My Bet

New Boy

"Papers for the Newsies! Line up!" The line gets formed in front of the widow where the papes are being distributed. Jack stood in the line first with Race right behind him. Bet went to wedge herself between the two, knowing that they would let her through, but Albert grabbed her hand and dragged her to the back standing her behind him. 

"Ain't letting ya cut the line today shortstuff. Last time you pissed Weasel off so bad he didn't even care to think about me comments." Albert complained. 

"Aye cry me a river why don't ya." Bet laughed, slapping Albert's shoulder, the guys behind her chuckled as well. The line started moving when Jack finally got to Weasel.

"Good morning, Weasel. Did you miss me?" Jack asked teasingly. The annoyed look on Mr. Wiesel's face was one to make the days of the newsies better, guarantee. It could be pouring outside and the kids would be happy just cause they got to annoy the Delancey brothers and Mr. Wiesel. It was the best start to their day. 

"That's Wiesel." He corrected for maybe a millionth time. The kids would never get it right anyway. Not that they can't, they just don't want to. 

"Ain't that what I said?" Jack asked looking back at his friends who chuckled with him. He pulled out his money and slapped them down. "I'll take the usual." 

"A hundred papes for the wise guy." Mr. Wiesel commented ordering Oscar to hand the papers over.  Oscar chucked them at Jack who paid no mind to the younger Delancey as he stuffed most of his papes in the bag only leaving one out to read through it. 

That was the work of Newsies, if you want to sell, you need to know the content of what you are selling. Of course, they tend to make the headlines more interesting than they really are but there is always some sort of truth in the text. The line finally moved as Race stepped forward, pulling the cigar out of his mouth.

"How's it going, Weasel?"

"At least call me mister," Weasel complained knowing better than to try and correct Race on his name. Race might have one of the worse pronunciations of all the newsies. Even if they all have a thick accent, Race sometimes says things no one call fully understand.

"I'll call you sweetheart if you'd spot me fifty papes." Race said with a smirk, leaning closer to the older man, cigar hanging from his mouth. Bet watched the whole situation, eyes never leaving the blond boy. 

"Drop the cash and move it along." 

"Well, whatever happened to romance?" Race asked pretending to be hurt as he slapped the money on the counter. 

"Fifty for the Racer. Next!" Race snatched his papes from Oscar's hands sending the boy a glare. He took his stuff and went to sit on the cart where Bet was sitting earlier.

"Hey, ya know youse can breath yeah?" Albert teased, shaking Bet's shoulder, seeing her still frozen in staring at Racer. "Heard it? Race cares 'bout romance. All ya have to do is give him 50 papes." The ginger teased earning himself a slap from Bet. 

"Stuff it." Bet muttered annoyed.

"Good morning, Mr.Wiesel." Crutchie greeted as he limped over.

"Fifty papes for Crutchie." Weasel chuckled at Crutchie as he hopped along. The boy was probably the only polite newsie around. He then spotted someone new in the line. A smiled appeared on his old face. "Have a look at this, a new kid." Bet's eyes widened when she saw a little kid step out of the line from behind the new boy. 

"I'm new too!" 

"Ya don't say." Bet punched Knuckles in the arm for his harsh comment to the little kid. The taller boy winced in pain, rubbing the sore spot on his arm. That will definitelly bruise by tonight.