Hey guys! I'm sorry it's been a few days since I've updated. I'll honestly tell you that I can only update this story as often as school will allow, since I

just got back from break. I promise I'm spending as much time on this as I can!

REVIEWS

sweetpea22packers: Hey, thanks for reading! I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far. I'm excited to see where I'll take it as well! :)

Fanz4Life: Thanks for the review! :) as you'll see in this chapter, I am indeed planning on weaving Katherine into the story! All in due time, my friend ;)

SomedayOnBroadway: As always, LOVE getting feedback from you! :) I'd have to agree, I can see how it's hard to get what's really going on in the character's

heads. Because these characters have such traumatic (is that the word?) backstories, I've tried letting their past present itself much slower than I usually

would. A lot of the reason why Race treats Rosie the way he does has to do with his past (and vice versa). But a good portion of it will be covered in this

and the next chapter, so I look forward to your input on that! :)

enjoy! :)

Despite Race's wishes, Jack paired Rosie with Albert as selling partners to get her first day started.

"I want her to sell at least once with every one of us," Jack had said, "then, it'll be easier for her ta find an angle 'n where she sells best." Race pouted at this, unsure of why she couldn't at least spend her first day selling by his side, but said no more as his brother gave him almost a comforting look and turned away. Race's eyes narrowed, trying to decide what the look meant, then realized that his brother was on to him; he knew something was up with Race and his true feelings for Rosie. And if Race still wasn't sure how he felt about her, then he damn sure didn't want anyone else trying to figure it out.

So he sat silently as Albert gave Rosie an old sling canvas tote and led her out the door to the circulation gate. He couldn't help but watch them skip merrily along down the sidewalk. At least she's happy, he thought to himself, her laugh like windchimes carrying from all the way down the street and warming his heart. He smiled as he realized it was the first time he'd really heard it, and promised himself he'd find a way to make her do it again.

Once the two were out of view, Race made his way to the bathroom to get his own day started. The conversation he'd had with Jack set him off to a late start, but he was fine with it. He'd finally get some peace and quiet and a bathroom all to himself, as all of the newsies had already partnered up and headed out. He turned the faucet on, relaxed by the sole sound of the running tap, and splashed some cool water on his face. He brushed his teeth and shaved the slight stubble off of his chin. As he ran a comb through his golden blonde hair, he paid close attention to the way it framed his face, trying again and again to make it look as flattering as possible. He twisted his lips as he thought of the best way to part it. To the left? That's new. To the right? No, same as always. He wanted her to notice him. Spiked up? Combed down? Slicked back? What do girls like best? With a slight sigh of frustration, he turned to the clock on the wall. Twenty minutes had passed. He shook his head, astonished at how quickly the time had flown by and yet there he stood, hair as stupid and messy as when he'd started. He crossed his arms. It usually only took him a few seconds to pass the comb through his hair and be completely satisfied with his look, what was so different today? He rolled his eyes to himself as he realized the answer.

Rosie. It was her. That stupid, pretty, sweet girl had gotten into his head and spun him all around. Rosie, with her soft brown hair that fell just to the middle of her arm and her light brown eyes that seemed to turn a sparkling bronze in the sunlight from his window. Race's stomach filled with butterflies and he bent over the sink, thinking to himself. Maybe he didn't like her yet, but he wanted more of her. He was intrigued by her. He found himself wanting to ask her so many questions and take her so many places just to get to know her. He wanted to know everything about her. He just wanted her.

But she was so fragile. She wasn't like the other girls he knew who'd just let him flirt with them or would even push themselves on him. She was her very own, and seemed very careful of who she let in. And where Race was often quick to jump on feelings and let things go as far and as fast as a girl would allow, he found himself wanting to go slow with Rosie. He wanted to know all about her, yes, but not the things that a quick night together tells you about a person. This was so unlike him. She was driving him crazy.

Race was soon snapped out of his tornado of thought when Crutchie suddenly appeared in the reflection of the mirror. He jumped and muttered a few curse words to himself.

"Oh, sorry Race," Crutchie began with an apologetic smile, "I didn't mean to scare ya." Race's posture relaxed as he nodded.

"Whattaya still doin' here, Crutch?" Race questioned, "Everyone else left about a half hour ago."

"Yeah, I know. I uh… I don't think I'm gonna make it out. Not today, at least."

Race turned from looking at Crutchie's reflection to his actual face, confused by the shame in his eyes.

"Whattaya mean?" Race asked, "You hardly ever miss a day of sellin'. What's goin' on?" He placed a hand on his poor brother's shoulder as the younger sighed.

"I uh… I ain't been walkin' so good." Crutchie averted Race's gaze. It wouldn't have been a bad attempt at lying, but the oldest knew his younger brother's tell, and it showed itself like a flashing light. Crutchie's head leaned in towards his shoulder, making it obvious he was avoiding the truth.

"Yeah… okay," Race allowed, hoping he'd come to use his words later. "Sorry ta hear that, Crutch. You know if you ever get any trouble I'll soak whoever's got it comin', right?"

"Right," Crutchie nodded, smiling at one of the few people closest to him, "I know, Race. Say, whatta you still doin' here, anyway? Everyone else left about a half hour ago," he playfully mocked his brother's tone.

"Got a late start," Race laughed, going back to styling his hair in the mirror. "I was talkin' ta Jack about Rosie, and it took longer than I thought it woulda."

"Oh? What was ya talkin' bout?" a speculating tone creeped into Crutchie's voice.

