Sniper carried his papers under his arm as he crossed the square to where Specs was leaning on the wall, reading through the paper.

"Hey there Sniper," Specs said, looking up at the boy.

"Heya Specs."

Specs watched Sniper shift uneasily, a blush appearing on his face. "You alright?"

"Can you help me? I was readin' and I got stuck."

"Of course I can," Specs smiled. "Which word was you on?"

Sniper pointed it out, embarrassed that he needed help.

"Oh, that is a hard one. Just try it."

"Ne-got-ee-ate," Sniper tried.

"Not quite, but good try! That was real close," Specs encouraged. "It's s'posed to be said 'negotiate'."

"Negotiate," Sniper repeated. "Thanks Specs."

"No problem!"

Specs went back to reading through his paper and Sniper sat down on the ground near his feet. His eyes drifted back to the front page and didn't know whether to smile or be worried.

Young Boy Murdered In Richmond.

It would be a good day for selling, but Sniper knew that it was related to Hook. Once again he felt an overwhelming sense of relief that he and Tommy had run into Romeo. If they hadn't, they could have very well been that morning's headline.

Sniper chewed his lip as he tried to read through the rest of the paper. None of the rest of the articles were very good, but the front page would draw enough attention, especially in the richer parts of the city. The wealthy seemed to have a fascination with death and murder that Sniper didn't understand. There was plenty of death on the streets and in the factories of New York City. It was nothing special, it was commonplace.

All they had to do was take a trip down to Duane Street in the winter and they would see plenty of sick, starving children who arrived too late at the lodging houses, after they'd been filled. Even better, they could stroll through Mulberry Bend if they were looking for death, even murder. Their best chance at seeing the mysterious murders they liked reading about in the papers would be in Hell's Kitchen. Sniper, at not quite thirteen, could tell you that.

Sniper shook his head. Rich people would never fail to confuse him.

"Good headline," Specs mumbled as he continued to peruse the paper. "It's a moneymaker."

Sniper flinched. Specs was right, but this was a boy. He was a newsie! It could've been Ike on the front page. None of the boys would've been talking about a good headline if Ike were the boy. Sniper felt guilt settle in his stomach. Money had been the first thing on his mind, but the more he thought about it, the sicker he felt. Selling the paper today would be making money off of the death of one of their own. But Sniper knew he had no choice but to sell, despite his revelation he was going to make money off of this kid's murder. It didn't get any sicker than that.

Soon the boys had all finished getting their papers and were excitedly reading, but Sniper ignored them, instead focusing on Jack. Jack had arrived late the night before, and he'd been angry. He hadn't said a word to any of them until that morning when he told them that they could only trust themselves. All of the boys were confused, but knew better than to question Jack when he was in one of his moods. Instead they gave Crutchie the honor of trying to figure out what was wrong with Jack.

Crutchie was with Jack at the moment, and he was saying something, but Jack didn't seem to be listening. It surprised Sniper quite a bit, Jack was always a good listener to the boys, especially Crutchie. Now he was just absentmindedly nodding along with the shorter boy's words as he scanned the square. His eyes met Sniper's and he motioned him over.

Sniper got up and headed over to Jack, his eyes squinted at their leader. "You need somethin' Jack?"

"Youse sellin' with me today, okay?"

"Why?" Sniper's nose scrunched up as he imagined spending the day selling with Jack. It wasn't that he didn't like the older boy, it was just that Sniper was no longer a kid. He was old enough to sell on his own and had been doing so for years.

"I ain't spent much time with youse lately. I thought we could fix that today."

Sniper wanted to laugh. He and Jack never spent time alone. They both cared deeply about the other, but they weren't very close. The last time Jack had spent the day with just Sniper was when the boy was ten and had caught the flu. Jack had stayed at the lodge with him all day, but Sniper barely remembered the day, which he spent either sleeping or in a daze brought on by fever.

Sniper was about to bring that up, but he noticed the paper clenched in Jack's fist and hesitated. It was crumpled, now unsellable, and Sniper watched out of the corner of his eye as Specs and Henry approached Tommy Boy. Understanding filled the boy, the day's headline flashing in his mind, and he nodded.

"Sure, that sounds like fun."

"Of course it does. When isn't my company entertainin'?" Jack grinned, patting Sniper's shoulder. "We oughta get goin', I'll see youse later Crutch."

