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Post by Administrator on Dec 17, 2011 17:00:52 GMT -5
Watch your step! Someone's always watching here...
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Post by Racetrack Higgins on Jan 8, 2012 0:56:17 GMT -5
The bad news was, the cigar was crap.
Racetrack had been almost giddy at the prospect of going into a smoke shop and actually purchasing a cigar. Legally. As a customer. With his own money. Know who else did that? Tycoons. Rich guys. Guys who had it going for them. Newsboys and street rats didn't do that. Racetrack figured that if he was going to be a big man in town one day, he might as well start acting like one. So, he'd scrounged up a few extra dimes, worked a little harder, and neglected to eat dinner for a day or two that week. He bought the most expensive cigar he could afford (the second cheapest in the shop), and no sooner than the shop door closed behind him, whipped out his matches to light it. The taste made him cough and swear and cough again. "What, they put coal in these things or what?" he sneered. He had paid for it, though, and a cigar was a cigar, so he decided to smoke it anyway, making a face the entire time.
The good news was, he found gold.
As he walked along, something glinted in the corner of the alleyway, half-concealed by a broken crate. If the sunlight wasn't just right, he probably would have missed it, but it made him stop in his tracks. There were three things you couldn't get past where coins were concerned: raccoons, magpies, and newsies. Racetrack scurried over to the spot and picked up a coin. It was dirty, but he could make out a crown on it, and he could tell it was gold. There was something written on it, but he couldn't make it out. "Boy oh boy," he muttered, "how much is this worth?" He held it up, trying to catch the light and make out more of what it said.
A noise behind him made him reflexively slip the coin into his vest pocket before glancing around quickly.
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Post by Sweetheart Snow on Jan 8, 2012 21:57:50 GMT -5
Fifteen year old Sweetheart Snow was just walking around Manhattan, with her Romeo and Juliet book in her hands. She wasn't paying attention to where she was going. She was so absorbed into the first fight scene of the story. She hated the romance, it was so stupid. Who intheir right mind enjoyed a romance where both lovers ended up killing themselves? Sweetheart certainly didn't. Suddenly, she tripped over something - most likely her own feet - and crashed the ground, her book flying out of her hands and landing on the ground with a loud noise. "ouch." she muttered.
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Post by Racetrack Higgins on Jan 8, 2012 22:40:38 GMT -5
Racetrack knew what he was going to see before he looked over his shoulder. There was the thud of an object falling to the ground, followed by the louder, compound thud of a body doing likewise, and then a girl's voice muttering, "Ouch." Sure enough, it was a girl and a book, both sprawled out on the ground in manners that books and girls really shouldn't be sprawled in. At first glance, she wasn't bleeding...or broken...or dead. He rolled his eyes. "How'd that ground taste," he muttered under his breath. The snide comment was almost automatic, but he knew better. Mostly.
He stood up and turned to her, one hand still on his vest pocket, as if he needed to assure himself the gold coin didn't get away when he wasn't looking. "Need any help?" he deadpanned. The girl was a stranger, and Racetrack was usually more polite to strangers than he was to folks he knew. Still, the fact that there was nothing to trip over made him think this one wasn't too bright, and he didn't really take to those types.
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Post by Sweetheart Snow on Jan 8, 2012 22:49:30 GMT -5
Sweetheart shook her head and smiled. "No thank you, sir." she said politely. She was polite to every one, it was natural. "It's not the first time I tripped over my own feet." she said with a soft smile. She got up and picked up her book. Shr looked at the boy and raised an eyebrow. "You look familiar somehow." she mused. She must have seen him around. Sweetheart never forgot a face, especially a handsome one.
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Post by Racetrack Higgins on Jan 8, 2012 23:42:08 GMT -5
"No thank you, sir."
"Sir?" Racetrack echoed without meaning to. No one had ever called him sir before in his life. What was this girl on about, anyway? "Do I look like a sir to you?" He tried to keep a civil tone, and for the most part succeeded. A lot of the time, Racetrack found that he either sounded like he was cracking a joke, or like he wanted to start a fight. This time, fortunately, he managed the former.
"It's not the first time I tripped over my own feet."
Race could believe that.
"You look familiar somehow."
"Who, me? Well. Depends." Race glanced up and down the alleyway. "On where you been, I 'spose." He didn't know this girl from anybody, but it wasn't the first time he'd been told he looked familiar. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and cleared his throat. "I don't leave the island. Except when I go to Brooklyn. And I don't stick around." Racetrack's pride made him consider all the places where this girl might have known him from. He honestly couldn't think of many. "You're not a Manhattan kid, are ya? Naw, I'd know for sure if you were... I got it. Queens, right? I can tell the Queens kids a mile away. They're the soft-lookin' ones."
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Post by Sweetheart Snow on Jan 8, 2012 23:52:18 GMT -5
Sweetheart smiled. "I call all guys older than me sir. I grew up that way." she explained. "and no. I from the Bronx. I havent been to Queens before. I'm sort of new to New York. Are you a newsie?" she asked. She have seen some of the manhattan newsboys like jack Kelly and David Jacobs. "and how do I look soft looking?" she asked, tilting her head to one side. Se has never been called that before
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Post by Racetrack Higgins on Jan 9, 2012 0:38:14 GMT -5
"I call all guys older than me sir. I grew up that way..."
