Okay, I promise that I'm working on the requests. I've just been in a bit of a slump lately and I thought that by getting rid of some of my other ideas in the form of writing them, that I'd clear my brain and get some inspiration. Sorry.

***

Jorgelino crawled slowly across the grass on his hands and knees. His right knee stung terribly but he ignored it in favor of sticking with his escape plan. He only had a few minutes before one of the sisters noticed he wasn't in lessons and came to find him.

The gate was coming up soon. Jorgelino glanced over his shoulder and, seeing no one, shot to his feet and sprinted the last few yards to the big iron gate. Jorgelino sucked in his breath and wiggled through the bars. It was a tight fit but Jorgelino had done it before and he knew he could get through. As soon as he did he began checking the damage on his knee.

Sure enough it was completely scraped up and his trousers were torn, stockings muddied. He'd be getting lots of lashes when he returned. His hands began aching just at the thought, but it would be worth it. He'd rather be out here in the sun than shut away in the stuffy school room memorizing his tables.

"That don''t look good."

Jorgelino jumped and looked at the person who'd spoken. The stranger was pointing at his bloody knee and Jorgelino shrugged.

"I suppose it isn't. I'll have to get it bandaged later."

The other boy let out a low whistle and leaned against the gate. "You talk real proper. I bet youse one of them school boys, ain't ya?"

Jorgelino tried to hide his surprise at the boy's use of 'ain't'. He and the other boys at St. Mary's Orphanage and School for Boys weren't allowed to say that. "Yes. I go to school."

"Then what are you doin' here? Ain't it school time?"

"I snuck out," Jorgelino admitted.

The new boy smirked. "Did ya? Why?"

"I hate it there! They have all these rules we have to follow and you can't even do anything fun!"

"How'd your leg get messed up if you wasn't doin' something fun?" The boy asked, brow quirked skeptically.

"I was running and I fell."

"You ain't even allowed to play around in there? No wonder youse tryin' so hard to get out," the boy shook his head sympathetically.

"You saw me sneak out?" Jorgelino asked, surprised.

"It'd be hard not to. You ain't too good at it. I could teach you if you want me to!"

"Really? Thanks!" Jorgelino exclaimed. "I plan on getting out more often, so I could use any help I can get."

The boy's eyes lit up and his smile grew as he got an idea. "If you hate this place all that much, why don't you just leave for good?"

"I don't have anywhere to go."

"You can stay with me!"

"Would your parents let me?"

"I ain't livin' with me parents!" The kid laughed, pulling a cigar out of his pocket and waving it in front of Jorgelino's face. "You think I'd have one of these if my mother was around? Nah," he scoffed. "Ise a newsie. I got a bed in a lodge in Lower Manhattan. So, what d'ya say? Want to come with me?"

Jorgelino looked at the boy as he thought it over. He really wanted to go, but this was a stranger. The boy was his age though, maybe a bit older, and only an inch taller. His hat was perched precariously on top of his curls and he had dirt on his nose and under her finger nails, but despite his unkempt appearance, Jorgelino could tell by his grin that he was a nice kid. He quickly decided that he could trust the blond.

"I'll come with you."

"Great!" The boy exclaimed. "I'm Racetrack Higgins, but my friends call me Race!"

"That's an odd name," Jorgelino observed.

"What's your name?" Race challenged.

"Jorgelino Josephino De La Guerra," he responded proudly.

"That's a mouthful! Ain't you got a nickname?" Race asked, blue eyes wide.

"Some of the boys call me Jorge."

Race gave Jorge a quick once-over then shook his head, nose scrunched in distaste. "That don't fit you."

"Do you have anything better?" Jorge asked sourly.

"I'll think of something," Race promised. Then he turned around and started walking south to Lower Manhattan. "You comin' or not?" He called over his shoulder.

"I can't go today," Jorge said, disappointed.

"Why not?"

"I have things that I need to get first!"

"What about tomorrow? Can I get you tomorrow?"

Jorge nodded. "I'll be out here at noon. That's when we get to play outside after lunch."

"Okay, I'll be back then! See ya!"

"Do you have to leave now?" Jorge asked sadly.

"'Fraid so. Sketch'll want me back soon and it's a long walk."

Jorge slipped back into the courtyard as his new friend left and reluctantly went inside. Sister Margaret gave him fourteen lashings; three for his untidy uniform, three for his previous crime of running indoors, and eight for cutting class. Then he was sent to bed without supper. He didn't care. Even though he was hungry and sore from the lashes, his spirit was up. He was going to get out of there!

He didn't get out the next day. The morning dragged by and he could barely sit still during penmanship, leading to a poor performance that earned him another lash. Finally morning classes were finished and he got up to follow the boys outside, but Sister Margaret stopped him.

He was told that as punishment for skipping classes the day before, he had to stay in and write lines. Recess seemed to last hours as he stood at the board, hand cramping. I will not be ungrateful or skip class. I will not be ungrateful or skip class. Jorge wondered how long Race would wait for him. Soon recess was over and Jorge had to sit back in his seat. He knew that he had missed his chance.

