eager to let go of Misery.
She made him laugh, she stole cigars for him. She fought with him with spirit and made him protective over her when she drank too much or when she day-dreamed and put herself in danger of walking into things. She made him lustful when she dressed in a nice dress and when they had kissed. Misery made him yearn to just gather her up in his arms and stay that way with her for hours. And she made him hate himself when he had spoken harshly to her and tears had filled her eyes.
When she had stumbled away from the poker game in Brooklyn, Race had watched Spot look after her and then get up and follow. He had tried to pay attention to the game; he was actually winning for once. But his thoughts kept straying to Misery and how if she was upset, he wanted to be the one to comfort her, not just Spot. So gathering his winnings into his pocket, he rose and muttered something about needing to take a leak and getting some fresh air. Cries of protest arose as he did so, but he just smirked at everyone and told them that he'd be back to take more of their money in no time.
When he asked the two boys who were posing as sentries if they had seen which way Spot and Misery had gone, they had shrugged and pointed with their clubs down the street to their right. Race wandered down the street, keeping an eye out for the pair. Hearing a scuffle and some shouts, he ducked behind a barrel and poked his head up over the top just enough so that he could see. A gang of about twelve men emerged from a nearby alley, carrying a person slung over one of their shoulders, and a struggling, enraged Spot who had blood trailing down the side of his face.
Race felt his heart constrict when he realized that the unconscious person was Misery. When they were a safe distance away, Race began to follow them.
I slowly regained consciousness only to wish that I hadn't, when I saw the furious glint of Spot's blue eyes hanging over my face. He had my head cradled in his lap, and his find blonde hair was matted with blood.
"Tell me that they're wrong, Misery. Tell me that you ain't their sister." His voice was harsh and low. I closed my eyes briefly and felt a feather-light touch as Spot stroked the side of my face.
"I wish with all my heart that I wasn't, but I am." I heard him breathe raggedly and swear in a barrage of words that would make a sailor blush. But he didn't throw me away from him, and he didn't stop stroking my face.
"Why did you lie? Why didn't you tell the truth?" I snorted mirthlessly and sat up, only to find myself entangled in his arms as he slid them around my waist. The room we were in was dark and dank and I shuddered as I realized it was the cellar of the building my brother's and his gang inhabited. So we were back in Green Point. Oh, how I had not missed this place. A sliver of moonlight filtered through a small broken window high above our heads.
"Spot what would you have done if I had told the truth? Thrown me right back into the river after Racetrack pulled me out. I'm not Misery to you now, I'm a Finnegan. That ain't gonna change is it?" Spot's lips sought mine and I felt him shake his head as he pressed them to my own.
"Now I know why you were so familiar to me. I always used to see you runnin' around with the younger Brooklyn newsies when your brother's were in charge." I nodded silently and we sat, our thoughts racing in the darkness. I wondered what my brother's were going to do to us.
Most definitely they were going to try to get whatever information out of me about my diary they could before they got rid of me, and they would definitely get rid of Spot. With Spot out of the way there was a chance they could re-take the Brooklyn lodging house over although they were all too old to sell papers. They could control who the newsboys paid.
"Shit, Misery. I like you why do you have to be one of them?" His cry of anger echoed in my ears and I felt rage course up my veins.
"I am NOT one of them, Spot Conlon!"
"To my boys you're as good as one. Your last name makes you one of them and they ain't going to forget that no matter how much I like you. They remember Cards, we all do. It wasn't long ago at all that happened. We're all still out for blood. They'll come to rescue me, and the Manhattan newsies will come for you, but I don't know what will happen when they find out you're a Finnegan. You're just as bad to them even though you haven't done anything to us."
I knew he spoke the truth. I wasn't sure how the Manhattan kids were going to take this, but I knew the Brooklyn kids would want to rip me limb from limb after they were done with the gang. I shivered at the thought of what else might happen to me, being a girl and all. Spot's arms tightened around me at my involuntary shudder and we sat still for awhile. I knew that I wouldn't be able to see Spot if we lived through this. I knew it was going to get out that I was a Finnegan.
Suddenly a door opened and two sets of feet clattered down a rickety staircase. One held a lantern and he hung it on a hook in the low ceiling. I looked up at my two brothers from the relative safety of Spot's arms. They sneered at me and looked back.
