The day hadn't gotten much better for Jack and David after they left Brooklyn. Spot's refusal to join the strike was disheartening to the rest of the Manhattan newsies, who wondered if maybe they should slack off a little. Despite the fact they it took very little to lift their spirits again, Jack started to wonder if maybe Spot was right. Did they have what it took to win?
A fight broke out when some scabs tried to by papes at the distribution office, and the newsies had a grand time, pelting Weasel and the Delancey brothers with tomatoes, throwing papers around the yard. But then the police showed up, and it all went downhill from there. Crutchy didn't get out the gates in time, and the last David saw of him, Oscar and Morris were dragging him off around a corner before turning him over to the police.
Later that evening, the newsies sulked around the lodging house. Jack, especially, took Crutchy's capture badly. As the leader, and as Crutchy's friend, he felt guilty that he hadn't been able to save him. He slouched moodily off by himself in a corner, a dark look on his normally sunny face. The other boys talked quietly among themselves, pausing now and then to throw quick looks over at their leader. Suddenly, he stood up and addressed the room.
"We ain't lettin him stay there," he declared. He looked at David. "You an' me Dave, we're gettin him out. Tanight." Then he stalked out onto the street.
His announcement cheered the other boys up considerably, but David was confused. He nudged Racetrack in the arm, asking him "What's he talking about Race? Get Crutchy out of where?"
Racetrack looked surprised for a minute, then obviously remembered that David didn't have the street smarts that the newsies took for granted. "The refuge. Crutchy'll be in the refuge. Dat's what happens to street rats like us, Dave, when we get in trouble. We go to jail."
"And we're going to break him out of this refuge? Is that going to work?" David wanted to know.
The Italian boy took a moment to answer, chewing thoughtfully on his cigar. "I dunno Dave. Only guy I evah hoid of got out of the refuge is Jack." He stopped again, visibly depressed by the thought. Then he brightened.
"But I guess if anybody could break Crutchy outta that hellhole it would be Jack. " He patted David's back and grinned. "Cheer up Davey, no point in mopin around. I shuah hope I ain't the one dat's gotta tell Pocket, though," he mused.
David perked up at the mention of the girl newsie he'd met earlier that day.
"Why's that?" he questioned his friend, eager to find out more about the girl who had so fascinated him.
Racetrack blew out a puff of air and shook his head sadly. "She's gonna be real upset when she finds out Crutchy's in the refuge. She always tried ta look out for 'im, ya know? Ain't gonna take it well that she wasn't here to help him."
"She and Crutchy are close, then?"
"Yeah, real close. Matter o' fact, da only time she ain't wit Crutchy is when she's with Blink, or me." The little Italian grinned, then added "Or in Brooklyn."
Seeing the perfect opportunity to steer the conversation to what he really wanted to know, David tried to act casual. "So she spends a lot of time in Brooklyn, then? Why's that?" He couldn't help leaning forward a little, and Racetrack narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
"Why ya wanna know so much about Pocket alla the sudden? Ya just met her yesterday."
"Just curious, is all. I never heard of a girl newsie before," David hastily explained. "How'd she end up here, anyway?"
"Oh, that's a good story!" his friend, explained, suspicion forgotten in his love of a good tale. David relaxed a little, glad that he had succeeded in distracting Race, but disappointed that he had lost his chance to find out if Pocket was Spot's girl.
"This woulda been about five years ago," Racetrack began, nodding at Blink, who had just sat down to join them. "Back when Roller was in charge around here. Us newsies were here at the lodging house, not really doin nothing, an' Blink comes runnin in with some little kid behind him. Don't say nothin ta none us, just hauls ass upstairs. Natch'rally, Roller goes upstairs ta investigate. Couldna been but ten seconds later, in comes in comes a copper with dis snooty lookin banker type behind him. Says they's lookin for a pickpocket what stole that guy's wallet. Don't take much brains to know da kid upstairs wit' Blink hadda be da same one took da wallet."