"Bye Crutchie," Sniper added as he followed Jack.

Noticing that Jack was leaving, all the boys took that as their cue to head to their spots for the day. Within minutes the square was empty and the streets were being filled with the calls of the boys, all competing to sell their papes as quickly as they could.

***

Race had not been doing well, despite the other boys' beliefs. They'd all been so caught up on Mike, which was completely understandable, and none of them had noticed that Race was acting strange.

Jojo hadn't even noticed, which was maybe the worst part for Race. He and Jojo were very close, but the boy hadn't mentioned Race's change in behavior even once.

Jack had been too caught up with his Katherine and Davey problems that Race never had a chance to speak with him more about his past. That was something Race knew that he had to do, but everyone seemed busy, no one had time to listen. Race was left all alone, floundering in the memories of his past.

Smoking was his vice, and even that was failing him. Race wrung his cap in his hands as he walked past Seward Park. He felt as though he were drowning and he couldn't figure out which way was up.

His nightmares had returned. Race hadn't experienced them in over four years, yet they'd returned so suddenly, even worse than before.

Up ahead Race could hear church bells ringing, signaling that it was five o'clock. The bells only made things worse. He ducked into a side street, leaning back against the wall and covering his face as the day came back to him.

Race was shivering from the cold, but he did his best to keep still and quiet. He pulled his threadbare coat tighter around his body, though it did little to shield him from the winter winds.

Race's eyes were red and puffy, his cheeks stained with tears. He could feel his father's bruising grip on his shoulder as the men began the process of burying his mother.

Race's lip quivered and he let out a soft sob, which was quickly silenced by a sharp rap to the back of his head from his father.

After it was over lots of the people stayed around, talking to each other softly. A few walked bravely over to Mr. Higgins and his son, offering their condolences. They were received with a gruff 'thank you' before Mr. Higgins turned away again.

"Let's go Anthony," the man said cooly after a few minutes of silence near the grave.

"But Papa, I want to stay longer," Race said. He let out a soft yelp as his father pinched his side, surely leaving marks.

"We're leaving now."

An older woman seemed to notice their interaction and she limped over to Race and his father. The little boy recognized her as Mrs. Greene, a woman his mother had talked to many times after service while he was itching to get back out into the sunlight.

"If you need to leave Mr. Higgins, I'd be more than happy to stay here with Antonio."

"His name is Anthony," Mr. Higgins hissed. "And he's coming home now."

Race flinched as his father's hand came to rest on the back of his neck. Mrs. Greene caught the movement and leaned towards him.

"Are you okay darling?"

"He's fine. Ain't ya, boy?"

"Yes," Race muttered, eyes focused on the frozen ground beneath his feet.

"Yes what?"

"Sir!" Race added the word in quickly at his father's growl.

After a few choice words about her nosiness, Mr. Higgins left the cemetery, dragging Race beside him. Mrs. Greene watched sadly.

Race's breathing had picked up and he gasped, fingers shaking, as he remembered what had happened when they got home that night. His father had been less than pleased about the scenes he'd caused and his lack of obedience.

Race ran a hand along the inside of his arm. He could see his arm being jerked and pinned to the table. He could still feel the heat of the candle that had been held above his skin, he could hear his cries as the hot wax dripped onto his arm.

"I gotta get outta here," Race gasped, hurrying back onto Madison Street. Race wasn't quite sure where he was going, but he did know that it would be somewhere he could distract himself.

As he pushed through people he could hear his father's words ringing in his mind.

"You're just like me Anthony. Exactly the same."

"No I ain't!" Race muttered to himself.

"Spittin' image. When you grows up, us two'll be one and the same."

Race tried to shake off his thoughts. He turned off his thoughts until he feet finally stopped. He glanced up to see where he'd unconsciously come for comfort. Immediately he wished he hadn't.

He was exactly like his father. Just like Thomas Higgins, Race had sought out comfort in a gambling establishment. Race watched a few men stumble out of the building. One was unable to walk on his own and he collapsed onto the street.

Race didn't want to go in, he knew it was wrong and that things could only end up badly. But he couldn't help it. After all, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

Just like his father, Race chose to forget his past by drowning himself in alcohol.

***

"Calm down Jojo! Race is fine, he can take care of himself," Henry repeated, sighing as the boy continued to pace the floor. "Youse always worryin' 'bout him when youse shouldn't be."

