There were only two reviews *Sobs* But I think I finally have the hang of this accursed keyboard. WARNING: I have named the 'get the lead outta your pants!' boy, Dog-Face Nelson. Now, for the shout outs! *Trumpets blare*
To JUSTDUCK: They were actually seeing their future at that moment to the letter. But remember the name of the place. It comes in later in the story.
To SAPPHY: I have a confession to make. I'm going to fix Sarah. She's never shown as anything but a Mary-Sue, which she very well might be, but I think she should get at least a little credit here and there. She's gonna be alright, so don't be worried about poor Francis. And, no, I WILL NOT BE FINISHED FOR ABOUT 10 MORE CHAPTERS!!! Muahahahaha!!!!!!!!
Disclaimer: I can't think of a funny one, so just use your imagination. I don't own Newsies. Thrice accursed Disney owns it. A thousand cats on walt's back! I do NOT own Dog Face Nelson, but I own that name. I DO own Red, so please don't use her without my permission.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Two and a half months after the Strike~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thanksgiving day
Jack woke up early one morning and was going to go into the bathroom to shave. He had been waking up early more and more often after the strike and his little, well, escapade. He needed more time to think these days, and he liked to get done early and talk to Sarah. He smiled at remembering how she looked.
Red used to say that she was a little too girly but after talking to Sarah she told Jack that he had better not let her go anywhere. When Jack had asked why Red told him that there's more to being brave than hitting and name-calling, and Sarah had the heart of a lion. He walked slowly towards the bathroom but then he exploded.
"Damn it Red!" He shouted, oblivious to the three newsies he had woken up with the exclamation.
The red-head turned around quickly to reveal her left leg on the sink with shaving cream left on half of it, and Jack's razor in her hand.
"What?" She yelled back, frowning, "You just made me cut myself!"
"Yeah," Jack said tiredly, "Wid my razor."
"Oh, quit moaning, I wash it every...um..."
"You've used it before?" Jack thought he was going to strangle her.
"Yeah, kinda."
Jack looked on in exausted desperation, well, as much exausted desperation as can be used on the situation. "Why?"
"Because Race won't let me use his, that's why. Now, Cowboy, if you will excuse me, I'm almost done."
Jack sank down on a chair near the door and put his head in his hands as the other newsies started moving towards the bathroom. " 'Race won't let me use his', yeah."
"Red!" He yelled into the bathroom, "If ya wasn't a goil, I'd soak ya!" He was greated with a chorus of laughter. Race looked around from where he had been brushing his hair.
"Youse not gonna hoit my goil, are ya Kelly?" There were whistles and more laughter.
"I'm done anyways, Cowboy." She said with a friendly smile as she walked out of the bathroom, putting her jacket on, her hair in it's usual braid.
Jack grabbed Red and put her in a headlock. He heard a half-shriek from the red-head as he pulled on her braid and then a laugh. He then set her on her feet again.
"So, youse gonna sell da most papes today?"
"Of course, is there every any doubt?"
"None what-so-evah. We's gonna get going," He shouted into the bathroom, "As soon as dese idiots get dere butts movin'!"
"Aww! shut up!" yelled back Mush, flipping shaving cream at Jack and hitting him in the face.
Jack laughed and wiped off his face but was grinning evilly. "Wait until tomorrow, Mush." was his only warning but every newsie in hearing range let out a long 'ooooooohhh' before asking Mush if they could have his spare hat when he died
"Hey, Jack," Red cut in, grinning, "If we race to the distribution centah and I win, will ya buy me 50 papes?" She asked hopefully.
"Shua," He answered, "but if I win youse gots ta help me sell all of mine."
She looked pleased with herself. "Righto. Hey, Race?"
Race, appearantly, understood immidiately and shouted quickly. "Readygetsetgo!"
Red took off down the stairs and Jack followed three seconds later, complaining, loudly, about the fairness with which the game was being played. Basically, he kept yelling, 'cheater'.
Red reached the distribution center a half minute before Jack but she had sprinted the whole way and was winded, she walked up to the window, which had not opened yet, and then bent forward and placed her hands on her knees, looking intently at the little white cloud issuing forth from her mouth after each breath.
Today was Thanksgiving and this Christmas were going to be her first in the states. How strange. She had always lived overseas and now she didn't care that she was living in the states at all, though she had hated it before.
"I do rather wonder what a white Christmas is like..." She said aloud to herself, just as the boys started arriving. "Jack!" she called behind her, "Fifty papes!" she smirked.
Jack arrived three seconds later, smiling, but also out of breath. "I don't buy papes foah Scabbs."
Red faked a hurt look. "Oh, well, you don't HAVE to buy any for me."
Jack pinched her on the arm. "Dat don't woik wid me, goily, you know dat." He plunked down his money just as 'Weasel' opened the window. "hundred an' fifty papes."
While the Weasel made sarcastic comments on how it Jack had just taken much more time than usual, Red paid for an extra twenty and then shouted behind Oscar and Morris through the bars. "Nelson! Get your butt out here!"
A fifteen year-old red-head poked his head through the bars, "Good mornin' Red!"