Murphy stared down at me, his brown hair darker than mine, his hazel eyes blank. He was rough around the edges, and dressed in clothes that were as raggedy as the newsies. Jaime wore nicer clothes and slicked his brown hair back with pomade. It worked well with the high angles of his cheekbones but nothing could rid his eyes of their eerie maniacal glow.
"Such an ungrateful brat, isn't she?" I had forgotten the beautiful tones of my brother's voices. They still carried the lilt of Ireland in them. I was the only child born here in America. My brother's had lived in Ireland for a few years before coming over with my parents.
"Sodding ungrateful little wench," my brother Jaime agreed. Murphy stepped forward and ripped me out of Spot's arms sending him reeling with a casual blow. I cried out, but Murphy clasped a dirty hand over my mouth shaking me like a rag doll.
"Where's your fucking little book, Misery?! Where did you put it?" He backhanded me and I could taste the coppery tint of blood in my mouth as my lip split. Spitting onto the front of his shirt, I sneered at him in disgust.
"Like I'm going to fucking tell you, you idiot." Murphy exclaimed in dismay as my blood stained his shirt and his knuckles tightened until they were bone-white as he lifted me close to his face.
"You better behave or else we'll give you to our boys upstairs. They've missed you, Misery. Tell me what I want to know and you and your boyfriend," he said this word with a curled lip "can go to the next world relatively pain-free." I shook my head again and he threw me to the floor violently. Jaime kicked Spot hard in his side and Spot groaned and lay still. I dumped to the floor, cradling Spot against me and tried to miss a kick that my brother Jaime aimed at me. I failed, and I hissed in pain as his boot connected with my upper thigh.
"We'll come back later. Maybe a day or two without water or food will loosen your tongue." I didn't answer back as they went upstairs. I could hear shouts and dim music and concluded that they were celebrating our capture. I wondered dimly before I slumped into a faint again when my brother's thugs would be making an appearance.
Racetrack paused long enough in front of the building he had seen the gang disappear into to get his bearings before setting off back to the lodging house at a speed that would make one of the horses he bet on at the tracks jealous. The two sullen newsies acting as guards stared at him wide-eyed as he puffed past. He barely noticed, and didn't stop until he slammed open the door to the lodging house. Assailed by many pairs of curious eyes, he stopped to try to catch his breath.
"What the hell is going on Race?" Jack was by his side instantly, surrounded by Pokey, Meesh, and the rest of the kids. Someone thrust a glass of beer into Racetrack's face and he winced, wishing it was water before downing it anyway.
"Spot....Misery....taken by the Finnegan boys." Shouts erupted in the room and the Brooklyn kids immediately began arming themselves. Jack hauled Race up by his shoulders.
"Where did they take them?"
"Green Point, I followed them to the building. It's by the water, small little warehouse. Misery was unconscious Jack, she wasn't awake." Pistol clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes going wide and getting suspiciously bright with tears. Bourbon began smacking a fist into the palm of her hand repeatedly while the boys began accepting weapons that the Brooklyn kids were handing over. Jack looked around the room and raised a hand to his mouth blowing an ear-splitting whistle.
"Alright ya bums, let's plan this out a little. The girls are staying here," shouts of protest filled the air before Jack grasped Bourbon's shoulder and glared at her.
"The Finnegan's aren't kids, Bourbon. They're men and they know how to fight. You girls won't stand a chance, no offense." Bourbon silently regarded him before nodding and bowing down, her face stoic. The girls arrayed themselves behind her, angry but quiet once more.
"Now you Brooklyn kids, I'm a leader so I'll head this up." There were slight mutters but most of the Brooklyn boys knew Jack already so they didn't argue. Jack went on to say that they needed to stick to alleyways and back streets so as not to attract attention from any patrolling policemen.
It was late and a gang of kids their age would be sure to get thrown into the Refuge for running around like goons. Secondly, he personally went around and picked the kids who were to accompany them. He picked based on size and he also peered at their eyes to see how many were at ease with the idea of going to brawl.
Any who looked nervous or scared, he made stay behind to help 'guard the girls and the lodging house'. Finally, when they had the group all sorted out, Jack lifted his head and looked towards the door.
