Summer of 1896. Kinda difficult, but definitely needed to keep moving. Do you know how awesome it is to finally refer to Race as Race? Actually, only later is difficult. The first half? Fluff. Enjoy! :)

Race just hasn't been feeling quite right recently.

His emotions are running wild. 

And he has no clue why.

He was told that this would happen when he was around this age.

But does he really wanna deal with it? No.

He decides he needs a lax day at Sheepshead.

He still needs to sell papes though.

And so he only gets 20.

Besides. There's someone else he needs to see today.

He's not going to forget his friend's birthday, after all.

Race doesn't believe he's ever been this relieved to leave Sheepshead.

Over the years, he's learned Spot Conlon's patterns of where he would be in what time of day.

And, if Race is right, he should know right where to find him.

Sure enough, he finds him.

Spot looks different than the last time Race saw him. He looks a little older, more mature. Race ... Race still feels like a little kid. How's this going to end up?

Too late--he's already walking in Spot's direction--unbeknownst to now-14-year-old-Spot.

"Hey, Spot!"

Spot turns around, and his eyes light up when they land on Race.

Race grins. "Happy birthday!"

"You remembered!" Spot exclaims.

"How could I forget August 15th?"

"And I'm not gonna forget November 1st any time soon."

Race grins. This is what he likes about them. "Doin' anything special today?"

Spot shrugs. "Same thing as usual, I guess."

"Nothing special at all?"

"Do I really need anything?"

"Sure you do!" And with that, Race's eyebrows raise and he takes Spot by the wrist and starts dragging him away from where they were standing.

"Where are we going?" Spot asks, incredulous, having to jog to keep up with Race.

"You'll see!" Race shows no sign of stopping.

Spot laughs and lets himself be led to this mystery place by this person who he has had great interest in since they first met not that many years ago.

It's a small restaurant.

In Manhattan.

What's Race doing bringing a Brooklyn kid to a Manhattan place?

Spot looks up at the sign: Moretti. He can honestly say that he's never been here before.

Race takes him in the back way.

"Oddio! Chi siete qui?!" That would be the one and only Signor Moretti.

Race grins. "Buongiorno, Signor!"

Signor Moretti grins. "Mamma Mia, Antonio! Che piacere vederti!"

Of course it's nice to see him again. It's always a joy--alegría, to be here.

"Che piacere vederti! Come sta?"

"Sto bene, sto bene. E tu?"

"Sto bene."

Throughout this conversation, Spot has stayed silent.

Then Race brings him closer. "This is my friend, Spot."

Spot waves shyly.

"It's his birthday," Race explains.

Signor Moretti's eyes widen. "Davvero?! Why didn't you say so? Here, sit! Sit!"

And then he hurries off.

"Where's he going?" Spot asks.

Race grins. "To bring us the best food a person can ask for on their birthday."

Sure enough, once Signor Moretti brings a platter of bread back, Spot barely takes one bite before closing his eyes and relishing the taste.

"Grazie mille!" Race tells Signor Moretti.

He beams at them. "Mangiate, ragazzi!"

As subtly as he can, Race slips a couple coins into Signor Moretti's apron. He's determined to pay. Even though he's friends (or...was friends) with Andrea and Giacomo, and they can always get food for free, so he automatically can, Race feels like he needs to give Signor Moretti at least a sliver of what he deserves in return.

"So how do you know this place?" Spot asks as he digs into another slice of bread after Signor Moretti leaves them. "And Italian?"

So Race explains. "I met a couple other Italians--like me, that is--and they brought me here. All the Italian I know, they taught me, along with Signor Moretti. He likes feeding us. And he don't like us paying him. He tells us paying is for customers, not for friends."

"That's cool. Really cool." another piece of bread. "I like this. Really good."

"Isn't it?"

"You were right. This IS awesome birthday food."

Race tries not to smirk. So he settles for a smug grin instead. "Told you ya needed something for your birthday."

They continue making small talk and eating bread. But, soon enough, the bread is gone and both need to go to their respective boroughs.

As they walk outside together and go their separate ways, they feel like they're missing something when they leave the other.

But what?

Neither stays still long enough to fully contemplate that question.

Little does Spot know, he's not done with birthday surprises yet.

A couple hours after his return to Brooklyn, he sees someone coming.

"If it ain't Jackie boy," Spot says with a smile. That's what he's started calling Jack. They've spent a good amount of time together since Jack came to Brooklyn a couple years ago.

