AN: Okay so I wrote a Newsie story on here when I was like... 14. It was terrible. I'm much older now and I've gotten tons better at writing over the years, so I am re-writing it. It was called Odds in my Favor and it is still up if you want to compare it to this one. I honestly wouldn't read if I were you. It's awful. I have changed the plot a lot, but the characters are still the same. Flash is mine and so are all the other characters that are not in the movie. I do not own the rights to Newsies or the original characters in the movie and/or the Broadway musical. Hope you enjoy!

August, 1900

"Do you mind telling me just what in the hell you think you're doing?" Racetrack spit and glared at the unfamiliar girl perched on a ledge in front of him.

The girl glanced up from her paper before lazily returning her gaze back to it to continue reading. Race cleared his throat and shoved his hands in his pockets. He didn't care much for being ignored. It irked him. He cleared his throat louder this time and the girl huffed in annoyance.

"Quiet down, will you? I'm just getting to the good part," she said, holding up a finger to silence him. She turned the page and gave a little sniff.

Race scowled and snatched the paper from her hands, crumpling it up and tossing it onto the ground. He stepped on it, grinding it further into the dirt, not taking his eyes off her face which was now turning a soft pink.

She jerked her head up, shifting her eyes from her wadded-up paper that lay by her feet back up to meet his hard stare. She sucked on her teeth and let out a dry chuckle. "That was a stupid thing to do. Your mamma ever teach you manners?"

Racetrack glowered. "What. Are. You. Doing?" he clipped, his words cutting through the thick air like a dagger.

She stood up, mimicking his stance. "Reading. That's kind of what you do with newspapers, kid." She snorted and shook her head, clucking her tongue.

Race made a face and contemplated stomping on the stack of papes she had laying down by her feet. The thought almost made him outright smile. Nah, probably not the best idea. His mother had in fact taught him manners. "Sheepshead is mine. You got no right to be here."

"Says who?'

"Says me. I own this. This is my turf. I've staked my claim."

The girl paused for a second and looked around, scanning the cobblestone carefully before scratching her head in confusion. "That's funny," she murmured.

Race rolled his eyes and shifted his weight back and forth. The late summer sun was getting to him now and he wanted nothing more than to grab some shade, drink some ale, and watch the ponies. He had a really good feeling this morning that his streak of misfortune would be ending today. He was proved wrong.

"What's so funny about that?" he grumbled.

She gave him a look, her eyes gleaming with something that Racetrack could only recognize as mockery. "Funny thing is, I don't see your name anywhere claiming shit." She crossed her arms in front of her and gave him a smug grin. Racetrack didn't like to be bested, especially now by the likes of her.

"My name is Racetrack." He frowned when he saw the blank expression on her face. "Racetrack," he repeated slower, as if he were talking to a child.

"Yeah, so?" she said dismissively with a wave of her hand.

His eyes narrowed and he had to hold back the urge to shake her out of frustration. "Why the hell do you think they call me that? I've been working this for four years!" he chided.

She shrugged and looked down at her thumbnail, picking at the skin around it. She didn't understand why this kept happening to her. She had been run off of street corners, parks, buildings. You name it, she was probably chased away. These uppity New Yorkers were a hell of a change from the Southerners she had interacted with on a daily basis. Moving up here hadn't been her plan in the grand scheme of things, but she was here nonetheless. She'd be damned if some loud-mouthed son of a bitch who thought he ran the place told her what was what. "What does that gotta do with me?"

Racetrack threw his hands up in exasperation. "You don't just come on someone else's turf and take their business. I don't know where you were raised, but that just doesn't cut it here," he scoffed. "Now I suggest you take your leave. Beat it, kid."

She put her hands behind her head and smirked. "Don't think I will. The papers all but sell themselves. They're practically flying outta my hand, what with all these gamblers needing them to see yesterday's racing scores." She sat back down and stretched out her body, making a production out of it before looking back up to meet his eyes. "This place seems plenty big for the two of us. Gotta pretty nice set up here, Pony Boy. Think I'll make this my regular dive."

Race's face turned a nasty shade of red at her remark. He'd known this girl for all of two minutes, and she was already planting her roots in the ground he called his own. She was a weed; a weed that needed to get the hell out of his garden. He'd made a name for himself here. Hell, he even had regulars that bought from him every day. That wasn't about to stop on account of some smartass hick with boundary issues.

"I don't think anywhere would be big enough for the two of us."

"I can tell by the size of your ego."

"I don't partner up with nobody and I definitely don't share my customers," he continued, ignoring her comment. "You can either leave or-"

"Or what? You gonna hike your leg up and piss like a dog to mark your territory? You gonna beat me up? I damn sure would love for you to try."

