Thursday, November 1, 1894--Antonio's 11th birthday (Yeah, I looked up what day of the week that would have been). This birthday, though, is more than he could have ever hoped for. Significance and Euphoria are definitely the right words to describe this. Enjoy! :)

Antonio feels extremely lucky today.

Maybe it's just his birthday.

He likes the digits 11. Two one's. He's older than 10. And he likes the cadence of the word e-le-ven.

No matter what, he's ready to bet on horses at Sheepshead.

Jack has a feeling.

He's not quite sure what it is.

But for some strange reason, he wakes up this morning thinking about going into Brooklyn.

Maybe it's related to Stargazer? Or Ray? Or both? He's not entirely sure.

It's also Antonio's birthday. He'll make sure to do something special for him. 

His intuition, though, is telling him to go to Brooklyn.

Antonio gets his papers and heads off immediately to Brooklyn. He feels like walking today. He's planning to sell the papes on his way to Brooklyn. He'll use every trick he knows to get rid of them quickly. Maybe he'll keep one today, if there's a good headline. Who knows?

He's been coming to Sheepshead frequently since April. Not every day, but as time went on, pretty much every day.

...He still hasn't found Andrea or Giacomo. 

He's been to Moretti a couple of times more. And, just like the first time with Andrea and Giacomo, Signor Moretti insists that he can't take Antonio's money.

He's planning on going there for lunch, or a late lunch, later today. And today, he's going to give Signor Moretti the money he deserves for the delicious bread he makes.

And so Antonio starts walking across the Brooklyn Bridge.

Jack has only been across the Brooklyn Bridge twice--once on the way to Brooklyn, once on the way back. He was ten then. He went with Ray. He felt so important back then.

He yells off the side of the Bridge like Ray taught him to. It's really fun. Everyone knows that.

And so he heads off to the heart of the Brooklyn newsies' territory.

He knows that these newsies are different than the Manhattan newsies. He also hasn't been anywhere near Brooklyn since Stargazer passed away a few years back. It'll be interesting to see what's different.

"Whaddaya doin' in Brooklyn?"

Jack whirls around to find a short kid who looks to be around Antonio's age looking at him with both a glare and curiosity at once. Jack had no clue someone could make an expression like that.

"And what's it matter to you?"

"You're a newsie, ain't ya?"

"Yeah."

"What borough?"

"Manhattan. Again, what's it matter to you?"

"Why do so many Manhattan newsies come here?" the kid asks.

Jack was not expecting that. "What?"

"You ain't the only one coming in here. There's a gambler who goes to Sheepshead often."

"But Sheeny ain't a newsie anymore," Jack says, puzzled. Sheeny is the only one he knows who ever talked about going to Sheepshead. But Sheeny just left in the summer. And by the way the boy is speaking about this gambler, he's still coming to Brooklyn, and still a newsie.

The boy shakes his head. "A young one."

"Huh. What's this newsie's name?"

The boy shrugs. "I never got his name."

"What's your name?" Jack asks.

The boy squares his shoulders. "Spot Conlon."

Conlon.

This is Stargazer's younger cousin.

The resemblance is uncanny.

Those eyes. How did Jack not see it before?

They both have those amazing blue eyes unlike anyone else.

"Spot Conlon, huh?"

The kid--Spot, nods. "Yeah. Who are you?"

"Jack Kelly."

Then, as a custom most newsies do, they spit into their hands and shake.

"I knew your cousin," Jack mentions. "The one they called Stargazer."

Spot takes a step back. "Really?"

"Yeah. You must've been five or six when he passed, yeah?"

Spot nods solemnly. "Yeah." It looks like he still remembers him.

"Well," Jack continues. "I was twelve when he...passed away. I don't know what all you know about him, but if you want, I can tell you the things that I know about him."

Spot perks up a little. "Really?"

Jack's seen this before. He saw it in Antonio not too long ago, when he started asking questions about his family. He hasn't asked since, but he recognizes this interest. Spot is eager to learn more about his cousin, hopeful for whatever information he can get. This comes from someone who doesn't know much about someone they care about, but still care enough to want to learn all that they can.

"Of course."

And so they start walking and talking.

And they don't know it, but this is start of the brotherly friendship between the future leader of Manhattan, and the future leader of Brooklyn.

Meanwhile, Antonio knows exactly which horse he's going to bet on.

True, he's had to change it up every once and a while. The same horse can't (and most definitely won't) win every time.

But today, he's got a feeling that the fourth is going to win.