Nelson, or, Dog-face, as some called him, was in charge of the carrying boys that worked loading and unloading the papers from the factory to the Manhattan distribution center and Red always said good morning to him. They had become pretty good friends recently and Red told him a lot of what went on.
"Good mornin' Nelson. How's business?"
"Could ask you the same thing. You've been orderin' more and more since the strike, and more every week. What're you planning?"
"To tell ya the truth, Nelson, I'm savin' up so I can buy preasants for the boys on Christmas, and buy some stuff to make dinner for all of them."
"Am I invited?"
"We'll see how many I sell."
"A'right, but I's already hungry Red."
"See ya later Nelson. But don't worry, I'll probably have enough ta have ya ovah." She turned and went down the steps near the window to join Race. "What's good today?"
"Not much really. Dere was a small fire downtown but it doesn't leave a lot to be improved." He scooched a bit closer and took her hand. "Wese gonna sell togetha today?" he asked, not looking up from the newspaper.
Red took her hand back tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Yeah, but were gonna haveta make it quick. I've got some errands ta do."
Race looked up then, curious. "Like what?"
"I have to see someone about a job and I have to go to a wig place downtown." Red answered casually.
"Wig place?" Race frowned, "Why?"
"You'll see, nosey, but we really have to get going." Red stood up, reached out her hand, and pulled Race to his feet. "Let's try twentieth, not a lot of newsies are there this early in the day, and then we can go to the Sheepsheds."
"Coitenly, yer honor." Race answered with obviously fake reverance.
"And shut up, Higgins." Red smiled and turned around to hug him. "Where do you want to go?"
"I was about to say da same thing, so it don't matta." He returned the hug and then swung her around once. "Let's go."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
All day Red had been fiddling with her hair, pulling at her braid, and then finally taking it out and stuffing her hair into her hat but they still finished selling early and were on their way to Tibby's. Race, however, was having problems following orders, as it were.
"I don't wanna right now."
"I swear, Race..."
"I'm not hungry. Let's come back later." He didn't have enough money for lunch with his saving up for his christmas presant for Red.
"I'm not getting anything to eat, Higgins, I'm seeing about a part-time job in the kitchens, so quit complaining and hurry up!" Red walked through the door and started towards the kitchen, shoving her money into her pocket and taking her coat off. She called into the kitchen when she reached the door. "Mr. McGee! I'm here!"
A large, friendly looking man came out of the door and brightened when he saw Red. "Coming by to see about the job, are you?" The man asked in a heavy Irish accent.
"I am indeed, and thank you, sir. I was wondering if mondays through fridays in the afternoons would be OK. If I start just after two?" Red looked very doubtful but was shifting her weight from foot to foot expectantly.
"Oh, I was hoping for a little earlier than that, but that'll do. I have one boy in the afternoon shift that almost refuses to do anything but his work always seems to be done. he's about driven me mad so I'm afraid I rather at my wits end. I do need your help, so yes, that'll be fine, but if you're late more than once a week I take off a nickel from your pay at the end of the week."
Red was extatic and hugged the man. "Oh, Thank you, Mr. McGee!" She was walking out of Tibby's, but turned around just before leaving, "I'll be here in four days!"
Race was puzzled for a minute before realizing that today was Thursday. He was about to leave just then and catch up to her but Mr. McGee held him back. "You've got yourself one lovely lassie, you keep her, you hear?"
Race raised his fingers to the brim of his hat in a salute. "Yes sir!"
"That's a good laddie, now hop along, don't keep the girl waiting."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They had to walk for almost an hour to get to the place Red was talking about but before they entered Red stopped Race in his tracks. "Tuck in your shirt."
"What? why?"
"Race, I said, tuck in your shirt. I'm trying to get money from these people and they won't let me in if we look any more like street rats than usual. Tuck in your shirt."
"You'se gonna steal money?"
"NO! just do it, you'll see."
Race did as he was told and they entered the shop.
Race didn't like it. Too snobby, like it expected something from you even before you entered, even Red looked nervous, but she walked as confidently as possible up to the front desk.
"Yes, miss. Can I help you?" The sales lady was probably wearing one of the wigs from the front window and looked like she thought she was the Queen of Sheba.
"I highly doubt it, but I can help you." The lady shifted uncomfortably under the glare of Red, who really felt like she didn't have time for the formalities. "I've come to sell my hair."
Race almost fell over. Cut her hair? He loved running his fingers through the copper and gold waves, she looked like a queen with all up in a bun. She couldn't cut it!
"Oh, is that right?" The sales lady looked indignant. "Let's see the merchandise."
Red took off her hat and her hair fell down, strand by strand, to just below her waist. Race could just stare at it, transfixed. The lady was as well, it seemed, because it took her a while to speak.
"I'll go get the manager. Don't move." She shot off up a flight of stairs like a bullet from a gun and a door slammed somewhere on the second floor.
Race turned to Red. "You CAN'T sell your hair!"
"Why ever not? I'm not using it, and I could use the money." She stated plainly.
Race couldn't really give a very good argument so it took about twenty seconds to say anything. "Your hair is so pretty, don't cut it. Please don't." He knew he looked like a little boy asking for a candy but he didn't care.
