1 January, 2007

Author's Note: Happy New Year, everybody! Yes, I know, I know, I haven't updated forever, but what can I say? I'm lazy. So I hope this story satisfies all of you readers. I know that it's kind of long, but I just couldn't stop writing. I guess that's a good thing; at least I don't have writer's block. . . yet. Well, thanks to my reviewers, they helped a lot, trust me! Never hesitate to e-mail or PM me with any questions you may have about this story or anything you don't understand. Suggestions are also welcome. Enjoy this chapter!

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters from Newsies or claim to own them.

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From Beginning to End

IV

Race asked him to tell their story, beginning to end. Lead has an empty notepad and a sharp pencil, and that's all he needs.

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Ray was roughly awakened out of a deep sleep by someone shaking him by the shoulder. He turned over on his other side but the shaking continued. Groaning in protest, Ray pulled the covers up over his head. Much to his relief, the shaking ceased. Just when he began to fall asleep again, Ray felt his warm covers being whipped off of him, leaving him no choice but to open his eyes. Racetrack stood above him with an amused expression on his face, Ray's blankets held triumphantly in his arms.

"Rise and shine, kiddo. Time ta get up," Race said cheerfully, laughing as Ray shot him a deathly glare. "Well, someone sure ain't a mornin' person," he quipped, further adding to Ray's annoyance.

Ray grumbled as he slowly pulled himself out of bed and followed Racetrack to the washroom. Looking out the window he could see the early morning sunshine beginning to wake the snow-covered city. It can't be later than seven o' clock, he thought to himself. After the long night he had experienced, Ray wasn't sure if he would be able to stay awake throughout the day.

Ray watched as Racetrack hunted around the washroom for something. He could feel many curious eyes looking him over and realized suddenly that he was still dressed in his clothes from the refuge. Racetrack had obviously thought of that also because, after searching around, he handed Ray a white button-up shirt, brown trousers with red suspenders, and a pair of weathered brown boots.

"Dese are some clothes for ya ta change into. Dey're just some extras dat someone grew out of. Dey should fit ya pretty well," Racetrack said as he presented the garments to Ray.

Ray nodded his appreciation, still not completely awake yet. Racetrack was now rummaging in a large maple cabinet, again looking for something. Ray looked around him at the other newsies. It seemed that they ranged from age six to seventeen. The boys were going about their business: showering, shaving, calling out the occasional, "good morning". Ray spotted Kid Blink and Mush fighting over one of the mirrors.

"Ya had it foist yesterday, Blink. It's my turn ta use it foist!" cried Mush in complaint.

Blink elbowed Mush in the ribs before saying, "Ain't no way I'm lettin' ya have da only mirror dat's not cracked."

Mush hit Blink on the back of his head and shoved him down onto the floor. "Now look who has the mirror," he declared smugly.

Blink smiled up at Mush mischievously before grabbing him by the legs and pulling him down onto the floor next to him. The two boys then proceeded to wrestle each other, cheered on by their fellow newsies. Ray found himself smiling at their antics.

"Crazy bums," he heard Racetrack say behind him with a laugh. Ray turned around and laughed with his friend.

"Here's a towel for ya, Ray. Da showers are ovah dere," Race informed him. After looking at Ray closely, Racetrack laughed and said, "Guess ya don't have ta shave yet, do ya, kid?"

For the second time that day, Ray glared at Racetrack, but he soon began laughing with him again. He was beginning to discover how impossible it was to stay mad at Racetrack for long. Taking the towel from his friend, Ray went over to the showers. After a short wait in line, he was able to take a two minute shower. He then proceeded to put on the clothes Racetrack had provided for him and walked over to the mirrors to inspect himself. He was surprised at the reflection staring back at him. I look just like a newsie, he thought, growing rather pleased with his new appearance. Before turning away from the mirror, Ray smoothed down his hair. Then, in the reflection of the slightly cracked mirror, Ray saw Racetrack standing behind him, holding something behind his back.

"Almost forgot somethin'," he said before presenting Ray with a brown hat very similar to the one sitting atop Racetrack's head. Ray accepted ti from Racetrack and hesitantly placed it on his head. He smiled. With the hat, he felt that Racetrack was showing how much meaning their friendship had.

"Now ya look like a genuine newsie," Race proclaimed proudly. "And by da end of da day, ya really will be a newsie."

Ray grinned at his friend. "Thanks Racetrack."

Racetrack smiled back and slung an arm over his slightly shorter friend's shoulders. "No prob, Ray. Now let's go out and see if we can find some breakfast. I'm starvin' for some real food, after being in da refuge."

