Another Chapter… I must be crazy. I'm so tired I'm about ready to fall over, and here I am, writing another chapter. Ugh. I feel like I'm coming down with something again too, but I may just be overworked. I just got over the flu.

Also: I use the word 'Negro' in this chapter a few times. I don't use it as a derogative, but as slang, many people used the word back then with a lot of other foul language.

Disclaimer: I own nothing! I wish I owned SOMEBODY, so I would have SOMEONE to cling to while I watch Newsies a bazillion times each day…

-------------------------------------------------------------------

It only took me an hour to get in, through, and out of Brooklyn. Even then, I was still rushing. I wanted to get this job done fast and buy me a nice, cold drink. I took off and managed to find the Manhattan Paper Distribution Center instead of the Lodging House. I stopped in the square and watched as the newsboys wandering about. I was confused. Didn't they have anything better to do with themselves? You know, like get a job or something? Maybe they could sell papes! What a concept! Regardless, they meandered around with no destination in mind. Some were playing cards, eyebrows furrowed in thought. Others were nailing wood together and painting them with letters. I didn't bother to ask what. I was severely perplexed by this point. I was still pondering the same question over and over: Why were they just lazing about like… bums? Shouldn't they be out selling? Or at the Lodging House? That's when I looked up to see the green board where the headlines went and the big white word scrawled across it. The one word proclaimed it all, the answer to my question.

"You goin' on strike wit' us?" I whirled around quickly and stared at the boy with the greasy-looking, straight brown hair that was talking at me. Another boy was also looking out from behind the first, his curly brown hair sticking out from his classic tartan newsboy cap. Then, yet another boy peeked from behind the second. This one was small and adorable, possibly eight or nine. I looked to the straight haired one and realized right away why Mary sent me.

"Jack Kelly?" I asked, begging, no, beseeching God that he would say-

"Yeah, tha's me."

…God, why do you hate me so?

I pulled the note out of my pocket and offered it to Jack with shaky fingers. "From Mary." I said as confidently as I could, which wasn't much. Jack took it out of my hand gently and unfolded it, scanning with his eyes. He pushed the older kid away when he tried to read and frowned before muttering Mary's note aloud to the prying guy.

"Kings joins with Queens. David, pencil." Jack sighed and pulled a pencil from the curly haired boy's hand and scrawled his reply, slowly and carefully. How unlike Spot, I mused; watching carefully. Spot's words had flown across the page I'd given him. After a few minutes of stopping, starting, scrawling and scratching, he handed the paper back to me, folded up neatly again. I smiled weakly at him and turned, looking for anyone that could blatantly looked like a 'Racetrack'. Jack watched me until I spoke to him absently, still scanning the crowd of striking newsies.

"I'm… Looking for… a… 'Racetrack'." I finally uttered, my mind miles away from the square and somewhere else.

"Well, Sheepshead Races ain't that fah."

"I mean the guy 'Racetrack'." I clarified, still looking 'round. Jack chuckled at his joke and walked off, leaving me clueless and slightly embarrassed. The curly haired boy he called 'David' earlier frowned at him and turned to me with a apologetic smile. He extended his hand to me and I spit on mine tentatively before shaking. Both of us shook quickly and wiped our hands on our pants.

"That's so disgusting!" He muttered. I nodded.

"I know."

"Then why do you do it?"

"Everyone does. So I do to." I shrugged. He nodded like he understood.

"I'm David." He half smiled at me before pointing across the square at a poker game going on at Horace Greenley's statue feet. "Race is over there. He's the Italian-looking one. Can't miss him." He added helpfully. Jack had long since disappeared with the little boy hanging around David. David took off after them both, leaving me alone in the square. I felt newsie eyes on me as I trotted in the opposite direction to finish my errand and go home for the day.

