A third of the key

The Brooklyn Boy and Me

Race's POV

I was walking to the Sheepshead Races when I first saw him. He was short but scary as all hell. His dark brown eyes seemed to be staring directly into my soul. I quickened my pace trying to get over the bridge faster. Clearly he was a Brooklyn Newsie with all that red he was wearing. Everything about him screamed at me to stay away, yet there was a small part of myself that kinda wanted to see him agian.

Once I arrived at the Sheepshead I started to sell my papers. A small part of myself was reminding me that this was Brooklyn's territory. I remebered Jack's warning of the so called "King of Brooklyn" but I had already convinced myself that he wouldn't be anything I couldn't talk myself out of. I'd been in trouble before, even with the cops, and everytime I was able to get myself out of it just as well. Why should dealing with this "King of Brooklyn" present any new challenges.

After about three gruleuing hours of seeling, my bag was finally empty. 35 papes gone and paid for. I started to walk home with a skip in my step. I had never sold out quite that fast. I geuss I was getting better at this whole selling buissness. I was fairly new to the Newsie gang at this point and I was just starting to learn the ropes. 35 papers in three hours would be impressive for a veteran Newsie though so I suppose it's time to size up.

Selling out that fast must have given me an ego boost because I walked across the bridge as if I belonged there. I seemed to have forgotten that I was a visitor here and that would be my fatal flaw. I was so lost in my victory that the next time I saw that boy agian he was standing four inches from my face. He looked mad but I didn't think I had done anything wrong. Suddenly he was yelling.

"Did you fucking hear me, Blondie? I asked you a question," His tone threw me off gaurd and I took a step back.

"Uhm, no I didn't hear you say anything," I said trying to stay as calm as possible.

"Well I asked what you thought you doing here!" He announced. The glare on his face felt belittling. Almost as if he was mocking me. I hate being mocked. I felt my face twist into anger and I stepped forward, regaining my space.

"I'm selling," I said, sudden power laced through my tone. Like I was taken back something stolen from me.

"Selling in Brooklyn? Are you a Brooklyn Newsie? Cause you don't look like a brooklyn Newsie," He said.

I'm sure he would have lectured me forever if I let him. He seemed like the type. Instead I stepped around him and started walking back to Manhattan. I took maybe four steps before something latched onto the collar of my shirt and yanked me around. It was that boy.

"Did I say you could leave?" He asked, practically spitting venom in my face.

"I don't need your permision," I spat back. Before I could even process the fact that those words had fallen from my mouth the brooklyn boy punched me. He punched me directly in the jaw.

I stumbled back and pressed on my jaw gently. I could feel a bruise begin to form. I hesitated slightly but I punched back. I aimed for his nose, and luckily the shot landed pretty hard. I felt his nose break. I knew I was in deep shit. Before this guy had a chance to recover I took off. I bolted down the bridge, ignoring the stream of curses I heard from the boy.

I ran as fast and as far as my legs would take me befre I took a breath. Running with asthma was never a fun adventure.

I leaned up agianst a wall and took a few deep breaths. I could see the sun sinking in the sky. It was going to be dark before long. I pushed myself off the wall and began to walk through the city. My jaw was really starting to hurt. Spot probably did a number on it.