Author's Note: And, finally, chapter number two. I decided to take this on a little bit more humorous note for the first few chapters until the real conflict occurs. I hope I succeeded, somewhat.

As stated in the summary, I am looking for characters. The boys in this story are newsies, the girls are factory workers – there will be a turf war, so if you want to be on the bad side (Harlem, in this case), you can. If you are interested please include, with your review, your name, NN, age, looks, personality, guy, allegiances, etc. You guys know the drill :)

Disclaimer: This story is from the property of my mind. The twins, Clover & Ash O'Connell, as well as most minor characters are mine, except for a few friends who were generous enough to let me use their characters. Any character that you recognize from the 1992 musical, Newsies, obviously is the creative property of Disney.

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ad infinitum
- To Infinity -

07.28.06

When Clover lost her parents and her love all within one short year, she and her brother remained in Manhattan.
What happens, though, when her newfound life as a newsie isn't as carefree as she thinks?
Or her position in the group leads her straight into the arms of her old enemy?

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QUARE MIHI?
WHY ME?

The awkward moment between the siblings lasted for a few seconds before Ash's face split into a wide grin. He whipped the blue felt hat from his head and, before she could react, he used it to hit Clover in the face.

Clover's mouth dropped open at once and, though she saw the mischievous expression that was written on Ash's face, she glared furiously at him. "Aidan Colin O'Connell," she began, raising her left hand to caress her cheek, "you are going to—"

She never got to finish her threat, however. As soon as she had recovered from the surprise of being slapped by his hat, Ash winked at her and took off like a shot, his hat hanging limply from his right hand.

Clover watched as Ash ran, paralyzed for those first few seconds, before common sense kicked in and she followed after him. Ash loved to joke around, sometimes too much; she had to knock him down a few pegs before they could find lodging for the night. They finally, after a fortnight of sleeping huddled together on the streets, had scraped together enough money to spend the night indoors but Clover knew they would have to split up for those nighttime hours. And she wouldn't feel comfortable leaving her brother alone if he was in one of his silly moods – he could get himself into trouble that she wouldn't be there to get him out of.

Though he was an inch shorter than she was, his legs were actually longer than hers and, coupled with the head start he had, Ash was almost out of her sight as she ran after him. Her brother had inherent grace and was having no problem ducking and dodging the people crowding the street. Clover, on the other hand, was trying to keep up with him while also trying to prevent her long brown skirt from tearing – there was already one hole at the hem of this skirt and it was the better of the two she owned – and trying to avoid anyone that was walking in her direction.

She thought she overheard more than one person comment on the impropriety of a young lady running around the streets like a boy. She ignored them; if they would have gotten a better look at her matted hair or her dirt-stained face, they would have never referred to her as a lady; she was nothing more than a street rat, and had been that way since her mother died and they were turned out of their small apartment.

She stumbled as one of her heeled shoes snagged against a rock but recovered quickly and kept running. Ash, who had slowed his pace in order to let his sister catch up with him, had turned around and was jogging backwards. "Come on, Maddie," he laughed, "can't you run any faster?"

Clover always hated that look on his face when he wore it. When he laughed at her, she always felt inferior to her brother and that made her annoyed and all the more eager to catch up to him and smack him for starting this little race – and, not to mention, the unwarranted slap in the face with his smelly hat. She opened her mouth to tell her brother to hush up as she put on a little extra speed, but found herself pausing as she saw someone running in the opposite direction – running directly into Ash. "Ash, look out!" she hollered but she was too late.

Ash, who had still been running backwards, did not see the shorter boy running his way. That boy had been looking over his shoulder at that moment and had not seen Ash's back approaching him. The smack that the impact made almost caused Clover to wince and she was still a block away. Both of them ended up on the ground, in a heap of tangled limbs.

Clover took that moment to stop and, with a glance upwards, ask God – for the countless time – Why me?

--

Shaking her head slowly, Clover began to walk over to her brother. By the time she made it by his side, Ash had finally gotten back to his feet, his hat jammed back on his head, before extending his hand to help up the other boy. The shorter boy, with his dark hair, dark eyes, and cigar butt clamped between his teeth, looked like a miniature adult. The scowl that was on his face did nothing to help the image for Clover and she had to fight a condescending laugh. When he had fallen, he had dropped an armful of newspapers and they now lay scattered in the street.

The boy, reluctantly it seemed, accepted Ash's offer of help. Once he, too, was on his feet – and Clover could see that was almost a head shorter than her brother, though they seemed to be of a similar age – he gestured to the fallen papers. "My papes," he said, in an accent much thicker than her own. "Damn it!"