"Yeah," Albert agreed. "You ain't his minder and you sure ain't his mother, so relax."

"Are you guys forgettin' what happens when we're out alone?" Jojo asked, staring incredulously at the boys.

"No. If it were someone else we'd be worried. But it's Race."

"What do you mean by that?" Jojo glared at Elmer.

"Not like that! I just meant, most boys turn up on time. Race is late a couple times a week. I don't see why youse comolainin', we all needs a break from him every once in a while."

"I'd rather have a break from you," Albert muttered.

"He's probably gamblin'. You know he likes that," Specs suggested.

"He knows better," Jojo argued.

"You're puttin' too much faith in him," Finch sighed. "He don't always think about stuff like that."

Jojo shook his head and continued playing his card game. The boys had to be wrong. After the last time he'd come back drunk, Jojo had talked to his friend. Race had agreed to work on his gambling and drinking. "He's not gamblin'. He said he would stop."

"He's got a problem Jo, a real problem. He can't help it. He always says he'll stop, but he never does." Albert scoffed at Jojo, who still refused to listen to them.

"He had a hard childhood," Jojo tried to defend his friend, but was quickly shut down by the other boys.

"So did Buttons, and you don't see him goin' out and gettin' drunk."

"Specs had it rough too! He ain't complainin'!"

"Stop tryin' to defend him," Buttons sighed. "We all loves him, but he's got a problem and you can't always deny it."

"Yeah," Elmer agreed. "Don't excuse him just 'cause he's your favorite!"

"He's not-"

"Yes he is. He knows everything about you, don't he?" Specs asked.

"Yeah, I guess."

"We don't, that makes him your favorite." Romeo meant to end the discussion right there, but no one could control Albert, especially when he was in a bad mood.

"It's too bad that you ain't his favorite. He hasn't told you anything about where he came from, has he?" Albert asked innocently.

"Shut up Albert!" Mike hissed.

Albert, as usual, didn't listen. "I bet he's told Conlon. He tells him everything! Theyse real close."

"I said shut up!" Mike snapped, his voice a little bit louder than before.

"Get outta here," Henry said, shooting a glare at the red haired boy.

The damage was done though, Jojo had sunk back into his chair, shoulders slumped.

"Was that really necessary?" Finch asked, punching Albert's shoulder.

"No, he's right," Jojo said quietly.

"No he ain't. Don't listen to him, he's just tryin' to make people feel bad."

"Can we just get back to the game?" Jojo asked.

The boys watched him for a second before nodding and restarting their game.

***

Jack crossed the bridge into Brooklyn and immediately spotted Slick.

"Hey, kid! What're you doin' here? You takin' me to Spot?"

Slick shook his head. "Change of plans. Spot's meetin' youse here. I'm makin' sure you don't get scared and leave."

Jack scoffed, but the younger boy ignored him in favor of watching the crowd. His blue eyes scanned the people, eyes fixing on richer people before returning to searching. Jack knew it was the thief side of him making an appearance.

"What time's he plannin' on gettin' here?" Jack asked, growing impatient.

Slick pulled a watch out of his pocket and glanced at its face. "He'll be here any second."

"Nice watch ," Jack complimented.

"It is, isn't it?" Slick smirked proudly. "I nicked it off of some hoity-toity   businessman a couple weeks back."

"Yeah? So youse gettin' pretty good."

"I like to think so."

"You keep it up and you'll find yourself workin' as a real flash man," Jack commented.

Slick puffed out his chest and pushed his shoulders back. Jack laughed, but Spot, who'd just arrived, didn't.

"Don't encourage him, Kelly. Last thing I need is for him to end up in jail," Spot said as he shooed the younger boy away.

"I ain't the one lettin' him get away with it," Jack shrugged. "So why am I here?"

Spot's face grew serious and his eyes darkened. "We've got a date."

"What? I'm sorry Spot, Ise already got a girl."

"That ain't what I meant and you know it Kelly," Spot growled. "I meant for the fight."

"The big one?" Jack asked. "You're goin' through with it?"

"Yeah. We found one of my boys. He'd been missin' for a day or two and Bones found him. There was a note from Hook."

Spot's hands clenched as he thought about the smug letter. He'd read it at the lodging house and torn it up right after. He only gained a bit of satisfaction when he watched it burn in the fireplace, cruel words melting away to nothing.