Red's eyebrows shot up. "Oh, well, it'll grow back, but if I die before I spend the money you can have it, if that's any consolation."
"It's not..." He trailed off
"Tell you what, you can run your hands through my hair one more time before I sell it." Red wasn't feeling sympathetic, but Race looked a lot like a little kid, and she loved that look.
He stepped forward and put his arms around her, and then fairly buried his hands in her thick, bright, soft, red hair. Both were just then interrupted by the sales lady returning with a grouchy looking man. "Well, girl, let's see the hair."
Red reluctantly removed herself, and her hair, from Race's arms and pulled her hair over one shoulder for the man to see while Race sat down. The seemed to be considering and calculating in his head for a long while before touching her hair briefly and then writting down a number on a peice of paper. Red picked it up. "Are you sure you can't pay me more than fifteen dollars?"
Race fell out of his chair with a thump. "Fifteen dollars?"
The man glared at Race and then turned to address Red. "Sorry, no more than that, but I'll need it today."
Red seemed to be considering it and then turned to him, "Can you cut it no shorter than right here?" she indicated her earlobe.
"Yes. But I'll need you to come in back to get it cut now."
"Done." Red turned around before being escorted out, "I'll be out in a minute, Higgins, don't worry."
"Too late." Race mumbled. He was rather upset and that worried him almost more then the loss of Red's hair. He never cared about silly things like hair before. Maybe having a girl was getting to him, it could be hazerdous to your health, you could never tell about such things.
But her hair...he refused to let his brain finish the sentence, her hair didn't matter as much as he thought it did. But it DID and that was where the problem lay. Maybe it would look cute. See, there was another problem, before her he never thought anything was 'cute', he'd definately have to talk to Jack or someone else about this love business, it was a tiny bit too complicated for his taste.
When Red walked out of the back room Race turned around so he couldn't see her, but, maybe it wasn't so bad...maybe. She walked up to him and turned him around. I am sorry to say it, but he paled visibly. He had no choice but to see her hair...a bit curly? and just longer than Bumlet's? but he looked into her eyes and there was Red. He relaxed.
When Red had collected the money and they walked outside Red turned a corner before letting out a whoop.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH FIFTEEN DOLLARS!!!!!!!" She looked like it was Christmas come early. She danced around for a few mintues before settling down a little bit, but Race noticed something rather odd.
"You've got a spring in your step."
"It's possible that that's because my head's about five pounds lighter, and I have fifteen dollars in my pocket." She looked ready to do another victory dance but kept walking. "So, what do you think of the haircut?" She looked at him expectantly.
Racetrack looked uncomfortable. "It'll take some getting used to." He knew that wasn't exactly what she wanted to hear, but it was true.
"I mean besides that and the fact that you wanted me to keep my hair, what do you think?"
Race made her stop walking and made a small frame with his hands, jokingly peering at it from all angles, starting at the back. When he got to her face his hands dropped and he cocked his head slightly. "I like it. Can I see how it feels to run my fingers through?"
Red grinned and nodded. She felt his hand pass over her head and to the sides through her hair and smiled. Race nodded in mock satisfaction. "It's much easyah, comm'ere." He pulled her into a hug. "You'se so beautiful." And he felt her melt into his arms.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Selling on Monday was regular enough to be fairly boring and Red had gone to work that day so Race finally got to see her around seven at night. When Red entered the lodging house Race fairly dragged her to the fire escape right outside the window.
"So, what's the job like?" Race asked as he sat right against the rail. Red sat down on the same step and folded her knees so she could lay her head on his lap.
"Not bad, and I actually have half of my time off tomorrow, but the other boy who works the afternoon shifts with me drives me nuts. He and I have to wash dishes and after I get started he dissapears and I find him later, oh, in a closet, on the fire escape, on a box in the alley, dead asleep. He's a decent enough guy but he's lazier than a dog in August."
Racetrack chuckled, he might like this guy. "What's his name?"
"Robertson Aye. Odd name, huh? I've heard it somewhere before but I can't remember where for the life of me."
"Someone you met in New York before?"
"No. Definately not. It's more like I just saw him once, or some one told me about him or something like that."
"Maybe you read about him somewhere." Race offered, though he knew that wasn't possible. Anyone that most people find worthy of reading about are much more interesting.
"Nah, that couldn't be it, but I'm sure I'll think of it, if it really is someone I've heard about." She shifted slightly. "Tell me about your day."
"Nothin' ta tell. When you left for woik I had two papes left and I lost 'em in a pokah game."
Racetrack took off his newsie hat and ran his fingers through his hair. "Nah, not the same."
"What's not the same?" Red looked very confused.
"Da haih. I run my fingers t'rough mine but it's not da same as yours." He said matter-of-factly.
"Can I try?"
Race faked confusion. "What? Running your fingers through your hair?"
"No, yours."
"Um, well..."
"Oh, please." She started to play with a curl and then, very softly, ran her small hand through his thick mop of curls. Her index finger then traced down his temple, then cheek-bone, then chin. "Are you perfect, Racetrack Higgins, or is it just me that thinks so?"
