Alright! Time for Boots and Crutchy to figure out the modern world! :)

Enjoy! :)

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"I'm hungry," Boots announces.

"Yeah, me too," Crutchy sighs. 

Both their stomachs grumble loudly.

"Well, I guess now's a good time as any to try to fix that," Crutchy says.

Boots springs up out of the beanbag. "Alright! Let's go find food!"

"Good idea!" Crutchy holds a hand up. "As soon as you help me outta this very comfy beanbag chair."

"So how are we going to find food?" Boots asks.

"Well, I s'pose that we still have to pay for food, even if it's more 'n a century into the future."

"Why?"

"Because businesses like makin' money too much to give things away for free."

"Yeah, that's true."

Something across the street catches Boots' eye. "Crutchy, what's that?"

He points across the street to where there are several...well, he doesn't know how to describe it. It looks like costumes, but none like he's ever seen.

"I don't know," Crutchy says. 

That's when he notices something: all of them are posing for a small box--presumably a modern camera--and they get money for it. And they aren't being paid in coins--they are being paid in dollar bills.

Crutchy looks down at his ragged outfit. It looks nothing like the outfits of today.

In fact, he may have more in common with those people in costume than he does the average person walking the street.

That's when he gets an idea.

"We'se are the newsies! Take a pictcha wit' us and we'll tell ya the news for a little dough!"

They've been shouting this for about ten minutes now. Boots found an old, dirty newspaper on the ground and has been holding it above his head. So far, they've had a couple people take pictures with them, and give them money.

A family of four comes up to them.

"Hiya, ladies an' gentleman!" Crutchy greets them, all smiles. "Would ya like a pictcha and a bit o' news?"

They grin and say yes, impressed by how in character they are. Crutchy chuckles. 

Since Crutchy has long arms (A/N: Yeah AKB is short, but Marty Belafsky is LONG, and I'm going off of Marty Belafsky's Crutchy), he's the one who holds the modern camera. It took a couple tries the first time, but he's figured it out now. Apparently, it's a camera and telephone all in one, which completely blows his mind.

"So, Boots," Crutchy returns the phone and turns to Boots, "what headlines do we got today?"

And this is where years of being a newsie comes in. While the newspaper they found off the street is too dirty to really read--besides, it's really only a prop--Boots still knows how to come up with a good headline.

Boots pretends to read off the headline on the newspaper, speaking as dramatically as he can. "Train crashes in Ohio, killin' none other than Teddy Roosevelt's nephew!"

The family gasps. "Oh, no!"

Boots nods solemly. "Was November 1st, 1901. I remember that day. Good sellin', but bad day for the Roosevelts."

Of course, none of that is true. Not only has Boots never seen 1901, he doesn't even know if Roosevelt has a reason to be out of New York, let alone if he has a nephew, let alone a nephew that died in a train crash.

To lighten the mood, Boots flips through the newspaper and says: "what's the headline on this here page? Why, it says there's gonna be a grand masquerade ball at Irving Hall tonight! Every body wearin' a mask is welcome! And! There is gonna be an extra special performance done by none other than Miss Medda Larksen, the Swedish Meadowlark herself!"

The family says things like "ooh!" and "oh, what fun!" and such.

One of the parents hands Crutchy a dollar bill--a five dollar bill.

"Oh, surely this is too much!" Crutchy exclaims. "Back in my day, we was sellin' papes for a penny a pape! Five dollars..."

A memory comes to Boots.

"Five dollars? Woah woah woah. We don't got five bucks. We don't even got five cents. Say, how 'bout I roll ya for it, double or nuttin'?"

How he wishes Race was here.

Crutchy must be thinking the same thing. No, he wasn't in the court room with them, but he's heard this story enough times that he basically can remember it happening.

Then he remembers to finish the thought. "Five dollars...is a lot."

"Well, maybe in your day, but not today," the other parent says, smiling.

Crutchy doesn't let his smile falter. "Well, then. That's very kind of you. Thank you very much." He tips his cap at them. "You have a wonderful day."

As the family walks away, all Crutchy can think about is the fact that five dollars is not a lot in 2024.

It used to mean much to the newsies. But now it's spent so easily, as if it meant nothing at all.

Just how much has changed between 1899 and 2024?

"Hey, Boots," Crutchy murmurs. "Can ya maybe find one of them food joints and see if ya can figure out the prices?"

"Sure thing." Boots scampers off to find any restaurant they can. 

Maybe he'll find Tibby's.

But Crutchy knows that that is more wishful thinking for anything familiar than anything else.

Crutchy takes photos with three more families before Boots comes back, somber look on his face.

"What? What is it?" Crutchy asks, concerned.

Boots shakes his head. "And we thought they jacked up the prices in with the war in Cuba."

Crutchy's heart drops. If he's interpreting Boots correctly, this is worse that the price going from 50 cents to 60 cents a hundred.

"So...how much does it cost to get a meal nowadays?" Crutchy asks cautiously.

Boots' shoulders drop, defeated. "Well, in most places I could find, anywhere from $10.99 to $23.99 at them 'fast food' restaurants." He pauses. "Per person."

Crutchy looks at the collection they have so far.

They only have 12 dollars.

So they are going to need to be here for a while.

Crutchy's voice is hoarse from "hawkin'" headlines, but he can't stop. He won't stop until they have enough money to cover both of them for lunch and dinner today, and maybe breakfast tomorrow. His stomach is grumbling. It's been ages since that one family gave them a couple pieces of fruit.

They've switched back and forth between advertising that they are newsies, and just shouting out headlines.

Crutchy isn't in the mood for pretending that they are pretending to be newsies. He just feels like shouting out headlines. At least that's familiar, instead of all this pageantry.

"The fourth horse wins the race at Sheepshead for the first time in months!" he shouts. "Gamblin' has never-" 

"Sheepshead?!"

Crutchy stops immediately, trying to find who said that.

It appears that it's a man a few yards away, staring at them as if he saw a ghost. His brown eyes are as wide as moons. Next to him is another man who appears to be the same age, dirty blond hair and blue eyes that would probably drive many crazy.

Crutchy squints at the man with dark hair and dark eyes. There's something very familiar about him...

The two men approach rapidly.

The man puts his hands on Crutchy's shoulders. "Crutchy?"

Crutchy gasps, looks into the man's eyes, eyes as wide as his.

The man's jaw drops in a wide smile. "I don't believe it."

Crutchy says nothing.

"Crutchy," the man emphasizes. "It's me. It's Racetrack."

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AAHHHHHHHHH WHAT AN ENDING

I was gonna add more to that ending but decided a little cliffhanger is good enough.

So what did y'all think?!?!

Fast food chains in America were invented in 1921. 

Also I will be honest, I just made up prices that sounded right (heh, the price is right) for what the average fast food meal costs.

I'm still trying to figure out if "inflation" would have meant "money increase" back in 1899.

"Pageantry" has been a word since the 1600s.

AAAAA I'M SO EXCITED TO WRITE WHAT HAPPENS NEXT

I bet y'all can guess who the man next to Race is :))))))

Any of you mad at me for that cliffhanger? Like angry mad? Or non-angry mad? 

Can't wait for you to read the chapters to come :))

Please, no homophobia, profanties directed at other wattpad users, or hate in the comments at all times.

Best,

~Your Beloved Author (who is going to get some food now, and can't wait for Race and "the other man" ;) to get Crutchy and Boots some food)