About an hour later Sister Perpetua agreed to take Anthony to the hospital to see Christopher. They arrived as quickly as they could and as soon they entered through the doors a nurse rushed over to them.

"Are you from the orphanage?" she asked in a small, squeaky voice. They nodded and she beckoned for them to follow her. She led them into a small room with white walls, a white door, white window shades, white everything! Christopher was lying on a bed with white sheets. His leg and head were heavily bandaged, he still had many cuts and bruises, and, he still appeared to be unconscious.

"How is he Doctor?" Sister Perpetua asked a man in the corner.

Would you mind if I had a few words with you in private?" he said shooting half a glance at Anthony. Anthony turned and looked at Sister Perpetua.

"We'll only be a minute," she said "Go and wait outside the room." Anthony scowled. He walked outside, closed the door behind him, and immediately pressed his ear against the keyhole.

"It doesn't look as though we can help him much," he heard the doctor say. "He is so small, and his immune system is weak. How old did you say he was again?"

"Seven." There was worry in Sister Perpetua's voice now.

"His leg was permanently damaged and he may have a concussion but we don't know," the doctor continued. "It doesn't look as though he'll survive the night. I'm sorry." Anthony pushed away from the door. He had heard enough. Silent tears ran down his cheeks as he clenched his fists. He ran. Shoving people out of the way, he pushed through the hospital doors and kept running. And he didn't stop for a long, long time.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Crutchy went up the stairs to the attic as quickly as he could, which was pretty fast considering that he used a crutch. He opened the door when he reached the top and peered into the darkness.

"Race?" It took some time for eyes to adjust to the dark. "Race, are you in here?" He felt around in the air and found what he was looking for. He pulled the string that turned on the light. It wasn't very bright, but it made it easier to see. He scanned the room for Racetrack and found him lurking halfway in the shadows, sitting on a pillow, holding his knees.

"Hey Crutchy," he said turning around at the sudden appearance of light.

Crutchy swallowed and said, "Race, I really gotta talk to ya."

Racetrack puffed on his cigar. "I know what ya gonna say. All da other newsies have already been askin' what's up with me behind my back, but your da only one who actually dared ta ask me. I appreciate it Crutchy, really I do, but I'm really not willin' ta spill my secrets out to ya."

Thoughts raced through his head as he tried to think of what to say: "How am I gonna tell him what I found out? Does he know already? Is he even who I think he is?" Crutchy's throat seemed drier then sand.

"I, um, well, I, uh, found somethin' dat I hoped you might be able ta, uh, explain ta me." He then showed Racetrack the article and the marble he had found under Racetrack's bed. Racetrack's face seemed to turn to stone.

"Where'd you get dis?"

"I found it on da floor by your bed. I kicked da marble by accident and den I bent ta pick it up and found dis." He said, in an almost questioningly way, indicating the newspaper article.

Racetrack sighed and put his head in is hands. "Alright, I'll tell ya. I gotta tell somebody before I burst. It's drivin' me insane."

"What's drivin' you insane?" Crutchy asked quietly.

Racetrack shrugged. "Guilt, I guess."

Crutchy was burning to tell Racetrack what he had thought he pieced together, but he decided to wait. This was the most he had heard Racetrack say about his feelings since, well, forever! He limped over to where Racetrack was sitting and sat on another pillow next to Racetrack.

"What do you have to be guilty about?"

Racetrack smiled sadly. "It's a long story."

"I have time."

Racetrack looked at him and hesitated. Finally, he began, "Alright, well, when I was a kid, I lived at a orphanage way over in da Bronx. I had dis one friend, da sweetest kid ya ever met, name was Chris Morris."

Crutchy let out a small gasp when he said this.

"What's da matta?" Racetrack said quickly, looking up.

"Nothin', I just, uh, thought I saw a mouse." he lied.

"Alright. Well, anyway, I used ta always hang around with him. He got into an accident when we was about seven years old. Da doctors didn't even think he would make it through da night even, so, I took off, ran away. Became a newsy.

"A week or so ago I got a letter from one of da nuns who used to run da orphanage, Sister Perpetua. Said she recognized me in dat one picture we were in for da strike, you know, da on in da Sun? She said dat Christopher was okay and dat he had run off too, a few weeks after me."

"Why does dat make you feel guilty though?" Crutchy asked, slightly confused.

"'Cause I ran off!" Racetrack said bitterly. "I ran off when he was okay! I left him, deserted him. He probably dinks dat I'm a bum friend now, wherever he is."

Crutchy watched and for the first time, saw a silent tear trickling down Racetrack's cheek. "I feel worse about dat den anything I've done before." he said, his voice shaking. Crutchy stared as Racetrack bit his lip. Racetrack, the one newsy who was known especially for not showing any emotion towards anything, was crying.

"Well, are you gonna look for him?" Crutchy asked cautiously.

Racetrack shook his head. "Nah," He said. "He probably neva wants ta see me again."

"You don't know dat," Crutchy said.

"Yeah, I do." He muttered quietly.

"Racetrack," Crutchy began. "What's your name?"

Racetrack looked up from his hands. "It's Racetrack, stupid. What else would it be?"

"Is it Anthony?"

Racetrack stared at him as though he had never seen anything like him. "How'd you know dat? I neva' tol' nobody my real name."

Crutchy smiled. "Do you know my real name is?"

Racetrack stared at Crutchy for a long time. "You're not... it's not... it ain't-"

"Christopher Benjamin Morris." Crutchy said, a grin widening on his face.

"No, it isn't. You're playin me, Crutchy, you're playin me." Racetrack said, his eyes widening.

"How would I know dat your name is Anthony Joseph Higgins, then, huh?" Crutchy said, still smiling at Racetrack.

Racetrack looked down at the floor, his eyes still wide with surprise. "But how...?"

Crutchy smiled again. "I made it through the night and, after a few weeks, turned out to be okay. I was pretty weak, yeah, but okay. It was a miracle, I swear."

Racetrack grimaced. "I guess your pretty mad at me den, huh?"

Crutchy laughed. "'Course not!"

Racetrack looked up. "You're not sayin dat just ta make me feel nice or nothin'?"

"If I was still angry I wouldn't of asked ya about it."

Racetrack's face broke into the first smile he had worn in days. "You're not gonna get all mushy-gushy on me now, are ya?" he asked, even though it didn't sound like he would mind it if he did.

Crutchy laughed and Racetrack joined in. For a long time they couldn't stop. The door of the attic opened and Mush, another of the newsboys, walked up the stairs.

"There you guys are," he exclaimed. "The whole lodgin' house has been lookin' for ya. Are you okay?"

They nodded and with smiles on there faces, Anthony and Christopher walked downstairs together, ready to tuck in for bed.

Author's Note

I just had to write this story! I mean take a look at what happens in the movie. I've found a couple of weird coincidences. For example, that ending in "Seize the Day" where the only two newsies left standing (besides Dave and Jack) are Crutchy and Racetrack. And there's also that time where Racetrack was the only one who yelled at Crutchy to scram when the bulls were after them for ripping up all the papers. Hey, I couldn't ignore it. I wanted to write something about the two of them, so I came up with this. Tell me what you think - REVIEW! :-)