We do not own Newsies, have never owned them...perhaps...one day...no, not likely. But oh well.
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"Aw, great!" Daydream whined, practically kicking her way down the street like a kid having a tantrum. Racetrack was walking next to her, amused by her juvenile anger. They had been 'ordered' by Erin and Jewell to go find Ellen and Crutchy in the Bronx and that hadn't been in Daydream's plan. She growled irritably to herself.
"Does she even know how long it takes to get to the Bronx from here?" She did not wait for Racetrack to answer before she carried on with her rant. "Erin didn't even listen to me when I told her that they don't really like me over there! And how are we supposed to find those two? They could've left the Bronx and be long gone by now!" She stuffed her hands into her pockets and glared down at the cobblestone.
"Don't worry 'bout it," Racetrack said, grinning at her, "They won't get very far no ways."
"You sound sure of that," she muttered, her eyes sliding towards him. He assumed an all-knowing look.
"Yeah, well, think 'bout it, Day," Racetrack started philosophically, "Deir nicknames are 'Crutchy' and 'Gimpy'. How fast can dey possibly go with names like dat?" Daydream looked at him blankly for a second before breaking out into giggles. Racetrack knocked his fist into her shoulder. "Dat's betta. I like it when youse're smilin'."
"You do?" Daydream said, raising her eyebrows. "What about when I frown?" She pulled the corners of her mouth down dramatically. "Or pout?" Her lower lip jutted out and her hazel eyes grew to enormous proportions. Racetrack rolled his eyes at her theatrical show.
"Ham it up a little, why don't ya?" he told her. He smirked at her fake-hurt and automatically huffy air. "I think," he continued, "I like any face you make 'cept that one where ya look all angry. I don't like dat one."
"Oh, you mean this one." A vicious scowl narrowed Daydream's eyes into slits and her mouth into a straight line. Racetrack nodded.
"Yeah, dat's the one." He frowned and tousled her hair so it fell over her face. "Stop doing it before yer face gets stuck like dat."
Daydream let the angry expression fall and resumed her normal jubilant attitude. "Better?"
"Loads," replied Racetrack. He spotted the Brooklyn Bridge up ahead and turned to her with a half-smile on his face. "Hey, Day?"
"What?"
"Wanna race?" he challenged, his eyebrows lifted in encouragement. Daydream looked momentarily appalled.
"No, I don't want you!" she said then grinned at Racetrack's exasperated look. "Yeah, sure, since beating you is my specialty."
"Oh, is dat what you think?" he asked, crossing his arms across his chest. She nodded then lifted her chin in the air defiantly. He let a disarming smile slide onto his face. "Since we're both so sure of winnin', how about we bet on it?"
"How much?" she replied cautiously. She knew all about Racetrack's obsession with gambling, in fact, thanks to him, she was beginning to know everything about gambling itself. Poker, dice, betting, Race was teaching her all of it, especially stuff about horseracing. That was his favorite subject and he could trail on and on about it tirelessly. He shrugged.
"I ain't got no money right now."
"You ain't got a job now, either," she quipped then her smile slipped a little. "Come to think of it," she mused into the air, "neither do I." Racetrack frowned.
"What'd'ya mean?" he demanded. "I t'ought you had a job at dat vaudeville in Midtown."
"'Had' is the important word in that sentence," Daydream said but her playfulness was gone. She looked at the ground, across the street, anywhere not to meet his gaze. "I sorta lost it when I came in late that day I met you." Racetrack was about to say something but she held up a hand. "But hey, I'm fine. I get to spend time helpin' out with the strike." She gave a tiny, ironic smirk. "And I got my ways of makin' money."
"Daydream…" Racetrack started, his eyes narrowed. She winked at him and bent forward.
"On your mark."
"What kind of ways?" he asked.
"Get set." She put her finger tips on the ground and set a determined look on her face.
"Are youse ignoring me!" he exclaimed, waving his hand in front of her face.
"GO!" She shot off towards the bridge, her laughter trailing behind her like a kite's tail. Racetrack sighed then took off after her, working double-time to catch up with the quick thief.
They crossed the bridge at a slow lope and then stole a ride on the back of cart that was headed towards the Bronx . Daydream tried to make herself look as inconspicuous as possible. She yanked her hair out of its ponytail and brushed it into her face, hiding her features as much as possible with the tangled mess. She also stuffed her newsie cap into her bag. Racetrack did not really see the point in her trying to disguise herself; one look at the satchel and anyone would know it was Daydream. He remembered Spot's none too happy reaction to her at the docks.
"Hey, Day?" he asked. She lazily looked up from watching the people go by.
"Hmm?"
"How do youse know Spot?" She bit the side of her lip and chuckled.
