"Pass the ketchup." Lunch Money called down the table. It was breakfast time, and the Manhattan newsies were all comfortably seated in Liam's, ravenously devouring their meals.
"Oh, ya want the ketchup, now." Racetrack muttered nastily to her as he handed her the bottle of red condiment. "Should I give you'se two a minute alone too?"
"Oh please, Race," Lunch Money scoffed, as she drowned her scrambled eggs in the sauce, "When've ya eveh given me a minute alone? Even when I think I'm rid a' ya fa' half a minute, I just find ya spyin' on me anyways."
The Higgins siblings glared at each other. It had been this way all week, with snide comments and furious looks passing between them, and the other five Manhattan newsies thoroughly perplexed by their behavior. Racetrack had kept his word and not breathed a word about what he had seen on the fire escape, but he was still seething for the incident, and terrified of what would come next. He knew how Spot operated. Racetrack knew exactly how charming and sly Spot could be, and he had no faith that his little sister would be able to refuse him. But, apart from the hostile chemistry between he and Lunch Money and the dangerous tension he and Spot experienced, Racetrack was still trying to maintain a normal front for the benefit of the other boys. If only for Lunch Money's sake.
"What's goin' on wit' you'se two? You been at each otheh's t'roats all day." Jack said, annoyed with the pair of them. "What's up?"
"Nuttin'." Racetrack and Lunch Money answered in unison, still glowering at each other.
"Right." Jack rolled his eyes. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, rising to his feet. "Let's get goin' anyways. It's gettin' to be about time for those damn graftahs ta show up. Let's get 'em. You ready, Crutchy?"
"Yeah, let's soak 'em." Crutchy grinned. His presence was the silver lining in every that had gone wrong in the last few weeks. After many grim discussions in the boys dorm, it was finally determined that Crutchy was well enough to return to the streets of Brooklyn. Lunch Money noticed that Jack was still protectively sticking close to Crutchy, and the poor gimp still had some difficulty getting around quickly. He did look much better than the last time Lunch Money had seen him, though, so that was a bit of good news.
All the newsies of Brooklyn started out of the restaurant, ready to slam some delivery boys to the pavement. They congregated around the circulation office, fists raised. The gates of the office opened, and the brigade of delivery boys stepped forward, their jaws set. At the very head of the group was the three former Manhattan newsies: Snitch, Snipeshooter and Skittery. Jack and Kid Blink glanced at each other. Were they going to have to fight their friends again? Before anyone had time to even make a move toward the delivery boys, Skittery stepped out from the throng.
He looked serious, and he addressed Jack and Spot, who were angrily watching him. "Jack, Spot, all'a you guys." Skittery said in a warning tone, "Don't try nuttin' today. Pulitzeh's called fa' backup fa' the delivery boys."
"We don't care." Spot answered coldly.
"I'm serious." Skittery insisted, lowering his voice conspiratorially, "He's got the bulls heah and everything. Just let us t'rough. If ya try ta soak us, we'll just call for the police."
"Aw, c'mon Skit, ya wouldn't." Mush said fearfully.
"I would. Now lemme t'rough. I got papes ta deliveh." He tried to shove his way between Jack and Spot. A mistake. The fists whirled so quickly that no one could tell who had hit Skittery first, and the next thing anyone knew, Skittery was on the ground. He yelled to the other delivery boys, still hovering just inside the gates, and the shrill sounds of several whistles went up. The response was immediate. The cops seemed to appear out of nowhere, and the Brooklyn newsies were suddenly under attack.
Dozens of slingshots were whipped out and the Brooklyn boys began firing against the officers. The cops were well armed though, and had come in great numbers. Lunch Money and Mush found themselves thrown to the rough cobblestones before they even knew what hit them. All around, newsies were being beaten and dragged off by the police force. Lunch Money struggled to her feet, giving Mush a hand up. Out of breath and bleeding, they surveyed the scene before jumping in to help their fellow newsies. The brawl was more a blood bath than a fair battle, so much that barely five minutes into the fight, Spot yelled at the top of his voice.
"Cheese it! Newsies, get outta heah! Run!"
Lunch Money barely heard Spot's orders, for at that moment, a movement had caught her eye. Crutchy. He was being heartlessly dragged off by one of the bulls, his crutch was nowhere in sight and he was helpless to defend himself. Lunch Money was not the first to have noticed Crutchy's peril, however. Jack and Racetrack ran to his aide, dodging the cops and struggling to free Crutchy from his captors. Lunch Money was rooted to the spot in horror as she watched one of the policemen club Jack over the head, knocking him unconscious.
"Newsies! Scram! Scram!"
Most of the newsies didn't need Spot to say it twice; they were already gone, most of them. Lunch Money ignored the rest of the boys running away the fight, and she ran straight toward the struggle Racetrack, Crutchy and Jack were entangled in. With Jack unconscious, now being dragged away by one of the larger officers, Racetrack was the only one left to help Crutchy. Lunch Money shoved her way closer to the fight, picking up her pace while she watched yet another cop join the fray, pulling Racetrack away.
"Racetrack!" She shouted, oblivious to the chaotic remnants of the fight around her. Lunch Money made to go after the thug who was arresting her brother, but she was pulled back. Spot had seen the idiot girl about to attempt rescuing her friends against a platoon of law enforcers, so he seized her by the wrist and yanked her back.