---------------------------------------------------

'Today jus' ain't my day.' I thought, staring at my virtually-useless poker hand. Ace of spades, four of clubs, two of clubs, Jack of clubs, and a four of diamonds. I cursed to myself as my face stayed straight. If I lost this hand, I would lose all my money for the rest of the week. So much for bluffing my way out. But… If I won, I would have triple my starting money. I looked up blankly at Kid Blink and Mush, both staring impassive at their cards in wait. Blink raised. I called, helpless. Then it was time to discard. Mush discarded and suddenly Blink was yelling something at him about discarding cards. I rolled my eyes and fidgeted with my hand, trying to figure out what to get rid of. If I got rid of the diamond, then my pair would be gone. But if I got rid of it and my spade, then I could possibly get a flush.

As I toyed with the idea, I felt someone sneaking up behind me. I looked up and around and saw a new girl looking at my cards; fascinated with my dilemma. I hid my cards and she peered at me through her hair, her eyes staring at me oddly. She moved her hair to the side and crouched next to me.

"What?" I huffed, and I turned back to my cards. She leaned forward a little and her hair fell into her face again. She sighed and blew at it. Her hair moved away from her eyes and she stared at the cards I was holding up once more. She pointed at the Ace and four, flicking at them.

"I'd say get rid of those." She whispered in my ear. I whispered back into hers angrily.

"If I get rid of that one, then my pair's gonna be gone. Beside, yah a goil. Goils can' play cards." She stuck her tongue out at me. I debated whether to tell her to bug off or take her advice.

"Just rid of them." She muttered. "If you lose, I'll pay you back. If you win, we'll split seventy-thirty." I looked at her.

"I'm seventy, right?" She looked at me and nodded skeptically at my stupidity. I sighed and discarded. Blink and Mush finally stopped fighting (Blink won) and we pulled cards out of the deck. I dreaded the few moments before I flipped them over, my heart pumping and I was sweating, although she seemed almost unfazed by the enormous amount of pressure and she watched as I flipped over the cards that would decide my fate. I couldn't look.

"Ace of clubs, eight of clubs." She murmured into my eardrum, and I almost grinned. Blink raised again with newfound confidence, Mush and I called. The boys laid their cards down; Blink had three Kings and Mush had a Queen pair and a Jack pair. I sighed and they looked at me, grinning at my 'loss'. I threw my clubs down and began laughing. It took them a minute to realize what was going for me and they swore. Loudly. Blink strung curse words together like clothes on a line and Mush just cussed random words as loud as possible. I looked to the girl next to me, she was smiling faintly at our win before sitting cross legged and pooling the coins. I took the pot from her as Mush and Blink stomped off with their pockets empty. I divided the pot right, splitting the dollar fifty between us like she wanted. She shoved her share in her pocket and fumbled with something in her hand, handing me a paper.

--------------------------------------------------------

"Mary told me to give you this." I declared, feeling new money weighing my pocket down. I smirked to myself, feeling the coins loosely. 'Racetrack' read the note and frowned slightly, looking up at me and back down to the note. I suddenly remembered what Mary had told me. "She also said… you owe her a Havana." I said slowly, and he looked at me, confused.

"A Havana?" Race stared at me and stood, shoving his money into his pants as well. "Ah. I'm goin' wit' ya den."

He took one of his cigars out of his pocket and lit it, taking a drag and blowing it in my direction. I coughed up a lung; he smiled at me semi-apologetically and blew the next one out of the way. "Crap. I don' remembah losin' a bet wit' Mahry." I shrugged (as if I would know) and left with him trailing me. Jack began following him and soon he was strolling along with us, David and a scrawny Negro kid he kept calling 'Boots' coming up behind him. We were like a strung out line and people snickered at us when we walked by, me leading like I was queen. I turned to Jack and huffed.

"Why are you following me?" I asked, face as stern as possible. Jack smiled brightly at my expression.

"We'ah actually goin' ta Brooklyn." Jack took the lead, walking, talking, and dodging at the same time. He seemed to know where he was going. I shrugged as we came up on the Brooklyn bridge in sight.

