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The sky was bright and blue, a rarity for the winter months and it was Race who suggested it first.
“I ain’t never been skating,” Boots jumped in eagerly and Race held out his arms to point out how perfect his idea was.
“I think I have a pair of spare skates that’ll fit you,” David added before the bunk room was filled with excited chatter.
Whether they had been pawned off or nicked, many of the newsies had some kind of skates. If not, shoes worked just fine and a few headed out before the others.
“You didn’t suggest this just ‘cause Spot’s visiting us, did you?” Jack eyed Race, earning a tight grin in return.
“Not everything I do is for Spot, Jacky boy,” Race grabbed his skates and followed David and Boots out of the room.
Rolling his eyes, Jack followed after them and before long, boys were strewn about the ponds of Central Park. When Race arrived with Boots in tow, he wasn’t surprised to see Spot there before them. Race waved wildly at the Brooklyn newsie, receiving a small hat tap in return. However, the facade melted away and it was Spot egging on Jack and David with a game of tag. He hardly gave them any time at all to get on the ice before jumping in, causing a commotion before Jack and David found their footing.
With Spot chasing after David and Jack skating circles around them, Race thought it better to bring Boots to a quieter spot of the pond.
“Let an old timer show you how it’s done,” Race backed up on his skates after helping Boots tie up his own. Gliding around the perimeter, Race looked over his shoulder at Boots as he attempted to get to his feet, his arms circling in the air. With a laugh, Race skated back over to Boots and helped him gain his bearings, encouraging him on with a smile.
“This ain’t so bad,” Boots grinned when he could finally stand without holding onto Race.
“Just wait ‘till Jack gets at you,” Race nodded towards Jack, who had just tackled David into a snowbank.
Spot’s head was thrown back in laughter and Race couldn’t help the smile that grew on his face. Skating backwards, Race held his arms out just within reach as Boots followed him along the ice, his gaze concentrated on his feet.
On the other side of the pond, Spot was lazily spinning in his place as Jack and David became distracted in themselves. He wanted to go bother Race, but Boots’ lessons came first. He could see how nervous the boy was and every encouragement helped without Spot staring them down.
Jack was pulling David back onto the ice and Spot was ready to start the game again until a thick crack hit his ears. Whipping his head to the other end of the pond, Spot’s stomach dropped at the sight of Boots down on the ice with Race nowhere to be seen. Then, a scream, and Race broke out from under the ice, his arms flailing before he sank down again. Boots was too far away, but if he were any closer, he’d fall in as well.
Spot shot ahead, Jack and David just in his peripheral as he searched his mind frantically for a solution.
“Grab onto my leg! Make a chain!” Spot yelled to the two of them as he slid down onto his side past Boots and onto the thin ice.
Feeling a hand wrap around his ankle, Spot grabbed onto Race before he sank any lower, hoisting him up under his arms. Hearing the ice groan under his weight, Spot could feel the water seep into his coat, but the hand on his ankle remained firm. As he pulled Race, he was dragged back until he was able to bring Race onto the shoreline himself.
“Race? Race!” Spot shook the other boy as he stirred feebly.
Swearing to himself, Spot jumped into action, tearing off most of his clothes before working at Race’s. Almost limp in Spot’s hold, Race’s body shook before sharp coughs spilled out of him, almost gasping for air. All Spot could do was continue what he was doing, stopping only to squeeze Race’s shoulder. Once Race was down to the bare essentials and his coughs subsided, Spot dressed Race in his own dry clothes, hardly noticing the bite of the cold.
“We gotta get him back to the lodging house, get him warm,” Spot commanded.
A coat dropped on his shoulders and Spot nodded his thanks as he picked up Race, throwing off anyone else that tried to help. More articles of clothing were thrown on top of Race, the load becoming a bit more than Spot could handle, but he bore through it. His concern was Race’s health and he marched through the Manhattan streets with a trail of newsies behind him.
“He’s gonna be okay, right, Spot?” Boots was on the verge of tears, his hand reaching out to Race. “It’s my fault, it’s…”
“Hey,” Spot interrupted, giving Boots a stern glare. “Ain’t nobody’s fault. Race is gonna be just fine. You’ll see.”