Ray nodded in agreement and remained at Race's side as they made their way out of the lodging house and into the frosty winter morning. Unaccustomed to being out in the cold without a jacket, Ray moved closer to Racetrack for warmth. Racetrack chuckled and wrapped his arm more tightly around Ray's shoulders.

"Guess it is kinda cold. But you'll get used to it eventually," Racetrack assured Ray while smiling down at him.

Ray doubted that he would, but he did not voice that opinion. Instead, he looked about him at the buildings shadowing the deserted street and took in their appearances. Racetrack was leading him down an avenue lined with toy shops and clothing stores boasting colorful displays in their windows. Ray lingered at one store in particular that caught his eye, cheery in appearance. Peering into the display window, Ray realized that it was a toy shop. In the window was a wide array of toys; doll houses, teddy bears, and wooden rocking horses could be seen in the window of the shop. One toy in particular stole Ray's attention from the others. A small wooden woldier carved and painted in intricacy, stood stoically among the other toys. Around th soldier's waist was fastened a tin drum on which the soldier was made to look as if he was beating upon. Ray found himself admiring the details of the wooden figure. Its face was painted on with care, as was its uniform, and a black hat had been placed proudly atop its head. Ray couldn't take his eyes off of the wooden soldier. Memories were beginning o spark inside his mind, and they would not leave him be. . .

"That's the one, Daddy! That's the one I asked Santa to bring me for Christmas!" exclaimed an ecstatic seven-year-old Ray. He was tugging on Peter Osbourne's arm with one hand and pointing at a toy shop's window display with the other. Many toys were displayed in the shop, but only one caught the small boy's attention. A wooden soldier, small enough to hold in your palm, was what young Ray was admiring in awe.

Peter Osbourne adopted a sorrowful expression as his son pointed out the handsomely carved soldier to him. With his low income, Peter knew that there would be no toy soldier under the Christmas tree for Ray come Christmas morn.

"I thought you wanted some new shoes," Peter said hopefully to his child.

Ray looked down at his feet. His shoes were worn and a size too small. He desperately needed new shoes, but. . . "Not any more. Now I want a toy soldier. Do you think Santa will bring me one, Daddy? I've been really good," he told his father, gazing up expectantly at him.

Peter Osbourne sighed and ruffled his only son's hair. He did not have the heart to tell Ray the truth. "I'm sure Santa will do the best he can, Ray."

Ray smiled up at his father and took his hand. Then father and son walked home together happily and thought their own thoughts. When Christmas morning came, a brand new pair of shoes lay under the Osbourne's Christmas tree and a very small boy stopped believing in Santa Claus.

"Come on, Ray. We gotta buy our papes and get selling," Racetrack said from behind Ray, jolting him out of his painful memories.

Ray bit his lip and turned away from the toy shop window. It was only a childish toy. It doesn't matter now, he thought bitterly. He noticed Racetrack watching him closely.

"What's da matter, kid?"

Ray shook his head. "Nothing. Let's go." He then began walking away from the small shop. Before running to catch up with Ray, Racetrack looked into the shop's display window to see what had soured Ray's mood. He could see nothing out of the ordinary. Just toys, he thought to himself. He sighed in puzzlement and ran away from the store to catch up with Ray. Racetrack decided not to ask Ray any questions at that moment, so the two boys walked on in silence until they reached their destination. Warm greetings and friendly handshakes were given to Racetrack and Ray when they joined the other newsies. Ray was introduced to many of Race's friends, and by the time they took their place in line to their papers, Ray was thoroughly familiar with almost everyone.

"Hey Ray! That you, kid? Come ovah here!" called a voice from the front of the line. Ray stood on his toes, and, after looking over the heads of many, saw Jack Kelly waving him over. Ray looked at Racetrack quizzically, who in turn nodded to him.

"Go ahead. I'll buy a hundred papes for us ta split," said Racetrack before gently pushing Ray in Jack's direction. "Don't worry."

Ray hesitantly made his way up to the front of the line where Jack Kelly was buying his papers. He wasn't sure why, but there was something about Jack that made Ray nervous and shy. Even though Racetrack and Jack seemed to be about the same age, Jack seemed to be so much older than him. Not exactly more mature, but he had a confident air about him that made Ray feel small and unimportant. Ray felt ten times more comfortable with Racetrack.

When Ray reached the front of the line, he waited patiently for Jack while he bought his papers. A few boys who Ray had just previously met nodded their hellos to him as he waited. After Jack finished talking to the paper distributors (a rather fat man and two younger men), he turned around and grinned at Ray.