We finally got to the bridge and Jack and Boots yelled over the side and talked with David as me and Racetrack descended down toward Queens.

"So…" I said lamely, trying to think of something to chat about. "I'm Hatter." That was about all I could say without looking crazy, overeager, or a blonde.

"Hatta'? Tha's an intahrestin' name." He muttered through his cigar.

"It's from Alice in Wonderland." He stared blankly. "It's a novel." I added helpfully.

"Nevah read it."

"Same here." He looked at me oddly and I smirked slightly. "People just call me that." Race shrugged slightly and said nothing back. With that, the conversation dropped like a bad headline. We went through Brooklyn quickly and quietly, but the conversation picked up again in Queens when my stomach growled.

Now, I've read some books. I can't read well, but I read to improve my vocabulary when I sell. In some books, girls stomachs growl and they go bright red and trip over words trying to cover it up. Now, do people do it in real life? No. They say 'Man, I'm hungry.'. I said nothing, instead debating what I would want to eat as Race looked at me from the corner of his eye. He heard it, apparently. My hand clutched my stomach.

"You hungry?" He asked me, bemused. That imbecile, using my stomach's emptiness against me! Why, I outghta… I glared at him and he laughed. I nodded to him slightly, which made him laugh even more. "At least yoah honest. I'll give ya that." And with that, he walked off. I stopped and panicked. Where was he going? Crap, where'd he go? I spotted him from the corner of my eye at a fruit stand and bargaining with the male in charge there. I peered around the crowd as he bought something and walked somewhere else. I glanced in front of me and wondered where he went.

I felt someone tap my shoulder and I whirled around to see Racetrack standing behind me. He had snuck up on me! He laughed at my expression, my hand was still over my grumbling stomach and I looked surprised. He threw me an apple and I fumbled with it for a moment until my fingers latched on to the skin. He bit into his, juice running down his chin; and handed me a bottle of cold Coca-Cola. I tore the cap open and gulped it, my throat becoming hydrated again. I turned my attention back to the apple, biting into it quickly and fiercely. I was ravenous, I ate the thing like a heathen. By the time we were over the Queens/Brooklyn border, it was gone.

I threw the core away and started on my soda again. Race, on the other hand, was still eating his apple and was sipping his soda. He watched me curiously as I gulped the last of my soda and threw the bottle in a trash can before licking my fingers to get the sticky apple juice off. There wasn't a better way to do it; after all, if I wiped it on my clothes, my clothes would just get sticky. My manners were a bit lacking, I realized. Race didn't seem to mind, instead asking:

"Does Mahry stahve ya or sometin?" He smirked slightly and raised his eyebrows at me, I stuck my tongue out at him.

"I'm hungry, bug off." Race laughed at that. He just laughed. I liked his laugh. It was loud, like other newsies, but it had a ring to it… Yeah, I just said his laugh had a ring to it. Shoot me.

As we approached the warehouse, he sped ahead of me and opened the door for me.

"Ladies foist." He said in an overly sweet tone.

"Well then, go ahead." I called. His face twisted, he ducked his head behind the door to laugh again. At his own suspense. I laughed to and went in anyway. He gave me a push from behind halfway through the door and I stumbled in, glared at him, and he smiled at me.

Oh. What a gentleman.

-------------------------------------------------------------

Hatter soon disappeared into the warehouse of the Queens newsies, and I wandered in a different direction. It was business here. I talked with the errand girl, and soon, she would leave. I watched her go up the second floor stairs and evaporate into the crowd. I walked through the newsies quickly, stopping to say hello to some of them, hurrying by ones I owed money. Soon I was stopped in conversation.

"Race! I haven' seen ya in ages!" I turned to see a brown haired girl waving at me. I knew her right away and waved back.

"Hey Pipes, how's it rollin'?" I yelled before continuing away toward Mary.

