According to this one thing I found, supposedly, people are most creative at night and least creative during the afternoon. As a writer, I think this is partially true. Therefore, I want to see if I can get my creativity going writing at 00:08/12:08 am in the morning haha.
So. The first day after the strike ended. Enjoy! :)
Race will never admit it, but the lack of routine during the strike stressed him out a lot. He's kinda relieved now that he can start his normal day again.
He is not looking forward to waking up, though.
"Alright! CARRY THE BANNER!" Kloppman shouts fondly at them.
Everyone who is conscious groans in complaint.
Drowsily, they get themselves out of bed.
If I don't open my eyes, I don't have to get up. And I can just fall back asleep and slip right back into that dream-
"Race," Blink shakes his shoulder gently. "You gotta get up now."
Race whines. "I don't wanna."
"I know you don't wanna, but you still have to."
Race groans but still mutters a small "fine" for Blink's sake.
He sits up.
Can't believe I actually missed waking up in the morning to sell newspapers.
You'll feel better once you're up and at 'em, you know that.
Fine. But where is my darn cigar?
Race looks for his cigar. This time, he doesn't hesitate to look at Snipeshooter's bunk; where he finds Snipeshooter and his cigar.
He moves over there. "That's my-"
"Ah, you can have it," Snipeshooter shoves it at him. Race rolls his eyes, but happily takes it from him, flicks his tongue out-in, and, now satisfied, moves away, ready to begin his day.
The part of his mind that told him that he'd feel better once he was out in the city was right. This is what he missed. Running in the streets with the newsies before they get their papers.
Once they reach the circulation center, Race has to remind himself that Weasel no longer works here. Well good riddance. The only downside, though, is that he's going to have to learn this new geezer's name. Not that he'd remember to put the name to the face later.
"Headin' straight to Brooklyn, Race?" Jack asks after Race collects his papes and he collects his, just checking in on him.
Race tucks the papes under his arm. "You know it."
"Stay safe, okay? Don't talk to strangers."
Race chuckles. "Okay, I won't." Then he turns around. "Who am I supposed to sell papers to?"
Now Jack chuckles as he gets out of line. "No talking to unfriendly strangers."
"I think I can do that."
Jack pats Race on the shoulder. "Later, Race."
"Later, Jack."
As Race leaves, Jack smiles as he watches him walk away. It's moments like this that make everything worth it. It hasn't even been 48 hours since Jack reconnected with Race, but he's already back in full swing as Race's (over-)protective older brother.
YOU ARE READING
I'll Always Look Out For You
Fanfiction15 years before the legendary newsies strike of 1899, a child was born. When he is 18 months old, he is brought to the Manhattan Newsies Lodging House. In time, he would be known as Racetrack Higgins. This is his story. This is the story of the news...
