All I Want For Christmas
by froggerNObaka

Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies. There is no factual basis for the events herein.

It all became clear later that day talking to Racetrack. Despite the fact that Boots had never really been close to Race, he had always heard that the older boy was a fountain of information. He remembered Skittery, nervous as usual, mentioning it to Itey just last week. "Race knows almost everything and anything. He has his eye on all Manhattan." The thought made Boots' skin crawl at first; he wondered what Racetrack knew about him, and he searched his brains for anything that he'd said or done that he didn't want anybody knowing about. In retrospect, it seemed childish of him; the newsboys were all friends and everyone was generally supportive of each other. There's no way that anybody would blackmail you or tarnish your reputation.

After buying his papers, Boots waited for Racetrack to buy his before taking off next to the older boy. Race's silence suggested to Boots that Racetrack knew exactly what it was that he wanted. After a minute or two of silent walking, Race stopped and turned to Boots. "This is big, kid. I'm surprised Cowboy even trusts you with this stuff; it's crucial. Can't pull what you did this morning; when he looks that serious and starts talkin', you gotta listen." Boots just nodded, curious as to how Race even found out about this, but not curious enough to ask. "C'mon. Let's head to the harbor." The two boys started walking again, and Boots listened as Racetrack told him exactly what was going on.

"I'm gonna give you more information than he did this mornin'. I think the more you know, the better off you'll be when you go t'Brooklyn." He paused. "Until about two months ago or sometime around there, the boys in Queens were led by Red Sentala. Red, Jack, and Spot Conlon all got along pretty well, and between the three of them, everybody kept the newsies in line. Nobody left his territory, no major scuffles, although there were a few minor issues here and there, but nothing serious. Things were pretty good. Boys from Queens would come over here and were friends with our boys, and the Brooklyn boys and the Manhattan boys were as good as brothers."

"But then, about two months ago, one of the Queens boys, Herring Smithson, got into a huge fight with Red over money that was lent and never paid back. The fight got so heated that Red kicked Herring out of the house and onto the street. The next day, Herring cornered Red in an alley and stabbed him. Red was cut up pretty bad. Didn't have much of a chance to make it.

"Well, when Jack and Spot heard, they put people on the lookout for Herring and the two of them met in Bay Ridge to figure out what they were gonna do about Queens. See, Red never named a leader and two of his right hand men, Leapfrog Jones and Sin Powell, both thought that they should be the ones to take his place. So while worrying about that, they also had to worry about finding Herring and protecting their boys. It was a complicated situation and there was a lot discussed, but what it came down to was this: Spot wanted to support Leapfrog and Jack wanted to support Sin. Spot had this feeling that Sin wasn't to be trusted; he thought Sin'd go crazy with the power and end the good times we'd been having. But Jack was convinced that Leapfrog wasn't powerful enough to stop Herring and that he wouldn't be respected. After a few hours, Jack, smooth talker that he is, convinced Spot to unite with him and grant firm support to Sin."

"And so a week later, Sin was put in charge of Queens and Leapfrog fled for Brooklyn, where Spot welcomed him openly and he quickly became Spot's right hand man. Everything was fine for another two or three weeks, when a fight broke out between some of the boys from Brooklyn and some of the ones from Queens. See, Sin didn't think that he had enough selling area and disliked that Spot had some of the nicest bits of the city, so he decided he'd let some of his boys sell in Brooklyn. Well, this was exactly what Spot was worried about when he and Jack met. Angrily, Spot sent a messenger to Jack telling him what had happened and telling Jack that he was responsible for keeping Sin in line. Unwisely, Jack ignored him and sent a letter back saying that perhaps it was time to redraw the territorial lines in order to keep the peace. That's when the happiness ended; Brooklyn and Queens have been fighting over territory ever since and Spot and Jack have been at odds. Jack's convinced that Spot's been trying to kill him or take over and Spot's angry at Jack for turning his back on him."

"That brings us up to about a week ago. Since Sin was getting nowhere in Brooklyn, his boys decided, against his word, to start selling in Manhattan. When Jack found out, he tried to get Sin to control his boys, but Sin's solution is to finish things up in Brooklyn. So Jack found himself at a loss for what to do. And that, my friend, is where you come in." Racetrack glanced at Boots. "Get it now?"

Boots nodded. "Jack wants me to go to Brooklyn and try and get Spot's help." Boots mused over everything Racetrack had just told him. "But what am I supposed to do about all of this? I'm not wily like Jack and you and Spot… I'm just… me. I don't know the ways of the street and trickery and stuff."

Racetrack stopped walking and grabbed Boots' shoulder. "Y'know more than ya think, kid. Else, how'd you survive so long like this?" Boots smiled, a touch uncomfortable with this sudden display of friendship, but grateful to know that someone is on his side. "If y'ask me," Race continued, "Jack doesn't know what he wants you ta do either, but he obviously trusts you enough to figure it out yourself, right?" He paused again. "Bring him a gift… a slingshot or somethin'. Spot likes things like that. You'll figure the rest out… just do what feels right."

Boots stopped. "Race?"

"Hm?"

"If you know so much, then why'd Jack pick me to do all of this?"

Race started walking again before he answered. "Kid like you… Spot's not gonna think anything of ya." Racetrack didn't need to say anything else; Boots could already tell what he meant. He wished Racetrack had been more open about it, and he hated that it had to be such a discomforting issue. But he understood that too, just like he understood what Racetrack really wanted to say.

Kid like you… Spot'll just think you're some runaway servant from the South.

Wow. It's been like three years since I wrote the last chapter of this fic. I've always meant to write more, but things kept getting in my way and I was struggling to find the inspiration. Sure enough, I picked it back up again. I apologize for that and apologize that this chapter, short as usual, is mostly exposition. But it was really fun to write.

I'd appreciate your reviews, even if they just say, "I read your fic." If you've ever read Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, you will understand when I say that my whole existence is based on the assumption that somebody is reading. Although the truth is not quite that dramatic.

fNOb