Race smirked and took the hand that was still lingering near his face. "I's poifect. Any udduh questions?"
"Yeah," Red teased, looking into his eyes, "Do you love me?"
"Are you as stupid as a Delancy oah do I gotta spell everythin' out foah you?" He joked back.
"You've gotta spell it."
"Oh really?"
"Yeah, I'm absolutely terrible at spelling." She noticed he was grinning.
"I didn't know that." He was still smiling. "I's gotta go inside." He moved Red's head and got up, then walked to the window of the lodging house and climbed in.
Red sat on the step for three more minutes before going in, the picture of loving annoyance, if such a thing exsists. She was still thinking about Race as she ran into Mush and fell to the floor. The boy was lauging as he helped her up.
"Done with your smooching session?" He chuckled.
"Shut up Mush." She shoved him away, but couldn't help it and smiled. "Yes, unfortunately. Mr. Brilliance over there," she pointed to Racetrack, "Doesn't think I'm very pretty." She faked a sad look.
Now, Mush Mayers isn't exactly the most brilliant thing on the face of the planet. I mean, we're talking nice, but about as intelligent as a bull dog. He had a good heart though, and Red, I am sorry to say, took advantage of our adorable little friend.
The disired end was acheived. Mush walked up to Racetrack and smacked him on the back of the head, almost giving Race whiplash and causing him to drop his hand, two pairs, and loose that round. Red, completely satisfied with how her elaborate scheme had worked out, washed up and got into bed.
Around three minutes after she got into bed and was almost asleep she felt someone popping her toes, one by one.
"Cease and Desist!!!" She yelled above the laughter comming from Mush and Race. Mush stopped laughing shortly before Race and walked off to join the poker game, leaving Red and Race alone.
Race sat on the edge of her bed, still sniggering. "Don't you go tellin' stories on me again!"
Red propped herself up on her elbows. "What was the whole thing out on the fire-escape then?"
Race blushed. "I knew I was gonna tell ya a secret if I stayed a second longah. You'll see at Christmas." He stood up and was about to walk to his bunk, but was stopped by a freckled hand on his shirttail.
"What's that supposed to mean? You got me a preasant didn't you! I told you not to get me one!"
"And I's supposed ta listen?" Race asked, turning around.
"Uh, yeah, kinda." Red answered.
Race leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. "I's gotta get a presant foah my goil. And, little miss picky, dere's nuttin' you can do about it!" He pulled the covers over her sholders. "Go ta bed oah it's gonna be hell foah me and Jack ta getcha up in da mornin'."
Red gave him a final glare and then settled down into the covers, mumbling somthing about 'Jack and I' and fell asleep almost immidiately.
************************************
The next day was depressingly normal. Papes were sold and bought, card games were won, things were pretty much as boring as could be. Finally, at 7:00 Race had something to do: he was going to Tibby's to walk Red back to the lodging house. He arrived soon enough and went around to the back to get Red out of the kitchen. He knocked on the kitchen door, and heard noise inside, after which the door opened to a soaking wet, red-headed dishwasher in a dark blue apron.
"Race! thanks for coming, I'm just now done. Come on in!" She grabbed his arm and steered him into the kitchen, now almost devoid of dishes, just a couple more stacks by the greasy dishwater. Red noticed him looking around. "Boring, isn't it? I have a terrible knot in the back of my apron, can you undo it for me?" She twirled around to reveal, quite possibly, the king of all knots. There was something like a sailors knot, and a square knot, and the knot used on gallows, all rolled into one.
Race whistled. "Who did that?"
"Robertson. I poured a basin of dirty dishwater on him when he was asleep on the crates outside earlier, then he tied the strings of my apron to a fair-thee-well when I was washing the plates, and then I snapped a dishtowel at him, hard, and then he dumped a basin of ice-water on me about three minutes ago." She said all this as Race was trying to undo the knot in her apron strings.
"So, ya had fun widout me? tisk tisk." Race retorted sarcastically, trying to use his teeth to undo a certain part of the gallows knot.
"No, of course knot, that's impossible." She grinned.
"Ha, ha, very funny 'of course KNOT', just remember who's helping you out'a dis apron."
"You done?"
"Whinin' or untyin'?"
"Both."
"Almost." He undid the last square knot with a flourish. "Dere ya ah. All finished, can we go now?" He lifted the apron from around her neck and put his arms around her.
She smacked him just lightly enough on the face for it to make a sound. "As soon as you let go of me. I have to say good-bye to Robertson."
Race stuck out his bottom lip. "Oh, so you like him moah now, huh?"
"Stick that lip back in, and no, I don't. I'm going to put syrup in his hat, ten to one he's still asleep." She slipped out of Race's arms and grabbed a bottle on the counter, heading for the coat rack near the door, where, on the shelf above it, was Robertson's hat, upsidedown and everything. "This is almost too easy." Red grinned and filled it up good enough so it would run and still stay in his hat when he put it on.
"Youse dispicable, ya know dat?" Race said, admiring her handywork.
