Shades of Grey
Chapter 17 – All the Wasted Time
By the time the sun rose the next morning, Jack was exhausted. Racetrack had been having nightmares all night, and none of the boys had gotten any sleep. Skittery had eventually climbed out on the fire escape in disgust, saying that he needed to sleep and he couldn't do that with Racetrack there.
Everyone knew that he really didn't mean it that way – everyone was just tired and worried and they didn't know how to deal with it.
Jack didn't know what to do. Seeing Racetrack this way… hearing him as he begged for his tormentors to stop… he didn't know how to handle it.
Miraculously, Racetrack was sleeping for the moment. Jack momentarily thought about trying to get some sleep himself, but his stomach growled. He hadn't been selling in over a week now, and his money was starting to run low. And Racetrack… he was thin. Most of the newsies were skinny, but Racetrack was skeletal. He needed to eat. There wasn't any way that Race was going to be well enough to sell that day… maybe not ever again.
Jack groaned. He didn't know what was going to happen if Race didn't recover. He didn't want to think about that. He just had to believe that Racetrack was going to snap out of it, and go back to normal.
Or whatever passed for normal for Race.
Still, he had to sell today. Somebody was going to have to stay with Race. It had to be someone that Jack trusted, and it should probably be someone that Spot would approve of.
Not that a messenger had shown up yet. Spot had said something about a messenger showing up every day, but there hadn't been any sign of anyone from Brooklyn yet. If anything, that made Jack even more upset. Back at… wherever they had been, he had seen a different side of Spot. One that was far more human than Jack had ever thought Spot could be.
Jack got out of bed, and started pacing back and forth across the room, even though he feared that the noise was going to make Racetrack wake up. It had certainly made enough of the boys stir from their beds.
Blink and Mush had gotten out of bed as well, and they looked at Jack curiously. Jack gestured towards the stairs, and they started heading down, with some of the other older boys joining them.
"So," Jack said as soon as they were gathered there. "I need some volunteers."
"Volunteers?" Specs asked curiously.
"I need someone to go to Brooklyn and tell Spot what's going on with Race. And I need someone to stay here and make sure that Racetrack's all right."
He looked at all of the boys, and sighed inwardly as he noticed that most of them were shifting back and forth nervously, not meeting his gaze. Jack knew that none of them wanted to go to Brooklyn. And none of them wanted to skip a day of selling. They all needed to eat.
If this was Brooklyn, they would have done what he'd asked them without even thinking about it. Instead he was faced with a bunch of his newsies staring at him like he had completely lost his mind.
Then again, if this was Brooklyn, they would respect him and do what he said, but they wouldn't be his friends. And that wasn't really a trade that Jack was willing to make. Even if it would be helpful at this exactly moment to have some of the respect that Spot got.
He glared at the assembled group. "You know that Race wouldn't hesitate to help one of you out if you needed it," he pointed out. "He's spotted almost all of you two-bits if you were desperate, and half of you owe him money from poker anyway."
He felt very satisfied when most of them had the decency to look embarrassed. They knew that what he said was the truth. Still, he was probably exaggerating at least a little. Asking someone to go a day without selling was a lot, especially when right now there was no immediate end in sight to Race's condition.
Blink and Mush were exchanging significant glances. "We'll go to Brooklyn," Mush said finally.
"Yeah," Blink added with a snicker. "Someone should tell Spot what's going on with his – with Race."
Jack nodded, although he was mentally planning ways to kill Blink. The boy had no common sense at all.
"I'm not staying," Skittery said matter-of-factly. "It's bad enough that his screaming keeps me up all night, I'm not staying here to listen to him scream even more. You're all crazy if you think that I'm staying here to listen to him scream all day too."
He headed out. "Some of us gotta sell this morning," he called over his shoulder as he walked out the door.
"He does have a point, Jack," Specs said quietly. "We all want to help Racetrack, but… a guy's gotta sleep, you know? And eat. And we can't do that if we're sitting here all day."
The other guys nodded.
"What is this?" Jack said looking disgusted. "I thought we were supposed to be a family, looking out for each other. We don't turn on each other like that."
Jack regretted the words as soon as they came out of his mouth. Most of the guys had been pretty accepting of him even after the fool he had made of himself during the strike. But he wasn't one to be lecturing them on turning on each other, and from the look on their faces they weren't going to let him forget it.
"Yeah, well, you'd know a lot about that, Francis," Boots snapped. "I'm gonna go sell."
He followed Skittery out the door, and most of the other guys who had gathered joined him. Blink and Mush paused on their way out.
"They'll come 'round, Jack," Mush said softly. "We all care about Race, and we'll still go to Brooklyn."
Jack sighed, and started to head back up the stairs. He couldn't leave Racetrack alone, but he really did need to sell. He was almost through his Santa Fe money.
"Jack," Kloppman called. "Aren't you going to sell?"
"Someone has to watch Racetrack," Jack reminded him.
Kloppman looked thoughtful. "You know, it wouldn't be that hard for me to check on him while I'm doing the cleaning and other things 'round here."
