The Road to Harlem

7. Brooklyn

Hello my lovely readers, I know it's been a while and I've been rly busy but I hope y'all have liked it so far and enjoy this next chapter!! Tysm for reading! Love you all!!! <333

(Muriel's POV)

The next day when we all lined up outside the lodging house to get our papes, there was a new kid ahead of me in line.

"Hey," I said, "you seem new, I'm Muriel." The young boy turned around and smiled at me. He was dressed better than any of us and he wore a bowl hat which I almost laughed at.

"Nice ta meet ya Muriel!" He said excitedly, "I'm Les, and this is my brother David." He said as he pulled at the shirt of the boy in front of him. They looked exactly alike except David was clearly at least 5 years older than Les.

"Hi," David said shiley. When he turned around Les said, "Sorry 'bout him, he's a bit shaken up about having to go to work," I nod, understandably. "Not me though! I'm so excited! I have a feeling this is going to be better than school!" I stared at him, dumbfounded.

"You've been to school? I've only dreamt about it!"

"Well it's actually pretty boring and the teacher hits me with a ruler a lot. You're not missing much."

In front of us, David was struggling to get his papes. "-I'm sorry, but I asked for twenty papers and you only gave me nineteen." Weasel didn't look surprised.

"Beat it!" He practically barked. Jack nonchalantly walked over. This is pretty serious if Jack has to be part of this. He snached the papes from David's hand and counted them. "New kid's right weasel, ya gave 'im nineteen. I'm sure it was an honest mistake on accounta' Osca' can't count to twenty with his shoes on!" Everyone burst out laughing. Is this what it's gonna be like everyday? I love it here!

Les and I got our papes fairly quickly. Weasel barely spoke a work to us and I was grateful that Jack had knocked the stuffing outta him for the time being. After collecting my papes, I skipped over to Race, who was taking to Albert and Specs.

"Hia Muriel!" said Race, "Wes were just takin' 'bout going to Sheep's Head afte' sellin. Ya wanna come wit us?"

"Yeah, sure." I said, not knowing what the Sheep's Head was. But I guess I was gonna find out.

"Let's go Muriel," Race said, "gotta get ta sellin'." I smiled and hooked my arm with his as we turned the corner and started selling our papes at the same spot as yesterday, screaming out headlines until the people walking by found interest.

TIME SKIP - After selling (like around 7pm)

When me, Race, Albert and Specs started walking to the Sheep's head, the sun was setting and the sky was filled with bright oranges and pinks.

Race said, "By the way, the Sheepsheads in Brooklyn so wes gonna be back late." I was fine with that. It's been forever since I was on the street at night.

The whole way there, which was like two hours, Race and the others were telling jokes and telling funny stories. I've never had so much fun or laughed so much in my entire life.

When we finally got there, I understood what the Sheep's head was. It was a horse racing track! I've always wanted to go to one of these! I also understood where Race's name came from, his apparent love of going here.

"How are we supposed to get in?" I asked, "Are we even allowed to go in?"

"Of course we can go in!" Race almost yelled, and I looked around to make sure no one paid attention to us. Race led us to the entrance and it was so packed that we had to squeeze by the herd of people trying to get in. Once inside, it was even more packed and smelt strongly of cigar smoke. I don't think I've ever felt more claustrophobic. I squeezed Race's hand. Wait, was I always holding his hand? I don't remember when he grabbed my hand. Whatever, I'm glad that he is, otherwise I could never find him.

"Hey, Muriel!" Race yelled. I whipped my head around and only then realized how hard I was squeezing his hand, it was nearly white! I felt my face get hot and I loosened my grip, but he squeezed my hand and an overwhelming smile took over my face. I came back to my senses just as we came to the desk. Race dropped my hand and looked around to see if Albert and Specs were here as well; they were.

Race faced the clerk and smacked a dime on the table, "Hello misteh', I'd like to bet on number 17."

"Alright, how many seats?"

"Four."

"Fifty cents." Race took two quarters out of his pocket and gave it to the man. Then he turned to us, "Let's go."

We followed Race through the mass of people until we got outside, finally! I took a deep breath. It smelled like horse manuer and dirt out here but it was so much better than in there. Race led us up a few rows of seats and once he sat down, motioned for us to sit next to him. He patted the seat next to him, "Sit 'ere Muriel. I'll show ya how it's done." Once I sat down next to him, I looked around the track. It was so big! It was just dirt which was kinda depressing, but I was about to see my first horse race, so I wasn't complaining.

Race pointed to the stalls where all the horses were lining up getting ready to start the race. "See dat 'orse? Da one dat's walkin' up ta the stall?" Sure enough, there was only one horse walking up to the stalls, and that was number 17! The horse that he had bet on!

"She's my lucky horse," Race said almost bragging, "She usually wins."

A horn blew and our eyes darted to the track, Race's eyes locked on number 17. It was so silent, you could here the horses breathing. A man's voice on a microphone called out, "On yer mark ... get set ..." A gunshot sounded and the horses took off running and everyone started shouting, telling their horse to go faster. Number 17 started off strong in the first couple laps in second place. Race was shouting at the top of his lungs, and I started yelling with him. 17 finally passed the horse in front of her and we started screaming even louder. The announcer's voice rose above all of us, "3 more laps!" Everyone immediately started yelling louder as if it was going to help the horses go any faster, but it was fun. As they approached the finish line, number 17 was still in first place. Race was yelling, "Come on! Come on!", next to me, and I was saying it in my head. A man with a checkered flag came onto the track and lifted it up just as number 17 came through first place!

When we were walking back to Manhattan, a newsie who was the same height as Race, but with jet black hair and a dirty pale red shirt stopped us. "Racetrack Higgins" he said loudly so that everyone within a couple yards from us could hear everything that he was saying, "Spot Conlon requested to meet wit ya." Race looked over his shoulder at Albert who gave him a reassuring nod. I didn't know what that was about but I honestly didn't care too much. If I didn't plan on getting back to the lodging house, I would fall asleep right here in the middle of the street.

"Ok, let's go," Race said. I was kinda scared for him. I didn't know who this Spot Conlon was but I assumed Race would be okay. After all, he seemed like he knew what he was doing. I watched him and the other newsie walk away until they turned the corner.

Specs wrapped his arm around my shoulders and the three of us walked back across the Brooklyn bridge.