"Oh, yes, I do know, and it's so much fun!" she chuckled and dragged Race to the door, grabbing her hat on the way out of the kitchen.
To JUSTDUCK: They were actually seeing their future at that moment to the letter. But remember the name of the place. It comes in later in the story.
To SAPPHY: I have a confession to make. I'm going to fix Sarah. She's never shown as anything but a Mary-Sue, which she very well might be, but I think she should get at least a little credit here and there. She's gonna be alright, so don't be worried about poor Francis. And, no, I WILL NOT BE FINISHED FOR ABOUT 10 MORE CHAPTERS!!! Muahahahaha!!!!!!!!
Disclaimer: I can't think of a funny one, so just use your imagination. I don't own Newsies. Thrice accursed Disney owns it. A thousand cats on walt's back! I do NOT own Dog Face Nelson, but I own that name. I DO own Red, so please don't use her without my permission.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Two and a half months after the Strike~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thanksgiving day
Jack woke up early one morning and was going to go into the bathroom to shave. He had been waking up early more and more often after the strike and his little, well, escapade. He needed more time to think these days, and he liked to get done early and talk to Sarah. He smiled at remembering how she looked.
Red used to say that she was a little too girly but after talking to Sarah she told Jack that he had better not let her go anywhere. When Jack had asked why Red told him that there's more to being brave than hitting and name-calling, and Sarah had the heart of a lion. He walked slowly towards the bathroom but then he exploded.
"Damn it Red!" He shouted, oblivious to the three newsies he had woken up with the exclamation.
The red-head turned around quickly to reveal her left leg on the sink with shaving cream left on half of it, and Jack's razor in her hand.
"What?" She yelled back, frowning, "You just made me cut myself!"
"Yeah," Jack said tiredly, "Wid my razor."
"Oh, quit moaning, I wash it every...um..."
"You've used it before?" Jack thought he was going to strangle her.
"Yeah, kinda."
Jack looked on in exausted desperation, well, as much exausted desperation as can be used on the situation. "Why?"
"Because Race won't let me use his, that's why. Now, Cowboy, if you will excuse me, I'm almost done."
Jack sank down on a chair near the door and put his head in his hands as the other newsies started moving towards the bathroom. " 'Race won't let me use his', yeah."
"Red!" He yelled into the bathroom, "If ya wasn't a goil, I'd soak ya!" He was greated with a chorus of laughter. Race looked around from where he had been brushing his hair.
"Youse not gonna hoit my goil, are ya Kelly?" There were whistles and more laughter.
"I'm done anyways, Cowboy." She said with a friendly smile as she walked out of the bathroom, putting her jacket on, her hair in it's usual braid.
Jack grabbed Red and put her in a headlock. He heard a half-shriek from the red-head as he pulled on her braid and then a laugh. He then set her on her feet again.
"So, youse gonna sell da most papes today?"
"Of course, is there every any doubt?"
"None what-so-evah. We's gonna get going," He shouted into the bathroom, "As soon as dese idiots get dere butts movin'!"
"Aww! shut up!" yelled back Mush, flipping shaving cream at Jack and hitting him in the face.
Jack laughed and wiped off his face but was grinning evilly. "Wait until tomorrow, Mush." was his only warning but every newsie in hearing range let out a long 'ooooooohhh' before asking Mush if they could have his spare hat when he died
"Hey, Jack," Red cut in, grinning, "If we race to the distribution centah and I win, will ya buy me 50 papes?" She asked hopefully.
"Shua," He answered, "but if I win youse gots ta help me sell all of mine."
She looked pleased with herself. "Righto. Hey, Race?"
Race, appearantly, understood immidiately and shouted quickly. "Readygetsetgo!"
Red took off down the stairs and Jack followed three seconds later, complaining, loudly, about the fairness with which the game was being played. Basically, he kept yelling, 'cheater'.
Red reached the distribution center a half minute before Jack but she had sprinted the whole way and was winded, she walked up to the window, which had not opened yet, and then bent forward and placed her hands on her knees, looking intently at the little white cloud issuing forth from her mouth after each breath.
Today was Thanksgiving and this Christmas were going to be her first in the states. How strange. She had always lived overseas and now she didn't care that she was living in the states at all, though she had hated it before.
"I do rather wonder what a white Christmas is like..." She said aloud to herself, just as the boys started arriving. "Jack!" she called behind her, "Fifty papes!" she smirked.
Jack arrived three seconds later, smiling, but also out of breath. "I don't buy papes foah Scabbs."
Red faked a hurt look. "Oh, well, you don't HAVE to buy any for me."
Jack pinched her on the arm. "Dat don't woik wid me, goily, you know dat." He plunked down his money just as 'Weasel' opened the window. "hundred an' fifty papes."
While the Weasel made sarcastic comments on how it Jack had just taken much more time than usual, Red paid for an extra twenty and then shouted behind Oscar and Morris through the bars. "Nelson! Get your butt out here!"
A fifteen year-old red-head poked his head through the bars, "Good mornin' Red!"
