Chapta Ten

Disclaimer: Don't own it.
A/N: If I stop writing AN's, that's cause I want to get down to the story. So, yeah.
"Ah, Anthony. How nice of you to stop by."

Racetrack hated Ali's father's voice. It made him feel like he was under a microscope, and it was dripping with, 'Why are you here?'

But he smiled pleasantly. "Is Andria-"

"Yes, she is here. Please, step inside."

Race stepped in to the familiar home of his little crush. William closed the door behind his guest. "Take off those muddy shoes over there," he ordered. "Andria will be with you in a minute."

Race stepped out of his dirt-crustedleather shoes and sat patiently on the couch, looking around. It never ceased to amaze him, how someone could have so much while another so little. His thoughts were interrupted by Ali flying down the stairs.

"Ali!" he said, smiling.

"Racetrack!" she exclaimed, and they both jumped into each other's arms, before having an awkward moment and pulling apart. Race coughed, regaining his posture.

"So, ya feelin' betta?" he asked.

"Yeah, it was just a cold."

"I think Spot got hisself a cold. He had a feva a while ago."

"Oh, did he?" Ali asked, then whispered in his ear, "Where is he hiding?"

"Natalie's watchin' him," Race snickered, "Paw goil."

Ali laughed, then sat down. Race sat down after her. "What did yer folks say? About me stayin' here?"

Ali shrugged. "They said if you make a good impression on them at dinner, you can stay."

"I can eat dinna here?"

"Yep."

Race raised his eyebrows and asked, "Yer gonna let me, a doity street rat, eat dinna wit yer parents?"

Ali smiled, and it was a sweet, loving smile. "I trust you."

I trust you.

No one had ever spoken those words to Race before. Of course, someone in the world probably trusted him, but no one had told him to his face. He felt his heart rise up a bit and smiled back, and he could swear Ali knew that, just by looking at him, she could tell how he felt.

Before he could say anything, she stood up and took his hand. "Let's go up to my room. There's nothing to do down here."

If Spot had been there, Race knew what he'd be saying - "Try ta keep da moanin' on a low."

But, without resistance, he allowed himself to be dragged to her room - which was in pretty good condition, if he might say so himself. It was wide, with a two person bed and a loveseat in the corner, and a dresser with a patch of thread and a needle on it. A pile of books lay next to the chair, and a nightlight sat loyally next to the bed. The walls were a bright, cheery yellow, and the floor was wood.

Ali plopped herself down on the bed and stared at her ceiling. "I'm tired,"she mumbled. Race went over and sat on the edge of the bed, looking out a window into the bustling streets below. Somewhere in Harlem, gangs were being harassed. He laughed.

"What's so funny?" Ali asked, looking over at him. He shook his head.

"Nuttin'."

"No, really?"

"Just thinkin' 'bout somethin' Natalie said."

"Oh."

There was a nice silence, both accepting each other's presence and being content with it. Race's heart told him to do something, be a little flirtsy and Italian, both something he was good at. He glanced at her, trying not to make it too obvious. She was laying there, daydreaming about something.

"Whatcha thinkin' about?"

"Race... I really want you to be able to stay."

"I want me ta stay, too."

"I mean, you won't have a home, aside from that lodge, and of course the police will check there..."

Race did not respond. He was thinking about Jack and Davey and Mush and Dutchy and Skittery and Boots and all his friends he had left behind, the whole newsie life he had left behind. They didn't know where he or Spot was, and they'd be worried. And Spot's crew would be upset, too. And some asshole might take Spot's place as king of Brooklyn, thinking he was gone... But he reminded himself that he was not on house arrest, and that he could visit them in a week or so.

"Racetrack?"

Ali's voice snapped him from his train of thought, and he looked to see she had sat up and was watching him carefully.

"Yeah?"

She leaned over very suddenly, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and hung like that for a few minutes. Race was taken aback, but it wasn't an unpleasant surprise, and he returned the hug and let his head rest on her shoulder. The two sat, and Race's heart seemed to be jumping with joy, but he said nothing.

Finally, Andria let go, and Racetrack could see she was trying to hide her face, which was deep scarlet.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, "I had to–"

"S'okay, I needed ta get dat out, too."

