them brooklyn boys⚡️sprace

Walking? Running? More like sprinting away from your problems

Yeah❤️

The day dragged by. Literally. Not only did Race have to walk all the way back across the Brooklyn Bridge, but then he had to get papers ( because for some reason he didn't have the brain capacity to grab them on his way to Brooklyn ), and, obviously, sell them. The weather was decent. Fall was a favorite of the Newsies. It rained, sure. But not every day. And it wasn't scorching hot or freezing cold. Races spot was unusually crowded today, so the selling part wasn't that bad. It was all the damn walking. To Brooklyn, from Brooklyn, back to the Lodging House, To his spot, then all the way to the Lodging House again. When he entered his room the pack of cards he'd thrown onto his bed that morning were sprawled out on the floor.
"Who was playin' with my cards?"
Before anyone got a chance to answer, Davey walked in.
"Moms home!"
Shouted Albert, alerting the other Newsies.
"How many times have I told you not to call me that? I'm not your mother."
"You could bese!"
"But I am not."
He said, throwing his sack onto the ground.
"You give your last papes to Les? Because, he can sells better then youse."
Race breathed in a laugh and it ended up sounding something like a scratchy, high-pitched, screech.
"You okay there Ractrack?"
"Just fine."
No. That wasn't true. He was bored. As hell. The weird thing was, he didn't want to gamble. He didn't wanna go outside and smoke. It's not like he wanted to do any more walking, either.
"Davey?"
"Hm?" He responded.
"Where's Jack?"
"With Les."
"Do youse know when he's gonna be backs?"
"No? Why?"
"I'm bored."
He groaned, kicking his feet into the air.
"What can Jack do about that?"
"I don't knows!  He usually comes backs and has some exciting, life threatening adventure for us to go ons."
"Well why don't you go find him?"
"It's too late. And my legs hurt."
"You confuse the heck outta me Racetrack Higgins."
-
Jack and Les got home an 2 and a half hours later. It was almost 8 pm by then.
"Sorry wese late. We went to Brooklyn. Made sure Conlon gots the message."
Race looked up. Got the message? What does that mean? Before he could ask, Davey pushed past like 3 newsies to reach the other side of the room where Jack and Les were at the entrance.
"You?? Took?? Les?? To?? BROOKLYN??!"
Davey shouted, kneeling in front of his brother to reach the height he was at.
"Are you hurt? Did you get jumped? Oh my god is that scratch new?"
Les pushed him off.
"Mom"
Specs whispered, earning a few chuckles.
"I'm fine. I'm older now Davey. I'm not as vulnerable."
He spun around, pointing a finger.
"Which one of you taught him that word?"
"What? Vulnerable? That was me."
Said Mush, raising his hand. He was looking at some shoes in front of him on the bed. They didn't have matching laces.
"Davey. Calm down. We're technically allies now."
"Wese friends"
Race interrupted.
"Yah. Whatever. The point is if any of em hurt us Spot will rain down terror and they'll probably die of fright."
"Fine....fine. That's not gonna-"
"Stop ya from protecting yo little brudda."
Said a chorus of voices.
"We know. We've heard it a thousand times. Race, by the way, I'm gonna need you to go back to Brooklyn tomorrow. Or get Spot to come here somehow."
"Okay!"
He said, a little two excitedly. They stared at him, and he coughed.
"Um. Why?"
Jack tossed him a dime. Race knew why. They'd made a deal. After the strike they'd decided that each month, they'd bet, gamble, whatever. Whoever lost either had to give a Newsie to the other turf or let a few from the other turf sell papes in their area for a week at most. It was purely because Brooklyn didn't wanna get too close with Manhattan, and Manhattan didn't wanna get to close with Brooklyn. Race thought it was stupid that they were putting betting and money in the middle of themselves to prevent becoming more than allies. Friends. But, his name was Racetrack, it was his duty. This had been happening for almost 3 months now, but it made it no less scary.
"You want me to bet against Spot Conlon?"
"Haven't youse done it a million times befo'?"
"A few."
Race tucked the dime under his pillow.
"Tomorrow. Why is there even money involved?"
"Don't question it. Put together Jack and Spot have like 2 brain cells."
Jack sighed, exiting the room.
"There's not many places you can goes!"
"As long as I'm away from you it's fine!"
They laughed. Jack would be back in the room sooner or later. Race had also heard a few rumors that tomorrow was supposed to be foggy. Which meant less people walking the streets. Which meant less papers sold. Which meant less money. Which meant less food. And so on and so on until death. With winter approaching, none of the newsies could afford unpleasant days. Winter was not fun. They had to start preparing 2 months before the season even started. What happened if Jack got sick? It was scary to think about but all too realistic. Nothing was for sure though. They were just rumors. Eventually, he dozed off to settled chatter. I mean at least he got to see Spot tomorrow.
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