them brooklyn boys⚡️sprace

Aw shit, Jack knows Race knows

All of the newsies got home on time that evening. Nobody went over to Brooklyn or anything. When Jack got to the Lodging house Race went up and told him the news.
"I won. We gets a week of selling papes there if we wants."
"I knew you wouldn't let me down! Good job race!"
He responded, patting him on the back. He didn't feel too excited.
-
On the other side of the Brooklyn bridge, Spot Conlon was lying awake in his bed. Thinking. He had decided that he had a crush on Race. You see, Spot was known for suppressing his feelings. You had to be real special if he couldn't hold them in, even for you. Nobody had ever really found out his secrets, they just knew because he showed very few emotions. It bothered some of the Brooklyn newsies at first, they'd never tell though. Talking to Spot was hard, especially on his terms. Which is why, this night he chose to lock himself in his quarters of the Lodging Home. He got his own room, of course. He stayed there past dinner. Past lights out. Past 1. Just laying, thinking, staring at the ceiling. He did that sometimes, you wouldn't expect it. Mainly by choice. It's not like the other boys isolated him in his room because they were freaked out by him. No, no that wasn't it. Spot rolled over blew the hair out of his face. He hated when there was too much covering it. It had to be the perfect amount. He rolled over the other way. It was almost 2:30 and he hadn't gotten a blink of sleep. It was unusually quiet that night. The wealthy folk would regularly have parties that lasted till dawn. Or bums would just be leaving the bar at this hour. But no, the only sound was the slight rattle of the window lock as the wind pressed against it. And Spots breathing. He also hated when he could hear himself breathing. He rolled over once again, and closed his eyes.
-
"Race"
He heard someone whisper. He was being shaken too.
"Race, wake up!"
He turned over to face the other direction of whoever was trying get him awake. The person pinched his nose. Before he could say anything the person, who he identified as Les after his eyes adjusted to the darkness, slapped a hand over his mouth. He used the other one to put his pointer finger in front of his closed lips, signaling to be quiet.
He was very confused. Sometimes Les had night terrors though, so he didn't wanna brush it off in case it was something important. The younger boy dragged him out the room, to the end of the hallway where the window was. He pointed out at two figures, both drenched in black from head to toe.
"Why is this important?"
Race whispered, half-asleep.
"Do they not look sketchy to you?"
"Well, yes, but-"
"You see?!?!"
Race sighed, it was 3 am. Why was Les even up?
"Listen. If there's something sketchy that might have been there tomorrow morning, we can investigate. Deal?"
Race spit in his hand.
"Deal"
Les spit in his and they shook, then walked back to the room. Race went over to Les's bed and tucked him in, because even though he was ten, he was still a kid. Race then walked over to his bed and got in, drifting off to sleep quickly. Though in his dreams, he couldn't seem to shake the feeling that something was wrong.
-
The next morning, everyone got up at the same time. It's not like there was much reason behind getting bathed.
"Ise going to Brooklyn today."
Jack announced, slinging the bag he had over his shoulder.
"Whys everyone goin' to Brooklyn all of uh sudden"
Elmer asked, tying his shoes.
"Yah. Especially with Spot Conlon. He's so scary. I don't care if we's allies. Makes 'im no less intimidatin'."
Said Kid Blink, shuddering.
"Yeah. He's horrifying."
Race mumbled to himself.
"Calm down fellas. I just needs to go work out the details for this months gamble, which Racetrack won!"
They shouted and hollered, clapping their hands, Race twisted the cigar in his his mouth. He did that when he was nervous, or fidgety.
"It was nothin'. Really."
Race said, following Jack out into the hall.
"Listen."
He said, pointing at Jack.
"I know youse ain't  going over theres just to 'work out details' because you ain't had to do that the past 3 months we've been workin' dis system."
Race said, accusingly.
"So. Why's you going over theres?"
His eyes narrowed, staring Jack down.
"I don't knows what youse talkin' 'bout Racer."
Race sighed, and thought of what Spot had said about not telling Jack he knows about the whole paying turfs to let others sell there thing. 'Screw it' he said to himself.
"Is this about paying Spot to sell on 'is turf? Or Queens doin' that to Brooklyn. So on an' so on?!"
Jacks eyes widened. He grabbed Race's wrist and dragged him farther down the hall.
"How do you know about thats?"
He demanded, holding his wrist up.
"Spot told me."
Race said, prying out of his grip.
"No. No. Spot swore that he wouldn't tell anyone if we didn't."
"I guess he spilled to me."
Race said, shrugging.
"Can I ask a few questions?"
Jack sighed, tapping his foot.
"I guess, now that you knows about it."
Race nodded.
"When did this start?"
"Bout a month and a half agos"
"Who started it?"
"Queens. They offered to pay a little to Brooklyn up front if they could sell on there turfs for a week. Then it turned into—"
Jack gestured around the air.
"This."
Race sighed. Could this actually be happening?

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Jesus. Close to 1k words. I need to contain myself lmao.