"What do you mean it's going to be "40 dollars?" Spot looked livid. "That's more than I may ever have in one place my entire life!"

"That's a fact spud." The blond haired undertaker snorted haughtily.

Spot glowered. "I got 7, can I put that down so you can at least put the kid's body on ice?"

"He a mick like you?"

"No. He's not." He didn't think it'd be smart to mention that he was Italian either. French might be a good bet. "He's French, family's been here a long time, unfortunate though they all got Consumption and died years ago." The boy lied smooth as butter.

"Fine, but I expect the rest tomorrow before we take the body to the church."

Spot nodded his head. Where in blue blazes was he going to get 33 more dollars by morning?!

"No! You absolutely will not! I won't allow it." Clarice crossed her arms over her chest. Her eyes were still red and puffy from crying.

Had it been under different circumstances, her indignation would have made Spot smile with love sparkling in his eyes. But unsteady, his heart broke a little bit more seeing her like this. "How else am I supposed to get that kind of money?" He crossed his arms too.

Her face fell.

"Spot?" A tiny boy came around the corner sniffling, eyes more watery than Clarice's had been lately.

"What's up Half Pint?" Spot scooped up the little newsie who wasn't more than 4 years old.

"Had a bad dream." He whispered into Spot's neck, cuddling closer. The poor kid's family had all died in a fire.

"Bout the fire?"

"Not this time." The younger boy mumbled. "It was about an angel. He told me his name was Antonio. He looked like Larice's brother who was here before." The way he pronounces Clarice's name was flat out adorable.

Spot squeezed the boy tighter. "How was that a bad dream?"

"He was really sad, and that made me sad."

Spot's heart couldn't take this.

"He told me that 40 dollars was a fortune and he just needed to be put in the river just like everybody else."

This was starting to scare Spot significantly.

"I remember when Tommy and Bill and Mikey died in June we put them in the river, but how do you put an angel in the river Spot?"

"You can't Half Pint, you can't."

Half Pint nodded his head to this and soon a soft snore was heard. Spot shook his head and laid the boy on the sofa for the time being. As soon as Spot was getting ready to kiss the cute ragamuffin's forehead, he heard the kid whisper: "The angel's savings are in the cellar in Hattan." before snoring again.

Clarice and Spot exchanged half creeped out half hopeful looks. Leaving Pig in charge, Spot and Clarice took their chances in the dark and ran hand in hand to Manhattan looking for Race's savings.

"Holy SHIT." Spot's eyes went wide and he pulled a loose stone out and found a box within the space.

"You found it?"

"It's the box I gave him years ago. I found it in a donation bin the Sisters had once."

Clarice shook her head. "I always thought he gambled everything away."

"Apparently not." Spot snorted. From the weight of the small tin, it probably wasn't going to be much, seeing how it was small and pennies took a while to add up. "You should open it."

Clarice held up her shaking hands, "No, I'd just spill it, you open it."

So he did and Spot felt a little light headed. Whistling he smirked. "Sly old bastard."

"What's inside?" Clarice was nervous, distraught, and excited, all wrapped up into one.

Spot sat down and counted. There were so many dollar and five dollar bills, and "Holy shit."

Clarice looked shocked, she'd never seen a 20 dollar bill before.

"Lucky Nag paid off." Spot read the pencil markings on the bill in Race's old scrawl from at least three years ago.

"I thought he was joking about that." Clarice whispered, remembering that day.

"So the guy actually did get lucky?" Spot forced himself to keep counting, the coins in the bottom must have been from when Race had first started selling. Smart guy.

"Jack always thought he was bluffing."

"Let's see if Cowboy ever gets his hands on this much dough." Spot laughed. "133 dollars and 80 cents."

"We're rich." Clarice whispered.

"I don't think he even realized how much he had saved up."

"I found the 7 dollars in his belongings. I think he may have forgotten about this."

"Probably a good thing if that's the case."

Clarice nodded her head. This was a miracle.

To say that the undertaker was shocked to be handed the 33 dollars the next morning would be a gross understatement. "Where'd you steal that money from, boy?"

Spot was done playing nice with this man. "I came by it more honestly than you came by your terrible personality. Now help me bury my best friend with dignity or you will regret crossing me." Spot's pimp cane poked the man in the chest.

The man wouldn't admit it, but he was actually pretty scared now. So he just nodded his head.

"Good, now that we have that taken care of, let's talk business."

The next day was the second hardest day of Clarice's life.

It was a sunny day with not a cloud in the sky as if nature were mocking the pain of the ragged group that gathered around the freshly dug grave with Race's mortal remains encased in a wooden coffin lowered into it.

Race couldn't hardly stand to see all the tears. He felt their sadness much deeper than he ever would have were he still with them. The funeral was so extra. A Requiem High Mass and everything, what were those two idiots thinkin? But it'd been beautiful. He was glad they did it for him. He had been struggling to find his way out of a sort of darkness where he felt so lost and trapped between two worlds. He was finally finding his way through and it was painful, but he knew he wasn't in hell. He had too much hope for that. He was still too far attached to certain things of the earth to be anywhere ready for heaven. But everything wasn't dark anymore.

Clarice knew this was the last time she'd ever see her brother. But at least he'd be with her in spirit, he may not be with her in reality but he's with her in spirit. As they lowered the wooden coffin into the ground Clarice began to sob again. "I'm not ready."

"It'll be fine Clar." Spot, who had his arms wrapped around the girl's waist, tightened his grip on her. As they lowered his coffin into the ground. The priest instructed everyone to bow their heads. As he opened up his bible. Spot let go of his embrace on Clarice and grabbed her hand giving it a gentle squeeze as tears flew slowly down her cheeks.

After reading a beautiful passage about the Resurrection from Gospel according to John, he led the youngest group of funeral attendees he'd seen in maybe his whole time as a priest in the prayer: "Eternal rest, grant unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them. Through the mercy of God may they rest in peace. Amen. May Anthony's soul, and all the souls of the faithfully departed through the mercy of God rest in peace." And he sprinkled Holy Water on the wooden coffin.

There must've been at least over 100 Newsies there that day, as they each paid their last respects to their friend. Clarice waited anxiously glancing at each Newsie as they passed his grave throwing in a handful of dirt and occasionally a flower or a scrap of paper. She still couldn't comprehend that her brother had perished. She and Spot were the last to say goodbye as all the others had left wanting her to have a last moment with her twin.

"Do you wanna watch them fill in the grave?" Spot squeezed her arm seeing two big men approach with shovels.

Clarice slowly nodded her head. Spot pulled her into a hug as she cried watching the two strong men covering the grave which led her to burst into tears. She almost fell to the ground and she started shaking and hyperventilating. As if she almost couldn't handle it, which she honestly couldn't.

Spot picked her up and kissed her temple. He whispered how sorry he was and how he wished he could make it better and carried her back to Brooklyn knowing she couldn't make it back herself in the state she was in.