"Whadda'ya think you'se doin', ya stupid goil?" Spot yelled over the din of the fracas, "You wanna get arrested too? Get outta heah!" He gave her a little shove to get her moving, and Lunch Money heeded his words, only pausing to give him a last glare.
"Go!" He shouted. What was she waiting for? With Lunch Money finally off to safety, Spot scanned the scene of the fight. All the newsies were gone; they'd all escaped except for three: Jack, Racetrack and Crutchy.
It was a subdued afternoon. The newsies of Brooklyn all gathered in Liam's, silently mourning the arrests of Jack, Racetrack and Crutchy. The remaining Manhattan newsies were taking it the hardest of course; Lunch Money, Boots, Kid Blink and Mush merely sat in a booth out of the way of everything, not talking or eating much. Not only had Jack (their esteemed leader), Racetrack (the good humor and energy of the group) and Crutchy (the sunny optimism of the group) been arrested, but also their captures heralded future problems. Soon any protesting newsie would be arrested for going against Pulitzer. One by one, the Brooklyn newsies would be picked off and sent to the refuge.
Lunch Money couldn't believe this was happening. She didn't even remember the last thing she'd said to Racetrack... but she knew it hadn't been friendly. She might never get the chance to make up with her brother. And knowing Racetrack, he'd be losing all sorts of sleep, wondering how Lunch Money was getting on without having him babysit her. Lunch Money inwardly rolled her eyes at that thought. Despite what he brother might think, she was perfectly capable of surviving without some constantly trying to parent her. Anyway, she still had Blink and Mush to look after her... And, oh, poor Crutchy! He was barely mobile when they arrested him; how would he handle the refuge now. Lunch Money knew Crutchy had gotten through the refuge before, and he had come out fine. But she still worried for her friend. Jack would probably be alright, but he was likely to get himself in trouble with his big mouth. Lunch Money was more concerned about what everyone outside the refuge would do if Jack Kelly wasn't free.
Spot stood near the front window. He had sent out some of his better sleuths on a reconnaissance mission. Brooklyn had had very few dealings with the refuge since Snyder was fired as warden of the joint. Whispers of a warden as cruel, if not more so, had reached Spot's ears, and he was curious about the current security of the refuge. Had the security been lowered since the last time they'd attempted to spring a fellow orphan? Or had the security been tightened, so as to make an escape attempt more difficult? Spot needed to know the basic obstacles and layout of the building before planning any maneuver that might put any of his newsies at risk. But, regardless of the risks, they had to get Jack, Racetrack and Crutchy out of the refuge.
It was almost three hours before the information he had been waiting for showed up. Feivel and Roundhouse stumbled into the restaurant, both panting heavily and red in the face, like they had sprinted all the way from the refuge. Their clothes were covered in mud and slush, and they looked a complete mess. Feivel regained her composure first, and spoke to Spot while Roundhouse tried to catch his breath.
"You'se-- ya" Feivel swallowed, trying to sort out the panicked words and sentences she needed to get out of her mouth, "Ya can't go theah. None a' us would be able to get in or outta theah wit'out bein' noticed. They know—they'se is ready fa' all'a us to come rescue Jack and the othehs. The warden's usin' them as bait. Theah's cops on every roof, at every entrance—"
"They'se armed too." Roundhouse interrupted, "It's true, we'd neveh get outta theah alive."
All the newsies in Liam's waited with baited breath; hanging on the words of the two youngest newsies and waiting for a verdict from Spot. Lunch Money didn't care what Feivel and Roundhouse had to say; they had to at least try to help Jack, Racetrack and Crutchy. She watched Spot carefully, wondering if he would ignore Feivel and Roundhouse's advice and organize a rescue mission anyway—well what did it matter if he did or not? If Spot decided not to try and break the boys out of the refuge, Lunch Money would do it herself.
Finally, Spot spoke, "If they'se usin' them as bait, we don't really got a choice." He almost smiled, "We'se gonna hafta take the bait."
The newsies looked pleased, but still grim at the thought of trying to break into the refuge with it's newly heightened security. The rest of the afternoon was spent planning: two days from that night they would break into the refuge and help Racetrack, Jack and Crutchy escape. After dinner, the crowd of newsies dispersed, and (despite being a little bruised and sore from the fight earlier) they were a bit less worried than they had been.
Lunch Money took to the streets too, but when she looked around, she realized that her friends (who had been right behind her a second ago) were no longer there. She doubled back a few steps, peering into the window of Liam's. There they were. Boots, Mush and Kid Blink had all been delayed. They were still inside, and Spot seemed to be earnestly discussing something with them. Lunch Money tapped on the window and caught Blink's eye. She motioned him to come outside. Blink nudged Mush, who looked up to see Lunch Money too. Both boys looked slightly guilty, but Lunch Money was too impatient to notice.
All three of the Manhattan newsboys joined Lunch Money in the cold street a second later. They didn't mention what Spot had stopped to talk to them about, and Lunch Money didn't ask. The group of friends only focused on normal, lighthearted conversation, passing the rest of the evening laughing and carrying on like old times. It was all an act, an act to help them forget that their best friends were in danger. To help them forget that their entire world had been pulled out from under them.