"You'd really do that?" Jack asked hesitantly. "I mean, I can pay you or something."
"Racetrack's been here a very long time," Kloppman said with a shrug. "Are you going to tell me what happened to him?"
"I…" Jack shrugged. He didn't really know how to explain it. And he wasn't even sure if he should try. It wasn't his story to tell.
"I can't really talk about it," he said after a moment. "I'm still not really sure what happened. But… the people who had him… they hurt him real bad."
Kloppman nodded. "Go carry the banner, Jack," he said softly. "I'll take care of Racetrack for you."
Spot was furious when he woke up in Brooklyn. He had come back to the lodging house to discover that there were four different factions making a play for power, and he had to deal with each and every one of those who thought that they could take over what was rightfully his. He hated the idea that his boys had been disloyal while he was gone.
He hated the fact that he cared more about what had happened to Racetrack than what was going on in Brooklyn.
Things weren't supposed to be this complicated. Before Race had disappeared things were easy. He ruled Brooklyn, and occasionally met Racetrack in an alley. It was sex, nothing more. There were never supposed to be any feelings involved. That was the deal that they had made.
Of course, Racetrack had cheated. He'd made Spot care.
Not that this was unusual. Racetrack always cheated. It was just that nobody could ever catch him at it.
Spot glared at his boys as they lined up to buy papes. He was going to have to keep a careful watch on them for the next few days. He knew why they thought he was weak; the fuss that he'd been making over Racetrack had destroyed his carefully built reputation. Spot knew that the loss of his reputation was nothing. He'd done the right thing by getting Racetrack out of that hell, and he had to live with the consequences. He would come out on top; it would just take a little bit of time. Spot always won.
He would just have to make a few sacrifices for the moment. Sacrifices like Racetrack.
He just had to believe that it was worth it, and those idiots in Manhattan could take care of Race until it was safe for Spot to check up on him.
Which was why he was so annoyed when Blink and Mush showed up in Brooklyn, looking for him.
By the time they caught up with him, Spot had already sold his hundred papes. Jack Kelly wasn't the only one who could improve a headline.
"What do you two want?" Spot asked coldly. He was sitting on the docks, holding court among the rest of his boys who had finished their selling for the day.
"Jack said…" Blink began, but he shut up when Spot glared at him.
"What Jacky boy wants doesn't matter in Brooklyn. It's what I want."
"We know, Spot," Mush said, stepping on Blink's foot to try to get him to shut up and not make a fool out of himself for once. "We just… you asked for an update on Racetrack."
"Walk with me," Spot said, hopping off of the crate that he was perched on, and led the two Manhattan boys into an alley. He had rather fond memories of that alley, but that was neither here nor there.
"Well?" he demanded, as soon as the other boys were out of earshot.
"Race ain't doin' so hot," Mush began, but Blink interrupted him.
"Why haven't you been to see Race?" he demanded.
"None of your business, Ballat," Spot snapped.
"But it is," Blink protested. "Race is our friend, and he's your… well, I don't know what he is! But… when we got him back, it looked like you cared about him, and I didn't know that you could do that, and Race hasn't slept through the night at all, and we've all heard him asking for you, and you should go see him or something!"
Blink's words all came out in a rush, almost like he didn't even realize what he was saying.
"I thought you were going to keep a muzzle on him," Spot said to Mush, raising an eyebrow.
Mush shrugged. "He's right, you know."
"I'd watch what you say, if I were you," Spot said warningly, but his voice lacked its usual edge. He knew that they were right, he did care about Race, and he should go to see him.
"I gotta think," he said. "Go back to Manhattan."
"What about Racetrack?" Blink protested.
"I said, I gotta think."
He was going to have to make a decision sooner or later. He wanted to see Race, he needed to see Race. But if he went to Manhattan now, he was going to lose Brooklyn. And he had to be sure that it would be worth it.
The two Manhattan newsies exchanged a significant look, and then they turned to leave.
"Don't worry Spot," Mush called over his shoulder. "We'll take care of Race, even if you won't."
"Yeah," Blink added. "Even if the others are starting to talk about taking him to a madhouse or somethin'"
"What are you talking about?" Spot demanded.
"We aren't gonna do anything," Mush said immediately. "But some of the other boys are starting to talk. Race can't sell, and none of us are getting any sleep, and something has to change…"
Spot took a deep breath. "Go back to Manhattan. And if I hear that you've done anything to Racetrack, I'll make you regret it for the rest of your very short lives." His voice was steady, but inwardly he was shaking.
He really didn't want to choose between Racetrack and Brooklyn, but he knew what he needed to do.
He turned his back on the Manhattan boys, and headed back to the docks.
Author's note: Well. That was evil of me. Oh yes. And this story does live, and I'm as surprised as you are. We're almost done now. Only one or two more chapters left.
Thanks to everyone who sent me reviews. I'm really sorry that this took so long. Since I last updated I've finished college, and I'm student teaching. (Economics evil. Just so you all know.)
Many thanks to Maddy for the beta. Chapter title is from Parade.