Mary was full blood Irish. I knew she had a temper and a baseball bat, and hopefully, I didn't owe her any money along with this Havana she was claiming. I at least wanted this stupid note sorted out. Mary saw me and grinned, knowing what was coming at her.

Mary was smart. She was REALLY smart. She could talk the bulls in circles and make her escape. She could be holding the key to the city and by the time she was done with the bulls, she could make them think that she was the princess of Ireland and the key had been given to her by the mayor himself. That trick you think would come from talking fast, but no, it came from talking smart. Talking fast can get you in trouble as fast as it can get you out. Talking smart only works one way. And I could tell as I was walking up to Mary, that I had been summoned here. She had managed to put her brain to work and had gotten me here without even having to ask.

"So, Mahry… Wha's dis?" I asked, holding up the note to her. She grinned wider and gestured for me to sit down. I put the note back in my pocket and I took a seat. She sat. She got herself a drink; I still had my coke.

"It was jus' a… suggestion. Ya tol' me da other day at da races dat you was in short supply."

"Dat ain' what I meant, Mahry, and you know it." I muttered. She snorted at me and glared.

"What, ain' good enough foah ya den? Huh? Come on Race." Her Irish temper flared at me, her green eyes were killing me with her glare. If I stayed on the subject much longer, I was gonna get hurt.

"So, why da Havana?" I asked quickly. She calmed down and looked around, I saw her eyes lock and she looked at the left. I followed her eyes to Hatter, who was sitting on a chair on the second floor, reading a book. She mouthed some of the words, she obviously wasn't very literate like Specs or Jack. At least she could read. But, after all, all newsies had to read. If you couldn't read then you couldn't make up headlines.

"Did she make ya laugh?" Mary asked offhandedly. My eyebrows slouched together and I nodded.

"You tol' me at da races da other day one of my goils couldn't make ya laugh." I stopped and tried to figure. Wait. She had told Hatter before she had made to laugh to tell me I owed Mary a Havana because she made me laugh even though she hadn't made me laugh yet? Is this confusing you too?

"Ya tol' her ta make me laugh?" I asked, pulling out the Havana and giving it to her.

"Nope." She pocketed it.

"Then how'd ya know dat-"

"I trusted her ta do da job righ'." She said. That was Mahry. Being smart. She sighed and looked to Hatter again. "She's a good newsie. T'inks she can' sell, but she can. Da goil's got moxie. If she bought more papes, she could sell dem all."

"Why ya tellin' me dis?" I asked, drinking the last of my soda. The aftertaste lingered in my mouth as I licked my lips. Mary glanced to me and sighed. She suddenly looked tired.

"I wan' Manhattan ta take 'er. Brooklyn won'. Speakin' of which, hol' on." She looked back over to Hatter and yelled. "Oi! Hatter! Where's-" Hatter was already up, down the stairs, and holding two other notes out to her by that point. Mary pocketed them and Hatter left again with her book in hand.

"Can ya' ask Jack if he would look aftah da goil? I know wit' da strike goin' on, you guys got a lot goin' on now, so I feel like a rube foah askin'."

"I'll ask Jack." I said, and stood, cracking my back. She waved me goodbye and I left, shoving my hands in my pockets. I felt like a rube myself. Mary had made a monkey out of me and she knew it. But I would keep to my word, I would ask Jack about Hatter.

Halfway across the Brooklyn Bridge, I remembered Mary's note still in my pocket. I yanked it out and unfolded it carefully before staring at the cautious writing.

'Hey Race, guess what! She's single!'

I stared begrudgingly at Mary's halfhearted attempts to get me a girl before holding the note out over the Hudson. I unceremoniously dropped the note, ready for it to fall into the inky black water. Instead, a gust of sudden wind blew it back into my face. I blinked and pulled it off. The wind stopped altogether. There had been no wind at all today, not even a lick. And suddenly, there had been a single gust? Was someone trying to tell me something? I blinked, huffed, and shrugged.

"Ah, hell. I'll try dis goil out."