Busy. That's the only word that could describe it. New York City was the busiest place my little eyes had ever seen. I gazed in wide-eyed wonder as my grandmother led me off the ship, and onto the wooden docks. "Rememberance Jameson! Would you PLEASE keep your head out of the clouds and keep up!"

I blinked and scurried to hold her hand. "Sorry Granny." I quickly glanced at the only possession I had kept from England; a picture of my mother and father. I stuck it in my pocket, and clutched my jacket tight. Only hours earlier, my grandmother had put the picture in a small frame for me so it wouldn't blow away or get wrinkled.

Strands of my barely brown hair blew in my face, and I stopped to readjust the ribbon on my head. "Rememberance! Button up your jacket! You're going to catch cold!"

Fingers fumbled for the buttons on my blue coat. I gasped as one tiny black button fell to the ground. My knees fell to the ground as I searched for my precious button. Hard heeled shoes barely missed my small hands, but I was going to find that button.

"Ah ha!" I had found it. Pushing my way through the legs of dozens of strangers, I finally caught the shiny button in my hand. Feeling rather proud, I held it up to show my grandmother.

"Gra-" I cut myself off, realizing I didn't know where my grandmother was. So many faces, but not one I recognized. Frightened, I called her name, frantically searching the faces for one I knew. I yelped and jumped as a hand grabbed my shoulder. A little panicked, and rightly so, I kicked my little heels behind me blindly, hoping to hit the fiend that had captured me. Hearing a sound of pain, I smiled, satisfied. Turning to face the captor, I was surprised to see a boy not much older than myself.

A boy with dark hair and darker eyes rubbed his shin and frowned at her, "Geez kid. I was jist tryin' to help ya."

I eyed him suspiciously, still not sure what to think. "How can you help me?"

"Yer lookin' fer da old lady, ain't ya?" After a hesitant nod from me, he continued and pointed across the dock. "I saw 'er go ovah dat way."

I smiled and started to thank the boy, but stopped short. Raising a questioning eyebrow, I asked, "How did you know who I was with?"

With a roll of his eyes, the boy answered, "Look kid. I'se a newsie, I sell papes." He held up a stack of newspapers, shaking them slightly. "I had da bright idea to try ta sell at da docks today."

He paused, "Din't occur to me dat most a dese people don't speak English, let alone read it. Anyway, I hoid dat lady yell at ya- in English. So I thought I'd try to sell to 'er."

I shrugged, "Oh. Well then, sorry for kicking you." He nodded. "Thanks for finding my granny."

Remembering my manners, I held out my hand. "I'm Rememberance Jameson. Nice to meet you."

The boy spit in to his right palm and pushed it towards me. "I'se Racetrack."

Scrunching my face in disgust, I put my hand back down at my side. Racetrack looked at his palm for a second, and wiped it on his trousers. "Look, whatevah. Let's jist go find her grandma."