He didn't eat anything at supper time, nor did he sleep that night. At recess the next day he sat by himself, back to the street where he'd almost been free. He should've just gone with Race when he'd had the chance!

Even though he knew he'd missed his chance, Jorge had worn his favorite pair of socks and stuffed his worn gloves and lucky marbles into his pockets, just in case.

"Hey! Jorge! Over here!"

Jorge heard the familiar voice of Race, but it had to be in his head. Why would the boy be back?

"Jorge! You ain't forgotten about me yet, have ya?"

Jorge turned around this time and, to his surprise, Race was standing there, cap askew with a bright grin lighting up his face as he waved.

Jorge got up and moved quickly to the gate. A few of his peers also moved that way, trying to get a closer look at this strange, dirty boy.

"You comin' or not?"

Jorge nodded and began sliding through the gate.

"Jorge! You can't go! You'll get in trouble!" Stefan warned.

"They can't hurt me. I'm not coming back!"

"I'm telling the sisters that you're running off again!" Matthias glared before turning and running up to the brown brick building, yelling all the way.

Race's eyes widened and he grabbed Jorge's arm, giving it a firm tug that pulled him fully onto the street. "We have to go before they catch you!" Race called as he began sprinting down the street.

How silly they must have looked, Jorge thought as he followed Race. A boy dressed in worn, hole filled clothing with a dirt stained face being chased by another in a neat uniform, bait combed and face freshly scrubbed. What a pair they made!

Eventually Race deemed that it was safe enough for them to slow down. He and Jorge switched to a walk as they caught their breath.

"Why'd you come back?" Jorge asked after a minute of silence.

"My friend Jack told me you was probably in trouble and that you'd be back today. I sure am glad I listened to him and checked!"

"Me too!" Jojo grinned.

Jorge's excitement faded and grew into nerves as they got closer to the lodge. He hoped the other boys were nice and would like him. What if they didn't like him? What if they hated him?

"They ain't gonna hate you! As long as you aren't annoyin' they'll love you!"

That did little to comfort Jorge. What if they thought he was annoying or stupid? Everyone in his school thought so. What if was an awful newsie and these boys sent him back?

No, he couldn't go back. Jorge would rather try his luck alone in the streets than go back. The school was terrible.

He wasn't good at recitations, he stuttered too much and forgot the words, so he had to stand in the dunce corner almost every day. His reading and spelling was terrible, and he'd missed plenty of recesses sitting inside practicing his arithmetic in his copy book.

Jorge was decent at geography but history was a struggle for him, his memory was terrible. Besides that, Jorge was a very clumsy boy and had many times spilled his ink during penmanship, resulting in a spoiled copy book and stinging fingers. No, he would never go back there.

"There it is!" Race said excitedly as he pointed to a brick building at the end of the street. Race grabbed Jorge's arm and pulled him down the street to the stoop of the lodge.

"I thought you said you wanted to stay here! Why are you just standin' there?" Race asked as he swung the door open.

"I need to fix my collar," Jorge said, hands shaking my as he straightened out his collar.

Race rolled his eyes," Newsies don't worry about straight collars or stained cuffs! Next thing you know you'll be talking about pressin' your shirts and shinin' your shoes!"

With no other choice, Jorge followed Race into the lodge. He stuck close to his guide as Race led him through the crowd of boys.

"Look fellas! It's Racer!" One of the boys laughed.

"I guess it is!" Another grinned, ruffling Race's hair.

Another boy jokingly stole his cap as a few others teased him and exchanged jokes, everyone warmly greeting the small boy back home.

"That's Sketch," Race said, motioning to a fair haired teenager who watched them from the corner. "He's in charge of us. You gotta meet him and see if he likes you 'fore you can stay." At Jorge's panicked look Race rushed to amend his statement. "Don't worry! He's never thrown someone out before. Come on! We'll go talk to him now and get it all settled."

"Hey Race! How's it rollin'?"

"I'm good! How about you?"

"Ise still alive, ain't I?" Sketch smirked. "Who's your friend?"

"This is the kid I was tellin' you about, the one that lives across from the church."

"Oh, the school kid, huh?" Sketched hummed thoughtfully. "Say, what's your name kid?"

"Jorgelin-"

"Jojo," Race interrupted. Jorge blinked at Race confusedly. The blond grinned back. "Told you I'd find you a nickname!"

A small smile spread across Jorge's face. Jojo. He liked it!

"Jojo," Sketch muttered. "Good name. Fits in real well. So, what do you think Jojo? You wanna be a newsie?"

Jojo nodded eagerly. "More than anything!"

Sketch smiled. "Then I s'pose you will be. Welcome home Jojo!"

***

So... what'd y'all think?

Yes? No?

I thought it was alright. I wrote it on a free day in Interpersonal Relationships, so it might be kind of rushed.

And I will be getting some of those requests out soon! Sorry again for the wait!

Thanks for reading!!!!
-Anna