I do not own Newsies (surprise, surprise) therefore I do not own any of the Newsies characters. To the best of my knowledge they are owned by Disney.

I am making no money from this story (another big surprise).

Race has met the girl of his dreams. Spot has met the girl of his nightmares. And nobody wants to tell the toughest girl in New York that she needs a shave.

1899, Humor. SLASH Sprace Javid

A/N: Beta credit to pennylayne, the quintessential overachiever.

In just one night, pennylayne beta'd this story, and wrote and posted the first four chapters of her new story A Very Thin Line. Check it out. It's great!

WARNING: Be advised that despite the title this is a SLASH story not a Mary Sue story.

This story was written to entertain and not to offend the Mary Sue lovers of the world.

My Name Is Mary Sue

Race was spending more and more time in Brooklyn.

Each day he would awaken as usual and head to the distribution center. As always he and Jack were the first in line to buy their papers, but that's where the old routine ended. Race no longer stopped to search each page for a catchy headline. Now he would read as he walked. And he no longer went to his usual selling spot. He sold his papers as he traveled the route to Brooklyn. Sometimes he would spend the night in Brooklyn and sell the early edition with his friend, Spot Conlon.

But it was not Brooklyn itself that drew Racetrack across the bridge. It was a girl. Racetrack Higgins had met the girl of his dreams.

She was like none that came before her. She was tall and lean and was strikingly beautiful. She had silky chestnut hair and sparkling brown eyes. She was a lady in every sense of the word. And that's what everyone called her. . . Lady.

Each day after selling his papers, Racetrack would stop at Kneussbaum's Delicatessen and buy their lunch. The order was the same every day. It never varied. He'd get two liverwurst sandwiches with a slice of onion, two ice-cold bottles of beer, and a crisp red apple. Mama Kneussbaum would put the lunch into a paper sack then Racetrack would head off to see his new girl.

Race would saunter through the gates of the Sheepshead Racetrack, and as always, Lady would be there waiting. She never disappointed him.

They'd eat their lunch in the usual spot behind of one of the stables. It was away from the noise of the cheering crowds and out of the hot afternoon sun.

Race would eat the sandwiches and drink the beer, then polish the apple on the front of his vest and give it to his new love.

Lady was more than the girl of Racetrack's dreams. She was the most beautiful racehorse he'd ever seen.

Sometimes Spot would join his friend and risk his hard-earned wages on a race or two. But it was never a risk when they bet on Lady. She was a winner every time.

One particular afternoon, Race and Spot were enjoying their lunch in back of the stable with Lady . . . Well, Race was enjoying his lunch. Spot was too distracted by the smell of damp hay and horse manure to eat.

"Dammit, Race! How can you sit there and eat liverwurst and onions, of all things, with the smell of horse shit all around ya? It makes me wanna gag!" Spot grumbled as he grabbed a bottle of beer.

"It smells like perfume to me," Racetrack said with a grin. "And I wouldn't be complainin' if I were you, Conlon. I've smelled the air off'a Sheepshead Bay, and it doesn't exactly smell like a bouquet of roses!"

As always, Lady didn't disappoint her number one admirer. She crossed the finish line strides ahead of the others.

Race and Spot cashed in their winning tickets and went back to congratulate Lady.

They stood and watched as the groom combed her beautiful chestnut mane. He tossed a thick blanket on Lady's back and was leading her to the stall when she was spooked by a sudden noise. She snorted fiercely and reared up as the groom struggled to get her under control. Her eyes widened and the whites around them shown clearly. Her twelve-hundred pounds bucked wildly as she tried to run.

Soon the groom's strong grip and soothing voice settled Lady, and she was eased into her stall.

"Jeeze, Race. I thought we was gonna get trampled for a minute there," Spot chuckled nervously.

But Race didn't answer. He was lying in a crumpled heap against the wall. Spot shook his friend and called his name, but Race didn't respond.

The groom sent for the only doctor at the track . . . The veterinarian.

The vet took a quick look at Race. "This boy needs a real doctor," he said. "There's nothing I can do for him."

Spot reached into his winnings and hired a carriage to take Racetrack back to the Brooklyn warehouse. The boys carried him up to the leader's room while Spot sent for Boxcar. He was Brooklyn's fastest runner.

"I want you to go and fetch the doc," Spot ordered. "Take this silver-dollar and pay him up front. And don't take no for and answer!"

"Will do," Boxcar replied turning his cap backwards and pulling it snugly to his head. He gripped the coin tightly and ran toward the street.

Spot charged into the warehouse and took the stairs two at a time. "How's he doin'?" Spot asked breathlessly as he burst through the door.

"He ain't moved or made a sound since we brought him in here," Big Mike replied. "Take a look at the size of this lump on his head. It's gettin' bigger by the minute."

Spot reached into his pocket and took out a handful of coins. It was not only the rest of his winnings, it was also the money he'd saved to buy his next day's papers.

"Take this and grab a cab to Manhattan. Tell Cowboy what happened and bring him back here."

"You got it, Spot," Big Mike replied. I'll have him back here before you know it.

-o-o-o-o-

Spot was sitting in his perch when the carriage returned. If the situation weren't so serious, he would have laughed at the sight.

Big Mike and Cowboy were riding up top with the driver while inside were Blink, Skittery, Dutchy, Mush, Pie Eater, and Specs. They were crammed in so tight that there were heads and arms hanging out the windows. When the door was opened, they tumbled out like marbles.

"How's he doin'?" Jack asked as he spit in his hand and held it out to Spot.

"I don't know," Spot replied, spitting in his hand to return the handshake. "The doc's with him now. . . . How the hell did all you guys fit in there?"

"It wasn't easy," Specs said as he shook his arms and legs to get back their circulation. "The driver wasn't happy about all of us takin' the ride, but we convinced him."

Spot looked at the driver who was now sporting a shiny black eye. The driver cracked his whip, and the carriage raced out of sight.

Spot, Jack, and the boys all sat on the stairs outside Spot's room. Finally, the Doctor came out and closed the door.

"How is he?" Jack asked springing to his feet.

"He's awake now, but he took a bad blow to the head. Before you go in there I want you to know that he's a bit confused. He'll probably stay that way for a couple of days. You will need to be patient, and go along with whatever he says. It's important that he remain as calm as possible."

The boys entered the room and crowded around the bed. Race's eyes were closed and the bruise on his head was now large and purple.

Spot sat on the bed and put a hand on his friend's shoulder. Then Spot softly called his name.

Racetrack's eyes fluttered open and he glared at Spot. He pulled the blanket up to his chin and shouted, "What are you doing on my bed! Get Up NOW!"

Spot leaped off the bed and onto his feet. "It's me Race. It's me, Spot. Don't you recognize me?"

"Who are you calling, Race? My name is Mary Sue. And what are you boys doing in my bedroom? It isn't proper. Get out, all of you! Get out NOW!"

End Chapter One

A/N: pennylyane pulled an all-nighter to beta this story. She's great and so are her stories. Please check them out. Strong Men Crumble (easily one of the best Newsies stories I've come across) and Lean on Me are two of my personal favs. Her new story A Very Thin Line is also first rate. They are well worth reading.