"I knew you were gonna ask that. I just didn't know when." She kicked her feet back and forth over the side of the cart. "Actually, it wasn't all that exciting. I just, ya know, picked his pocket and then-"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Racetrack interrupted. "You picked Spot Conlon's pocket? The Spot Conlon?"
"Yep," she said, obviously proud of her accomplishment. "But he caught me half-way down the street." She shook her head at the memory. "Nearly bashed my brains in with that stupid cane of his. He's never had much love for me since then."
"Wait," he said, looking at her strangely, "why'd youse wanna go to Brooklyn, den, if Spot hates ya?"
"Well," she said quickly, "I just thought that if I were there it'd get his attention straight off." She smiled and patted the wooden bottom of the cart. "And it did, didn't it?"
Racetrack stared at her for a moment as she went back to people-watching. That logic sounded off to him but he did not want to press to matter. Daydream would just avoid the subject, skipping around it but never touching the meat of it.
Halfway to the Bronx, Racetrack spotted a pair of familiar looking people making their way through the crowds.
"Crutchy!" he yelled, jumping off the back of the cart and waving his arms to get their attention. The cart's driver turned around in time to see Daydream hop off to follow Racetrack. Any anger he had dissipated when the girl curtsied politely to him.
"Thanks a lot!" she exclaimed. He nodded back at her and tipped his bowler cap before driving off. Daydream chalked him up as one of the nicer inhabitants of New York.
"Heya, Race, heya, Day!" Crutchy said enthusiastically as the two of them came closer. They moved out of the stream of pedestrian traffic into a vacant side alley. Daydream relayed the news of the meeting to Ellen who scowled.
"That Spot sounds like a real-" she forced a smile instead of a curse. "Jerk of an idiot." Racetrack laughed.
"Don't let him hear ya say that, Gimp."
"I can say whatever I like to whomever I like, thank you, Mr. Higgins," Ellen stated with an spike of annoyance. Racetrack shrugged and made a motion to Daydream that suggested Ellen was insane. Daydream bit her lip, trying not to snicker while Ellen glared at Race. Crutchy draped an arm across Ellen's shoulders.
"Well, let's go on back, Gimpy," he said. She nodded then turned to the other two.
"Do you want to walk with us?" Racetrack and Daydream shared a quick glance before shaking their heads.
"No, I think we'll just let you two lovebirds alone," Daydream said with a playful look. Crutchy beamed while Ellen looked a little horrified. Then the blonde flung an arm about Crutchy's waist and nodded defiantly.
"Then let us be off, my love!" she said, flinging her wild hair back behind her shoulders. They walked away, Crutchy skipping a little on his good leg.
"Dey're a couple of honeymooners, now ain't dey?" Race said sarcastically. Day tilted her head to the side and watched them disappear into the crowds.
"Yep," she said, "they're about as in love as you can get."
They smirked at one another then started off towards Midtown. Daydream led the way since they were headed to her lodging house. She sighed when the building came into sight.
"They hate me," she exclaimed rather abruptly, interrupting Racetrack's explanation of why Mariner's Promise was going to the race the next day. For a moment, he was uncertain of what she was talking about.
"Who hates ya?" he asked, thinking that would be a safe question.
"The girls that live in my house," she replied in a melancholy. "I don't do all those girly things that they do so they don't like me." She smiled a bit. "It doesn't help that they don't know what I do for a living."
"Why don't ya tell 'em?" Racetrack asked. Daydream stared at him and laughed.
"Yeah, Race, I'll just go up to my hoity-toity neighbors and tell 'em, 'Hi, I know you don't like me, but guess what I do for money? Yeah, I'm a pickpocket, how about that?'" She shook her head with a sardonic snort. "They'd be, what's the word, scandalized," she gasped as an example of their reactions, "if they knew. Not to mention I'd be out of the house and in the Refuge before I could say 'But only for kicks!'" She sighed. "I probably need to be getting a new place, anyways. Somewhere cheaper, at the least."
They were at the doorstep. Racetrack looked at her and grinned nervously, rubbing a hand against the back of his head.
"So, you'll be at the Square tamarra?" She nodded.
"Right after the girls' meeting at Tibby's, yeah." They stood there for a moment with their hands in their pockets, looking pretty much everywhere but each other.
"Well, I'll see ya," Racetrack said and started to leave. He suddenly felt a something soft and moist brush his cheek. He turned back around but Daydream was already halfway up the stoop.
"Thanks for walking me home, Race," she said in a coquettish tone, a smile tugging a corner of her mouth up.
"Anything for youse, doll!" he exclaimed excitedly and walked off with a bounce in his step and a grin on his face. What a funny girl he had snagged!