"I understand Spot." Jack stared awkwardly at the boy, then slowly reached out and placed his hand on Spot's shoulder. "Wese with ya."

"How long do we have?" Jack asked. The silence had been heavy and uncomfortable, unlike what he was used to.

"Four days." Spot spoke slowly and carefully. "I know it's a bit soon, but the sooner we end it the better."

"I agree. We'll be there."

Jack's stomach twisted as he thought about Hook's threats and he forcefully shook them away. The only way to end this was to get rid of Hook and that'd only happen if they beat him in a fight.

"I'll see you then. Keep your boys safe 'til then," Spot advised.

Jack's hand was still on Spot's arm and they both stared at it uncomfortably.

"You can move your arm Kelly," Spot glared. Jack immediately withdrew his arm. "We'll just forget this ever happened, yeah?"

Jack nodded. "Don't have to tell me again."

***

"Hey Jack! How'd your meetin' with Spot go?" Crutchie asked, the second Jack stepped onto the roof.

"As good as it could've I guess," Jack shrugged.

"You sure? You seem pretty bummed about somethin'," Crutchie observed. He waited patiently for Jack to continue, his hand tracing patterns against the rough wood of his crutch.

"Wese fightin' Bronx in a couple days, that's all."

"Youse worried?" Crutchie questioned.

Jack shook his head and quickly denied it. He wasn't scared of Bronx, they were just a bunch of kids who'd gotten too big for their boots.

"I ain't worried at all. We'll have 'em eatin' pavement within an hour."

Crutchie nodded silently, waiting for Jack to continue like he always did. One thing Crutchie had picked up on about his friends after years of knowing him, was that if Jack was worried, he wouldn't come out and say it right off the bat.

"Wese bigger than them, and we got Brooklyn. Theyse got Queens, so what? Queens can't do nothin' anyway," Jack continued.

"That's right," Crutchie agreed.

"It's gonna be a cinch!" Jack exclaimed. "I ain't got no reason to be upset about it, and neither do the boys. What harm has the Bronx actually done Crutch?"

At this Crutchie paused as a face flashed across his mind. A face that all of them saw everyday, but belonged to someone else.

Jack seemed to notice that he'd said something wrong and he looked at Crutchie, confusion filling his eyes.

"Ike," Crutchie reminded.

Jack looked away, eyes shut tightly. "You don't think they'd do it again, do you Crutch?"

"I don't know, I hope not." Crutchie's heart squeezed painfully as he pushed images of the other boys away. If they lost anymore boys, their whole family might very well collapse.

Jack slammed his hand down on the rail and Crutchie startled. In a second Jack had thrown his cap at the ground.

"Why don't we ever get a break?" Jack asked. His eyes were on the sky as he spoke, hands clutching the rail.

"I don't know," Crutchie admitted.

"The strike was bad enough, but we got that settled. Everything was goin' great again, then this happens! It ain't fair!"

Jack calmed down a bit, his anger dissolved, but his bitterness remained. "If all this wasn't happenin' y'know what I'd be doin'?"

"What?" Crutchie asked gently, slowly bending down to pick up Jack's hat. Jack noticed and beat him to it, giving the younger boy a soft pat on the back.

"I'd start savin' more money. Then, in a couple of months, maybe a year, I'd go back to Mr. Pulitzer's office."

"You'd go back? For what?" Crutchie asked. He hadn't actually gone in himself, but from what Jack had said, the place seemed pretty terrible. Then again, Jack was known to exaggerate.

"To get his permission."

"Permission for what?" Crutchie still hadn't caught on and Jack couldn't decide whether it was because he didn't want Jack to leave or because he truly didn't know.

"To marry Katherine, of course," Jack said easily. Just thinking of spending his life with her was causing all the stress and anger to dissipate.

"Marry Katherine? I didn't know you was plannin' on that."

"Yeah, isn't it great?" Jack smiled at the thought, though he knew he would probably have to wait several years for any part of his new dream to come true.

"I guess," Crutchie mumbled.

Jack wrapped his arm around Crutchie's shoulder. "Don't be upset Crutch. We'll still be brothers. In fact, youse can come stay with us whenever you like!"

"Really?" Crutchie smiled.

"Of course you can! I won't have no problem with it and Kath loves you too. Now some of the other boys, maybe not as much."

