Im still on schedule! (even with that formatting error from the last one, eesh)

I still don't own Newsies :(

We all got woken up the next morning by Kloppman. He was waving a folded up piece of paper.

"Jack Kelly? Have we got a Jack Kelly?" He said jokingly. He prodded me with the paper. I rubbed my eyes and grabbed it. Once I was awake enough, I unfolded it to read:

Come to the docks.

~Spot Conlon

"What's it say, Jack?" Mush leaned over.

"It's from Spot. He wants me to go to the docks." I jumped from the bunk to the floor. I quickly changed.

Crutchy went up to me. "You ain't going, are you? It might be a trap."

"I got to. It might be the only way to get Race back." I tied my bandana around my neck. "You lead everyone to distribution today. If anyone else asks, I'm taking a day to mine self." I clapped him on the shoulder, and went out the door.

On the walk to Brooklyn, I couldn't help fearing the worst. Spot was tough, but he wasn't cruel. He wouldn't kill Race, would he? The butterflies in my stomach began to get antsy.

Once in Brooklyn, two of the newsies silently filed in behind me from the shadows, like an escort. I put my hands in my pockets, nervously looked side-to-side and kept going. One more went in front of me, leading me to the right dock.

At the end of the dock, three figures stood. Well, two stood, one was sitting. Upon getting closer, I realized the sitting one was bound and gagged. At about 20 feet away, I recognized this one as Racetrack. I broke into a run for about three steps. My "guards" each put a firm hand on my shoulder, holding me to a walk.

When we got 10 feet away, I could take in Race's features. He seemed to be in one piece. Bruising was across his cheek, a hollow look about his face, but other than that, he seemed fine. The two other guys there must have been representatives for Spot, since he wasn't there.

I stopped walking when I was five feet away. One of Race's guards drew his knife. I balled up my fists, ready for a fight. The newsy bent down and carelessly sliced the ropes around Race's ankles. The other hefted him up by the upper arm.

The same one shoved him towards me. He lost his balance and nearly fell. I caught him underneath his arms and stood him back up. Race glared at them, and then turned to me, and his eyes all lit up. All the newsies left, in military fashion, and left us there. Except one. He handed me one last piece of paper before he left too, following his peers.

I took out my knife before bothering with the note, stuffing that thing in my pocket. Race could barely keep his balance on his weak legs. I cut through the ropes tying Race's wrists. I gently unknotted the gag, tossing it to the ground. Race flung himself around me, in a tight embrace.

"I ain't never been 'appier to see you, Jack." He whispered through tears.

I hugged him back, crying too. "Let's get you home."

~oOo~

We went back through Brooklyn, luckily, not bothered by anyone. "What did they do to you?" I nervously asked Race.

"Asked me a lot of questions. Like why was I was selling at Sheepshead. It sounded a lot like he didn't want me to." Race seemed slightly uncomfortable talking about this, so I didn't push it.

But Racetrack can't stop talking that easily. "And then, when I refused to stop sellin' there, he punched me in the face! Can you believe that?" He pointed to his cheek.

"Good news then, when I was talking to him yesterday, I punched him in da face. For you, I guess." Race smiled as we finished crossing the bridge back into Manhattan. "Oh," I pulled out the cigar from my other pocket. "Thought you might want this." I handed his cigar to him. Race stuck it in mouth, nearly chewing on it as he hurriedly pulled out a match and struck it. He lit the end and blissfully breathed in what he had been missing the past few days.

"Thanks, Jack. It's good to be home."

"It's better to have you home."

"Hey, what did Spot's letta say?"

"Oh, that ol' thing." I reached in my other pocket and pulled out the crinkled page to unfold it.

Thank you.

~Spot

"Hey," I remembered. "What about that bet?"

"That don't matter anymore."

So, happy ending good for ya?

Tell me what you think, its greatly appreciated!