He bent down to begin gathering the papers and only lost his scowl when he saw that Ash, smiling, had bent down to help.

Clover took that opportunity to approach her brother and, her hands on her hips, stare down at him. "Ash! Haven't I told you to always watch where you are going?" she scolded, sounding just like her mother.

Ash's head drooped and his pleasant grin seemed to waver. He didn't say anything in response, however, as he finished straightening up a stack of the strewn papers. "Here you go," he said, handing them out to the boy. "Sorry about that. My fault."

The boy, already holding a smaller stack of papers, took Ash's half from him and added it to the first pile before sticking it under his arm. He wiped the dirt of his right hand on his black pants before spitting into it once and extending it to Ash. "No worries, pal."

Ash, familiar with the newsboy – or newsie – custom of spit-shaking, spit into his own hand before taking the boy's and shaking it. "Ash," he said by way of introduction.

"Racetrack," said the other boy. When he had his own hand back he looked over his shoulder once before turning to face Ash again. "Thanks for the help but I—"

"Race, you mook! Get back here."

Racetrack grinned wickedly and Clover, who had been wondering why that boy had been running, saw why: he was being chased by two other boys, a tall brown-haired boy wearing a red bandana knotted around his neck, and a blonde-hair boy with a brown eye patch covering his left eye. Though she could see that the two boys were grinning, likewise, Clover just shook her head. Boys.

"Gotta go!" Racetrack said before beginning to run. He had taken only two steps when Ash, who was trying to get out of the way, ended up crossing paths with Racetrack a second time. Luckily, this time they only knocked into each other without falling over.

Clover could not believe the slapstick routine she was watching. No, seriously. Why me?

This latest act was enough to stall Racetrack so that, before he could run again, his chasers were right behind him. The boy with the bandana, grabbed onto the back of Racetrack's plaid vest before he could go anywhere. "What's the hurry, Race?"

His friend, slightly out of breath from the run, paused on the other side of Racetrack and playfully smacked him on the face. "Did you think you could get away from Cowboy and me?"

To Clover's – who was now watching this whole thing with an interested eye; they were, she recognized, the newsies who must sell around these parts and, as newsies, could get Ash in on selling in Manhattan – surprise, the boy, Racetrack, seemed almost pleased to see the other two. "Blink," he said, addressing the boy with the patch, "Jack," he continued, turning to grin cheekily at the boy with the bandana, "you made it."

Jack just rolled his eye before smacking Race upside the head. "That's for betting me that Oscar Delancey was a spy from the Harlem rats and almost starting that fight outside the Distribution Center."

Blink mimicked Jack's gesture, smacking Race on the other side of his side. "And that's for doing the same to me, but with Morris. Honestly, Race, I don't know why we believe you sometimes."

All Race did was remove his black cap and rub the back of his head. "I thought it was funny. Oh," he added, "that reminds me. You both owe me two-bits."

--

Before the boys called Jack and Blink could retaliate to Racetrack's last comment, Clover took a step forward. It seems that none of the three boys had noticed their audience – or that one of the two was a girl. "Hey," she said, and three sets of eyes – or, two sets and an extra eye from the patch-wearing boy – turned her way. "You guys newsies from around here?"

Jack, with all the air of authority about him, took a step toward her. "Who wants to know?"

She pointed to herself and then her brother. "My name is Clover, that's my brother Ash. He needs some work and we need a place to stay. I thought that maybe you guys could set him up as a newsboy here. We used to sell together back in the Bronx," she offered as explanation; this Jack boy looked like he didn't want to be bothered by a newcomer.

Clover knew that this boy had to be the leader of this group of boys; both Racetrack and Blink took a break from their antics to see what Jack's answer would be. The boy, who wore a Cowboy hat hanging down his back, and appeared to be about seventeen years old – a year older than the twins – looked over at Ash. Ash just smiled his goofy smile and Clover felt a sense of love for him. He really was a good brother.

Jack nodded. "The Distribution Center is just a few blocks back way," he said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder in the direction from which the three boys had come. Each of them, she noticed, had a stack of papers under their arms. They were obviously preparing to sell the afternoon edition of the paper. "The Newsboys' Lodging House is down on Duane Street. It's six cents a night to stay but it's a nice place, I say."

Ash stepped forward, now that he felt that he was judged worthy, walking until he was right next to Blink. Racetrack, from his spot next to Blink, looked over at Clover briefly before turning his gaze on Ash. Then, following Jack's offer of his Lodging House, he took the opportunity to make an observation. "You two look an awful lot alike. Except, you're a girl," he added, pointing at Clover. There was a hint of a smirk on his face.