Crutchie and Jack shared a laugh before allowing silence to take over again. Crutchie could see Jack slowly get worked up again. The roof was the one place he could always relax, but as soon as it was time to leave, the stress of the real world came back full force.

"You sure you don't wanna talk about the fight?" Crutchie prodded.

"No, it's alright. Thanks though." Jack headed for the ladder, making sure that his friend was getting up too.

Crutchie sighed. It'd have to wait for tomorrow.

***

Race stumbled into the lodge, head reeling.

"So you have been drinkin'," Jack observed as Race reached out to grip the banister after nearly falling on his face. "We figured, but I didn't want to assume nothin'."

Race nodded, trying to block out Jack's voice as his hand massaged his forehead.

"The boys are just gettin' ready to head upstairs."

Sure enough, the boys started filing into the hall. Finch hurried Tommy Boy and Sniper past Race, pushing them up the stairs without letting get a glimpse of the older boy.

"Hey guys," Race said as the other boys continued past him.

Buttons paused on the first step, catching the scent of alcohol that hung around the blond boy.

"Really Race?"

"What?" Race moaned, his face in his hands. His head felt cloudy and was pounding, and people talking to him wasn't helping.

"Never mind," Buttons muttered, pushing past him.

Jojo shook his head at Race, shooting him a look of disgust as he followed Buttons upstairs.

"What were you thinkin'?" Jack was talking again and Race could tell he was angry. "Wait, don't answer that. If you was thinkin' you wouldn't have thought that was a good idea!"

"You don't get it Jack!" Race exclaimed, pushing the older boy away from him. "Your parents loved you!"

"What's that got to do with this? Youse livin' here now, not with your father. That's all in the past!"

"That don't mean that it stopped hurtin'!"

"Look, wese a family. We care about you, and I know that youse care about us, but sometimes you gotta think of other people," Jack said.

"Who do you think I should've been thinkin' of?" Race mocked.

"Tommy and Snipe for one! Theyse young and impressionable. Not to mention that they looks up to you!"

"Please," Race said with a dismissive wave. "If you thinks they ain't drank or gambled before, you're kiddin' yourself."

"Well then think about Buttons! How do you think it made him feel to see you like this after how his father was?" Jack demanded.

"My father was the same way and I've got no problem with it!"

"So you wanna be like your father then?" Jack asked. He knew it was below the belt, but the words had already left his mouth and he couldn't take them back.

"I ain't nothin' like my father," Race hissed.

Jack could've stopped right there, ended the conversation and sent Race upstairs. But he didn't. He could still see Buttons' face and hear the boys tease Jojo as he tried to defend his friend, faith that Race was keeping his promise unwavering.

"You sure? 'Cause youse bein' pretty insensitive and selfish right now."

"Well if I'm so terrible for havin' a drink, maybe I should just leave, 'cause that ain't changin' anytime soon!"

"If you plan on comin' back like that everyday, then I'm more than happy to let you go."

Jack's eyes went wide as he spoke and he waited for Race's reaction.

"Okay, I will."

"I didn't mean it," Jack said quickly as he grabbed Race's arm. "Come on! You know I didn't! I'm just stressed! I'm sorry."

Race pulled his arm away and adjusted his cap. Jack apologized again, but Race ignored him and headed towards the door.

"I didn't mean it! Get back here!"

"You don't want me here," Race shrugged, not stopping.

"Stop bein' dramatic!" Jack groaned. "Race! Race, stop right there!" It still didn't work, Race was almost at the door. Jack decided his only chance of getting the boy to listen was by using his name. It worked on several boys in the lodge and it wouldn't hurt to try it with Race.

"Anthony, you ain't goin' nowhere!"

Race froze, then whirled around to face Jack. "My name ain't Anthony."

He leaned back against the door, pushing it open, and started down Duane Street. He didn't know exactly where he was going, but he'd probably end up near where he'd been earlier.

Jack let him go, biting back guilt. "He'll be back by mornin'."

***

Hey guys! Another chapter!!! I hope you guys liked it!!!

For those of you who don't know, a story called "Fansie Groupchat" has been created by sotumblrfansie and basically fansies can just talk about newsies in the comment section. It's only been up for a couple of days, but I love it!

Also, I finally got an Instagram and Snapchat, but I honestly don't know what to do with them. Like, I don't really have many friends, so????

I hope you guys are having a fantabulous summer or school year and I'll update as soon as possible!!!

Sincerely,
Me(Anna)