"Alright let's go beat those fucks," a cheer went up and the boys exited the building, ready to fight.
Chelsea - Hehe..I laugh at the word penis too. I'm laughing right now because I had to type it. I'm glad my story makes you happy that makes me happy. I sounded like 'Rainman' right there. I say hot 'haht' too. Must be the accent, it works funny like that. Hehe don't worry Race will come to the rescue he's Racetrack, he has to. I like the idea of him in a cape with rock-hard pecs.
Jocelyn Padoga - Ooh threatening now aye? That's cool. What with work and it being the holiday's I'm sorry I couldn't do a one day update. I do update fast though so hopefully I can update again soon.
KatFightOnSkis - Muaaaaaaaaaaaaaahahaha.Cliffhangers suck yes they doooo and I am evil. I am, but I had to update I couldn't leave it at that.
Netangel182-Here you go my dear!
Pokey7 -- *sighs* I know what you mean. And yes Race is horribly cute. I had to write him as that way because he just is. I know it. And yeah people would have to find out eventually so it had to happen.
Irish Rover - Yes! I am evil! And here is another update for you.
Cabby1 - Yay I love being in people's stories!! Thank you! I love a good cliffhanger too as long as it gets updated fast. Hehe.
Erin sailor ditz - Whoo hooo you almost peed yourself! I think that's the ultimate compliment. And yeah guys don't get shit most of the time and you can't ever pretend that they do. Some of them are good like that but the majority just doesn't GET IT. Alright! Jiggles and wiggles! You rock!
It was so strange to him, this powerful ache in his heart that occurred whenever he thought of her, or looked at her. Strange not only because she was the first girl that he had felt like this about, but also because he had known her a total of what, three or four days? And then there was Spot Conlon.
Race had met Spot through Jack before the infamous Brooklynite had become the leader of the Brooklyn newsies. He and Spot had gotten along well, they both loved to play poker and they both liked trying out their charm on pretty girls. Race had a smart mouth that Spot had found highly amusing and Spot had a highly charismatic yet aloof and tough personality that Race looked up to. Spot, Jack and he had become a constant trio for a while, always running around Manhattan and Brooklyn together after they were done selling for the day.
Now with Misery here, he and Spot's friendship had gotten quite strained. Race was upset that this had happened. He knew deep down inside that Spot wasn't just doing this to piss Race off. He knew that Spot was attracted to Misery just as much as he. This put all of them into quite a quandary. In any other circumstance Racetrack would be expected to bow down to Spot and let him pursue Misery as Spot was higher up on the status hierarchy. But Race wasn't so eager to let go of Misery.
She made him laugh, she stole cigars for him. She fought with him with spirit and made him protective over her when she drank too much or when she day-dreamed and put herself in danger of walking into things. She made him lustful when she dressed in a nice dress and when they had kissed. Misery made him yearn to just gather her up in his arms and stay that way with her for hours. And she made him hate himself when he had spoken harshly to her and tears had filled her eyes.
When she had stumbled away from the poker game in Brooklyn, Race had watched Spot look after her and then get up and follow. He had tried to pay attention to the game; he was actually winning for once. But his thoughts kept straying to Misery and how if she was upset, he wanted to be the one to comfort her, not just Spot. So gathering his winnings into his pocket, he rose and muttered something about needing to take a leak and getting some fresh air. Cries of protest arose as he did so, but he just smirked at everyone and told them that he'd be back to take more of their money in no time.
When he asked the two boys who were posing as sentries if they had seen which way Spot and Misery had gone, they had shrugged and pointed with their clubs down the street to their right. Race wandered down the street, keeping an eye out for the pair. Hearing a scuffle and some shouts, he ducked behind a barrel and poked his head up over the top just enough so that he could see. A gang of about twelve men emerged from a nearby alley, carrying a person slung over one of their shoulders, and a struggling, enraged Spot who had blood trailing down the side of his face.
Race felt his heart constrict when he realized that the unconscious person was Misery. When they were a safe distance away, Race began to follow them.
I slowly regained consciousness only to wish that I hadn't, when I saw the furious glint of Spot's blue eyes hanging over my face. He had my head cradled in his lap, and his find blonde hair was matted with blood.
