Chapter Text
“Extra! Extra! Tiger escape sends citizens running!”
A man with a derby hat and a dark gray coat dumped a nickel into Jack’s hand and grabbed the newspaper from his hand without even meeting the young boy’s eyes. He didn’t mind. He had just sold his last paper for five times its actual worth after all. He tossed his hard won coin up in the air and swiftly caught it as it came down; he’d buy the new kid something nice at the deli later.
It was an uncomfortably warm day in the borough of lower Manhattan and the streets were bustling with people heading home from work. Sweat was dripping down the back of his neck and the damp air just made him feel sticky and gross in general; it would be a relief to return to the lodging house and bathe.
“What a sucker.” Scoffed Race as he stepped out from behind a discarded bin, his trademark cigar sitting unlit in his mouth and his normally pale face sunburned after the long day in the summer sun. Jack wagered he probably didn’t look much different; save for the cigar, of course.
“Uh, Jack? Is lying really the best way to do this?”
Race looked like he was about to say something, but Jack slapped his arm lightly and smiled at the new kid as he limped shyly with his crutch out into the open. Skinny and sickly as he was, Jack could see the kid was tough, he just needed to slightly change his moral compass. The world was a very unkind place for people like them.
He tossed the younger boy the nickel he had just earned and was gratified with the look of astonishment in the kid’s eyes. He was regrettably becoming very attached.
“For me, yes. You,” He gestured to the other newsie’s crutch in answer to his question. “Yous is lucky, Crutchie. People see a bum leg and it don’t much matter what the headline is.”
Crutchie looked at his newspaper bag as if just realizing it was completely empty, then he looked up at Jack and looked a bit disappointed. “I don’t need the limp to sell papes. I got personality.” This phrase had been repeated at least once a day for the one week Crutchie had been out on the streets selling papes with them and Jack hadn’t found him to be completely wrong.
Race snickered, took his half chewed cigar out of his mouth, and flicked Crutchie's hat off of his head. “Yeah sure, kid.”
If Crutchie hadn’t been so nice he would have hit Race over the head with his crutch. Jack, however, felt the need to defend the sweet cripple.
“Oh, would you shut your mouth. Don’t you need more cigars or something?” He adjusted the now empty bag on his shoulder.
“No. I just got some more last week.” Race seemed a bit miffed about the question.
Jack turned to Crutchie who was picking up his hat and dusting it off. “He stole ‘em.”
“They was sittin’ right out in the open! I couldn’t just leave a good pack there.”
Both Jack and Crutchie had moved on though, so Race had been left speaking to himself.
People had started to glare at them as they passed and it was making him fairly uncomfortable. He hated being looked at as if he had done something wrong. He couldn’t help that he was dirt poor.
Evening had arrived and Jack elected now would be a good time to go get some dinner, today had been a pretty good selling day so finding something to eat shouldn’t be too difficult. He shook off his unease.
“Come on, Crutchie! I know a place you’re gonna love.”
***
The three newsboys walked out of Jacobi’s deli with contented looks on their faces and talking loudly. The sandwiches they had received had been made from leftover ingredients, but that was nothing new; Mr. Jacobi let them get it for cheap that way. People glared at them once again as they passed, but with food in his stomach Jack found he didn’t care as much.
He stopped talking for a moment and looked up at the sky. The sun was starting to slip below the horizon and that feeling of unease came back for a different and more logically grounded reason. Some cops liked to lurk around at night and try to catch homeless kids attempting to find a place to sleep. It had happened to Race a few years ago and the younger newsie had been wary of the streets at night ever since; Jack did not want a repeat of that event.
“We’d best head back. The sun’s goin’ down.”
“You don’t gotta tell me twice. Come on, Crutchie.” Race’s wariness was cleverly disguised by his normal confident front and relaxed voice.
Crutchie had fallen a bit behind and he clambered with his crutch to keep up with them, the wood making small thuds as it hit the hard ground. As they walked back to the Lodging house they fell into an easy rhythm with Jack up front and the other two trailing behind him.
“So, Crutchie?” He heard Race say after about only a minute of silence. “How long have you had a crutch?”
Jack, who had been listening and watching the streets attentively, was intrigued by the question and decided that it wouldn’t hurt to eavesdrop on the conversation. He had been wanting to ask the question but had decided to be respectful and not pry. Race had no such qualms.
“I was born with it. I mean the bum leg, not the crutch. I don’t mind it, though.” Crutchie seemed kind of nervous as he answered, but he was clearly happy that Race was talking to him. The two hadn’t made the best first impressions on each other, but Crutchie still seemed to look up to the other boy for some strange reason.
“So, is your parents dead or did they not want ya?”
Jack quickly whipped around.
“Race!”
He tried to keep his voice quiet, but judging from the slightly offended face Race was giving him he had failed.
“What? It was a reasonable question; I’m just trying to get to know him like you told me to!”
“Not with a question like that!”
“Well, what do you want me to ask? You’re always right about everything so be my guest!” Race's voice dropped to a frustrated whisper as he turned to Crutchie without waiting for Jack to answer him. “Sorry.”
Jack kept his mouth closed, but a small amount of resentment burned in his chest. Race would say something like that, but he wasn’t right. Jack would be the first to admit if he was wrong. Right? Having nothing to say, he just crossed his arms and looked at the back of Race’s head.
Crutchie’s eyes were wide and whether it was from the abrupt apology or their argument, Jack couldn’t tell. The kid fiddled with a fraying piece of cloth on his shirt and seemed to relax after a moment.
“It’s okay, Race. You didn’t mean anythin’ by it; I would have asked the same of you eventually. Maybe.”
How encouraging.
The edges of Race’s mouth still managed to tug upwards into a small smile, but his eyes revealed his frustration towards his best friend. He was just trying to help, but he always messed up; it was hard having that pointed out to him by someone he really looked up to. If he could just keep his mouth shut life would be so much easier.
He turned to look at Jack who was just standing there with his arms crossed. Race took a breath.
“You ready to keep movin’, Cowboy?”
“Huh?” Jack’s head snapped up. “Oh, yeah. Let’s get moving.”
They had been walking in awkward silence for a few minutes until the worst possible thing could’ve happened.
“KELLY!”
They all quickly whipped their heads around and panic coursed through them.
Snyder.
“Run for it!”
Race grabbed Crutchie’s wrist and practically dragged him as they frantically ran and Jack slowed down so he could run behind them. It had been a while since they had had a run in with Snyder and he had been perfectly fine with that.
“We have to get to the theatre, come on!”