This chapter is more Racetrack centered. Enjoy! :)

L.L.A.P

~Laces

Chpt.3

"C'mon Laces, wanna chip in? I have a feelin' that you'd be pretty lucky." Racetrack smiled, looking down at the list of horses that were going to be racing.

"No thanks." Laces said quietly. She was enjoying life with the newsies, but she was still nervous about being around them. The young girl was still getting used to the concept of family and how they accepted her. Not to mention that she also was adjusting to being treated completely as a boy and being called a 'he' which was most definitely new to her.

For Laces, she was used to be called 'that damned girl' or 'that bastard daughter of yours' and so on. The whole reason why she was unwanted in her family was because she was a girl. And now that she was considered a boy? Laces couldn't help but wonder if that would make her family proud.

"No thanks? C'mon, just bet a penny. Worst comes to worst, ya lose a penny. But if you're lucky, ya win your penny and then some. It's great fun." Racetrack beamed ear to ear.

"I'm not gonna take the risk. I like my money in my pockets, thank you very much." Laces stated, knowing that gambling never lead to anything good.

Racetrack hummed as he stared at the girl, and Laces shifted on her feet uncomfortable under his stare.

"What is it?" she finally questioned once she was getting irritated by the boy just sitting and staring at her.

"Everyone likes somethin'." He stated. "I like ta gamble. Jack likes ta draw. Poor Crutchy likes ta dance with his one workin' leg. But I have no clue what you like." Racetrack stated and Laces frowned.

"I like ta sell papes." She informed.

"You're a newsies. Sellin' papes is your job. It ain't an actual hobby." Racetrack frowned. "Lemme rephrase. What do ya spend your money on? Cigars? Booze? Gin? Dime novels?"

"I spend it on food." Laces shrugged.

"So ya like ta cook?"

"I can't cook. I just like eatin'." Laces stated and Racetrack just rolled his eyes.

"Eatin' ain't a hobby." The older boy stated. "What else do ya spend your money on?"

"Nothin' else. Just food. Maybe some socks if I need 'em. Oh, and shoe laces." Laces grinned, but Racetrack wasn't smiling.

"Ya spend money on more than that. If ya saved your money you'd be richer than all of us. And I know ya only have one jar of coins under your bed." Racetrack stated.

"It's none of your business." Laces mumbled, crossing her arms. Racetrack looked over at Laces' bed, at her, then back at the bed with a smirk on his face.

"Racetrack." She growled, reading his mind, but he paid her no attention as he sprinted over to her bed and Laces ran, trying to beat him to it.

However, Racetrack was already looking under the mattress and he pulled out pieces of papers.

"Racetrack! Give 'em back!" Laces shouted, glaring at the boy. Racetrack was taller than Laces, and kept the papers well out of her reach as he scanned what was on them.

"What are these? Paper with lines, dots, and squiggles. What does that even mean?"

"I-It's music! Just give 'em back!" Laces exclaimed, but Racetrack made no movement to return the papers to the girl.

"Just music? Don't music have words? And some of these papers look professional while others are hand written." He stated.

"Race! Please! Give 'em back! They're… they're important to me." Laces' voice cracked at the end of her sentence, and Racetrack rested his eyes on her.

Her face was red with anger and she had some tears running down her cheek. But she was trying to blink them away and hold herself upright. After all, boys didn't cry.

"C'mere Laces." Racetrack sighed. Laces stood still, not knowing what Racetrack was going to do.

Racetrack sighed again and pulled her close to him in a small hug and he took off his cap to rub away the tears in Laces' eyes.

"It ain't bad ta have a hobby." Racetrack stated as he sat her on her bed and he sat next to her. When he handed the papers back to Laces, she hugged them close to her chest. "Now, what are they?" he inquired.

"Music." She answered, her voice strained from crying.

"I ain't too bright. How do dots make music?" Racetrack questioned.

"They're… they're notes. The stand for certain sounds that a band plays or people sing." She informed slowly. "It's somethin' that one of Medda's showgirls taught me."

"Do ya like ta sing?" Racetrack questioned, but Laces shook her head.

"No. I like… I like ta bang on things… like… playin' the drums." She mumbled. "I also like ta write songs that Medda could maybe sing… 's just…" Laces bit down on her lower lip, trying to hold back tears.

Racetrack rubbed Laces' back reassuringly.

"I… I can't read… or write." Laces said shamefully. "That makes me less than everyone. 's also why I can't ever write words ta go with songs. I wish I could… just… I'm too stupid." She frowned, but Racetrack shook his head.

"You ain't too stupid ta read an' write! Lemme teach ya!" Racetrack beamed, and Laces looked at him with surprise.

"You… you would teach me how ta read and write?"

"Of course. Sure, I don't know much, but I can read headlines and write 'em out." Racetrack chuckled. "However, if ya want me ta teach ya how ta read an' write, I want ta hear ya drummin'."

Laces' eyes widened for a moment, but then she nodded. She stood, looking around the room. The newsboys home was pretty empty. Everyone else was out and about, but Laces started to have another coughing fit, so after selling some papers Jack told her to head back. Racetrack was in the home because he was still deciding on which horse he wanted to bet on.

Grabbing random objects, Laces soon had a stool, two spoons, a crate, and the frame of her bed in front of her.

Racetrack watched on, wondering what exactly Laces was going to do with the assortment of random objects.

And then she started to bang on things.

Now, Racetrack had often heard things get banged on, but never so rhythmically as this. Laces had turned random objects into instruments as she banged a lively beat on the makeshift drum set. Racetrack was surprised by how quickly her hands moved to make the sounds and was baffled by how catchy the sounds were.

Part of him wanted to get up and dance.

After Laces was done drumming, she looked up at Racetrack nervously, as if she were expecting him to yell at her for causing such wonderful noise.

"Laces, what the hell. How come your hobby will make ya money while mine costs me money." Racetrack smirked. "I'll teach ya how ta read an' write, then you'll be up there drummin' in some band."

Laces beamed happily, hugging Racetrack tightly.

"Alright Laces, but first, I need ta pick me a horse. Lemme read ya their names…"

Those following weeks the newsies noticed something different about Laces. She smiled more frequently, even laughed.

She would bang rhythmically on random things and even would drum some when some newsies asked her to.

She would even drum for Crutchy so he had music to dance to on his one good leg.

"I woulda never guessed that you'd like makin' so much noise." Jack chuckled when he and Laces were walking back from Meddas' place.

"Just cuz I don't talk as much as ya doesn't mean I don't like makin' some noise." Laces chuckled. Jack just laughed.

"Are you implyin' that I talk too much?" he questioned with mock offense.

"Maybe a little." Laces smirked.

"C'mere ya damn bonehead!" he chuckled and Laces started running and Jack chased after her. She was fast but after some time Jack finally managed to grab Laces and proceed to give her a hard noogie while she chuckled and squirmed in his grasp.

"It hurts my feelins when ya say I talk too much." Jack frowned but he was clearly joking.

"Ya poor thing." Laces pouted, and the two continued on until they reached the lodging house.

Laces was starting to understand what it meant to be part of the newsies family.