"Coise, he axed us all had we seen dis kid, but no self-respectin newsies evah turned a kid ovah to da bulls just for tryin ta make a livin." Blink nodded his agreement. "We all said we ain't seen nothin. I could see da copper didn't believe us, so I quick points out da window, yellin ' Hey is that da kid ya lookin for officer?'" the two newises laughed, remembering.
"So da little snooty one runs out da door yellin, and da law ain't got no choice but ta go after him. Then we all sat and waited for Roller to come down and tell us who da kid was." Here Racetrack stopped his story and looked at Blink. "Maybe you bettah tell this part."
"I was down da block, at the market, tryin' to get me some dinnah, and there's this spiffy rich guy there, yellin at the fruit lady cuz her apples aren't ripe enough. Caught me eye, he did, yellin so loud. Had the fruit lady in tears. Finally he's on his way, and I'se watchin him go, right? Don't know why, just watched him leave. Then I see this little kid, real small, run out from behind a wagon and bump into this man. They both fall over, he jumps up yellin about da doit on his clothes, an' da kid just runs. Didn't get more'n two steps when the richie notices his wallet ain't where he left it. Ya shoulda hoid him, Dave" the blond boys one good eye lit with humor. "Screamin 'bout street rats and no good kids, callin for da bulls. So here comes this fat copper, da man points out da kid, and they both start chasin. Got him by the shirt, and I knew this poor chump was goin' straight ta the refuge. Kid got loose though, and ran da othah way, right at me. I hears a whistle, and dis other cops runnin up from behind me, an' know da kids got no chance. I rememba wishin I could help da kid out, but I didn't wanna end up in da refuge too. 'Den we got lucky—a wagon goin' by loses some boxes off da top, and at da same time da trolley comes through. I saw a chance when nobody was lookin and I grabbed da kid and we ran back here."
"Roller comes up, says its alright ta hide here for a bit, but da kid don't even listen ta him. Too busy yellin at me cuz da wallet got lost whiles we was runnin." Here Racetrack elbowed David, amused by the story, and Blink waited for him to stop laughing before he continued.
"Roller gets right in da kids face and says ta shut up or find a new place ta hide. Kid shuts up, but just glares at Roller, mad- like. One a da boys comes up and says da bulls just been here, and Roller tells the kid maybe pickin pockets ain't da best way to make a livin no more. Lemme tell ya, da kid did not like that at all. Eyes watered up good, but still didn't cry. Just put on this fake deep voice, tryin ta sound tougher and says ' How'm I gonna get money, den? I gots ta eat.' Roller softens up and says 'Well ya could always be a newsie, like us. Den ya'd have money ya didn't hafta steal, and a place ta sleep, too.' Always was one for takin in strays, was Roller. So da kid sits there, thinkin about it for a while, then says ta roller, 'Well show me where I'se sleepin, den, cuz all dat runnin made me tired'." Race slapped a hand on his knee, laughing and Blink grinned at him before continuing.
"Next morning, Roller got the kid some papes, told us we had a new kid, and evah since then, Pocket's been one of da Manhattan newsies." Blink finished his story, and Race jumped in.
"Took to it real good, too. After da foist coupla days Pocket was up to sellin 'bout 50 papes a day. Now she's up close t'a hundred. Nat'ral talent, that's what that is," he declared. "An' speakin' a nat'ral talent, my friends, who would like ta join me in friendly card game?"
Blink got up and shook his head, walking away, and the gambler turned to David. "What about you, Dave?" But David had more questions.
"Did you know she was a girl from the beginning?" he wanted to know.
"Huh?" Reacetrack had already shifted his attention to finding his cards, and stared at David blankly, not knowing what he meant.
"Oh, Pocket," he realized. "Nah, we didn't find that out for a coupla years. Then when we did find out we all wondered how we didn't see it right off."