It took all she had not to roll her eyes and walk away with Ash. "He's my brother – my twin brother."
She wasn't sure if they understood the concept of twins all that well. "You know, Mama had two babies at one time? Those kind of twins? And, yeah, we look alike."

Racetrack, the smart ass that he is, understood sarcasm when he heard it. "Yeah, well, Kloppman don't let girlies stay in the Lodging House so, if your brother wants to be a newsie, you're gonna have to leave him with us," he said, gesturing to himself, Jack and Blink.

Blink smiled and punched Ash playfully in the shoulder. He didn't seem to mind but Clover couldn't help but let out a slight exasperated sound. She didn't like anyone to touch her brother. Maybe it's not the smartest idea, letting Ash stay with these boys.

Something about her expression, the hardened hazel eyes narrowing at Blink threateningly before flashing in Racetrack's direction, caught Jack's attention. He seemed to know exactly what was on her mind. "Don't you worry, Clover. The Lodging House is the best place around for a kid to stay. We'll take good care of Ash." So that's why Jack's the leader of these boys. He's a goddamn peacemaker, Clover noticed and sighed. She just hoped she could trust him – her gut told her to be a bit wary. "There's even a good old water pump inside," he added, trying not to smirk and Clover knew that her gut instinct was to be trusted.

She was aware that both she and Ash looked a little bit worse for the wear but they had only been on the East Side of the City for a few weeks, scrounging pennies and nicking food when they could. They could only now afford to get a proper bed and wash – it wasn't their fault if they didn't smell as fresh as these boys. They had jobs. At least they can get Ash a job, too, she thought and resigned herself to try her best to trust these boys. Maybe they could do something for me.

There was a slight pause that followed and, for the first time since the conversation began, Clover remembered that she was the only girl present. None of the boys had said anything about that – about the fact that she was making the decisions for her brother and not vice versa – though she thought she had seen a smirk come from the shortest of the three, the boy with the smelly cigar, the one Ash had knocked over: Racetrack. And they're making remarks about me and Ash? Nonchalantly, Clover crossed her arms over her chest. The action did not go unnoticed by the boys; that same short kid elbowed the boy with the eye patch and mumbled something about 'blocking his view' with a lecherous grin on his face.

Clover was not too sure that she liked this Racetrack fellow.

She tried not to let color stain her cheeks. Instead, she held her head up high and kept her eyes on the one leading these boys, this Cowboy. "So you got something for Ash, that's great. But what about me?"

Ash finally chose to speak, for the first time since apologizing for bumping into Racetrack. "Yeah, what about Maddie? If she's gonna have to sleep outside again, I'm staying with her." To prove his point, he protectively placed his arm on her shoulder. The gesture was meant to be supportive but, with Ash grinning like a fool, it looked ridiculous.

One of Jack's eyebrows quirked upwards and, though she refused to turn towards the other boys, Clover could have sworn she heard Blink snigger. "Who the hell is Maddie?" Jack asked.

Clover smacked her brother on his arm so that he would leave her be. How many times had she told him not to call her Maddie? Especially in front of other people? Why me?

Jack nodded his understanding but, smartly, did not say anything about her name. "Oh," he said. Then he shrugged. "There's a girls' home that I know of. It's pretty good, I hear, and not too much money. Why don't you go there?"

Racetrack laughed out loud this time; at least, Clover realized, it was directed towards Jack. "Oh, come on, Cowboy. You make it sound like you don't spend half your free time visiting your girl down at the Bottle Alley Home," he cracked, a bit of a twinkle in his dark eyes.

Clover had to give Jack a bit of credit. Rather than look abashed at Racetrack's comment, he just shrugged again and smirked. "Yeah, well, I ain't the only one is all I'll say."

Racetrack, she noted, shut his mouth almost right away.

Jack shook his head. "Like I was saying, before I was interrupted," he quipped, daring a cheap look in Racetrack's direction, "the girls' home is over by Bottle Alley. Most of those girls have a day job working in Old Man William's textile factory. The hours are long, but the wage is fair. I'm sure you can get a job if you need one, too."

Clover nodded. This was exactly what she was looking for; if she had full-time work, she could earn much more than selling newspapers on a street corner and be so busy that her thoughts would never have time to stray to more undesirable memories. Maybe then, before too long, she would be able to afford a room for her and her brother. And if Ash could have a job – a job that earned him money but wasn't too difficult for him to do – that would keep him occupied while she labored, that was all the better.

Now if she wasn't just so uncomfortable with leaving her brother alone with these newsboys.