Nelson, or, Dog-face, as some called him, was in charge of the carrying boys that worked loading and unloading the papers from the factory to the Manhattan distribution center and Red always said good morning to him. They had become pretty good friends recently and Red told him a lot of what went on.
"Good mornin' Nelson. How's business?"
"Could ask you the same thing. You've been orderin' more and more since the strike, and more every week. What're you planning?"
"To tell ya the truth, Nelson, I'm savin' up so I can buy preasants for the boys on Christmas, and buy some stuff to make dinner for all of them."
"Am I invited?"
"We'll see how many I sell."
"A'right, but I's already hungry Red."
"See ya later Nelson. But don't worry, I'll probably have enough ta have ya ovah." She turned and went down the steps near the window to join Race. "What's good today?"
"Not much really. Dere was a small fire downtown but it doesn't leave a lot to be improved." He scooched a bit closer and took her hand. "Wese gonna sell togetha today?" he asked, not looking up from the newspaper.
Red took her hand back tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Yeah, but were gonna haveta make it quick. I've got some errands ta do."
Race looked up then, curious. "Like what?"
"I have to see someone about a job and I have to go to a wig place downtown." Red answered casually.
"Wig place?" Race frowned, "Why?"
"You'll see, nosey, but we really have to get going." Red stood up, reached out her hand, and pulled Race to his feet. "Let's try twentieth, not a lot of newsies are there this early in the day, and then we can go to the Sheepsheds."
"Coitenly, yer honor." Race answered with obviously fake reverance.
"And shut up, Higgins." Red smiled and turned around to hug him. "Where do you want to go?"
"I was about to say da same thing, so it don't matta." He returned the hug and then swung her around once. "Let's go."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
All day Red had been fiddling with her hair, pulling at her braid, and then finally taking it out and stuffing her hair into her hat but they still finished selling early and were on their way to Tibby's. Race, however, was having problems following orders, as it were.
"I don't wanna right now."
"I swear, Race..."
"I'm not hungry. Let's come back later." He didn't have enough money for lunch with his saving up for his christmas presant for Red.
"I'm not getting anything to eat, Higgins, I'm seeing about a part-time job in the kitchens, so quit complaining and hurry up!" Red walked through the door and started towards the kitchen, shoving her money into her pocket and taking her coat off. She called into the kitchen when she reached the door. "Mr. McGee! I'm here!"
A large, friendly looking man came out of the door and brightened when he saw Red. "Coming by to see about the job, are you?" The man asked in a heavy Irish accent.
"I am indeed, and thank you, sir. I was wondering if mondays through fridays in the afternoons would be OK. If I start just after two?" Red looked very doubtful but was shifting her weight from foot to foot expectantly.
"Oh, I was hoping for a little earlier than that, but that'll do. I have one boy in the afternoon shift that almost refuses to do anything but his work always seems to be done. he's about driven me mad so I'm afraid I rather at my wits end. I do need your help, so yes, that'll be fine, but if you're late more than once a week I take off a nickel from your pay at the end of the week."
Red was extatic and hugged the man. "Oh, Thank you, Mr. McGee!" She was walking out of Tibby's, but turned around just before leaving, "I'll be here in four days!"
Race was puzzled for a minute before realizing that today was Thursday. He was about to leave just then and catch up to her but Mr. McGee held him back. "You've got yourself one lovely lassie, you keep her, you hear?"
Race raised his fingers to the brim of his hat in a salute. "Yes sir!"
"That's a good laddie, now hop along, don't keep the girl waiting."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They had to walk for almost an hour to get to the place Red was talking about but before they entered Red stopped Race in his tracks. "Tuck in your shirt."
"What? why?"
"Race, I said, tuck in your shirt. I'm trying to get money from these people and they won't let me in if we look any more like street rats than usual. Tuck in your shirt."
"You'se gonna steal money?"
"NO! just do it, you'll see."
Race did as he was told and they entered the shop.
Race didn't like it. Too snobby, like it expected something from you even before you entered, even Red looked nervous, but she walked as confidently as possible up to the front desk.
"Yes, miss. Can I help you?" The sales lady was probably wearing one of the wigs from the front window and looked like she thought she was the Queen of Sheba.
"I highly doubt it, but I can help you." The lady shifted uncomfortably under the glare of Red, who really felt like she didn't have time for the formalities. "I've come to sell my hair."
Race almost fell over. Cut her hair? He loved running his fingers through the copper and gold waves, she looked like a queen with all up in a bun. She couldn't cut it!
"Oh, is that right?" The sales lady looked indignant. "Let's see the merchandise."
Red took off her hat and her hair fell down, strand by strand, to just below her waist. Race could just stare at it, transfixed. The lady was as well, it seemed, because it took her a while to speak.
"I'll go get the manager. Don't move." She shot off up a flight of stairs like a bullet from a gun and a door slammed somewhere on the second floor.
Race turned to Red. "You CAN'T sell your hair!"
"Why ever not? I'm not using it, and I could use the money." She stated plainly.
Race couldn't really give a very good argument so it took about twenty seconds to say anything. "Your hair is so pretty, don't cut it. Please don't." He knew he looked like a little boy asking for a candy but he didn't care.