"Tell me that they're wrong, Misery. Tell me that you ain't their sister." His voice was harsh and low. I closed my eyes briefly and felt a feather-light touch as Spot stroked the side of my face.
"I wish with all my heart that I wasn't, but I am." I heard him breathe raggedly and swear in a barrage of words that would make a sailor blush. But he didn't throw me away from him, and he didn't stop stroking my face.
"Why did you lie? Why didn't you tell the truth?" I snorted mirthlessly and sat up, only to find myself entangled in his arms as he slid them around my waist. The room we were in was dark and dank and I shuddered as I realized it was the cellar of the building my brother's and his gang inhabited. So we were back in Green Point. Oh, how I had not missed this place. A sliver of moonlight filtered through a small broken window high above our heads.
"Spot what would you have done if I had told the truth? Thrown me right back into the river after Racetrack pulled me out. I'm not Misery to you now, I'm a Finnegan. That ain't gonna change is it?" Spot's lips sought mine and I felt him shake his head as he pressed them to my own.
"Now I know why you were so familiar to me. I always used to see you runnin' around with the younger Brooklyn newsies when your brother's were in charge." I nodded silently and we sat, our thoughts racing in the darkness. I wondered what my brother's were going to do to us.
Most definitely they were going to try to get whatever information out of me about my diary they could before they got rid of me, and they would definitely get rid of Spot. With Spot out of the way there was a chance they could re-take the Brooklyn lodging house over although they were all too old to sell papers. They could control who the newsboys paid.
"Shit, Misery. I like you why do you have to be one of them?" His cry of anger echoed in my ears and I felt rage course up my veins.
"I am NOT one of them, Spot Conlon!"
"To my boys you're as good as one. Your last name makes you one of them and they ain't going to forget that no matter how much I like you. They remember Cards, we all do. It wasn't long ago at all that happened. We're all still out for blood. They'll come to rescue me, and the Manhattan newsies will come for you, but I don't know what will happen when they find out you're a Finnegan. You're just as bad to them even though you haven't done anything to us."
I knew he spoke the truth. I wasn't sure how the Manhattan kids were going to take this, but I knew the Brooklyn kids would want to rip me limb from limb after they were done with the gang. I shivered at the thought of what else might happen to me, being a girl and all. Spot's arms tightened around me at my involuntary shudder and we sat still for awhile. I knew that I wouldn't be able to see Spot if we lived through this. I knew it was going to get out that I was a Finnegan.
Suddenly a door opened and two sets of feet clattered down a rickety staircase. One held a lantern and he hung it on a hook in the low ceiling. I looked up at my two brothers from the relative safety of Spot's arms. They sneered at me and looked back.
Murphy stared down at me, his brown hair darker than mine, his hazel eyes blank. He was rough around the edges, and dressed in clothes that were as raggedy as the newsies. Jaime wore nicer clothes and slicked his brown hair back with pomade. It worked well with the high angles of his cheekbones but nothing could rid his eyes of their eerie maniacal glow.
"Such an ungrateful brat, isn't she?" I had forgotten the beautiful tones of my brother's voices. They still carried the lilt of Ireland in them. I was the only child born here in America. My brother's had lived in Ireland for a few years before coming over with my parents.
"Sodding ungrateful little wench," my brother Jaime agreed. Murphy stepped forward and ripped me out of Spot's arms sending him reeling with a casual blow. I cried out, but Murphy clasped a dirty hand over my mouth shaking me like a rag doll.
"Where's your fucking little book, Misery?! Where did you put it?" He backhanded me and I could taste the coppery tint of blood in my mouth as my lip split. Spitting onto the front of his shirt, I sneered at him in disgust.
"Like I'm going to fucking tell you, you idiot." Murphy exclaimed in dismay as my blood stained his shirt and his knuckles tightened until they were bone-white as he lifted me close to his face.
"You better behave or else we'll give you to our boys upstairs. They've missed you, Misery. Tell me what I want to know and you and your boyfriend," he said this word with a curled lip "can go to the next world relatively pain-free." I shook my head again and he threw me to the floor violently. Jaime kicked Spot hard in his side and Spot groaned and lay still. I dumped to the floor, cradling Spot against me and tried to miss a kick that my brother Jaime aimed at me. I failed, and I hissed in pain as his boot connected with my upper thigh.
