Short tempered

1

April 3rd, 1900 (Post-Strike)

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"(Y/N), wake up.." A voice cooed in her ear. The girl groggily pulled herself up, only to be met with the face of her older-by-1-year brother. She yawned and rubbed her eyes.

"Morning Jack.." She muttered, stretching. Her back cracked in various ways, signaling she had been asleep for far too long. Tossing off the covers, she hopped off her bunk to get ready for the day. Meanwhile, Jack went around waking all the other newsies, who were still sleeping. (Y/N) glanced out the window to see the sun was just rising.

(Y/N) reached into her drawer, pulling out her day clothes - a white button up, suspenders, a gray newsie hat, and some simple pants. She hastily threw the button up over the tank top she was wearing, and retreated to the bathroom to change her pants.

Once in there, she threw off her pajama pants, and on went her regulars. Casually, she adjusted her suspenders to actually pull her pants up, and pushed a stray piece of hair behind her ear out of her face - she also made a mental note to cut it soon.

Slapping on her newsie hat, she strided out of the bathroom and looked around. All the boys seemed to have been woken up by now, as they were running around, getting ready, and saying stuff about carrying some banner.

"Mornin' Temper!" A newsie called out from where he was getting ready. (Y/N) clenched her fists and rolled her eyes - she did not like that nickname.

Temper. It was only her nickname because of, well, her temper. (Obviously.) Anyways, her temper was known to be short and firey, and thus kept many away from her. Except, of course, those who liked a challenge - one of those boys was Racetrack Higgins.

Racetrack was fond of gambling, horse races, and (debatably) being the biggest flirt in the whole city of Manhattan. He was a short guy, and he absolutely loved flirting with (Y/N). Of course, he often got smacked or told off, but she was pretty and he liked to flirt.

"Mornin' sweetheart!" Another voice yelled from behind her. She turned to see the incarnation of the devil himself.

"Good Morning, Racetrack." She grunted, rolling her eyes for the second time in the past few minutes. She looked at the boy - he was short, yet somehow still taller than her by an inch or so. He often had his arms exposed by his shirt and always had a cigar dangling from his lip no matter the occasion.

"Do you need something?" She inquired, raising an eyebrow. Race only grinned, wiggling his own suggestively.

"Not at all. I can see youse still beautiful, though." He flirted, leaning against the wall. (Y/N) snickered at his pathetic attempt and gave her reply.

"And I can see that you're still short and lonely." She retorted, crossing her arms. Despite the fact she was also short, Race seemed irritated.

"Come on, youse short too!" He argued, taking the cigar out of his mouth temporarily, then putting it back in.

"Maybe I am, but being short is a vantage point for a girl." She replied nonchalantly, shrugging her shoulders. (Y/N) then turned and jogged off, eager to get her papes and start her selling for the day.
Besides, who had time for a boy like that?

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"Boy killed by box of cigars! You only heard it here, folks!" (Y/N) cried out, eager to sell her last pape. A women in a fancy dress and a hat with a feather soon strode up and gave her a nickel. In return, however, she got (Y/N)'s last pape.

"Thanks miss!" She thanked as the women walked away. (Y/N) turned to the opposite direction, only to be met by the irritation monster himself - and no, it was not Les. He was probably off selling with Davey by the fountain.

"Hello gorgeous." Race wooed, making (Y/N) roll her eyes and sigh for the third time that day. She stepped around him and kept walking - she had to meet up with a few friends and was not going to let Race hold her back.

"Where's youse goin' in such a rush?" He questioned, speeding up his pace to walk aside (Y/N) - who was speed walking by now with a scowl on her face.

"Go away, shortie." She glowered, glaring daggers at him. Race did not seem remotely hurt by this and kept up his pace to match hers. She looked straight ahead and adjusted her cap ever so slightly.

"Aw, dont be like that Tempa'!" He mocked, using the nickname she hated so much - and that he knew she hated so much. (Y/N) stopped in her tracks and Racetrack smirked to himself - he had successfully gotten her attention.

"What did you call me..?" She growled, turning around. Her face was already distorted by anger, living up to her nickname - it was almost unrealistic how quickly she got mad at this guy! Its like they were in a book or something!

"Tempa'?" He teased, crossing his arms to make him seem bigger. (Y/N) was not having any of his shenanigans today.

SMACK

"Ow!" Race shrieked, quickly lifting his hand to his cheek - which was now a lighter red from the impact of (Y/N)'s irritation and rage. She turned on her heel without another thought and continued on.

Race groaned, defeated - now he had to figure out other ways to entertain himself. (Y/N) was, naturally, his first choice - he had had feelings for her since he became a newsie for Christ's sake! Race thought she was simply stunning, and her personality only allured him closer.

Alas, she didn't reciprocate the feelings, and Race had no idea how to be serious with her. He had accepted by now that they would probably never be together - besides, she was very close to Davey. In fact, she was close enough to the tall boy to the point that Jack didn't let them in the same room alone together.

(Y/N), though, didn't mind Jack being protective of her. They had watched their father die, and he had raised her since, even though she was only a year or so younger - Race's age.

But, she didn't seem to like Race.

No, she was far too short tempered.

A/N:

"Im not going to make any more books about newsies." I said, publishing the last chapter of ' a lone newsie ' 

anyways heres some race for the soul (this story is gonna b short btw)