Other newsies budged in, asking how to help and Spot tried to give them the best advice he could. He’d done this before, but there were too many questions. Too many helping hands. He shook his head until Jack waved them off, the walk continuing in terse silence
When they finally reached the lodging house, Spot was led to the warmest area and he laid Race down, pressing a hand to his chest and face.
“Not warm enough,” Spot muttered to himself, shedding the coat that was given to him.
One blanket after another began to appear and Spot wrapped Race up, rubbing his hands and feet as he did so to keep Race’s body warm.
“Race, can you hear me?” Spot asked, a hand brushing at Race’s damp hair.
A slow nod calmed his racing heart and Spot let out a breath, glancing back at the newsies crowded in the doorway. “Maybe something warm to drink?” Spot pointed out, making eye contact with Jack.
Nodding his understanding, Jack ushered all the newsies away except for Boots, who refused to move. Spot watched the boy shift on his feet and signaled for him to close the door, not even flinching when Boots slammed it shut behind him.
Leaning against the door, Boots watched as Spot lifted up one of the blankets, curling in next to Race. What Boots couldn’t see, he guessed, and thought to himself how that was one way to warm a person up.
“He might get real sick, Boots,” Spot murmured, holding on to Race tight. “I’ve lost a few boys this way, but I think Race’ll toughen it out.”
Race’s shivering had stopped, his body relaxing against Spot’s as they lay in front of the heat. If Race was listening to any of this, Spot hoped he’d understand the meaning behind his words.
“Don’t blame yourself,” Spot sighed, glancing up at Boots. “Nature do what it does. Ain’t nothing you can change about that.”
Boots nodded, his head turned down. The tears threatened to fall again, but Boots swallowed down his fear, putting his trust in Spot.
“You really care about him, don’t you?” Boots asked quietly, looking up just as Spot withdrew his hand from Race’s hair.
“I ‘spose,” Spot shrugged.
His hand trailed along Race’s arm until it curled on top of Race’s. He blushed when Race entwined their fingers together and Spot shifted up onto his elbow.
“How’s you doing, Race?”
“Still cold as the goddamn pond,” Race muttered, followed by a shaky sigh. “Boots, you okay?”
Boots nodded from his place, taking a hesitant step towards the two. Spot wiggled back before motioning to Race and Boots dove in, wrapping Race up in a tight hug.
“Don’t die on me,” Boots held onto Race tightly. “Yous the first brother I ever had.”
“I won’t die,” Race’s reassurance came in a whisper, a weak arm wrapped around Boots. “Who else is gonna sneak you into Sheepshead?”
Boots cracked a smile and Race patted his shoulder, the two holding their hands together in a silent bond before Boots jumped back to his feet.
“I’ll find out about that hot drink,” he announced loudly and bolted from the room, the door shutting firm behind him.
After a few seconds, Spot slid back over to Race, wrapping them up in the blankets again. Race’s shallow breathing was evening out and Spot’s worst fears were put at ease. While there were a few more hurdles to pass, Race looked as if he would be recovering well over the next couple of days.
Turning in the hold, Race tucked his head underneath Spot’s. Spot could feel his grin form and he poked at his side to get an answer.
“What’s the smile for, Race?”
“Well, just what you and Boots were talking about earlier. How you care about me and all.”
Spot snorted, his fingers absentmindedly running along Race’s back. “Yeah, yeah, don’t get sappy on me ‘cause you almost died.”
Race managed to laugh a little at this, a small cough following. “Your words, Spot,” Race teased and Spot had to pull back, just to make sure it was Racetrack Higgins in his arms.
For having survived a drowning experience, Race was doing much better than Spot ever planned. Not that Spot wanted the opposite, he just wasn’t expecting Race to joke through something like this.
With a loud clatter outside the room, the two pulled away from each other and Spot got up with a sigh. There were muffled voices on the other side, hushed arguing, so Spot wasn’t surprised to see every Manhattan newsie waiting outside, all with something in their hands to give to Race.
“Your audience awaits,” Spot announced, waiting for Race to acknowledge before letting them in.
Boy after boy poured in, all speaking at once, handing Race their item and Spot shook his head with a smile.
The room was filled with bright laughter, fast conversation, and Spot watched from afar, eager for everyone to leave so he could curl up next to Race for as much time as they were allowed.