He grinned, patting his pockets in search of his cards. " Don't think about it so much now, though. Pocket don't make a big thing out of it, won't let us treat her any different. Says just cuz she's a goil don't mean she can't do everything we can. Smokes, drinks, plays a mean game of poker, and pretty good in a fight, too. 'Bout the only thing she won't do is take her clothes of ta go swimmin in Brooklyn. So ya gonna play cards with me or not?"
"No thanks, don't want to lose the little money I have," David told him, wondering how to ask his next question. "So, is that where she was yesterday? In Brooklyn?" He saw that the other newsie was getting suspicious again, and rushed to explain. "I wondered because I didn't meet her yesterday when I met all of you. You said she's a newsie, right?"
Race looked dubious, but answered anyway. "Can't say for sure. She's in Brooklyn just as much as she is here, so that's probably where she was. Never know, though. Sometimes, when we'se lookin for her, she ain't in either place for a coupla days and she nevah tells us where she's been. Jack don't say too much about it since she nevah gets in no trouble. Says if it's ok with Spot, its ok with him. She went ta Brooklyn with you'se taday, right?" he asked. David nodded, and Race sighed. "She's still there then, they'll be talkin about the strike."
"Do you think she'll change her mind?" David asked.
"Whatcha mean, change her mind?"
"You know, after talking to Spot." David explained. "Will she still want to be a part of the strike?"
Racetrack looked confused. "Pockets been part of the strike from the foist, Davey, you were there."
"Well, yeah, but I thought since she stayed in Brooklyn . . ." he trailed off as Racetrack snorted with laughter.
"An ya thought that since Spot Conlon didn't want ta join the strike, then Pocket wouldn't either? Boy do you have it all wrong. Ain't nobody tells Pocket what to do except Pocket, and if she wants to strike, Brooklyn ain't gonna stop her." He laughed again at the thought.
This didn't make sense to David. "I just thought that she would want to go along with her boyfriend, that's all," he muttered.
"Numbah one, Dave, I just toldja Pocket don't let nobody tell her what to do. Numbah two," Race stuck out a second finger, "Spot ain't Pocket's boyfriend."
David visibly brightened at this news. "He's not? Then why . . .?" he almost let it slip that Jack had warned him away from his newfound attraction, but Racetrack interrupted him.
"Oh, I get it now, Davey. Dis is why you'se askin so many questions." The little gambler crossed his arms smugly. "You'se got da hots for Pocket, dontcha?"
Embarrassed, David shushed him and shook his head. "No, just curious is all." But Racetrack was an expert at reading people, and David's poker face was a joke. The flush that darkened his cheeks gave him away.
"Alright now, Dave, ya gotta listen ta me," no longer laughing, the veteran newsie fixed David with a hard stare. "I know ya think Pocket's real pretty, an' she is, but ya bettah stop thinking 'bout her right now. It's bettah that way."
Once again, confusion marred the face of the eldest Jacobs boy. "Jack said the same thing, but I don't get it. Does she have a boyfriend or not? And if she doesn't, then who's going to mind if I look at her?"
"She ain't nobody's girlfriend, but she's still ain't available. Her an' Spot been friends for a long time, and he gets most . . . unpleasant when guys pay too much attention to her."
Swallowing nervously, David asked "What do you mean, unpleasant?"
"I mean you don't wanna find out," Racetrack said firmly. "Bout this time last year there was a kid that stayed with us, name a Chips. Week after he got here, Spot and a couple of his boys was here playin poker, and Spot happened to overhear Chips telling one of the guys in Queens that he thought Pocket was a looker. Beat his ass good, broke his nose, coupla ribs."
Jack came back in then, and told David they would go for Crutchy as soon as it got dark, then headed upstairs.
"Heya wait up Cowboy," Race called after him. He stood and stretched, then looked down at David. "Last I hoid Chips was down in Jersey," he told him. "Ain't been back since. Too scared. An' all he did was say that Pocket was pretty." With those parting words he turned to the stairs, leaving David to his thoughts.