I got really bored while waiting for new reviews to help me out, and decided to just whing out chapter thirteen. So thanks to all who reviewed at least once so far, and I'm not signed on now or else I would list you, but you know who you are anyways. Here we go...


David sat as his usual spot at the dinner table but his mood was very much down. It was so bad that even his usually sister, Sarah, picked up on it. "David, dear, what's wrong with you tonight?"

"Nothing." He turned the other direction.

"David. Look, I know there is something wrong with you, and until you feel better, I'm not going to leave you alone." David began to turn again, aghast that Sarah was going to do this. Then she spoke again. "Especially because you're sitting in my best crocheting chair." Davey groaned.

Sarah took this as an expression of grief, caused by whatever was troubling him, and not her, and pressed on. "Is it Denton? I know you have been visiting him an awful lot. Did he get tired of you? Or loose his journalism job? Because if he did, you wouldn't be able to apprentice for him."

"Apprentice? I'm not apprenticing for Denton."

"Don't deny it David. Every time you go over there, you always tell mom you're going to work."

David blushed, and looked a bit panicky, but typically, Sarah didn't notice. "Uhh, yeah. You caught me. I want to be a journalist."

"Ohh! Poor little Davey. Doesn't he want you around anymore?"

"Uhh...yeah. That's it. I feel so much better now, Sarah. Thanks." He rolled his eyes as he walked into the bedroom he shared with Les. As he turned to shut the door, he could see Sarah had already moved to his chair and pulled out her crocheting supplies.


Ducking into an alley, Sidetracked dropped her knapsack and turned to Race. "You idiot! We could have been caught! Do you know how angry I am at you right now?" She was right livid, and had her hands balled into fists. He was stading very still, biting his lip. She was also stading still, but she was shaking because she was so mad. He didn't know what else to do, so he reached into his pocket, and pulled out the three fives that he had picked up right before making a run for it. He held them up, and smiled.

She was still mad, but he could tell she was getting better. She had stopped shaking, and had her hands on her hips instead of in fists. So he made puppy-dog eyes, and cocked his head to the side, holding the money, fanned out, over his heart. He was absolutely adorable. She melted. "Racetrack, you're rich!" She took that last step towards him, and threw her arms around his neck. With a huge smile, he put his arms around her and they stayed like that for at least ten minutes.


Spot sat at the table with his lunch of a sole piece of bread. Savannah was angry at him for going through her things. He had tried to tell her that it was on the ground, but it had come out like 'If you'd kept it up off the floor, I wouldn't have...' That's as far as he got before she raised her hand, like she was going to slap him. She didn't, but she did whirl about and run from the room. She hadn't spoken to him since, nearly a full day.

She was currently out in the barn, brushing her horses. Spot had learned, in his time away from the city, that a farm takes an awful lot of work. The day before, after she'd run out, she had taken something out to her garden, and beat the ground in between the rows of plants. When the postman came to call, and she'd run to greet him, she'd said 'Oh, no bother at all. I was just hoeing the garden.' Spot wondered what exactly that was, but his pride kept him from asking.

After that, she gone into the barn again, and had come out with a large metal pail. She went back to the garden, and collected tomatoes and several ears of corn. She then sat on the porch, and cleaned it all. The tomatoes were taken to the cellar, along with most of the corn. She shucked and boiled the rest, and that, along with leftover chicken, was dinner. She didn't even look at him.

Now, on the third and final day of his Millie-ordered house confinement, he was getting very tired of watching the farm work out of his window. Finding nothing to do but eat bread in the kitchen, he wandered back into the living room. He noticed that the picture album was gone. Nothing else mildly amusing there, he looked at the steps. It was simple enough to 'Hob'-ble(1) down them, but going back up was another story entirely. He decided he didn't want to attempt it right now, and went on to find out what was behind them-a place he hadn't ventured as of yet.

The first room he came to was just a closet, located under the steps. It was full of various cleaning supplies, and what looked like very old, torn up clothes. The second room was a bed room, one of the ones from the photos of the sickrooms. Spot got a cold feeling as he looked in, and shut the door quickly. The last room was the area behind where the kitchen was. It had to be the largest room in the house. It was full of ghostly shapes, and dust covered toys. The shades were firmly shut on the three large windows, and from the cobwebs on the switch, the lights hadn't been lit for nearly a year.

