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It was sunny out, which wasn’t particularly fair given the circumstances, Race figured. The only reason he knew it was sunny was because there was sun filtering in through one of the two windows in the bunk room. He hadn’t gotten out of bed yet and he really didn’t want to.
“C’mon Racer, ya gotta get up sometime.”
Race turned his head to see Jack leaning on the door frame. He was the only one left in the room but Race, everyone else had started walking out to the little plot. It was a miracle Jack had been able to pull that off.
When Race didn’t say anything Jack walked over and sat down by his feet. “I know it’s rough, but ya gotta.”
“Why?” Race asked, and he sounded young and small, he knew that. “Why does it matter if I go or not?”
Jack raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “‘Cause you’ll be kickin’ yourself if you don’t, and it would mean a lot to the other guys, and Al.”
Race scoffed and Jack gave him a hard look that managed to get him to sit up. “You know why I don’t wanna go, right?”
“I do, but ya still have to.”
“I know.”
Everyone else was standing around their sorry excuse for a headstone when Race and Jack got there. Race had convinced Jack to take the long route and the older boy had given him a look but went along with it; he knew Race was grateful for that.
Spot was waiting for the both of them near the back, and he glanced over at Jack before slinging an arm over Race, the two of them hanging back while Jack went forward.
“So guys, we’re here today for Al,” Jack started. He stood next to the little rock looking thing they’d crudely carved his name into. “He was a damn good friend, and newsie.”
There was a murmur of agreement through the crowd, and Race felt himself start to zone out. Not in the rude sort of way he did during conversations sometimes, but he just couldn’t listen right now, not to this. He couldn’t.
Spot jostled him a little bit and Race looked over at him.
“Ya okay?” Spot asked, jerking his head toward Jack and the others. “You’se lookin’ a little far off.”
“Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” Race said, shaking his head a little, but he still couldn’t quite listen to Jack. He was remembering.
“C’mon Racer, up and at ‘em.”
A solid weight fell onto Race’s chest and he groaned, kicking weakly at Albert as he pulled the pillow off of his head and gave Albert a withering look.
“You weigh an awful lot for someone who barely eats.”
“And you talk an awful lot for a dumbass.”
Race laughed and sat up, pushing at Albert’s shoulder and swinging his legs over the side of the bunk. “We sellin’ together today?”
Albert nodded and yawned. “Yeah, gotta until stuff’s fixed over in Brooklyn for ya.”
“Won’t be long then,” Race quipped, grinning, “I know a guy.”
Albert rolled his eyes and stood up, offering a hand to Race which he took. “Yeah, maybe a little too well.”
“Shut it.”
“ You shut it.”
Race blinked rapidly and clawed at his fingernails without really thinking, his palms were sweating.
“If any of you guys wanna say somethin’ ya can, or put whatever ya want on the grave,” Jack said, stepping back and making way for the group of Manhattan boys and a spattering of kids from other burrows to step up.
Making his way to the back, Race fought to control the slight tremor that had taken over his whole body.
Jack must have noticed, because he put a hand on Race’s shoulder as soon as he walked up and tilted his head. “You ain’t lookin’ to good, you wanna go up and say somethin’?”
Race shook his head, taking a deep breath as he did. “Nah, he knows.”
A silence fell over the three of them, Spot’s arm never coming off of Race’s shoulder. He needed it right then.
Albert was giving Race a look the second he walked through the gate into distribution, and he tried and failed to get in line before Albert caught up with him.
“How are ya today, Race?”
Race shrugged, shifting on his heels and making himself look Albert in the eyes. “Not too bad, you?”
“Fine.”
Biting the inside of his cheek, Race looked over Albert’s head and started to walk forward. “Well, gotta get in line.”
He ran right into Albert, who moved to get in his way though, and Race let out a sigh before the other boy spoke.
“When’s the last time ya ate?”
“Don’t really see why it matters.”
They stared at each other for a second or two before Race caved.
“‘Bout two days ago, I think,” he said softly, looking anywhere but Albert, who groaned.
“C’mon, we talked about this, Jackie’s gonna kill ya if ya don’t eat,” he said, already digging into his pocket for something.
“Yeah, well I don’t see Jack,” Race shot back.
Albert pulled a couple slices of bread from his pocket and shoved them at Race. “Yeah well I’m gonna kill ya too.”
Grumbling, Race took the bread and took a bite. “Happy?”
Albert slung an arm over Race’s shoulder and smiled, pulling the both of them toward the distribution line. “Yeah I am, now let’s go get some papes.”
“I miss him,” Race said quietly, feeling himself start to shake harder and harder under Spot’s arm. “Y’know?”
Spot and Jack both nodded solemnly.
“Yeah, we all do, kid,” Jack said. He looked over his shoulder at the guys gathering around the headstone. “We all do.”
Race didn’t say anything else, and after a moment Spot dropped his arm and looked at Jack, who nodded.
“Ya wanna head back?” he asked Race.
Race bit his lip, looking over at Albert’s grave for another second, tears starting to fill his eyes as he did. “Yeah, yeah sure.”
The two of them started walked again, shoulders brushing as they rounded the corner and started to head for the street.
“You’se gonna be okay, Racer.”
“Ya think so?” Race asked, looking at Spot and wiping at his eyes.
Spot bumped his shoulder and gave a small smile. “Yeah, I do.”
“Thanks, Spotty.”
“Don’t mention it.”