Race interrupted, "How d'ya know I'm older'n you?" He might have looked it, maybe, but he knew that the general agreement was he looked a lot younger than he actually was. For one thing, he was short. Not too short, but fairly short. Aside from that, he just looked young. He didn't know what about his appearance that made this girl think he was older. Maybe it was the cigar. "Couldn't be more than two or four years older'n you," he mused, studying her face passively. "And I was told you say sir to grown men. Kids don't get sir. It ain't necessary. It's almost cold, if y'ask me..."
"...and no. I from the Bronx. I havent been to Queens before. I'm sort of new to New York. Are you a newsie?"
"Who wants to know?" he said as he took a puff from the cigar. Still foul, he thought, but getting better. Maybe it was an acquired taste. Kind of like whiskey.
"And how do I look soft looking?"
"Y'know..." Race rolled his eyes. "Just...I dunno, ya look soft," he answered dismissively, and left it at that.
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Post by Sweetheart Snow on Jan 9, 2012 1:24:33 GMT -5
Sweetheart blushed. "I just figured. I mean, you look about sixteen-ish. And it's just sort habit, like my brother with stealing." she said. "And I'm fifteen just so you know. Everyone thinks I'm ten though." she said that last part to herself. She heard him say that she just looked soft. She smiled and she introduced herself. "I'm Sweetheart Snow." she said.
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Post by Racetrack Higgins on Jan 9, 2012 2:07:20 GMT -5
"I just figured. I mean, you look about sixteen-ish. And it's just sort habit, like my brother with stealing."
Racetrack scoffed. To hell with sixteen-ish. He knew sure as all hell that he didn't look his age, but he didn't say anything about it. He had the feeling that it wasn't going to be worth the argument. "And what do I care 'bout your brother?" He didn't have a clue how this girl's brother figured into the conversation, but she mentioned, almost pointedly, that he was a thief. Racetrack made a note of this. It wouldn't be too absurd for him to think this girl might behave likewise. You could never tell. Quickly, he touched the gold coin in his pocket again. Still there.
"And I'm fifteen just so you know. Everyone thinks I'm ten though."
"Ain't that a shame," Race said absently. He took another puff and contemplated his cigar, trying to figure out how the brand name was pronounced.
"I'm Sweetheart Snow."
"You're a what?" Race said, incredulous. "The hell kinda name is that? No, nuh-uh...I ain't callin' you Sweetheart. What's your real name, kid?"
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Post by Sweetheart Snow on Jan 9, 2012 16:23:08 GMT -5
Sweetheart sighed. She hated her real name. "My real name is Brittani." she said. It was obvious that she hated the name. She looked at the boy. "what's your name?" She asked. She was starting to get a little uncomfortable. The boy seemed to think she was an idiot. Sure, she was used to being considered an idiot since her hometown saw her that way, but it still hurt. She sighed and wished that she was back in the Bronx. She was a lot more comfortable there. Plus, she had friends there. Manhattan was uncharted territory for her.
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Post by Racetrack Higgins on Jan 10, 2012 1:22:08 GMT -5
Racetrack nodded once. "Brit'ney. A'right. So you're English." He remembered her saying she was from the Bronx. Boy, it had been a while since he visited there. Come to think of it, the last time he'd been in the Bronx, Dodger was still running things. It didn't surprise him that he didn't think Brittani was familiar, but it sure was an indication that he needed to get out of Manhattan more often.
"Racetrack Higgins, at your service." Race stuck out his left hand.
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Post by Sweetheart Snow on Jan 10, 2012 16:01:38 GMT -5
Sweetheart shook his hand. "I'm actually half Mexican. Don't ask how I'm pale." she said. She found it weird that she was a pale-skinned Mexican. She had a feeling he wouldn't believe her. She smiled. "I've heard of you from some of the Bronx boys, like Dodger." she said. "You're one of Cowboy's newsies right?" she asked. Then she blushed when she realized how obvious the answer was. Stupid question.
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Post by Racetrack Higgins on Jan 12, 2012 22:14:30 GMT -5
"Oh yeah?" Racetrack grinned a little. "What's them Bronx boys got to say about me, eh?" In reality, he wasn't completely sure he wanted to hear everything the Bronx kids had to say about him. He had once cheated this fellow Fitz out of his money during a game of cards, and more than once had won fair and square at dice games... In any case, Race would guess that he'd walked away with more of Bronx's money than the newsies felt like he deserved. He didn 't know if that had earned him a good reputation, or a bad one.
"One of the Cowboy's? Sure as hell am. Born in Manhattan, lived here all my life. Family's Italian, though. You said you was Mexican?" Looking at her, Race was a little skeptical, but she had said half-Mexican...meaning there were probably some very white genes on the other side. German or Dutch, maybe. He fished the coin out of his pocket and held it up for her to see. "This look familiar? Word on it there, see? Peseta, it looks like. It ain't Italian..."
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Post by Sweetheart Snow on Jan 12, 2012 22:38:36 GMT -5
Sweetheart smiled. "Said you were a big gambler and poker player. One of the boys didn't exactly say good things." she shrugged. She had tuned the boy out. She didn't like hearing people talk bad about others. She was weird like that.
Sweetheart raised an eyebrow. "That's a Spanish coin I lost a few days ago. Where did you find it?" she asked. Her pure Mexican grandmother gave her that coin. It was like a collectors item. It was not meant to be spent.
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