"How's it goin', Spot?" Jack asks with the same smile. "I heard it was your birthday today."

Out of habit, they spit into their hands and shake.

"Yeah, it is."

"Well, happy birthday!"

"How many Manhattan's wanna wish me happy birthday in one day?"

"What?"

"Your gambler was over again."

"Race?" Jack bristles a little. Anytime someone mentions Race, he gets a little protective.

"Yeah. Got a problem?"

"No, no." He's being over protective now. He knows it. It's just... "Be careful how ya act around him, okay? He's different than everyone else."

"Yeah, I know that. Why should I treat him any different?"

"Just...careful."

"Okay, Jackie boy. I won't play with his heart too bad."

"Who said anything about playing directly with his heart?"

Spot's cheeks flush. "I..."

Jack playfully nudges his shoulder. "Just pullin' your leg there."

Spot rolls his eyes good naturedly. "I know."

"Well, I think I best be goin'," Jack says.

"Alright. See ya 'round, Jackie boy."

"See ya, Spot."

The thing is, Jack is nearly 20.

He's truly considered leaving the lodging house before.

But then he feels guilty.

He promised Ray that he would stay.

He doesn't care that that was nearly five years ago when he made that promise. He doesn't intend on breaking it any time soon.

Soon, though, I'm not gonna be a kid anymore. And then I'll have to leave.

Luckily, he still has time before then.

Maybe then, though, I can finally go to Santa Fe.

After selling all his papes, Race returns to the lodging house.

And accidentally walks in on a conversation that no one in a million years would have wanted him to hear.

"...could've been worse."

Who said that?

What are they talking about?

"True. I could have ended up like Crutchy here."

That was Kid Blink.

Who else is there? What are they talking about? What could have been worse? How could he have ended up like Crutchy?

Race freezes, trying to listen without making his presence known. They're talking about him. He just knows it.

Then, to confirm his suspicions, he hears Mush say his name.

"Do you think Race remembers that he caused Crutchy's bad leg?"

Race's blood runs cold. What?

He can practically hear the shrug. "I don't know." That's Jack's voice.

So it's Jack, Blink, Mush, and Crutchy. Talking about him.

And talking about how he caused Crutchy to have a bad leg.

"It's hard to tell what he remembers and what he doesn't remember. His brain works differently, we can't be forgetting that."

"How could anyone forget?"

Is that really all that they think about him? Is that all he is to them?

"I caused Crutchy's bad leg?"

The conversation stops. They all turn to see him standing there, hurt expression on his face. He couldn't hold the question in. He just had to say it. He has to know.

They all stand up.

"Race-"

He takes a step back. "How did I cause Crutchy's bad leg?"

They all sigh. There's no escaping this one.

"You were little, Race," Jack says finally. "Really little. You were barely three."

"And barely talking," Mush adds.

"Until you said ciao and ran outside the lodging house," Blink points out.

I said ciao and have no memory of it? How did I even know that word at three?

"Ya see, you ran out into the street," Jack explains. "And scared us all half to death. And because of bad timing, there was a carriage, right there, about to run you over. But Crutchy...back then he was Charlie. He didn't hesitate. He just ran out after you, and there was a lot of confusion, but his leg broke beyond repair. And so he got a crutch, and we called him Crutchy."

He got a crutch, and we called him Crutchy.

I am the reason why he became Crutchy.

Race turns to Crutchy. "Crutchy, I am so, so sorry."

"Hey, you didn't know any better," Crutchy tries to console him, his eyes big and understanding. "I ain't got no hard feelings. And you know? If I had to do it again, I'd still lose the leg a thousand times rather than lose you."

Those words are meant to comfort him, and they do.

Except he doesn't fully believe them. As much as he likes words, he doesn't trust all of them. These words...they're only said to make Race feel better. He knows that. He knows it. Has Crutchy been feeling contempt with him for around a decade now?

No. Finally, the voice of reason speaks up. You know Crutchy. He'd never hold a grudge. You know who he is.

But it could all be fake.

What if it's all fake?

What if none of them really like him?

What if they all hold something against him?

What if...?

He stops himself.

He shakes his head to clear it.

And, silently, he walks away from them, leaving them silently watching him.

