The Bridge to Brooklyn (Sprace fanfic)

Scream off the bridge

——

"Up! Up! Up! Everyone has to get up! Those papes ain't gonna sell dem selves!!", Jack hollered at the top of his lungs.

There was a unified groan that echoed throughout the bunk room. Some boys got up, others snuggled deeper under their blankets. Jack and other older newsies shook some of the stubborn kids out of their beds.

Racetrack threw his pillow over his head attempting to muffle the commotion erupting in the crowded room.

"Oh~ Race~", Albert sang in his ear.

Race swatted him away. For a moment Race believed that they were gonna let him sleep, until he felt hands grip tightly around his ankles. Who ever grabbed him yanked.

Race tumbled out of his bunk, "HEY!!"

Jack and Albert leaned over Race grinning ear to ear, "Wakey wakey Racetrack", they said in unison.

Race groaned and got up. He reached for the tin on his bed side table. He felt around, but the tin was empty. Race check in his bed and on the floor.

"Hey!!", Race shouted, "Who took my cigar?! I'm looking at you Snipeshooter!"

Sure enough, Sniper was pulling up his suspenders with Race's cigar stuck between his teeth. Race lunged at him reaching for his cigar. Snipeshooter yelped and the cigar went flying across the room.

"You nitwit! That's my cigar! If you want one buy ya own.", Race grabbed it off the floor before anyone else could grab it.

"Wow someone's in a bad mood dis mornin", Crutchie teased, limping past him.

"I's just tired.", Race explained.

All the newsies of the Manhattan lodging house were awake now, get dressed and some doing basic hygiene. Race walked over to the wash room and turned on one of sinks, splashing his face with cold water.

Blink entered the room, his hand over his bad eye, "Has any of you's seen my patch?"

Race grinned wiping his face dry, "Check Snipeshooter's pockets."

Mush came up behind Blink hanging his patch over his face. Blink thanked him as he put his patch back on his face. Race saw Mush whisper something in Blinks ear making Blink turn 7 different shades of red. Odd? Wonder what he said.

Mr. Kloppmen walked into the room, "Newsies! Time to carry the banner!!"

Everyone rushed to finish getting ready, grabbing their canvas bags and hats. Race grabbed an extra few coins because today he was betting at Sheepshead. Everyone walked to the circulation center. Race walked with Albert and Finch laughing and cracking jokes.

"Well good morning Weasel~", Jack greeted the older man.

Weasel sighed. No matter how many times he corrects the Newsies, Crutchie will be the only one who ever calls him by his real name. Everyone slowly got their papers and walked to their selling spots. Jack lingered behind searching the crowd for Davey and Les. After the strike, Jack and David spent more and more time together. They sold together, spent their free time together. Jack even had dinner with David's family from time to time.
Race gently chewed on the end of his cigar.

"Going to Brooklyn again Race", Jack said as Race walked pass.

"You know it. I's got a real good feelin about Number 9 today", he grinned and strutted off to Brooklyn.

——

"Damnit!! Stupid horse!", Race grumbled kicking a rock in frustration.

Number 9 lost the race and selling was slow. Race's day was crap from the beginning. Race walked through Brooklyn trying to sell his papers but everyone already had one. Frustrated, Race ran until he saw the Brooklyn bridge connecting Manhattan and Brooklyn together.
The river flowed underneath it. It swirled and spun with the current. Race walked up to the edge m, leaning on the barrier admiring, the now setting sun.

"Hey Racer, rough day?", a voice sounded behind him.

Race spun around fist in the air. The Leader of Brooklyn, Spot Conlon. Spot stepped back from Race's fists.

"Ain't looking for a fight, Brooklyn?", Race teased.

"Not today. Is something buggin ya, I saw ya kick the shit out of the rock."

Race rolled his eyes and turned back to the barrier, "Don't get me started..", he pulled his cigar out of his pocket. "Got a match?"
Race only smoked when he was having an especially bad day.

Spot crossed his arms and raised his eyebrow, "you ain't gonna smoke, are ya?"

Race turned to look at Spot, "no I's was planning on eating the match and shove da cigar up my nose."

Spot shook his head and walked to stand next to him.

"I's got a better idea that won't hurt ya health", Spot took a deep breath and screamed down into the river.

Spot came up and gestured at race to follow his lead. Race rolled his eyes and took a deep breath and screamed. When he stopped, he felt better.

"Wow that felt great..", race screamed at the river again.

"See~", Spot smirked.

Race sighed sitting on the barrier, "I really need to take more advice from you, Spottie"

"I told youe's not to call me that."

"Aww lighten up Spottie"

Spot swung a punch into Race's arm, "that's a warning. Now beat it before I soak ya."

"Ow harsh Spottie...see ya tomorrow!", Race grinned and walked away towards Manhattan.

"...see ya Racer..", spot mumbled.

——

Hi! How did you like this first chapter? It's shorter than what I normally write but whatever lol