Upon flicking the switch, Spot found that it only worked the lights on that wall, and the rest were on a different switch. Spot wondered why. He gave up on that unproductive line of thought, and went on to see what the ghostly shapes really were. Pulling off the sheets, he found several rocking horses, each with the name of a different child carved on the back, three large doll houses, complete with furniture, and one huge, brown teddy bear, about half as tall as Spot, sitting in the corner.

Besides all that, there were all sorts of children's toys, strewn about the floor. There was a bowling game, at least ten decks of cards mixed together, several random stuffed animals, a pair of roller skates, some sort of board game, and a set of tops. Each top looked like it had been painted by a child, and upon closer inspection, he found that each one had been. In an adult hand, the tops had been labeled 'Third birthday of' and then the name of each child.

Spot felt horrible. This family had been so close. Much more than his own, and out of all the newsies back-stories, his family was the closest. He looked at all the toys, left probably just as they were the last time they were played with, and thought of his own home, last visited with Jack, only a month ago. They had a sort of a fight, but neither had spoken of it since. Spot said that he thought it was time to sell the house, but Jack said that he should keep it. It would be a great place to move into, once he was too old to continue selling the papers. Jack also said he didn't know why Spot didn't just live there now. It was all paid for, so there would be no rent due, and it would save him all the money he wasted on the lodging house. Spot had gotten angry, yet he didn't really know why.

Since then, he had worn the key around his neck purely out of habit. Usually, he would sit on the docks, or wherever, and toy with it, but until that day on the way to Doc Flynn's, he had only touched the coin. His thoughts now off on a tangent, Spot reminisced about his aquiring of that particular piece of currency. It was foreign, with a funny writing on it. It was silver, but the center was inlaid with a gold color. There was a picture of a bird of some kind in the gold part. But the funniest thing about it was the holes. Along the edges, there were three small holes, spaced out evenly. Through one of these, Spot had run a piece of string through. He was unconsciously toying with it as he thought of it, and he must have been standing there for ten minutes.

He was jarred out of his thoughts by the barn door sliding shut. Quickly as he could, he put out the lights and threw the sheets over everything. Fourtunatley, Savannah went to the cellar to get something before she came in, or he would have been caught for sure.


"Come on Jack! You gotta go! Really, I'd prolly be good for ya. All ya do anymore is sell and sit deah." Mush was literally on his hands and knees, pleading for Jack to go to the party at Medda's. "Do it for Race, Jack. He finally hit the big time. Fifteen bucks!"

"Fine. I'll go. But just for a little while. An we gotta stop at Brooklyn first and see if Spot's back." Mush nodded, then smiled wolfishly.

"Sides, I met this goil last night (A/N-Sorry, y'all, but I couldn't resist!) an' I invited her. She's gonna meet us theah at seven. Coise, then I didn't know about Race yet, but hey. She can join the group." Mush looked like he wanted to go on, but just then Race walked back in and everyone started yelling. Race looked so happy, even Jack couldn't resist saying something to him.

Okay, that was really long, and it took me three days instead of the usual one but I had to get Mush's goil in there. There ya are, Chelci!! And even though you like Davey, I still don't! And hey KtStar, thanks for finally getting around to reading. But you know that review box? Use it!! Writetress, thanks for attempting to fix me. I proofread to make sure I don't do anything like that, tho sometimes I miss and I need help. Bluehag, your review made me laugh. But...what cop? Yeah, I figure back then, people weren't supposed to cuss in public, so a girl doing it might make people freak. No, he obviously didn't get arrested. Yeah, she was there. Isn't that how all the stories go? LOL She's not PMSing. There was going to be more to that convo leading up to her getting pissy, but I couldn't think of anything else for them to say. Congrats! You win for the most asinine thing to do! Here's a cookie! (::) MooBug, thanks a bunch. Rebellious Observer, I have to say, I look foreward to your amusing reviews each time I post a new chapter, but you haven't been here since chapter 10! Where have you gone? Are you okay there? And to anyone who reviewed the last two and I haven't said your name, thanks so much for reviewing. I love reviews. They go to power the time machine that I used in my The Book story. (Read it if you haven't, but I urge you to make sure you are extra hyper before you begin!!!)And lastly, thanks to the three people who put me on their favorites list.