And so that's what he tells the man who keeps track of the bets that are placed. The man raises an eyebrow, smiles with amusement, and asks if he thinks this horse will truly win today. Antonio tells him that he's sure. The man goes with it.

Antonio sees this guy all the time. But his face isn't sticking in his mind.

But the man surely knows him.

"If I heard correctly some time ago," the man mentions. "Today is your birthday, isn't it, young man?"

Antonio nods. He knows a lot about me. How does he know so much about me?

The man smiles. "Well, happy birthday!" Then, from his pocket, he draws out a nice, shiny (SHY KNEE) deck of cards.

Antonio's eyes widen. He looks up again at the man's smiling kind face, and it comes back to him.

He's known this man since he was starting out as a newsie.

He still doesn't know his name.

The man holds out the deck for Antonio.

Antonio takes it tentatively. "Gee, thanks, mister!"

"Of course." Nicholas Jameson smiles at him, and dips his head.

And so Antonio waves and goes to find a seat, looking at the deck in his hands.

He still has the cards that Giacomo gave him some time ago. If they were considered well-used before, they're even more well-loved now. He's gonna keep using them. He's never gonna forget the kind faces that taught him about who he was when no one else could. But now, when he wants to, he has a new (REALLY new) deck that he can use.

Jack is having a lot of fun talking to Spot. He's learned a lot about his life, and his view from the other side of the Bridge. How Stargazer was always his mysterious older cousin that he looked up to, but his family wouldn't let him spend that much time with. And so Jack told him what he knew. And Spot has goals too. Spot hasn't been a newsie for too long, but some day he hopes to become the leader of Brooklyn, like Stargazer was.

They talk about more than just Stargazer. They play some games, find what else they might have in common.

But soon, Jack has to go back. He still has papers to sell, and needs to prepare for whatever kind of birthday he can afford to give Antonio.

And so he crosses back over after making a new friend, without knowing that he in fact has two sorta-brothers still in Brooklyn.

"GO NUMBER FOUR! GO! GO! GO!"

It's the final lap. It's so close. The fourth and the seventh are right there...

...and Antonio was right once again!

"YES! GO NUMBER FOUR!" he cheers. "YOU WON!"

He puffs out his chest in pride. Once again, he bet on the winning horse.

It's the last race, too. He gets his final earnings from winning bets, and heads off on his way.

Outside, he runs into his blue-eyed friend with the pink suspenders and the cane.

"Hiya!" Antonio waves at him.

Blue Eyes sees him, smiles, and waves back.

Antonio walks over to him, and smirks. "Aw, were you'se waiting for me to come out?"

"I--what? Uh, no?" the boy says. He doesn't sound sure of himself there.

"I'm flattered, really."

Blue Eyes just glares at him.

Even though they still haven't told each other their names yet, they've talked a lot in the past few months. Blue Eyes had a birthday in August, and he knows that today...

He brightens up. "I almost forgot. Happy birthday!"

Funny that one should learn another's birthday before their name.

Antonio grins. "Why, thank you!"

He'd say they're friends. He doesn't necessarily know what it means to have friends, really. Well, Andrea and Giacomo were his friends. Aside from them, it's just been the newsies.

He really has been sheltered all his life.

A few moments of silence between them.

Then, Blue Eyes asks, "what is your name?"

Antonio thinks about that for a moment. Should he say it? Instead, he asks another question. "Do you have a newsie name?"

Blue Eyes nods.

"What is it?"

"I asked you first, didn't I?"

"What if we'se tell each other our names when we'se both have newsie names?"

Blue Eyes shrugs. It's obvious he thinks the idea is strange, but he rolls with it. "Fine by me."

Antonio can't explain it. It's just he wants to have things a certain way. Even if they're really complicated, it just...has to work that way. Not that he can say any of this out loud. So he just says nothing.

But luckily, Blue Eyes seems to get it--or at least, is trying to.

"Any idea when that's gonna be?" he asks Antonio.

Now Antonio shrugs.

Then he thinks about it. What if they don't call him by his name all the time? People call Crutchy and Mush by their newsie names all the time. Antonio doesn't think he knows either of their real names. If he had to try real hard, he might remember Crutchy's. But aside from that, there are some people who never get a nickname. Louis doesn't. And then there's Jack, who sometimes they call Cowboy, and sometimes just call him Jack. Names are tricky things. But also really cool. They make a person. True, there's more to a person than just their name. But a name is becoming. If it doesn't fit, then it doesn't work. Antonio just hopes that if/when he gets his newsie name, it'll fit him.

