You're on your own my little nightmare
You cannot stay here, it's far too bright for you
If they attack you just lay there,
Play dead dear, it's your only hope of pulling through

"You - you ain't neva gonna be one of us Sadie. Youse different." The words burned through Sadie's skull like a brand. Her blood had reached it's boiling point hours ago and the fire under her skin didn't seem like it would be quelling anytime soon. She didn't know why it was bothering her so much, especially to the point where it was keeping her up at night like this; and from none other than Spot Conlon. Why did she give a damn about what Spot Conlon thought anyways? What difference did it make to her if she didn't fit in with those careless street waifs that stole from her profits. They all drove her crazy as it was, with their stupid grins and slow wit. She needed them for one thing – helping her read the headlines. Beyond that they were useless. She didn't need to fit in with them. She didn't need to be their friend. Hell, she didn't even need to be civil to them. They most certainly weren't civil to her.

But still, here she was, three AM, wide awake, staring at a wall, thinking about how Spot Conlon thought she was different. And what was worse, she was letting herself get upset about it. She had to be awake in two hours so sleep was fairly pointless by now and she pushed herself up with a sigh. Maybe a walk around before the distribution office opened up would help clear her head. Slipping her dress on over her shift in one fluid motion she slid into her shoes and carefully crept out of the dormitory and down the steps. Mrs. Winthrop's, the dormitory mistress', snores could be heard from her bedroom just behind the front desk and Sadie took extra care in sneaking by towards the front door. If she was caught out after curfew she was sure to be tossed out on her ass. The boys didn't have a ridiculous curfew, but naturally the 'young ladies' needed a bit more fencing in. It was only 'natural' for the newsies to want to spread their wings and live the good life, but even though they were the poorest of the poor, the News Girls were expected to make good little wives one day. Lifting the latch Sadie slid out onto the street, cool and damp in the early morning.

She wasn't sure just where she was headed, but her feet seemed to lead the way and she hardly looked up from the pavement as she walked. The streets were empty, too early for the business crowd, and too late for most of the loud roustabouts that seemed to people the city at night. Still, Sadie kept her guard up and her arms wrapped tight around herself as if it would ward off anyone looking to start trouble with her. Head tucked down she didn't see the figure slip from alley behind her, taking up silent step behind her. Hanging a left at the next intersection, Sadie coughed slightly as the cold morning air rushed into her lungs, burning her chest like a poorly inhaled cigarette. The figure followed, a hand coming up to wipe at its nose, stifling a sniffle. Tucking her shawl over her head to fight against the morning chill, Sadie slipped down a back alley that lead towards the distribution offices and Tibby's. The restaurant wouldn't be open yet but she could wait around for the early morning crew and hopefully grab a cup of coffee before heading back to sneak back in. Pausing to let a carriage slip past her in the street, Sadie still didn't see the figure as it closed in on her, a hand coming to grab her shoulder.

"Jesus!" She whirled around with a startled cry and nearly smacked Racetrack Higgins straight across the mouth to get the stupidly smart grin off his face. Her shawl fell backwards and her hair tumbled into her eyes as it was set completely free. "What da hell do ya think your doin', Race! Fuck! Ya scared the hell outta me! Ya can't do that – give a girl a heart attack why dontcha!" She let out a rush of air and pushed his chest hard, as if to get across just how badly he'd frightened her. He didn't even stumble backwards at the shove, but gave her an apologetic smile and shook his head slightly as he moved to muss her dark hair, which for once wasn't hid underneath a bonnet or kerchief.

"Whaddaya think your doin' out so early, huh? Anybody coulda just come up and nabbed ya, stupid." He threw a friendly arm around her shoulder and tugged her close. "Where were ya headed anyways?" He tipped his hat back a bit so he could see her better and raised a questioning eyebrow at her. She merely shrugged and shook her head, her hands folding down in front of her waist.

"I don't know. Just walkin'. Couldn't sleep. Y'know how it is." There was no use telling Race about what Spot had said. She knew it would end in either one of two ways and she wasn't really comfortable with either of them. Race would either hunt out Spot to pick a fight she knew he couldn't win but would fight 'til the end anyways, or he would shake his head at her in that overly patronizing way he'd seemed to have perfected and tell her that of course she was different. She was a girl. She'd never be a real "newsie" … she'd always just be a News Girl. There was most definitely a difference there. So instead she stayed quiet and let her head fall against his shoulder as they walked. Race was safe and there was something comforting in the fact that she had someone here to keep watch over her.

When she'd first been forced into the business of pushing papes, four years back, she'd only been 12 and somehow, out of the goodness of his heart or her pure good fortune, Race had offered to take her under his wing. He hadn't been much older than her then, only 13, but he had grown mature beyond his years in all the time he'd spent toughing it out on the streets. He'd shown her the ins and outs of New York, all the tricks of the trade she'd managed to perfect over the years to survive. Sure, she wasn't half as good as Race when it came to selling papes, but she made good enough money for herself. Though Sadie was reluctant to admit it, without him she surely would have starved her first year on the job. But somehow, with his help and the grace of God, she was still standing at 16, a bare wisp of a girl, true, but still fed enough to survive. She never said thank you for Race's help – things just weren't like that between them. But she knew he knew, and that was enough.

"Just walkin'?" Race raised an eyebrow again and shook his head. There was no way she was telling him the truth. He knew her too well, and on top of that she looked as if she'd just been hit by a truck; hair a mess, dress wrinkled, eyes puffy and swollen from lack of sleep. She was definitely lying to him. "Whaddid he say this time?" Sadie merely shook her head and shoved him with her shoulder slightly. Rolling his eyes he pulled her closer again and slowed his step a bit so he was sure he had her full attention. "Ise don't know why you listen to him, Sade. He ain't worth none of ya time. He's just lookin' ta get ya all riled up and ya let him. Just let it go. Whatever he said, it ain't worth getting' worked up over. Ya know Conlon just talks out of his ass." Race's respect for Spot ran deep, but he still new a jerk when he saw one. Conlon might've been one of the most powerful newsies in all of New York but that didn't make him any less of an ass when he put his mind to it.

Sadie laughed softly at this and shook her head, looking up at Race with a weak smile. "Youse gonna sell with me today?" Her voice was soft as she spoke, but still spirited and light. Race nodded faintly and tugged playfully on a stray strand of hair, giving her one of his million watt smiles. She returned it crookedly and pushed herself away from him slightly. "I should head back then. I gotta clean up and all. I must look a bloody mess." He rolled his eyes again and pushed her shoulder playfully.

"Well ya don't gotta get all pretty for me. But Conlon is still in our territory if ya wanna start impressing him."

Sadie wrinkled her nose and shook her head, her tongue poking out at Race from between her pale lips. She punched his shoulder lightly before slipping her hands into the pockets of her dress, taking a few steps backwards as she did so.

"I'll meet youse at Tibby's in fifteen, Race. Wait for me."

The boy nodded and raised a hand to her, before letting his own hands slip into his pockets, digging for his pouch of tobacco and rolling papers. Fifteen minutes was just enough time for a smoke. Sadie was racing through the slowly busying streets, anxious to get back before Mrs. Winthrop opened her doors. If she was lucky she'd have enough time to clean up well before heading back up to meet Racetrack. But that wasn't what was foremost on her mind. Though Race didn't realize it, he'd implanted the seeds of an idea in Sadie's head that was certain to be the end of life as he knew it. Right now, as he ran his tongue along the outside edge of the rolling paper in his hand, he was just concerned about tossing his papes before going out to the races, possibly with Sadie in tow. Another day to carry the banner had begun.