The Street

[Administrator]

Fifth Avenue is a symbol of wealthy New York. Newsies who sell here ought to be looking their finest if they want any business.

[Racetrack Higgins]

Racetrack was able--well, forced, really--to take a break from selling his papers. He usually made some kind of money selling on Fifth Avenue. The wealthy type seemed to like that they weren't buying their papers from a kid who looked like a grungy street rat. The woman who approached him looked lower-class, and definitely a recent immigrant; no doubt she worked for someone who lived on this street. She had picked an argument, simply because she had tried to pay with foreign money, and Racetrack wouldn't take it.

Her English was terrible. "Give," she repeated, "I take... I take..." She was becoming flustered quickly. The last thing Race wanted was a scene to draw the attention of a police officer; he honestly wasn't sure which one of them the bulls would be harder on.

"Lady... Lady! I...listen, stop. I can't take this. No good, no good..." He tried gesturing to emphasize his point, but it appeared that she did not understand.

"I take..." the woman tried again. "I take...giornale, I take..."

Oh, boy. This could have been so much easier. Racetrack raised a hand to silence her. "Signora," he said, recalling with just a touch of difficulty the Italian his grandmother had taught him when he was a child, "per cortesia. Non posso prendere quelli soldi, Lei ha bisogno di...ah...i soldi americani. Ha capito?"

The woman immediately looked relieved. "Non sai com'è di sentire qualcun'altro... Si, ho capito." She looked down at the currency she was holding. "Che svitatta. A me molto dispiace..." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a handful of coins, and sorted through them until she found an American penny. Wordlessly, she handed Racetrack both the American cent and the Italian piece. She bid him goodbye and went on her way, looking very happy.

Race quickly slipped the penny in his pocket, but he looked for a moment at the Italian piece: a five lira coin. He grinned a little and put the piece safe in his vest pocket. It's amazing how happy people get when the run into someone who understands them...

[Emma Jackson]

Emma had been playing, really after she'd muscled her violin back from Reid a week or two go the little blond had done what she always did. She hated, HATED to sell papers. For some reason the big gents always thought she was selling more than just a paper. Snorting the blond stood on the corner she'd found and laid out her violin case, bringing it up to her chin as she tilted her head. Something about music in the street drew people in and truthfully she made more money this way than she did by selling. She didn't see how the boys liked it so much.

As she played the jig she moved around a bit, drawing attention to herself how a showman would, she wasn't really infringing on Race's territory but the draw would be enough to get him a few papers too. She didn't know many of the boys from Manhattan. She didn't come there often enough honestly but she did know a few of them and the blond had a mouth. Wasn't anything wrong with that.

When the crowd began to thin she leaned down to look at her case to see her spoils, sticking out her tongue a little bit when she realized it wasn't as much as she was hoping but it would feed her for a bit that was good enough. Lifting her head she glanced around, gathering up her money with a grin and a hum.

[Racetrack Higgins]

With the first diversion gone, Racetrack tried to pick up and start selling again, but in a few minutes (and only about three or four papers later) there was something else that caught his attention, as well as the attention of most of the potential customers walking on one side of the street. Lively music was playing (had he just noticed it? Maybe he had, since it didn't seem like it was new to anyone else), and Race craned his neck to see a girl with her violin case open at her feet. Race shook his head. Street musicians. He couldn't stand them, mostly because he was jealous. There they were, doing something they did in their free time, that they loved to do, and they were getting paid for it. And here he was, shouting bogus headlines and waving newsprint at people, lying about not having change to try and get ahead. Musicians had it easier, in his mind. Race refused to acknowledge the fact that in his mind, everyone had it easier, because he had it the hardest.

Fed up with one thing after another interfering with his selling, he picked up his pile of papers and strode up to the girl, just as she was about ready to pack up and go. Normally he wouldn't have bothered, but the distraction with the lady had put him in a bit of a touchy mood. As he approached, he knew he recognized the girl from somewhere. He thought she was from the Bronx. Amelia? Emily? Something like that. He was never so good with names. As he approached, he said a little testily, "You should think about playin' on that other corner there," he nodded down the block. "That way I don't yell over your music and you don't play over my yellin', ya see?"

[Emma Jackson]

Emma raised a brow as soon as the short (haha) bloke approached her looking no worse for wear. Furrowing her brow she decided he looked like a little man really, but his voice spoke volumes. She'd heard that voice arguing with a bookie at the track a few times and her brow hitched when he told her to play on the other side of the street. Emma, may not always get away with things but as far as the Bronx boys were concerned, she was theirs. There wasn't anything wrong with that really, the girl had a quick and often wicked smile.

"Uh I could," she offered, that mischievous smile on her face. "Or I could follow you around all day and play right near you no matter where you go? How about that?" Her brow hiked and she looked, completely serious before her face broke into a grin and she waved him off, crouching down to pick up her coins and count. "I didn't see you, though I normally go with River or Dodger when they go sellin... but since Dodger isn't leader no more and River is he's all busy and the like. Just tryin to eat too." Oh she knew that he was probably annoyed and wouldn't listen anymore so she straightened after she shoved the money into her pocket. "Anyone ever tell you that you look angry... all the time?"