Then, Antonio notices the sun overhead. It's a couple hours past noon now. He probably should start heading back to Manhattan soon.

"I should be gettin' home now," Antonio mentions.

Blue Eyes understands. "Yeah. Well, see ya tomorrow, 'Hattan."

Antonio grins. "Yeah. See ya, Brooklyn."

Brooklyn and 'Hattan.

It isn't perfect, and it's a little clunky.

But for now, it works.

Antonio never thought he would make a habit of searching around trash cans.

But today, he's struck gold--figuratively. No one in their right minds would leave actual gold in the trash.

He's found another book.

He has a growing collection of books since he was nine, starting with the Simple Astronomy. He looked over every page in that book until he knows every word, every letter stroke, every picture, by heart. And he still looks at it. Same with his others.

Now, he has a worn-out copy of Le Leggende D'Italia. The legends/stories of Italy. Why would anyone throw this away?

If Antonio were paying closer attention, he'd see that he is really close to the now-abandoned alleyway that his two friends used to be.

He opens it up. Some of the pages have blurred ink. But some are much better.

He notices that there's a piece of paper tucked into the book. He opens up to the page, and finds a newspaper. He opens it up, and his eyes land on the first word that stands out to him.

Pareidolie.

In an article called On Delusions of the Senses by Karl Ludwig Kahlbaum, originally written in 1866, he learns.

Why is there something here from 1866 written by a German psychiatrist? 1866 was way before he was born. And now it's 1894. That paper was from nearly 30 years ago. Not to mention how random all of this is.

Well, this oughta be interesting.

He puts the paper back inside the book, and starts walking home.

Except he doesn't go straight home.

Because Antonio has a habit of wandering.

And has a habit of having no idea where he is.

Except he does have some idea.

There's a sign over his head advertising Irving Hall.

He walks in.

He's heard some of the newsies talk about vaudeville before. He remembers a while back Ray taking young Jack to see a vaudeville show. Maybe that was here? He has no clue.

There are a lot of people around.

The thing about him is that sometimes he does really well in a crowd.

But there are other times, like right now, where so many people towering over him is overwhelming and about to cause him to shut down.

He needs to get away from everyone.

And so, he slips away.

He finds the backstage area.

And wow, this is really cool.

He hides behind one of the set pieces. It's like going underneath the stairs back home.

Home.

He know that he should keep heading home.

But it's all too overwhelming for him right now.

He just needs some time to think.

He doesn't know how much time has passed, but now, the set piece is being moved, and a woman starts when she finds Antonio there.

"What are you doing here?" she asks, startled.

Antonio is startled too, and shrinks into himself.

This is not what he wanted to happen.

Seeing this, the woman softens, and crouches down, looking very warm and welcoming. 

"Are you lost, little one?"

Antonio looks up at her. She's in all pink, and has many feathers everywhere. It's a lot. But her face is kind and understanding. He nods slowly.

She holds out her hand. "Come with me?"

Slowly, he takes her hand.

"What's your name, little one?" 

"An-Antonio," he answers timidly.

"Well I'm Medda," she introduces herself. "Want to watch the show?"

Slowly, he nods. He's never seen a vaudeville show.

"And after that, I can help you find your way home," she says. "how would you like that?"

He nods again.

And so she sets him up in an area where he won't disrupt anything at all, and leaves him to be completely mesmerized by the performance.

Afterwards, Medda leads him outside.

"You were amazing," he told her shyly.

She smiles. "Really?"

"Oh, yes."

"Well, come back any time you like. You hear?"

"Mhm."

Then, she points out into the street. "Does that over there look familiar to you at all?"

He squints. "Maybe."

"Follow that road and you're close to Tibby's. You know where that is?"

And then it clicks. "Oh, yes! I know my way home from there!"

"Then there you go!"

He hugs her. "Thank you, Medda!"

"Of course, Antonio!" she smiles.

And with a wave goodbye, Antonio is back on track to getting home.

Now it's later than he would have liked.

Right as he turns the door knob and opens the door, he picks out every single voice he knows inside out yell, "SURPRISE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

He smiles as he opens the door to find everyone right there, smiling back at him. And, on the table, there's a small cake.

Antonio's eyebrows raise. He sets down his bag with the book inside, never taking his eyes off the cake. "How'd you get that?!"

Many chuckle.

"Ya see, we all chipped in," Crutchy explains.

"And we persuaded the Sisters to make it for us," Mush adds. "and we got it for half the price any normal bakery would charge."