Still blushing furiously, Ali managed a weak smile, and Race realized that it was true - he did have a crush on her, and it was a big one.

"It's just, I've been wanting to do that since the night you visited, but I couldn't and my parents were here, and... And, if you don't want to, you know, stay here, then I'll understand."

Race shook his head. "Nah. Yer a cool person, Ali. I wouldn't leave ya faw dat. In fact, I wouldn't leave ya unless ya kicked me out."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

Ali grinned, and before anyone said anything, her mother called down, "ANDRIAAAAAAAAA!"

"COMING!"

"Jack, we got a problem."

Mush looked pale and deathly scared as he called Jack and Davey over. It was dinner time and the boys were just sitting down in Tibby's, where Mush had called them for a meeting. Boots accompanied them. "What's wrong?" asked Davey. Mush gulped. "Sit down."

Boots grew bored within five seconds and left, giving the others the room to sit. Mush looked around.

"We been talking to somma da newsie boys down in Brooklyn," he began, whispering, "And dey said Spot got pulled from his bed in da middle a da night."

Jack stared, and Davey gasped.

"What?" he cried, and Jack closed his eyes and tried to shake his head.

"No, dat can't happen."

"So he disappeared inta thin air," continued Mush, biting athis nail, "An' now we's got woid from Harlem. Dey said Spot got chased by da Bulls an' some goil told 'em dey were hidin' ova there, so alll da newsies in Harlem are bein' questioned."

"Dis fuckin' isn't happenin'," muttered Jack, rubbing his head in distress. Davey was listening intently, horrified.

"Yeah, dis fuckin' is. An' here's wat else - Afta da Brooklyn newsies saw dat Spot was gone, dey went outside ta see da Bulls, an' dey found a chain an' dere was blood splattad all ova da ground," Mush said, and a few drops of blood fell from his finger to the ground, where, in his anxiety, he had pulled his cuticle.

Crutchy hobbled over. "Did I hear wha I just thought I hoid?'

"Crutchy, be quiet."

"Shhh!"

"Anyways," said Mush, "Dey asted da Bulls what happened, an' da bulls say some guy call dem in da middle of da night, and dey came an' saw bout ten o' da Crib an' dat kid Spots hates, Curly, all layin' dere, an' dey saw a kid runnin' away. So now dey sayin' dat Spot didn't kill da kid, but his head got cracked when he got hit wit da chain. So now Curly's in faw it, but Curly might die from gettin' his fuckin' ugly face bashed in, so Spot's in danger."

Crutchy had an equally terrified look as Jack and Davey, and now a crowd was gathering around. "Are ya sayin' he's on da run?" he asked.

"Yeah, dat's ezactly what I'm sayin'. An' ta make it even betta," Mush announced, loudly, "Race is wit him."

"WHAT?"

"RACE?"

"RACE IS WIT SPOT?"

"SO DAT'S WHERE HE WAS DIS WHOLE TIME!"

"If ya bummers ain't noticed yet," Jack shouted, "Race has been gone faw three days! I thought he was in Brooky, but if he's on da run, he's wit Spot, and someone's hidin' dem both!"

"Are we gonna search faw him?"

Jack turned to Mush, who was looking uncomfortable. "Are we gonna look faw him, Mushy?"

Mush shook his head. "From what I heard, da best thing ta do is ta keep on da low and search in small groups, if we don't want da attract attension. We know dey ain't hidin in, o' course, 'hatten, Brooklyn, aw Harlem, so it's either da Bronx, Coney Island, Staten Island, Long Islandor maybe even Queens. So we outta wait ta see if dey come back, an' den we'll start at da Bronx, since it's closest."

Davey shook his head again. "I can't believe what they've gotten themselves into..."

"It's scary, ain't it," said Blink, "Knowin' our friends are out dere and we don know if dere comin' back aw not."

Jack shook his head. "Naw," he convinced himself, "Dere gonna come back."

The group nodded, but they were all thinking the same thing -

I hope.

Newsie Vocabulary!

Dere - Their, They're, There. (Use your context clues, people.)

Doity - Dirty

Feva - Fever

Hoid - Heard

Paw - Poor

Splattad - Splattered

Woid - Word