Red's eyebrows shot up. "Oh, well, it'll grow back, but if I die before I spend the money you can have it, if that's any consolation."
"It's not..." He trailed off
"Tell you what, you can run your hands through my hair one more time before I sell it." Red wasn't feeling sympathetic, but Race looked a lot like a little kid, and she loved that look.
He stepped forward and put his arms around her, and then fairly buried his hands in her thick, bright, soft, red hair. Both were just then interrupted by the sales lady returning with a grouchy looking man. "Well, girl, let's see the hair."
Red reluctantly removed herself, and her hair, from Race's arms and pulled her hair over one shoulder for the man to see while Race sat down. The seemed to be considering and calculating in his head for a long while before touching her hair briefly and then writting down a number on a peice of paper. Red picked it up. "Are you sure you can't pay me more than fifteen dollars?"
Race fell out of his chair with a thump. "Fifteen dollars?"
The man glared at Race and then turned to address Red. "Sorry, no more than that, but I'll need it today."
Red seemed to be considering it and then turned to him, "Can you cut it no shorter than right here?" she indicated her earlobe.
"Yes. But I'll need you to come in back to get it cut now."
"Done." Red turned around before being escorted out, "I'll be out in a minute, Higgins, don't worry."
"Too late." Race mumbled. He was rather upset and that worried him almost more then the loss of Red's hair. He never cared about silly things like hair before. Maybe having a girl was getting to him, it could be hazerdous to your health, you could never tell about such things.
But her hair...he refused to let his brain finish the sentence, her hair didn't matter as much as he thought it did. But it DID and that was where the problem lay. Maybe it would look cute. See, there was another problem, before her he never thought anything was 'cute', he'd definately have to talk to Jack or someone else about this love business, it was a tiny bit too complicated for his taste.
When Red walked out of the back room Race turned around so he couldn't see her, but, maybe it wasn't so bad...maybe. She walked up to him and turned him around. I am sorry to say it, but he paled visibly. He had no choice but to see her hair...a bit curly? and just longer than Bumlet's? but he looked into her eyes and there was Red. He relaxed.
When Red had collected the money and they walked outside Red turned a corner before letting out a whoop.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH FIFTEEN DOLLARS!!!!!!!" She looked like it was Christmas come early. She danced around for a few mintues before settling down a little bit, but Race noticed something rather odd.
"You've got a spring in your step."
"It's possible that that's because my head's about five pounds lighter, and I have fifteen dollars in my pocket." She looked ready to do another victory dance but kept walking. "So, what do you think of the haircut?" She looked at him expectantly.
Racetrack looked uncomfortable. "It'll take some getting used to." He knew that wasn't exactly what she wanted to hear, but it was true.
"I mean besides that and the fact that you wanted me to keep my hair, what do you think?"
Race made her stop walking and made a small frame with his hands, jokingly peering at it from all angles, starting at the back. When he got to her face his hands dropped and he cocked his head slightly. "I like it. Can I see how it feels to run my fingers through?"
Red grinned and nodded. She felt his hand pass over her head and to the sides through her hair and smiled. Race nodded in mock satisfaction. "It's much easyah, comm'ere." He pulled her into a hug. "You'se so beautiful." And he felt her melt into his arms.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Selling on Monday was regular enough to be fairly boring and Red had gone to work that day so Race finally got to see her around seven at night. When Red entered the lodging house Race fairly dragged her to the fire escape right outside the window.
"So, what's the job like?" Race asked as he sat right against the rail. Red sat down on the same step and folded her knees so she could lay her head on his lap.
"Not bad, and I actually have half of my time off tomorrow, but the other boy who works the afternoon shifts with me drives me nuts. He and I have to wash dishes and after I get started he dissapears and I find him later, oh, in a closet, on the fire escape, on a box in the alley, dead asleep. He's a decent enough guy but he's lazier than a dog in August."
Racetrack chuckled, he might like this guy. "What's his name?"
"Robertson Aye. Odd name, huh? I've heard it somewhere before but I can't remember where for the life of me."
"Someone you met in New York before?"
"No. Definately not. It's more like I just saw him once, or some one told me about him or something like that."
"Maybe you read about him somewhere." Race offered, though he knew that wasn't possible. Anyone that most people find worthy of reading about are much more interesting.
"Nah, that couldn't be it, but I'm sure I'll think of it, if it really is someone I've heard about." She shifted slightly. "Tell me about your day."
"Nothin' ta tell. When you left for woik I had two papes left and I lost 'em in a pokah game."
Racetrack took off his newsie hat and ran his fingers through his hair. "Nah, not the same."
"What's not the same?" Red looked very confused.
"Da haih. I run my fingers t'rough mine but it's not da same as yours." He said matter-of-factly.
"Can I try?"
Race faked confusion. "What? Running your fingers through your hair?"
"No, yours."
"Um, well..."
"Oh, please." She started to play with a curl and then, very softly, ran her small hand through his thick mop of curls. Her index finger then traced down his temple, then cheek-bone, then chin. "Are you perfect, Racetrack Higgins, or is it just me that thinks so?"