Antonio's smile grows larger. "You guys are the best!"

"Aw, come here!" Jack exclaims, arms wide open for a hug. After Antonio is in his arms, he says, "alright, everyone! Birthday group hug!"

And now Antonio has the weight of everyone around him. He feels safe.

Then, Jack thinks about it.

There's a gambler who comes here often.

Wanna go races now.

Antonio gets home later than before.

They have no clue where Antonio is in that time.

It all adds up.

"Hold up," Jack says. "Antonio, have you been going to Sheepshead Races?"

Uh oh.

He's been found out.

There's nothing he can do now. He might as well tell the truth.

Slowly, he nods. "Since spring."

That explains a lot.

"Well, why didn't you tell me?"

Antonio shrugs.

"We should've known this would happen," Louis says, very amused.

"You do know your first word was race, right?" Mush adds.

That Antonio did not know. "Really?"

Crutchy nods. "Ever since you were little, you've always wanted to go to the racetrack."

Jack, Louis, Mush, and Crutchy chuckle.

Then, it hits Jack.

Racetrack.

"Racetrack," he says out loud.

"Huh?" Louis vocalizes.

"Racetrack," Jack repeats. "That's it." He grins at Antonio. "Racetrack Higgins."

Racetrack Higgins.

It...

...Fits.

Antonio's heart beat speeds up in excitement.

"Racetrack Higgins?" is said around him, all testing it out. "Racetrack. Huh."

"Race for short," Jack decides.

Racetrack Higgins.

Racetrack.

Race.

Antonio loves it.

He really, really loves it.

He feels...euphoria.

Names are supposed to fit a person.

And it does. It really does.

Antonio can get used to being called Racetrack. That's a pretty cool name. It makes him sound really cool. And it's who he is. The Racetrack is one of his favorite places to be. It's for him.

And then he can be Race for short.

Race.

It ... sounds a little like Ray. It's like ... Rayce. He loves races, and he's honoring Ray. It's like the name Joyce with Joy  in it. Joy with a -ce, Ray with a -ce. Not exactly alike, since there is no y in Race and you don't spell it Joce, but still.

Antonio can get used to being called Race.

Tomorrow, he'll go to Sheepshead and gamble, and sport around his new name.

He'll find his friend with blue eyes and pink suspenders and a cane. He'll tell him his name, and he'll learn his friend's name, finally.

And so from that day on they'll know each other as Racetrack Higgins and Spot Conlon.

For tonight, though, Antonio enjoys trying out his new nickname, and feeling immense relief that it's okay for him to sell at Sheepshead.

This is the best birthday ever.

He won a bet, he got a new book, he got to meet Medda, he got a cake, and he has his nickname.

And so, tonight, he falls asleep to wake up tomorrow as Racetrack Higgins.

AAA THAT FELT REALLY GOOD TO WRITE.

I hope you all enjoyed that!

ANTONIO HAS THE NICKNAME RACE NOW!!! FINALLY!!!

I had no clue if I was going to be able to write as Antonio for this long haha. I've surprised myself. Now I need to rework my way to writing Race now! haha

I wanted him to meet Medda. And now he has. And I'll get further into Jack's relationship with Medda later.

I also wanted to start the bond between Jack and Spot in this chapter. Because you can tell in 92sies that they're both leaders of boroughs and have a strong brotherly relationship. Even though they were two-ish years apart then and now seven-ish years apart, it's different. But I still wanted to have it there.

"Pareidolie" was a way they wrote "pareidolia" before they decided it would be called "pareidolia" in 1962. If you don't know what that is, it'll all be explained later. I also took great care to make sure Race knows who first coined that word haha.

All of the things Race does? Where he plays forever and ever with words? That's me. And names? I love names. And how they work. And the sounds they make. And where to stress them. And what they mean. And how they fit a person's personality. And how to write them. You know Anne with an e from Anne of Green Gables? Yeah, a lot like her. We're kindred spirits.

Birthday cakes have been a thing since mid 19th century in Western Europe. There were other sources too with other dates and places and stuff. I went with this one.

Race is growing up so fast.

But think of this: somewhere in between chapters 21-25, at least I think so, the strike will begin.

When I started writing this story, I had no clue that you all would be reading a full on epic-length book haha. Wait. The Epic of the Life of Racetrack Higgins. Neat! Or...epic ;)

Please, no homophobia, profanities, hate etc in the comment section at any time.

Best,

~Your Beloved Author (who is going to watch Marvel's new series What If...? today)