Racetrack took a deep breath to try to calm himself and looked around, avoiding her eyes that seemed to glow with amusement. He spoke once he was sure he wasn't going to yell at her. "Look, I'm trying to be nice here. Now, I'm not gonna soak you. I'm gonna calmly ask that you hit the road and don't come back trying to sell here. All I want is for you to sell somewhere else." He held up his hands, indicating that he was finished and that was that.

The girl chuckled and gave Race an amused smile. "This is you being nice? Jesus, you need to work on your delivery, 'cause that's not how I took it at all. I could give you pointers. See, you're already benefitting from having me around."

Racetrack let out a groan and shook his head. He took out a cigarette and clamped it between his teeth, lighting it with a swift flick of the match. He gave it a few good puffs and looked around, curious if anyone was catching this.

"What's the matter, Pony Boy, can't look a lady in the eye?"

"You ain't no lady. You're a spot thieving bum," Race snapped. "Don't you got better things to do than get under my skin? Don't you got some dolls to play with or a house to clean? Whatever other girly shit your type like to do."

She jumped down off the ledge, knocking over her stack of papes in the process. They blew lazily in the summer breeze but she didn't bother to bend down and pick them up. She narrowed her eyes at Race, all hint of playfulness gone. "What the fuck did you just say to me?" she hissed, her jaw tightening.

It was Race's turn to smirk at her. "Such foul language for someone claiming to be a lady." This earned him no response so he continued. "You heard me. Go do whatever you broads do best and leave the selling to the real men."

The girl's eyes darkened and Race couldn't help but notice the way she rolled her shoulders back, like she was squaring up to fight him. She could damn well try, but Race knew how to carry himself in a fight. His mother taught him not to lay a hand on a woman, but there was no way she'd even have the chance to throw a punch.

"Take it back."

"No."

"Take it back before I bust your kneecaps. And wipe that arrogant smirk off your face, you look stupid," she jeered.

Race laughed. "Was that supposed to be intimidating? Doll, you couldn't intimidate a flea into biting you." He took another drag from his cigarette, blowing the smoke in her direction. She swatted the smoke out of her face and Race couldn't help but feel pleased. "I ain't taking nothing back."

The girl dug her fingernails into her palm, reminding herself that she was supposed to be laying low. Getting into a brawl with some nobody was hardly that, and it certainly wasn't worth possibly losing her freedom. She couldn't afford to draw the attention to herself. She drew in a deep breath to steady her voice and get her heart rate back to normal.

"Well, I'm still not leaving yet. I will when I'm good and damn ready to."

Race sucked his teeth and tossed his cigarette to the ground, crushing it with the tip of his shoe. "Well then you better be good and damn ready to by the time I get back. I'm going to get reinforcements and I doubt you will want to be around for that."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm so scared." She feigned a look of terror and then snorted, dismissing his threat.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," Race said shrugging. He turned on his heel and trotted back the way he came.

"This isn't over, Racetrack! You don't scare me!" she called after him.

Race kept on walking, whistling a jovial tune to himself. The girl was still shouting obscenities at him, but by now he was too far away to hear them.

She watched him until he was a dot in the horizon, wondering just what he meant by reinforcements.

Walking from Sheepshead Bay to Manhattan was a journey Racetrack took almost every day. Rain, snow, or sunshine, Race still made the trek there. Everyone called him crazy for going there just to sell papes, but it was more than that to him. He loved the ponies. It had been that way for as long as he could remember. He also used the time to empty his head. There wasn't many opportunities to be alone so you had to get the time wherever you could. He usually enjoyed his time walking to and from Sheepshead. Today was an exception.

He was damn hot, the sun was blistering, and he had thought about his interaction with the girl the whole way back so he was pissed off again. He needed to find Jack. He was able to charm the socks off of ladies and Race didn't think this girl would be an exception.

Race spotted Jack in his usual selling locale. Jack looked irritated and Race figured the heat was getting to him too.

Jack noticed Race from about 10 yards away and broke out in a grin. Jack was an expert when it came to putting up a front.

Race jogged to close the distance between them.

"Heya Race. I would ask you how your day at the track was but seeing as how you're back so early, I can only guess it wasn't so good."

Race shook his head and sucked on his teeth, annoyed that they had this conversation more often than not. Jack would always ask if he'd won anything and Race almost always told him no.

