𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐄 | ꜱᴘᴏᴛ ᴄᴏɴʟᴏɴ

𝐓𝐄𝐍

"HEY! THATS MY CIGAR!"

"You'll steal another," Snipesooter redacted.

"Hey, hey!" Kid Blink said. "Hey, bummers, we got work to do!"

Standing beside them, Frenchie couldn't see their faces, but she assumed from their silence that they were not pleased to have yet another sleepless night.

"SInce when did you become me mother?" Specs decided it might be good to change the subject.

"Ah, stop your bawling!" Crutchy had to add.

"Hey!" the newsboys hissed. "Who asked you?"

     Frenchie found Cowboy and told him about her most recent song, which seemed pretty good, and how well Medda paid her for it. She told him about how much faster they'd get to Santa Fe now, saying the money was almost all there.

"Say, howd you sleep, Jack?" Mush Meyers said.

"On me back, Mush," Jack said.

     "Ha-ha-ha-ha! Hear that fellas? Hear what Jack said? I asked Jack how he slept and he said 'On me back, Mush.'"  he laughed hysterically to himself.

Crutchy walked over to Jack—the quietest kid in the lodge house—talking to the top seller in all of new york.

"Hey, Jack," Crutchy said. "When I walk, does it look like I'm faking it?"

"No," Jack slung an arm around him. "Who says your faking it?"

"I don't know," Crutchy admitted. "It's just—there's so many fake crips on the street today, a real crip ain't stand a chance."

"Don't say that about yourself, Crutchy." Frenchie started to clean her hands off in a nearby sink.

"I gotta find me a new selling spot," Crutchy said. "One where they ain't used to seein' me."

"Try Bottle Alley or the harbor," Mush said.

"Or Central Park," Racetrack muttered. "It's guaranteed."

"Try any banker, bum, or barber," Jack told him.

Skittery laughed. "They's almost all knows how to read!"

Blink gasped, coming out of the shower. "I smell money!"

"You smell foul!"

"I met this girl last night—" Mush said quickly.

     "Ahh—move your elbow!"

     Boots wasn't helping, so Frenchie took over. "Pass a towel!"

"For a buck I might!"

***

Racetrack whistled. "Dear me, what is that unpleasant aroma? I fear the sewers may have backed up during the night."

"Ah, too rotten to be the sewer," Boots added.

"Yeah, yeah," Crutchy said. "It must be the Delancey brothers!"

"Hiya boys," Frenchie laughed along with the group. "How are youse doing on this fine morning?"

"Hey look Oscar," Morris said. "We should buy the paper more often. Now that theyse got pretty girls in skirts selling."

That didn't make Frenchie feel any better, but she couldn't argue with what he said. It felt like this was the start of something huge. She just wished that if there were other people destined to help her out of this, they'd speak up quick. Frenchie didn't want to hog all the terrifying life-threatening adventures.

"That's not good to say that," Racetrack groaned. "Not healthy."

"Don't mind us, Ethel." Oscar grinned, moving closer. "It's only a compliment."

"I do mind." She kept looking forward. "I mind a great deal."

Morris brushed hair out of his face and stared at her. "And what are you gonna do about it?"

"A skirt is not an invitation." Frenchie was about to push her hand on him, but thought against it.

"My sister is right." Jack looked at the brothers. "And you're gonna pay for that comment."

"Hey! Five to one Jack skunks 'em!" Racetrack threw himself into the crossfire. "Who's bettin'?"

Jack nodded. "That's an insult." He stepped closer and took Morris' hat. "So is this!"

"Run, Jack!," Crutchy finished. "Run as fast as ya can!"

"Come on, Jack," Frenchie muttered. "Why do you keep doing this to us?"

It was a good question, but none of them had answers. They chased Jack in a chorus of screams while Frenchie wondered if she had done the right thing, saying so little.

You're gonna pay for that comment. Wasn't that what Jack said? That meant Oscar and Morris would have another reason to throw Jack in the refuge again, assuming they could catch up to him. Or maybe he wouldn't be doing anything at all. Maybe Jack would just make them chase him for a bit.

Then he'd unleash the Delancey's rage, causing a lot of death. Well, that sounded fun!

Frenchie had seen the brothers in action; they liked lying, misdirection, and beating up little kids on the street. Yeah, definitely let's unleash their rage. Great idea.

The newsboys kept following. Jack and the brothers wind got farther down, and behind them, newsies got lost in the crossfire. Frenchie didn't know exactly what the plan was. Jack told them to take them her to where she was supposed to be, but everyone just kept following him. Hopefully, Jack wouldn't be too mad, and they wouldn't regret that decision later.

"Cowboy, look out!" Finch yelled in Frenchie's ear.

"Hey, where's Cowboy?"

Jack swung off the edge of a building and kicked the brothers in the face. He kept running away from the Delancey's until he ran into another two boys in the street.

"What do you think you're doing?" the older one muttered.

"Running!"