- Chapter 36 - And Ace and Spot... but Ace and Race Rhymes, so it Sounds Better... -
Warnings: Slight nerves, nothing too bad
Third Person POV
Ace walks to the Sheepshead area.
He almost immediately found Race talking with someone who held one of the papers.
"Sir, I'm sorry." Race apologizes. "But I can't change what happens in Sheepshead, I just deliver the news." He informs him.
The man grumbles. "Alright." He mutters, pulling a quarter out of his pocket.
"Sir-" Race starts. "You already paid." He reminds him.
The man pushes the quarter into Race's hand. "Who's in the lead at the moment?" He asks him.
Race looks at the quarter. "Number 5." He answers slowly, looking up at the man skeptically.
The man nods. "I'll be back tomorrow." He informs Race.
Race watches him turn and leave, taking Race's last paper with him.
"That was interesting." Ace comments, stepping towards Race, his arms crossed.
Race turns to face him. He shrugs. "Yeah, it happens a bit." He informs him. "I guess some people are just like that." Race mutters. "It was my last pape though."
Ace nods.
"Why are you here?" Race asks him.
Ace shrugs, looking around. "Figured we could go bet together and actually have a conversation that isn't my siblings and I teasing you." He states.
Race smiles slightly. "Yeah."
The two boys walk into Sheepshead.
"How was selling?" Ace asks Race as they look for a place to sit down.
Race shrugs. "Normal." He answers. "What you saw earlier happens quite a bit." He informs him.
Ace nods.
"You?" Race asks, looking over at Ace.
Ace's green eyes meet Race's blue eyes. He shrugs. "It was fine. The excitement from being able to sell again wore off quickly yesterday." He chuckles softly.
Race laughs a bit. "Didn't Red make fun of me for being excited to sell again?" He asks knowingly.
Ace chuckles. "He made fun of me, too." He informs Race. "Trust me, I get that feeling." He states. "And you're not the only one they tease."
"But you're Spot's Second." Race points out, his voice soft.
The two boys sit down on a bench.
Ace looks back at Race. "They- we- tease Spot about stuff." He informs Race. "To a certain extent." He adds.
The two boys laugh together.
"He can be scary when he wants to be." Race comments.
Ace nods, his eyes slightly wider than usual. "You haven't see half of it." He mutters.
Race laughs.
It felt slightly nice to Ace to hear Race laugh, because usually he was more annoyed than amused by the Brooklyn Newsies.
"Speaking of Spot..." Ace starts slowly, turning his body fo face Race. "I have a question."
Race looks up at him. He had been counting how much money he wanted to bet today.
Race raises an eyebrow at Ace.
Ace inhales slowly. "Be completely honest with me, Race," he starts slowly. "Do you have a crush on him?" He asks.
Race's eyes went wide and his cheeks turned red.
Ace immediately got his answer, but he waited to see if Race would say anything.
Race diverts his eyes back to his money, moving it around in his hand nervously. "Yes?"
Ace almost squealed. "That's great! You admitted it!" He exclaims.
His eyes still wide, Race looks up at him. "You're a lot calmer when you're with me alone." He comments.
Ace chuckles. "Fair." He responds.
Race exhales slowly. "I guess it finally dawned on me that my relationship with Spot isn't platonic or brotherly." He mutters, his cheeks slowly reddening. "And Jack, Davey, Crutchie, and maybe all of Manhattan- though I haven't admitted it to them- know." He informs Ace.
Ace chuckles. "That first part is relatable." He states.
Race laughs softly. "Growing up with so many relationships around me, I didn't know the difference for a while." He explains.
Ace nods.
They both went silent for a second.
"So-" both of them started at the same time.
"You go first." Ace states.
Race shrugs. "I was just asking who you're gonna bet on and how much." He informs Ace.
"Eight and two nickels." Ace answers, looking down at the horses.
Race's eyebrows furrow as he looks over at him. "You realize that's a dime, right?" He questions.
Ace shrugs, sorting through his money in his hand. "I treasure my dimes." He responds.
Race chuckles, shaking his head.
Ace looks over at Race. "You betting on Four?" He asks.
Race nods, looking back at the horses. He smiles. "Always."
Ace smiles.
After placing bets
"So," Ace looks over at Race. "Are you ever going to tell Spot that you like him?" He asks.
Race purses his lips, falling silent for a moment. He shrugs. "I don't know." He mutters. "Probably not."
"Why not?" Ace asks. "He definitely likes you." He tells him, nudging his arm gently.
Race shrugs again. "It just doesn't seem meant to work out." He tells Ace. "I'm too much to handle and he gets annoyed quickly." He states, looking kinda defeated, though he was trying to hide it. "He'd give up with me quickly." Race mutters.
Before Ace could respond, the whistle for the race to start blew.
Ace frowns. "You, me, talking later." He tells Race.
Race shrugs, looking back at the race.
Ace sighs, looking back at the race.
Later that day
Ace walks down the Brooklyn dock, waving to some of the Newsies as he passed them.
"You're calm." Kid Quick- also known as Quick- comments.
Ace looks over at him.
He was lazily leaning against a pole, his arms crossed.
Ace shrugs. "It's just been a calm day. Nothing bad has happened." He informs him.
Quick nods. "I can relate to that." He states. "It seems everyone's calmer than usual today." He looks around the dock.
Ace nods. "Your boyfriend is hiding in his crate." He informs him.
Quick gawks at him. "You've been here for two minutes!" He exclaims. "How do you know that?!" He asks.
Ace chuckles. "The same way I knew you were gonna ask me where he is." He responds with a knowing smirk.
Quick nods, realization dawning on him. He waves to Ace as he starts walking off.
Ace waves back.
"By the way, Spot needs you!" Quick shouts to Ace as he disappears from his sight.
Ace cups his hands over his mouth to make a microphone. "Thanks, Quick!" He shouts.
He envisioned the boy nodding, knowing that he probably did.
Ace walks further down the dock, knowing Spot was most likely on his throne of crates.
(A/N, I've been spelling 'throne' wrong this whole time... I keep spelling it as the spelling for if you throw something. Thrown.)
Spot notices Ace walking down the dock. He smiles. "Hey, Ace!"
Ace looks over at him, smiling. "Hey, Spot!"
"How ya doing?" Spot asks, looking back at his pimp-cane.
He was using a blade to carve his initials into it, laying on his back on the crate-throne with his legs over one of the arm rests.
Ace shrugs. "I'm calm." He answers.
"Always nice." Spot comments, not looking over at Ace.
"Race is good, too." Ace informs Spot, his arms crossed.
"Always good." Spot responds, still not looking over at Ace.
"Also," Ace stands next to Spot.
Spot looks up at him.
"Please confess to him soon." Ace almost pleads with him.
Spot's cheeks reddened slightly.
Ace starts walking off.
Spot quickly remembered something. "Hey!" The seventeen-year-old shot up. "I need to talk to you!" He exclaims.
Ace chuckles, looking over at Spot, who had caught up to him. "I wondered when you'd remember." He comments.
Spot rolls his eyes, flipping the blade closed and putting it in his pocket. "Thanks for keeping me in check." He mutters sarcastically.
Ace chuckles again. "You're welcome." He responds.
Spot rolls his eyes as he slips his pimp-cane into his belt loop. "You're so annoying and we have a Borough meeting in 'Hattan in two days time." He informs him. "All boroughs minus East Side and Harlem." He explains.
Ace nods.
Both boys continue talking about other random things as they walk.
1386 Words
It could be that I'm not feeling writing today, but I don't think this and the last two chapters were that good...