And, just like he has ever since he was little, he crawls in the little space underneath the stairs. True, he can't fit under there quite like he did at age seven. But he still fits. If he holds himself closer. He can do that. This is one of the few comfort places he has. No one else will bother him here. He knows that. He just ... needs a minute to gather his thoughts. Yeah, that's it. He'll be fine shortly. He's sure of it.

And yes. He's fine.

And so, feeling satisfied with himself, feeling satisfied with how short that was and how unpainful it was, he gets out.

He feels absolutely fine.

You cause people pain.

He stops.

If it weren't for you, Crutchy would still have two good legs.

If it weren't for you, Blink would still have his eye.

Without you, the newsies wouldn't have any burden whatsoever.

And the bad thoughts just keep hitting him.

And suddenly, there's enough of them weighing him down, until he's panting, and then he's on the ground, hyperventilating, after he thought he was totally fine.

The four hear the sounds of his rapid breathing. They all get up immediately, on high alert. They follow the sound.

"Oh, Race." They all rush to his side.

"It's okay Race. You're okay."

"You can get through this, I know it."

"We care about you. You know that, right?"

"We're here for you, Race. Whatever you need."

They all put their hand on his hands. Some try to make soothing Shh sounds. Anything that might help.

"Breathe with me. Can you do that?" they start taking in deep breathes for him to copy.

Gradually, his breathing slows.

There have been a couple times since the earthquake where he's nearly reached this panic state, but not like this where it's full-on.

"We're here for you, Race," Jack says. "We'll always care for you."

Then, he realizes Race is trying to say something.

He leans in closer. "Hm?"

"Why, why, why, why-"

"Why what, Race?"

Race looks up at Jack with tears in his eyes. "Why am I like this?"

Jack softens. "Aw, Race-"

"No." Race stands up. "What's wrong with me?"

The others stand up too. "Now, Race-"

"No!" he bites his lip. His tongue flicks out-and-in. "Why? I don't think like everyone else. I know I don't think like all of you, and I know you know too. Why? Why am I not normal? Why-why am I-why am-why-why am I wrong?"

"Race-"

"And I cau-and I cause trouble wherever I go," Race continues. "Crutchy lost his leg because of me. Blink lost his eye because of me. What else is going to happen to someone else? What horrible thing is going to happen because I'm there? I'm bad luck."

"Race, you aren't-"

"No, don't tell me that." He's getting worked up all over again. "You guys all probably hate me. You've dealt with me since I wasn't even two years old. You've all been stuck with me since then. Of course you're tired of me. And-and I understand if you hate me. You all had no choice but to deal with me for twelve years. I understand if you leave. I know you're gonna leave me. It's gonna be a relief, won't it? When you're finally free of me?"

"Race-"

"And I-I-I don't know what's happening. I'm not feeling like myself lately. I don't sound the same. And all my thoughts and feelings are rolling around and ain't never stopping--but that's normal, they're just wild, and I can't do anything about it and it's just a storm in my mind that I can't control, and-"

"Race, come here," Jack opens his arms. "It's okay, it's all gonna be okay."

Race shakes his head and moves back in violent motions. "You've been saying that forever. No, to you I ain't my age. I'm still a little kid in your minds. None of you will ever take me seriously. I know I act greatly different than what you all did, and that sometimes I don't do what I'm supposed to, and so to you, I'm just the same little kid, and the image isn't changing. Well guess what, Jack. I don't wanna be treated like a little kid anymore. I ain't a little kid no more!" Race snaps. His breathing is really ragged. But now he's run out of words to say. No one around him is happy at the moment. Another thing that is my fault. That thought echoes loudly in his head in the few moments of silence they have.

"Yeah, you ain't a little kid no more," Jack says quietly after some time, "but you'll always be my younger brother." He hugs Race, who doesn't protest at all, who just sobs into his arms. "I got you. It's okay. We love you, Race. That's why we stay. We stay because we love you."

Race says nothing. He has a feeling he won't speak for some time now. He really hasn't grown up like he thought he did. Wordlessly, he clings to Jack tighter.

Jack needs to get something for Race. Something that'll cheer him up. Something to show that he cares.

Jack thinks back on everything Race said. He tries to pick out what was true, and what was just Race getting ahead of himself. 

He's never felt like Race is a burden. But he has thought about when he leaves.

So he can't just brush off everything that was said.

And Race is right. He's still greatly treated like a little kid. And he's not a little kid anymore.

As quietly as he can, Jack leaves the lodging house. It's just beginning to get dark. He has to move fast. He has a plan in mind.