Jack laughed and shook his head. "I don't know why you waste your time on those god forsaken ponies." He took out a cigarette and popped it between his teeth. He lit it and took a couple drags before chuckling to himself. "You're a great cardsharp, Race. Maybe the best in New York. Don't even have to cheat if you don't want to. But the ponies?" he raised his eyebrows. "Lousy."

Racetrack took a glimpse in the other boy's direction, slightly displeased. He was right, Race would give him that, but he'd been going to the tracks since he was a kid. It was a tradition he and his pop shared when he was alive and it was one that Race planned to keep to. So what if he lost a bit of money here and there because he got some bad tips?

"I didn't even get a chance to bet today," Race said in annoyance. He grabbed at the cigarette in Jack's hand and Jack obliged. "That's why I came to find you actually. I need you to use your charm. Some broad is selling in my spot. I told her to leave but she got mouthy. I don't deal well with mouthy."

Jack rolled his eyes. "We all know too well you don't do well with that."

"My best guess is she's one of Spot's new followers. Even so, she should know that Sheepshead is off limits. I know Spot and I are on the outs right now, but I don't think he'd go back on our agreement. Do you?" Race asked, unsure.

Jack gave him a perfunctory shrug. "Hard to know with Spot. He's neurotic. One wrong breath in his direction and you're picking your teeth up off the ground." He stood up and dusted off his backside before wiping his face with his bandana. "Come on, I wanna see what you're talking about."

They set off, passing by Tibby's and Racetrack's stomach let out a low rumble. He looked longingly through the window at someone's food and cursed the girl under his breath. She had ruined his plans of scarfing down a fully loaded dog.

They continued in silence for a while before Jack spoke. "Ya know, speaking of Spot, I'm supposed to meet up with him tomorrow. Apparently it's important but I got other business to attend to in Manhattan, so I'm sending you in my place."

Racetrack gave Jack a disbelieving look. "You serious, Kelly? You know my history with Conlon. I'm not just gonna march my ass into Brooklyn without him having asked for me."

"You march your ass into Brooklyn every day," Jack pointed out.

"That's different, Jack, and you know it. Spot and I stay out of each other's way and that's been just peachy with me. He already has someone taking Sheepshead from me. I'm not going to further piss him off showing up there when he's expecting you," Race retorted.

Jack gave what Race said some thought before waving it off. "Yeah but everyone knows you're my right hand. Even Spot. I can't send anyone else over there to do business with Brooklyn. Stuff like that has to be dealt with delicately by someone that has the know-how. You used to have a rapport with Spot. That's gotta count for something," he finished.

Race frowned and kicked a pebble. It bounced off a lamp post with a small clang. "What's he wanna meet with you for anyway? What's going on?" he asked suspiciously.

Jack bit his lip and gave a small shrug, furrowing his eyebrows. "I don't know. Just know Mouse said it was confidential when he delivered the message."

This made Racetrack uneasy. It was a very rare thing For Spot to call on the Manhattan boys for anything, never mind something so secretive. The only time any Manhattan boys set foot in Brooklyn was if Spot invited them for a poker game. They never actually wanted to go, but no one was stupid enough to tell him no. Spot being so tight lipped about the reason for the meeting put Race on edge.

"Fine, I'll go," he said, letting his contempt show in his voice. "But don't expect him to talk to me."

Jack nodded his thanks and they continued the rest of the walk in companionable silence.

It was early evening before they had made it to the tracks. The afternoon races had just ended and Racetrack could see crowds of people dispersing. The only people left milling about were the drunkards, the people who probably lost their bets and drank themselves into a stupor to forget it.

Jack peered around a small group of people expecting to see the person Race was talking about but she was nowhere in sight. He turned to Race and gave him a look. "What gives, Race? Where is she?"

Racetrack's eyes darted around, trying to catch a glimpse of the girl that had made his blood boil. "She was right there." he pointed to the spot she had been sitting. "She said she wasn't leaving."

Racetrack scratched his head. Sure, it had taken a while to walk back, but she had been so adamant on staying. He didn't think she would have relented.

Jack scanned the crowd once more before shaking his head. "I don't see any girls here at all. I guess she heeded your warning."

Race sighed, half annoyed and half relieved. He wasted his time walking all the way back to Manhattan, but at least she was gone. He didn't want to have to hear her mouth when he got back anyways. She was annoying and her southern drawl got on his nerves.

"Come on, let's go. Kloppman is getting strict on curfew. You've been making a habit of staying out past it. One more time and he's making you sleep outside for the night," Jack told Racetrack who nodded begrudgingly.

They turned around to head home and Race couldn't help but have a newfound spring in his step. The girl was gone, and she'd stay that way if she knew what was good for her.