"Look at you! You look like a regular newsie!" he exclaimed as he surveyed the younger boy. He then sat down and began leafing through one of the papers. When he saw Ray still standing, he motioned for him to sit down beside him.

Not taking his eyes off the paper, he asked Ray, "You gettin' along alright so far?"

Ray said, "Yes," and squirmed uncomfortably.

Jack smiled to himself at Ray's edginess. If I didn't know better, I'd say the kid was afraid of me, he thought to himself.

"Race helpin' ya out, Ray?" he inquired.

Ray nodded.

"Good. Make sure ya stick with him until you know your way around better, alright?"

"Alright," Ray said, wondering if Jack seriously thought that he would walk around New York City by himself. It was true that New York had always been his home, but that didn't mean that Ray had ever been allowed to roam the city. His parents had been protective, and had never allowed Ray to go out unaccompanied.

Jack watched the younger boy out of the corner of his eye. Ray was staring off into space, seemingly oblivious to everything and everyone around him. There's something familiar about this kid. It's like I've met him before, he thought to himself. He puzzled over those thoughts for a few moments before quickly dismissing them. Jack Kelly never thought about anything too much, if he could help it. He preferred to just live in the moment and to not over-analyze.

"You ready ta get going, kiddo?" asked Racetrack from behind Jack and Ray. He had bought one hundred papers for Ray and himself to split and was eager to get out there and start showing Ray the ropes.

Ray jumped up from his sitting position and smiled at Racetrack. He was relieved to leave the uncomfortable silence that had settled between himself and Jack. "I'm ready," he answered eagerly.

Accompanied by many other newsies, Ray and Race made their way out into the streets of Manhattan. The air was immediately filled with the sounds of newsies hawking the morning headlines. The city was now fully awake; people were buzzing about the city, buying their goods and socializing amongst themselves. Racetrack and Ray walked away from the others and made their way to one of Race's selling spots, an industrial part of town.

"Sorry we didn't get any breakfast, kid. It kinda took longer than I thought it would ta get our papes," Race said apologetically.

Ray shrugged. "It's fine. I'm not that hungry right now anyways." It was then that Ray's stomach decided to growl rather loudly in protest to not being fed.

Race sighed and shook his head. "I'll getcha something ta eat after we sell some papes," he promised Ray.

The two boys then made their way to a nearby street corner. Race looked about him, surveying his customers, and took his place on the sidewalk. Turning to Ray, he said, "Da foist thing ya gotta know about being a newsies is dat headlines don't sell papes: newsies sell papes. A good newsie can always improve a headline, no matter what." He paused in his speech to smile and tip his hat to a woman passing by. "To tell da truth, Ray, ya look younger dan your age. And dat's a good thing, when you're a newsie. With your baby-face and my experience, we'll sell more papes than even ol' Cowboy himself." Race grinned down at his friend and patted him on the shoulder. "For right now, ya can just watch me and take it all in. Den we can take a food break, and ya can try out your selling skills!" he said, laughing.

Ray smiled to himself as Racetrack began calling out to the passerby, hawking the morning headlines. As he watched Race, he put everything that the older boy did into his memory, from Race's hand gestures to the way he made eye contact with those who looked his way. After watching him for about ten minutes, Ray found himself eager to start selling alongside his friend. Racetrack seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself. He was definitely in his element.

When he had sold about ten papers, Racetrack decided it was time to move on to a different selling spot. Racetrack was never one to stay in one place for too long. He motioned for Ray to follow him and the two boys began to make their way through the bustling streets of Manhattan. Looking around him as they walked, Ray was astonished at all of the well-dressed people there seemed to be. Ray himself had been born in Manhattan, but the neighborhood that he had lived in had been a relatively poor one. Ray's father worked in a factory and his mother was a maid to a wealthy family. Neither were paid much, so Ray was brought up in a cramped three-room apartment much too small for their family. In his neighborhood, people wore shabby clothes, so Ray had assumed as a child that all mean and women dressed like that. He had never before witnessed so many people in such fashionable attire.

Racetrack noticed the way Ray was excitedly looking about him and smiled to himself. It was obvious to him that Ray had never gotten out much as a child. I'll hafta show him around sometime, he thought to himself. Suddenly, Race was jolted out of his thoughts as he was dealt a hard blow to the back of his head. He quickly turned around to see who had hit him and was greeted by a pair of large brown eyes looking into his own. He jumped slightly but calmed down when he saw who it was. Gimmick. . .

