Chapta Thoiteen

Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies.

A/N: Ah, romance in this chapter.

The next morning, Racetrack woke to see Ali in his room, putting something in his dresser. He yawned, startling her. She pivoted around and closed the drawer.

"Whattaya doin'?" he asked, stretching.

Ali smiled. "Nothing."

"Why ya up here?"

"I was gonna wake you up."

"I can wake up by myself," Race said, kicking his feet over the side and yawning again. Ali shook her head.

"No, you can't. It's twelve."

Race looked at the clock. Ah, indeed, it was. Well, that's what happens when there isn't any Kloppman to wake him up.

"Can I use yer bathroom?" he asked, standing up. He wanted a bath more than anything in the world.

"Yeah. It's down the hall."

"Dere towels in dere?"

"Yup."

Race moved slowly into the bathroom, he wasn't being rushed, thank god. It was so... clean! Spot would have a fit if he were in there, because, in the corner sat a, you guessed it, porcelain tub.

Stepping into it gingerly, Racetrack sat. Unlike the little basket of wood they called a tub at the lodge, hot water flowed from the faucets of this one. He leaned back and laid there for at least forty-five minutes, before Arthur came pounding on the door and shouting, "I gotta get in there!"

"K, hold on," Race called back. He pulled the plug and wrapped himself up in a towel. As soon as he opened the door, Arthur charged in and slammed it closed again, right in his face. Race stared for a minute, then returned to his room.

Ali was not there anymore, and in the privacy of his own little place, he dropped the towel and went over to the dresser. Opening the drawer, he saw Ali left him a little note and some presents:

Racetrack,

These are some clothes my mother and I got for you a few days ago. Your old ones you wore when you came in are in the wash. Hope they fit!

Ali

Underneath sat about six different shirts, four different pants, underwear, socks and vests. Race liked them immediately. Getting dressed, he looked at himself in the mirror. He looked awesome. Everything matched perfectly, and he looked like a rich newsie. Ha, that was almost an oxymoron.

Going to find Ali to thank her, the thought of her made his heart jump a little bit. 'Great,' he thought to himself, 'I have a crush on 'er, but do I have ta act like some giddy bonehead?'

He went downstairs, and wondered if Spot was being treated as nicely as he was, or if he was just being there.

And he wondered, did Spot have a crush on Natalie?

He knew that when Spot liked someone, it would bother him for a long time, because Spot was Spot and didn't usually talk about love, then he'd flirt with the poor girl for a few days, bed her just to get it out of his system, and leave. He knew his friend, and this was what he did. But if he did like Natalie at all, he wouldn't be able to leave as quietly as he'd be able to if it were some girl on the street. He could even recall the time Spot hired a prostitute, just for one night, and even she became attached to him. How annoying.

Walking outside, he found Ali pulling pumpkins from their vines, before it got too cold to even go outside. She smiled up at him, and he kneeled down next to her and rolled up his sleeves.

"Hi," she said, yanking a pumpkin from the ground. Race pulled a cigar and a piece of flint he carried in his pocket and scraped it.

"Thanks faw da clothin'," he said, pointing to his outfit. Ali laughed.

"They fit alright?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

"Can I help ya?"

Ali pulled her hair back into a ponytail. "I don't know," she said, "Do you want to get those clothes dirty?"

Race then stood up, preceded over to the little bench they owned, pulled down his suspenders, unbuttoned his nice, new shirt (and folded it, too), and put his suspenders back on. Mind you, it was late October, and he was walking around without a shirt on. The cool wind chilled him to the bone, but that was okay. He strutted back over, cigar in mouth. Ali stared.

He sat next to her and grabbed the vine of a pumpkin. To his surprise, it had tiny, invisible spines sticking out all over it, and they stung like mad when he grabbed it. However, when he went to pull them out, he found they weren't there. The stinging became worse and worse as he tried to pull more pumpkins or made a fist.