Earlier, Spot had mentioned Race really liking bread. So, Jack is going to go somewhere, anywhere, and find him bread.

As he's out and about, he thinks about it. When was the last time Race took bread from the Sisters? Jack's not quite sure. But Spot was sure. So, Jack hunts around.

There.

Tentatively, he reaches to grab a piece of bread from the vacated stand. Nothing happens. Then another-

"Hey!"

He freezes.

As he's bent over, someone towers high over him. A man with mean blue eyes in a well dressed suit. The man is glaring at him.

This man is the one and only Warden Snyder.

"Do you know what the punishment for stealing is, boy?"

Jack stays silent. Silent like Race.

"Three months in the house of Refuge."

His heart drops.

He's heard of the Refuge. He's heard of what happens to kids who have no where to go, or do something bad. It doesn't matter. They're the kids that no one cares about.

Someone like Jack.

Jack swallows.

He knows if he tries to escape this, he'll be in even more trouble.

So he lets the man lead him away.

I'm sorry, Race. I'm not making it home tonight. Please understand.

Race paces anxiously back at the lodging house. "Where is he?"

"Race, we don't know."

"I did it, didn't I? I drove him away. He left us. Left us without a trace-"

"Race, for the last time, he's fine-"

It's late. And Jack had left, and to their knowledge, he could be anywhere.

At the moment, Crutchy is out searching for him, and Blink and Mush and Race are waiting anxiously for both of them to come back.

Crutchy comes back in through the door with a solemn expression on his face.

"Where is he?!" Race springs up. "Where's Jack?"

"He's..." Crutchy says. "He's at the House of Refuge."

Blink and Mush recoil.

Race stands there, numb.

No.

It's not his fault.

It's not his fault.

He's totally convinced that it's his fault.

"He's gonna be okay," Crutchy tries to assure Race. "He's always okay." I hope.

Seven days and seven nights go by. On the evening of the eighth day, Jack has a plan.

It has to be fast.

Real fast.

Because there goes Teddy Roosevelt's carriage right now-

He makes it. He sighs with relief.

I'm escaping from the Refuge on the back of Teddy Roosevelt's carriage.

Escaping the Refuge itself was hard enough. And now he's here. He heard somewhere about an extended sentence, but he's not gonna worry about that. It's totally irrelevant. Because in this moment, he's here, moving away from the Refuge, moving closer to home.

I'm coming back to you, Race. I always will.

In the evening in the lodging house, the door bursts open.

Jack is back.

"It's Jack!" Blink exclaims.

"He's back!" Mush exclaims with him.

"JACK!" and suddenly there's a huge clamor of kids coming to greet Jack.

Jack grins. "Hiya, fellas! So did you miss me? Did you really miss me?"

There's a series of "'course!" and "only a little!" and "yeah!" and "nah!" and many others.

But nothing compares to Race's reaction.

Race zooms over to Jack and hugs him real tight. "You're back. You're back! I thought Snyder the Spider was gonna take you away forever!"

"Snyder the Spider?" Jack repeats, amused.

Race nods. "Mhm." He hugs Jack tighter. "I'm so glad you're back."

Jack hugs Race back. And in this moment, Jack has decided. He's decided he's going to stay. Because Race needs him. Really needs him. Too bad it took time in the Refuge for him to realize it. But that doesn't matter. What matters is that Jack is back home with his younger brother Racetrack.

And he's not going anywhere any time soon.

I think I hit every feel possible here.

In the beginning I said I loved calling Race Race. But so many times I keep typing A for Antonio and have to go no not that one haha.

I found this one grounding technique that can be really handy. I don't think it existed in the 1890's, so I didn't use it in the story. But this is how it goes. Find 5 things you can see. Then 4 things you can touch. Then 3 things that you can hear. 2 things you can smell, and end with one thing you can taste. If you can remember it in the moment of a panic/anxiety attack, or have someone there to tell you to do these things, it helps soooo much.

I think I know why these chapters are so long. I kinda just bunch everything into one. So, more chapters, or more content in chapters? It really fluctuates with me haha.

So, Jack in the Refuge and Teddy Roosevelt. He becomes a legend.

Now I have more chapters to plan! And yes, the strike IS coming up! I'm excited! :)

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

Best,

~Your Beloved Author (who kinda rushed the writing in some places but is still satisfied with their work so they aren't gonna change it haha)