"What're ya doin' over here in 'Hatty, Gimmick? Shouldn't ya be in Brooklyn?" Racetrack asked the girl standing in front of him.

Ray looked the girl up and down as she stood in front of Racetrack with her hands on her hips. Her hair was a rich auburn color and fell well past her shoulders. From where he was standing, Ray noticed the brown freckles on her cheeks and the creamy color of her skin. He also noticed the way Racetrack was looking at her...

"I wanted to come see you guys. Spot's been annoying me lately so I was hoping I could hang around here for awhile. I saw you and your friend walking here and I just couldn't resist," she informed Racetrack with a feminine giggle.

Racetrack nodded and smirked at her. "Well, you'll hafta talk ta Jack if you're wantin' ta stay, but you're certainly welcome ta sell with us today."

Gimmick laughed and smiled at Racetrack. Ray fought off the urge to vomit as the two continued to smile at each other.

Racetrack finally seemed to remember Ray's presence. Hastily, he moved to Ray's side and said to Gimmick, "This is my friend, Ray, from the refuge. I'm teaching him the ropes right now."

Gimmick nodded and smiled at Ray. "I'm Gimmick," she simply said. She then turned back to Racetrack and said brightly, "How about we over to Tibby's? I'm pretty hungry, so I wanted to get something to eat. Okay?"

Racetrack fought to keep the eagerness out of his voice. "Yeah, sure. My treat, I'll buy out three of us lunch."

Gimmick agreed and the three of them began walking in the direction of Tibby's restaurant. Ray lagged behind the two slightly and pondered over the girl who had so suddenly appeared. He decided that she was probably fourteen or fifteen. It was obvious that Racetrack was more than friends with her, or at least wanted to be. Ray was confused at who she was exactly and was slightly hurt at the way Racetrack had discarded of him so quickly for a dame. . . Ray then felt Racetrack put his arm around his shoulders and heard him softly say in his ear, "Sorry, Ray. I kinda forgot myself. Girls like Gimmick always do that ta me. Are ya alright?"

Keeping his eyes on the ground, Ray managed to mumble, "Yeah. It's fine."

"Good. Now let's get some lunch. I'm starving. Everyone else is probably already there."

Ray nodded and kept walking. Gimmick was walking on Racetrack's left and Ray was on his right. They walked to Tibby's in silence. A small bell announced their arrival as they walked through the door of the restaurant. Many newsies called out their greetings to them. From across the room, Jack, who was sitting at a small table in the corner with some others, motioned for them to come over. Racetrack led them over to Jack and all of them took a seat for themselves and sat down.

"Are ya learning anything from Racetrack, Ray?" asked Crutchy, who was sitting beside Ray.

Ray nodded. "Race seems to be an expert at selling papers. He makes it seem really easy."

Crutchy smiled. "Dat's da truth, Ray. Racetrack's been sellin' since he was only nine, and that's longer than Jack himself."

Ray smiled to himself at the image of a nine-year-old Racetrack hawking headlines and playing poker on the streets.

"So. . . I see you've met Gimmick, Ray. What do ya think of her?" asked Jack from Ray's other side. Ray rolled his eyes, although he tried not to. Jack was extremely amused at Ray's obvious disgust and laughed. Softly, so that only Ray would be able to hear, Jack said, "I'm not too fond of her myself, but Racetrack's always been head-over-heels in love with her. She's from Brooklyn and hangs out with her. She's from Brooklyn and hangs out with Spot Conlon's gang. In my opinion, she's a prissy tart who thinks she's above everyone else." Jack paused to take a drink of his ice water and to steal a glance at Race and Gimmick. Racetrack was laughing at something Gimmick had said and she was giving him a sickeningly sweet smile. Jack shook his head at them and turned back to Ray. "The way she toys with Ray is disgusting. She knows he likes her, and she also knows that he'll do anything to please her. She and I don't get along. . . and I can see that ya don't like her much either. You've got good taste, Ray. I'd stay away from her if I were you," he said. He then stood up and tousled Ray's hair before saying, "Well, I'm gettin' outta here. I'll see ya later, kid. Take care."

Ray watched Jack say goodbye to the others and walk out of the restaurant. He began to ponder over all that Jack had said about Gimmick. He could sense that something had happened between Jack and Gimmick, although he wasn't sure what. Maybe Racetrack will tell me more later, he thought to himself. A waiter then came to their table and began to take their orders. Ray decided to let all thoughts about Gimmick fade away until later. He was confident that his questions would be answered later. The only thing he was thinking about at that moment was the hot lunch that he would soon be devouring.