"Oh, you got those prickly things in your hand?" Ali asked, taking his hand and inspecting it. Race smiled to himself. Her touch was warm but firm, and she ran her smooth fingers over his. But the moment was interrupted as her nails pinched at a splinter, causing him to pull his hand back in pain.

"Oww," he said shortly, and Ali rubbed the tiny wound. 'Sorry. We'll get it out later, I know how to with some hot water. I've got a few of my own," she said. Holding up her own hand, she had so many they were almost visible.

'A few?' he thought.

The pair sat in the peaceful quiet, pulling pumpkins from the ground, enjoying the world around them. Race found a stubborn veggie that refused to come up, so he took he tapped the cigar's ashes over the vine, burning it through so it came undone. Ali's face cracked into a grin.

"That's one way to do it, I suppose."

"Ya obviously ain't seen da ways we do things in 'hatten."

"Do I want to?"

"I dunno."

Ali laughed, a laugh that sounded like bells to the hormonal boy sitting next to her.

Suddenly, he decided what he would do. It would be quick, sudden, uncalled for, random, and he'd do it now, before his burst of courage slipped him

Another pause, and he straightened up.

"Ali?" he asked.

"Yeah?"

He leaned over and pressed his lips against hers. Gently prying her mouth open with his tongue, they kissed, and Ali returned it eagerly, stronger than his. This gave them both a shining sense of confidence, and they did not make a move to end it. Slowly pulling away in the need for air, Race looked at Ali. She wiggled, and her face was flushed red.

"Race, I–"

"Sorry."

"No, it's okay," she said, slowly, "I didn't mind."

"Dat was bad."

"No, it wasn't," she replied. "I won't tell if you won't."

"I don think yer parents would feel so good if dere daughta was kissin' some bum on da street," Race said, eyeing her.

"You aren't some bum on the street."

"A few days ago, I was."

"Even then, you weren't."

"Yeah, I was," Race argued, "An' dat was bad faw me. Yer nice enough ta let me stay in yer house faw howeva long I need an' here I am goin' and gettin' all attached ta ya."

There was a silence, as they looked at each other, and Racetrack realized what he had said. Gettin' all attached ta ya. The cat was out of the bag. Whoops. He had spilled his own secret. But Ali didn't seem to upset, and even though the adrenaline came a ' rushing, he held his breath and hoped she wouldn't mind.

"Racetack... do you like me?"

"Y-yeah, I do." No use hiding it anymore.

"..."

"..."

Ali smiled. "I like you, too."

He had not been prepared for this.

"What!" he cried, still nervous.

"I do." And as an afterthought, she added, "And I'm glad you're staying here."

Race said nothing, but gaped at her. She... liked him! But there hadn't been any clues that told him so, otherwise... But now that he thought about it, there were. In fact, anyone looking at it could tell she liked him - She bought him new clothes, hugged him a lot, trusted that he wouldn't tell anyone about her gang. And, she kissed him back. Duh.

'Grahhh!' he thought to himself angrily, 'If I had known, dis woulda been easier!'

Ali watched him carefully. She had thrown him way off guard. 'Maybe,' she thought, 'I should've told him first.'

Indeed, it was true. She had had a crush on him ever since he visited her when she was sick, but she was good at hiding things like this from everyone. (Including me, the all-seeing narrator!)

There was a slight change in the mood, as Racetrack eyed her with a bit more confidence. "So..." he started, hoping she'd catch on and he wouldn't have to finish the sentence, "So..."

If she did notice, then she was being cruel, or just wanted to hear the words from his mouth. She looked at him.

"So..." Race started, for the third time, "Do you want to..."

"?"

"...Go out?" Frank and to the point.

Ali stared a bit, making the nervous feeling come rushing back in, and he felt he needed to sit down. But instead of shaking her head, she smiled.

"Thought you'd never ask."

A/N: No Spot in this chappie, but in the next one, there'll be plenty. R & R!