Destructive - Newsies | Sprace

Eleven | Race

It was a gorgeous morning. The sun was shining strong to raise the temperatures above teeth -chattering level, but not enough to make Race want to remove his jacket. The headline was nothing special that day, but that didn't stop Racetrack from buying 80 papes. He was... happy.

Race didn't experience true happiness that often. The most notable events would have been when he got his face on the front page and when they beat Pulitzer in the strike. But this, this was a different kind of happiness. He just couldn't stop smiling.

Spot likes me.

That was the only thing going through Race's mind at that time. He could barely think, not that he thinks that much in the first place. Race was waving papers high above his head, eager to make some money. He had sold a couple of papers so far, but he had only been at his post for about an hour.

"I'll take a newspaper, please," A young kid walked up, waving around a shiny penny.

Race did the exchange and watched as the boy ran back to his parents, pointing over in Race's direction and smiling. The parents rolled their eyes and dragged the boy away.

A sharp point was suddenly shoved onto Race's back.

"Heya Racetrack," A voice hissed in his year, "It's me. Your old pal. William."

Race nodded his head and stared forward. "What do you want?"

The pressure in his back became worse and Race let out a little wince.

"Walk. Or I stab you, right here, right now. I'm sure I've proven myself enough to the point where you believe me," William whispered into Race's ear, sending chills down his spine.

Race gulped. He nodded quickly, then began to walk away from his selling spot. Despite the fact that he was trying to walk as normal as he could to not piss William off, Race couldn't help the uncontrollable shaking that coursed through his body.

"Turn left," William whispered.

Race saw the alleyway that William was instructing him to go down. Was this what it was like for Mush? For Les? What were their final thoughts? Did he give them a warning or did he just stab them? Race was panicking, to say the least.

They turned down the alley, the temperatures immediately dropping as the high buildings shielded them from the sun. This is it... isn't it? I'm actually going to die. I thought everything was going so well. Spot told me not to worry about his brother and look at where that got me. Race felt as if someone was lightly touching his cheek but then realized that those were tears falling down his face. He had started to cry.

Racetrack loved life. Simple as that. He loved his friends and his family. He loved his cigars and playing cards. He loved getting to see Spot and more than all he loved New York. Everyone wanted to come to New York, and Race was already there.

It took this long for him to realize that there were so many things he still wanted to do. He wanted to get a box at the infamous Sheepshead Races. He wanted to make enough money to move out of the lodge and buy clothes when he needed them. He wanted to grow up and live out his life. More than anything though, he wanted to kiss Spot Conlon again and he wanted Spot to kiss him back.

The pain suddenly faded away and Race assumed William had removed the knife. When his life wasn't ended immediately, Race became confused. He spun around to talk to William but was met with the back end of a wooden plank.

Race groaned and tried to move his head. He hadn't even opened his eyes yet when the memories started flooding back. He had been knocked unconscious by William.