Nightfall fell quickly that evening, blanketing the sleepy city in a cover that hid all secretive movements from prying eyes. Crutchie put his foot on the ground, glancing up at the rickety fire escape which now towered above him. He slid his crutch out from the steps, hopping back slightly, which was as hard a job as any when you were carrying a box and some rope. Tonight was the night-the night he was going to ride a wheeler. He was going to ride it, or fall trying, Crutchie knew. This goal wasn't a selfish act; no, far from it. He just wanted to prove that he was an equal to the other boys in more ways than one-and that he could overcome such obstacles as his leg. If you could even call it an obstacle. Crutchie knew he couldn't simply ask Katherine or Jack to ride the wheeler. He would most likely get some response such as "It's too dangerous" from Jack, or, "It really is hard-even I find it hard, but that's with all my skirts and such-are you sure you want to? And anyways, don't you have papers to sell?" from Katherine. He didn't need her fussing over him like a mother-Mrs. Jacobs filled in that job for all the newsies. Taking one last look at the bedroom window nearly two floors above him to make sure he had closed it again, Crutchie started on his way to Katherine's apartment. Really it was Katharine and Jack's now, but who was he to start on the particulars? He stared up at the buildings towering around him, watching all the candles in each tenement being snuffed out by some invisible hand. Dim voices floated through the air to reach him, though he didn't really catch what any of them said. Shadows, like birds trying to find themselves a nest, flitted from window to window, occasionally caught and extinguished by the darkness or a street lamp. It was just another night of watching the city fall asleep before he did. Though it wasn't too late for everyone to be in their beds and starting to sleep, Crutchie had made sure that all the boys in the Lodging House were sound asleep before he left. He hadn't wanted them to know of his plan, or worse, tell him it was a bad one. Hopefully Jack and Katherine would be asleep by now as well, or at least that was what Crutchie thought once he saw their apartment. He snuck around to the back, standing there to admire the shining white wheeler. There it stood leaning up against the brick wall like some sort of monument to stand the test of time that seemed to wear down everything else in the city. Crutchie walked towards it hesitantly, reluctant to even touch it now that he was here. With a heavy hand, he grasped the leather-covered handlebar, and his resolve strengthened. He glanced over his shoulder warily, thinking he had heard a noise behind him. Carefully, he bent down to put the box and rope on his foot. That was a key tool if he was going to ride the wheeler. Once he had the box tied to his arm and foot, he nervously tested it. If he raised his arm, his bad foot went up, and if he lowered it, his foot went down. Perfect. Now all he needed to do was try it when riding the wheeler. With a sharp clatter of the wheels and pedals, Crutchie wheeled the bicycle out from the wall, and stood by it. He lifted his good leg over the side of the wheeler, going to sit on the leather seat. Crutchie smiled nervously, and lifted his bad leg onto the pedal. With a wild yank of his arm, his leg jerked up and he toppled off the wheeler with a mighty crash. Panicked, he covered his head, fully prepared to feel the weight of the machine come toppling down on him. He curled into a ball, heart beating faster than normal as he waited for someone to find him and discover his plan. Crutchie slowed his frantic breathing, peeking out from his hands. The wheeler had fallen the other way, and it seemed that no one had heard. He stood up again, glancing around in shame to see if anyone had noticed his mistake. Taking his crutch from the ground, he propped the wheeler up again and tried to sit on it a second time. His grin was even wider as this time he was successful, and put his hands on the handlebars in triumph. Now came the very hard part: he had to pedal. He had seen Katherine, Race, Les and Jack do it, of course, but they weren't the ones with the bad leg. With a reassuring look to his crutch which lay faithfully on the ground, Crutchie pushed off with his good leg. The wheeler began very slowly as it rolled out of the back, and Crutchie found that if he just gave his upper arm a slight tug or pushed it down, then his bad leg moved just fine with the pedal. Crutchie couldn't believe his eyes: he was riding a wheeler! Sure, he was going slower than the other boys, but that didn't matter. He kept his eyes straight ahead on the road, glancing occasionally to his feet. How easy it seemed, now, that he was actually going somewhere! He watched as buildings and street lamps passed him by, along with the occasional straggler that was walking their way home. All of a sudden, New York City at night was bright, and full of possibility and wonder. Anything could happen, now that Crutchie was riding a tried-and-true wheeler. He couldn't even begin to explain his feelings; was it happiness, or joy, or maybe even relief? All doubts were erased from his mind now that he felt the wind pull him as he rode with the wheeler. It was a feeling unlike any other, and Crutchie was simply happy that he hadn't fallen yet.

Famous last words.

Crutchie glanced up from the handlebars, his amazed expression quickly turning to fear as he noticed he had drifted off the main road. What was worse, a street lamp now barred his way. And he hadn't learned to turn yet. Crutchie yanked the handlebars wildly, but he was too close. That yank had pulled his bad leg up into the air, and in panic, he pulled his other foot off the pedal too. He rammed into the street lamp, falling sideways underneath the wheeler, which knocked the breath right out of him as it landed on him. With a screech of the pedals and chain, and the heavy clatter of the wheels as they scraped the dirt road, the wheeler flattened Crutchie to the ground. The wheels slowly stopped ticking as Crutchie tried to catch his breath, winded as he was. His arm was caught in between one of the pedals and the wheeler, and his bad foot had somehow become entangled in the wheel. He stared around at the wreckage, slowly becoming filled with a sick horror. He hadn't meant to break it, not at all! He was surely going to get in trouble now. Crutchie strained to lift his head, trying to see where he was. He hadn't gone far at all, really, having crashed just a few apartments over from Katherine's. Crutchie stretched his free arm out, trying to push the wheeler away from him. He gritted his teeth, crying out in pain as something in his other hand snapped. Crutchie shut his eyes tight, trying to block out the pain. He tried to get the wheeler off him, but suddenly it seemed like he was too weak to even do that. What was more, he had left his crutch behind Katherine's apartment. With a breath, he started calling for help. Crutchie was smart enough to know when something was wrong, and that he couldn't move this all by himself.

"Help!" he shouted as best as he could with a wheeler lying on his stomach, "Help, please! Help!"

Crutchie jumped slightly as a door slammed closeby. A dog in the distance began barking, and Crutchie tried calling for help again. Voices and pounding footsteps were walking closer and closer. Crutchie twisted his head over to see a giant of a man lumber towards him. The man shouted something unintelligible over his shoulder, and ran to Crutchie's side.

"Êtes-vous blessé, mon garçon?" the man asked, bending down beside him. "Est-ce votre vélo?" Are you hurt, boy? Is this your bicycle?

Crutchie shook his head. "I dunno what yous sayin', mistah," he said. The man frowned, and tried again. "You...hurt?" he asked, and Crutchie nodded. "Is this...yours?" the man gestured to the wheeler, and after a moment's hesitation, Crutchie shook his head no. The man's eyes hardened to a stony grey, and he carefully lifted the wheeler off the boy, and propped it upright. The wheels were mangled, and some of the paint was chipped. Crutchie stood up shakily, but just as quickly fell down again without his crutch. Blood was leaking through his pant leg, and he couldn't feel his right hand anymore. The Frenchman looked on concernedly, and decided to leave the bicycle where it was and help this boy for now. Even if he was a thief, he needed medical attention. The man picked Crutchie up in his arms and started carrying him down the street to an apartment right by Katherine's. This was not how Crutchie had wanted this night to go.