Hello! I told you I would repost soon! Here it is, the next installment in A Time to Choose! Enjoy and Happy Writings! FYI- This is set before the strike.

~EG Winston

Race's P.O.V.

Skeeter was hugging some guy, Paul I assumed from the way she was shouting his name, who was roughly the size of a small bear. He saw me and started walking towards me.

"Well, Skeets! Who is this? Got yourself a boyfriend now, did you?" Skeeter rolled her eyes, her cheeks turning crimsom against her red freckles

"Why does everyone assume that?"

"The name's Race, sir. Is youse Paul?" He nodded and shook my hand. Emma walked back in holding a bunch of clothes.

Skeeter ran up to her, "Hey, Mary-G! Can I holds her, Em? I'm always careful!" Emma nodded and handed the cooeing baby to Skeets.

Skeeter walked over to me, "Ain't she pretty, Race!"

She was cute, her red hair and freckles looked identical to Skeeters, everything did, except for the eyes. The baby's eyes were a dark brown.

Skeeter's eyes were a beautiful green, that shone when she laughed and sparkled in the moonlight. They were gorgeous and-

What am I saying! Skeeter is like my sistah! Why am I thinking of her like this! Cut it out, Race!

I looked outside and saw the sun settin' in the west, "Skeeter, I don't mean to cut the time short, but it's getting dark, and Brooklyn ain't safe at night"

Skeeter's eyes darn those eyes grew round and she handed the baby back to Emma.

"You can stay here for the night" Paul offered,

Skeeter shook her head, "No thanks, Paul, we have to get back" she looked at me for help,

I continued "Yea, we haffta sell the morning edition and we don't want Cowboy, pardon me, our friend Jack gettin' worried."

Skeeter's P.O.V.

"Skeeter?" Emma called out as we were leaving, I turned around and looked back at her.

"Skeeter, I know you're a big girl. But you're also a beautiful girl" she said, shushing my cries of protest, "Listen to me, Skeeter, I just don't want to see you hurt. I don't know how to say this, but you only live with boys. I just don't want… bad things to happen to you"

I rolled my eyes, "Emma, quit worryin' they're like me bruddahs. And they know I'd soak em if they tried anything"

Emma nodded and tucked my long hair under my cap, "Be safe" she whispered. We said good bye and Race and I left.

I looked back at her one last time. She was standing in the doorframe, Paul's big arms were wrapped around her tiny frame.

She's safe, Skeeter! Stop worryin' bout her! She's more stable with Paul, more stable than she was after Ma and Pa-

"You're family's real nice, Skeets" Race interrupted, pulling out a cigar.

"Youse is my family, Race" I said smiling.

"Why don't you live with them, Skeets?" he asked.

I sighed.

"Emma and I lived together when we were little, just after our parents...moved on. Things were real rough. I don't want to go into it."

Race nodded in understandment, his own past was just as hard.

"She got married to Paul a coupla months later. I didn't want to be a bother. Paul's a real nice guy, but I didn't want to push my luck with living with them. So I ran. Looking back it was kind of stupid of me, but I'm glad I did, otherwise I woulda neva met you and the rest of the gang."

"What's your real name, Skeeter?"

I laughed, when I first came to the Newsboys House with Race, I had only said my name was Skeeter. I would never tell them my real name! As Emma once said, every woman has a secret, and she should guard that secret, whatever it may be, very carefully, and only impart it with the man she loves.

"I like you, Race" I jested, "But not that much" He laughed and lightly slapped my face.

"Maybe I'll tell you someday, but youse goin to hafta earn it"

We walked a little ways in silence., enjoying each others company.

The streetlife of Brooklyn wasn't much. A couple of bars were open and you got the drunks and the loose women. However, most people were smart enough to stay inside, where it was safe. Nobody wanted to get mugged or-

"Well, well, well" sang a scratchy voice, "Looks like two newsies is a long way from home. We cain't have trespassers in our territory, can we Smalls?" four boys, each bigger than the next walked out of the alley. Crap.

"No we can't, Scratch, looks like we'se need to teach these boys a lesson. I'se say wese soak 'em!" They started slowly walking towards, fear gripped at my innards but I ain't backin' down. My hat was still on, covering my long red hair so they must have assumed we were both boys.

"Skeeter, go" Race insisted, keeping his voice barely above a whisper. "You can make it back to 'Hattan if you go now!"

I could faintly hear the trace of fear in his voice. Four to two are not good odds especially if you're in Brooklyn at midnight and these boys were roughly the size of horses.

"No, Race, I ain't leavin youse"

"Skeeter" he said, his voice firmer and more scared.

"No, Race!" that was when I attacked.

These oafs obviously weren't expecting that, but after I landed a few punches on the big one, ironically named Smalls, they fought back. I was pinned on the ground and they were kicking and punching me, it hurt like heck. Race was getting the worst of it though. They punched him in the face and pinned his arms back, almost to the point of breaking.

"Let him go!" I screamed, still trying to sound like a boy. They laughed, finally they had their fill.

Or so I thought.

"Let's take 'em back to Spot. He'll soak 'em good too" They laughed and dragged us towards the docks.

I looked over at Race, he was staring at me intently and trying to mouth something at me. I couldn't see to well, my eye was starting to swell from being punched half to death. I looked at him confused, he continued staring and trying to mouth something.

His hair was mussed up, his hat must have dropped somewhere back when they mugged us.

Don't tell you're a girl, that's what he was saying.

We arrived at the docks and even at this late hour, the Brooklyn newsies were lounging around outside playing poker, moonlight swims, or telling stories.

We walked down slowly, the boys showing off their "prizes", us in other words.

I stared at the ground, refusing to acknowledge them and their hateful words. I finally looked up when Smalls jerked me to a stop beside a giant pile of... I'm not really sure what. Carts, boxes, a coupla lobster traps, and the random fish net.

"Heya Spot! We caught some trespassers, wese soaked 'em but we figured you might want to ask 'em why they was here or somethin'" Smalls yelled at the large pile.

Spot leaped down from his 'throne' of...stuff, and glared at us, his ice blue eyes staring into the depths of my soul (I quoted that from Dutchy, he's the aesthete (n, person who likes art and stuff. Vocab point!) of our newsies, I think he said it was from Dickens or Shakespeare or some other dead guy)

Luckily, Spot didn't recognize me, Jack always took precautions to make sure the other boroughs didn't know about me. I mean, do you seriously want Queens or Harlem to discover that Manhattan had a single girl newsie, who sold alone, who was loved by most everyone, and was extremely pretty (or so Race had said). That plan to keep me unknown and safe had worked, until tonight that is.