Race smirked and took the hand that was still lingering near his face. "I's poifect. Any udduh questions?"
"Yeah," Red teased, looking into his eyes, "Do you love me?"
"Are you as stupid as a Delancy oah do I gotta spell everythin' out foah you?" He joked back.
"You've gotta spell it."
"Oh really?"
"Yeah, I'm absolutely terrible at spelling." She noticed he was grinning.
"I didn't know that." He was still smiling. "I's gotta go inside." He moved Red's head and got up, then walked to the window of the lodging house and climbed in.
Red sat on the step for three more minutes before going in, the picture of loving annoyance, if such a thing exsists. She was still thinking about Race as she ran into Mush and fell to the floor. The boy was lauging as he helped her up.
"Done with your smooching session?" He chuckled.
"Shut up Mush." She shoved him away, but couldn't help it and smiled. "Yes, unfortunately. Mr. Brilliance over there," she pointed to Racetrack, "Doesn't think I'm very pretty." She faked a sad look.
Now, Mush Mayers isn't exactly the most brilliant thing on the face of the planet. I mean, we're talking nice, but about as intelligent as a bull dog. He had a good heart though, and Red, I am sorry to say, took advantage of our adorable little friend.
The disired end was acheived. Mush walked up to Racetrack and smacked him on the back of the head, almost giving Race whiplash and causing him to drop his hand, two pairs, and loose that round. Red, completely satisfied with how her elaborate scheme had worked out, washed up and got into bed.
Around three minutes after she got into bed and was almost asleep she felt someone popping her toes, one by one.
"Cease and Desist!!!" She yelled above the laughter comming from Mush and Race. Mush stopped laughing shortly before Race and walked off to join the poker game, leaving Red and Race alone.
Race sat on the edge of her bed, still sniggering. "Don't you go tellin' stories on me again!"
Red propped herself up on her elbows. "What was the whole thing out on the fire-escape then?"
Race blushed. "I knew I was gonna tell ya a secret if I stayed a second longah. You'll see at Christmas." He stood up and was about to walk to his bunk, but was stopped by a freckled hand on his shirttail.
"What's that supposed to mean? You got me a preasant didn't you! I told you not to get me one!"
"And I's supposed ta listen?" Race asked, turning around.
"Uh, yeah, kinda." Red answered.
Race leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. "I's gotta get a presant foah my goil. And, little miss picky, dere's nuttin' you can do about it!" He pulled the covers over her sholders. "Go ta bed oah it's gonna be hell foah me and Jack ta getcha up in da mornin'."
Red gave him a final glare and then settled down into the covers, mumbling somthing about 'Jack and I' and fell asleep almost immidiately.
************************************
The next day was depressingly normal. Papes were sold and bought, card games were won, things were pretty much as boring as could be. Finally, at 7:00 Race had something to do: he was going to Tibby's to walk Red back to the lodging house. He arrived soon enough and went around to the back to get Red out of the kitchen. He knocked on the kitchen door, and heard noise inside, after which the door opened to a soaking wet, red-headed dishwasher in a dark blue apron.
"Race! thanks for coming, I'm just now done. Come on in!" She grabbed his arm and steered him into the kitchen, now almost devoid of dishes, just a couple more stacks by the greasy dishwater. Red noticed him looking around. "Boring, isn't it? I have a terrible knot in the back of my apron, can you undo it for me?" She twirled around to reveal, quite possibly, the king of all knots. There was something like a sailors knot, and a square knot, and the knot used on gallows, all rolled into one.
Race whistled. "Who did that?"
"Robertson. I poured a basin of dirty dishwater on him when he was asleep on the crates outside earlier, then he tied the strings of my apron to a fair-thee-well when I was washing the plates, and then I snapped a dishtowel at him, hard, and then he dumped a basin of ice-water on me about three minutes ago." She said all this as Race was trying to undo the knot in her apron strings.
"So, ya had fun widout me? tisk tisk." Race retorted sarcastically, trying to use his teeth to undo a certain part of the gallows knot.
"No, of course knot, that's impossible." She grinned.
"Ha, ha, very funny 'of course KNOT', just remember who's helping you out'a dis apron."
"You done?"
"Whinin' or untyin'?"
"Both."
"Almost." He undid the last square knot with a flourish. "Dere ya ah. All finished, can we go now?" He lifted the apron from around her neck and put his arms around her.
She smacked him just lightly enough on the face for it to make a sound. "As soon as you let go of me. I have to say good-bye to Robertson."
Race stuck out his bottom lip. "Oh, so you like him moah now, huh?"
"Stick that lip back in, and no, I don't. I'm going to put syrup in his hat, ten to one he's still asleep." She slipped out of Race's arms and grabbed a bottle on the counter, heading for the coat rack near the door, where, on the shelf above it, was Robertson's hat, upsidedown and everything. "This is almost too easy." Red grinned and filled it up good enough so it would run and still stay in his hat when he put it on.
"Youse dispicable, ya know dat?" Race said, admiring her handywork.
"Oh, yes, I do know, and it's so much fun!" she chuckled and dragged Race to the door, grabbing her hat on the way out of the kitchen.