"We'll come back later. Maybe a day or two without water or food will loosen your tongue." I didn't answer back as they went upstairs. I could hear shouts and dim music and concluded that they were celebrating our capture. I wondered dimly before I slumped into a faint again when my brother's thugs would be making an appearance.
Racetrack paused long enough in front of the building he had seen the gang disappear into to get his bearings before setting off back to the lodging house at a speed that would make one of the horses he bet on at the tracks jealous. The two sullen newsies acting as guards stared at him wide-eyed as he puffed past. He barely noticed, and didn't stop until he slammed open the door to the lodging house. Assailed by many pairs of curious eyes, he stopped to try to catch his breath.
"What the hell is going on Race?" Jack was by his side instantly, surrounded by Pokey, Meesh, and the rest of the kids. Someone thrust a glass of beer into Racetrack's face and he winced, wishing it was water before downing it anyway.
"Spot....Misery....taken by the Finnegan boys." Shouts erupted in the room and the Brooklyn kids immediately began arming themselves. Jack hauled Race up by his shoulders.
"Where did they take them?"
"Green Point, I followed them to the building. It's by the water, small little warehouse. Misery was unconscious Jack, she wasn't awake." Pistol clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes going wide and getting suspiciously bright with tears. Bourbon began smacking a fist into the palm of her hand repeatedly while the boys began accepting weapons that the Brooklyn kids were handing over. Jack looked around the room and raised a hand to his mouth blowing an ear-splitting whistle.
"Alright ya bums, let's plan this out a little. The girls are staying here," shouts of protest filled the air before Jack grasped Bourbon's shoulder and glared at her.
"The Finnegan's aren't kids, Bourbon. They're men and they know how to fight. You girls won't stand a chance, no offense." Bourbon silently regarded him before nodding and bowing down, her face stoic. The girls arrayed themselves behind her, angry but quiet once more.
"Now you Brooklyn kids, I'm a leader so I'll head this up." There were slight mutters but most of the Brooklyn boys knew Jack already so they didn't argue. Jack went on to say that they needed to stick to alleyways and back streets so as not to attract attention from any patrolling policemen.
It was late and a gang of kids their age would be sure to get thrown into the Refuge for running around like goons. Secondly, he personally went around and picked the kids who were to accompany them. He picked based on size and he also peered at their eyes to see how many were at ease with the idea of going to brawl.
Any who looked nervous or scared, he made stay behind to help 'guard the girls and the lodging house'. Finally, when they had the group all sorted out, Jack lifted his head and looked towards the door.
"Alright let's go beat those fucks," a cheer went up and the boys exited the building, ready to fight.
Chelsea - Hehe..I laugh at the word penis too. I'm laughing right now because I had to type it. I'm glad my story makes you happy that makes me happy. I sounded like 'Rainman' right there. I say hot 'haht' too. Must be the accent, it works funny like that. Hehe don't worry Race will come to the rescue he's Racetrack, he has to. I like the idea of him in a cape with rock-hard pecs.
Jocelyn Padoga - Ooh threatening now aye? That's cool. What with work and it being the holiday's I'm sorry I couldn't do a one day update. I do update fast though so hopefully I can update again soon.
KatFightOnSkis - Muaaaaaaaaaaaaaahahaha.Cliffhangers suck yes they doooo and I am evil. I am, but I had to update I couldn't leave it at that.
Netangel182-Here you go my dear!
Pokey7 -- *sighs* I know what you mean. And yes Race is horribly cute. I had to write him as that way because he just is. I know it. And yeah people would have to find out eventually so it had to happen.
Irish Rover - Yes! I am evil! And here is another update for you.
Cabby1 - Yay I love being in people's stories!! Thank you! I love a good cliffhanger too as long as it gets updated fast. Hehe.
Erin sailor ditz - Whoo hooo you almost peed yourself! I think that's the ultimate compliment. And yeah guys don't get shit most of the time and you can't ever pretend that they do. Some of them are good like that but the majority just doesn't GET IT. Alright! Jiggles and wiggles! You rock!