Destructive - Newsies | Sprace

Three | Race

It was a cold morning. Fog hung in the air and the wet wind whipped at all of the newsies' faces. Racetrack loved his selling spot, he really did. The only problem with it was that it got less foot traffic in the winter than it did in the summer, but he couldn't complain too much because it was the same story all around the city.

The colder it is, the fewer papes get sold. Race had one hand crammed into his coat pocket while the other was waving high above his head, clutching today's paper.

"Declarations of Molineux's guilt! Court cases! Read all about it!" Race shouted at the thin herds of people passing by.

"I'll take one." A lady approached him and held out a penny, which was happily exchanged for a newspaper.

Race crammed it into his pocket along with the other coins he had made so far. It wasn't a lot, but it was still fairly early so Race refused to get discouraged.

"Heya, miss!" Race called out to a passerby. "Wanna spare a penny for a pape?" He tried shooting her a wink, but she brushed him off and continued walking.

"Excuse me, are you a newsie?"

Race looked over at the person who had spoken. It was a boy, no older than 15. He was dressed fairly well, which was fitting for this area of Manhattan. He was a tiny bit taller than Race but much bigger built. He had broad shoulders and thick arms, along with a glare that should belong to a 40-year-old man, not a 15-year-old boy.

"No, I'm just sellin' papes for fun. 'Course I'mma newsie. The name's Racetrack." Race snapped back, "Why? Wanna join or somethin'?"

"Oh, no." The boy said his words with disgust as if the idea of selling papers on the street corner was as bad as the plague. "But I'm looking for someone. Last time I checked, he went off and became a newsboy."

"Got a name for me or am I s'posed to read your mind?" Race tucked the newspaper he was waving around under his arm and turned towards the boy.

"Sean Patrick O'Connell." The boy stated.

Race almost burst out laughing. "I meant his newsie name."

"I'm afraid I don't know what it is, but I could describe him to you if you would like."

Race nodded his head. "Go for it, pal."

"He's scrawny, feminine looking. Small build. Probably stupid, a bit of a dumbass. His hair is probably a bit lighter than mine," Race needed to glance up at the boys hair to see that it was a light brown, "Blue eyes. Like, really blue eyes. Cold eyes that could serve as a warning if he was dangerous enough. Last time I checked, he wore a key around his neck. Overall pretty funny looking." The boy spat out the words like it pained him to say them.

Spot! This guy is talking about Spot Conlon! Wait, Spot's real name is Sean? And why would Spot even know a rich kid like this? Why's he being so nasty about it though? Spot's anything but funny looking.

"I never met a newsie who looked like that." Race stated.

"You're sure about that?" He asked.

"Mhm." Race nodded his head. "Pretty sure I would remember a girly looking newsboy who wore a key." Spot doesn't look feminine! Plus what's so bad about that? Katherine's a girl but she's still pretty cool.

"Well, could you keep an eye out for me? Maybe ask some of your friends? I really need to find him." The boy pleaded.

"Mhm, okay." Race grabbed the paper and started waving it around again, broadcasting its headline to anyone who would listen.