Ch. 3
"Hi ya, Moneybags." Race greeted the boy chasing him. Moneybags was a broker at Sheepshead Races. Race had learned a long time ago that it was best not to show any fear when dealing with Moneybag's type.
"What were yous runnin' from Racetrack? Yous know yer payments late." Moneybags informed Racetrack calmly.
"Yah, about dat. Why don't I roll ya fer it? Double or nothing?" Race offered.
"Enough of yer wisecracks, 'ave da money by Friday or we's comin' afta you or maybe dat goil you was so eaga ta protect. She'd make a fine addition ta Lenny's collection." Moneybag's taunted Racetrack.
"Yous stay away from 'er. She ain't a part of any of dis. She's betta den all of us put ta gedder." Racetrack announced.
"Oh ya, what are yous gonna do 'bout it?" Moneybags challenged.
"I'll soak ya, in fact, I'll soak ya right now." Racetrack came at him, but stopped when he noticed two more boys approaching.
"Good ta see dat yous caught up wid him, Moneybags." One guy exclaimed. "Yous 'ad me a little worried when I seen 'im gettin' away."
"As yous ken see, I 'ave da sitcheyation unda control, Knuckles." Moneybags informed Knuckles, with disdain. It was clear that they did not get along.
"Dat maybe, but now I'm takin' ova." Trying to intimidate Moneybags, Knuckles got in his face.
Racetrack knew Moneybags and Knuckles were busy amongst themselves and he also knew he was going to get out of there without a fight. Deciding there was no time like the present, he ran at the two boys with both fists flying. Racetrack managed to knock Moneybags to the ground and Moneybags was smart enough to stay there. Race took a swing at Knuckles but he missed and spun so his back to the wall. He wasn't sure about the other guy, so he wanted to make sure no one could get him from behind.
"I should be thankin' ya fer takin' care of Moneybags dere, but since yous went afta me, Sunny and me is gonna 'ave ta take care of yous." Knuckles threatened. Praying Amara would reach Spot, Race prepared himself for a fight.
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Amara stopped dead when she saw Racetrack attack. Holding her breathe, she watched as he knocked down their pursuer. She felt a strange sensation of satisfaction and grinned widely. Go get them, Racetrack, she cheered silently. Her smile vanished, however, when the other two boys went after Racetrack simultaneously. Hurry up, Spot.
Race managed to keep Knuckles and Sunny at bay until Spot arrived. Together they beat the tar out of Sunny and Knuckles. Realizing they had been beat, Knuckles, Moneybags, and Sunny ran off. Amara started to walk towards Racetrack and Spot. She got there in time to see them spit in their hands and shake.
"That's appalling." She said with a look of horror on her face. Race and Spot just laughed and completely ignoring her, they began walking back towards the docks. "Uhh," Amara muttered and followed them because she really had no choice. She still did not know where she was or how she got there.
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"Dat was betta den last year, when da scabba's tricked us. I was all... and yous were like..." He jabbed his arms in front of him and pretended to hit somebody.
"I was pretty good, wasn't I. But yous doin' wrong. I 'it 'im with me left 'ook foist. Den I gave 'im a round house kick ta da face." Spot and Race turned to face each other, then began to engage in fake battle. Amara couldn't believe her eyes. She had just been chased down by a guy for reasons unknown, then she had been humiliated in front a group of boys she didn't even know, and now Racetrack and Spot were laughing over it. Instead of loosing her temper, she took a deep breathe and trailed after them, at a distance.
Spot and Racetrack talked about random things, catching up with each others lives. Race and his friends rarely had contact with Brooklyn now that the strike was over. Apparently the hiatus didn't affect their friendship or Race's relationship with the other Brooklyn newsies. They welcomed him with open arms. They joked and reminisced about the strike. Amara stood in the background completely forgotten and it annoyed her. She was supposed to be getting an interview not waiting for Race to remember she was there. She was about to demand that Race take her home when Spot asked the question she was dying to ask.
"So, what was dat all about. I've known yous ta get inta a pickle before, but not so suddenly, and not wid a goil." He said with his eyebrows slightly raised.
"Oh, yah know, same o'd same o'd. It was just bad timin' dat Amara was dere." Racetrack said, practically shrugging the incident and Amara, off. Resigning herself to being left out, she walked to end of the pier and sat down. Amara had always loved the water and enjoyed gazing at it. There was just something about it that had appealed to her ever since her father had taught her to swim.
"Anyone fer a game of poka?" Race asked the boys around him. A few agreed but Spot declined. Race shrugged but dealt the cards anyways. Walking to where Amara sat, Spot joined her. He had a couple of things he wanted to talk to her about.
"'ey. I wanted ta talk ta yous alone. Any objections?" He questioned. Amara gestured for him to continue. "What are yous doin' 'ere? Huh?" Way to get to the point, Amara thought.
"I beg your pardon?" Amara asked, playing dumb.
"Yous 'oird me. What's yer angle? What game are yous playin'?" He asked nodding his head slightly.
"I'm afraid I don't understand. I really don't have an angle, other than to interview some newsies." She told him.
"What are yous intaviewing dem fer?" He managed to ask the question like he already knew the answer. And that bothered Amara.
"No specific reason, just something to have when I go back home. If I go back home." Amara said, rolling her eyes slightly and nodding in Racetracks direction. Spot chuckled and Amara narrowed her eyes. She wasn't sure what to think of this guy. He was tough, direct, and slightly concieted. But he was also a good friend and he had definitely been polite and courteous to her, so far.
"Well, not ta worry, Race will take dere money in no time. He always goes ta da track at night anyways. So yous won't be 'ere long." Spot acted as if he were letting her in on a big secret, whispering and placing a finger over his mouth. Amara smiled back at him. She wasn't sure but she thought she had just made a friend.
Feeling a little more comfortable in his presence, she asked, "Do you mind if I ask you a question?"
"Ya just did," he told her.
"Another one then?" She asked again.
"Yah, go 'ead. Can't guarantee dat I'll answer it." He sort of leaned back and got a smug look on his face.
"Why do you carry a cane around?" Spot narrowed his eyes at the question but recovered his nonchalance.
"Because I am da king of Brooklyn." Like that answers the question, Amara thought.
"Oh? Well, okay. How did you get that title?"
Rolling his eyes, Spot answered evenly, "I just am. 'Nuff questions already! Sheesh!" He got up then and offered her a hand. "Race will have just cleaned them out. He'll take you home. If that's where you aim to go..." Amara let him pull her to her feet and she dusted off her backside.
"Thank you, your highness." Amara grinned at him and then added sincerely, "It has been a pleasure meeting you!" As she walked back to where Race was, she thought that her memory book needed a character like Spot. She couldn't wait to write down what she knew about him.
Race glanced up and saw her approaching. Offering her a lazy grin, he asked, "Ready ta head back?" At her nod, he said goodbye to the boys and they started back again.