"Just what we's gonna do with her," Race replied slowly, Crutchie's shift not going unnoticed, "What was you thinkin'?"

"Ah, nothin'," Crutchie skirted, but smirked before he continued, "I could see it, ya know."

"See what?" Race stopped and set the comb to the side.

"Y'know, you and Rosie. She's come outta her shell a little and she seems real great. I think you two'd make a real fit."

Race sighed in the mirror. Were his feelings really that obvious? He genuinely thought himself to be someone who never wore his emotions on his sleeve. Could everyone tell? Could she?

"Don't worry," Crutchie read his mind, "I don't think any'a the boys's noticed."

With that, Crutchie left, playfully hitting Race's shoulder before exiting the bathroom. Race stared at himself in the mirror, trying to picture the pretty girl by his side.

Yeah, he thought to himself, I could see it, too.

Rosie was having an amazing first day. Despite the chill of the late fall, she was flooded with a warmth that could only be labeled as pure happiness. Albert had taught her the bare basics of what she needed to know- never take no as a first answer, and if you have to, come up with a headline- and she had already sold most of her papers for the day. They sat at a booth in Jacobi's for a break and a glass of seltzer, a treat for Rosie's great start.

"I think you's just got a real good case a' beginner's luck," Albert teased. In all seriousness, he didn't know how Rosie went from fifty papes to less than ten in only a few hours. He knew that a few of Spot Conlon's girls in Brooklyn (all three of them) always outsold the boys, but he was sure you could credit that to Brooklyn being a bigger city and the girl newsies being so tough. He wondered what it was that made Rosie such a great newsie so soon. Quickly, he realized it all had to do with her alone- she was such a sweetheart. Her charming smile and personality alone could sell an umbrella to a man in the desert. But as she began to open up, Albert could easily see that she was also funny, persistent, and even a little sassy at times- all great traits to have for a successful newsie. He was glad he could share her first day with her.

"Oh, come on. Beginner's luck?" she rolled her eyes, a smirk playing upon her lips, "Then I guess you had some of that too when you first started. Maybe I'll ask Jack all about it when we get back to the Lodge?"

"Oh, that ain't necessary," Albert laughed. He remembered how it had taken him two months to even get the swing of the whole "selling" thing, and another two to actually sell all of his papers in one day. "You got me. Maybe you's just really good at this, and it's a great thing we snagged ya when we did."

"I'd say so," Rosie smirked. And she had to agree, she was already enjoying the feeling of company again. She'd laughed more that day with Albert and the other boys than she had in the past month all on her own. Suddenly she was overwhelmed with gratitude, not just for a fun selling partner, but for the fact that she wasn't spending her day sad or regretful like she always did. Instead, she was laughing at a deli booth and having fun with a boy she sensed she'd be really great friends with.

"So," Albert began once they got their glasses of seltzer, "Is ya likin' all of this so far?"

She beamed as she set down her glass. "Absolutely! I've had so much more fun today than I've had in a long time."

"Fun? It's freezin' outside!" Albert exclaimed. Of course, he was having a good time too, but he figured the new newsie would have at least something to complain about on her first day.

"Who cares? It's great!" Rosie laughed. In actuality, she was no stranger to the freezing temperatures of an unforgiving winter. For her, having a friend to laugh with when the wind nearly knocked her off of her feet made her forget all about the bitter weather.

"Well, we's real glad ya with us," Albert said, surely speaking for all of the Manhattan newsies. And he was. They all genuinely adored her and eagerly awaited their day to get her as a selling partner. "Me an' the guys, we ain't never had no girl newsie, so it's all a little new. But I's sure you's gonna fit in real well with us."

Rosie was so excited to finally belong somewhere. For the first time, she felt as though there was nowhere else things could go for her but up.

They finished their seltzers and headed back out, eager to continue their day. Within the first fifteen minutes, Rosie had already managed to sell the rest of her papers. Albert was speechless, his mouth gaping wide open as she tuck the last penny in her pocket.

"How do ya do it, Rosie?"

"I guess I'm just a natural," she giggled to herself. She spun the empty sling around her wrist, suddenly at a loss for what to do next.

"I wouldn't get too cocky, darlin'," Albert warned, "beginner's luck wears off real fast."

"Oh, whatever!" she laughed, "Hey, I'll sell the rest of your papes if you want. It'll get us back to the Lodge much quicker."

Albert scoffed in good nature. "Seriously? The new girl's gonna show me how to sell papes?"

"What, you weren't watching before?" Rosie teased.

And again, Albert's stack had been sold within the hour. It was only one in the afternoon, and the two were already done with the day. They walked back to the Lodge, both so happy and proud. Rosie was excited to share the good news with Crutchie, and then Jack as he came in about an hour later. As the boys started to filter back in, word about Rosie's success quickly spread around. Every other group of boys would beg for Rosie to tell them her secret, but sighed in defeat when she'd tell them she had none. Albert was teased quite a bit after the boys found out Rosie sold the rest of his papes, but easily accepted being the laugh of the day if it meant everyone was happy for the new girl who, after their many conversations throughout the day, Albert already considered a close friend.

"Rosie," Jack grabbed the girl's attention as he sat next to her on her bunk. She had been watching the boys tussle with each other and was lost in admiring the love and energy in the room. "How's it goin, kid? These boys wear you out yet?"

Rosie laughed at the thought. "No, not yet," she smiled, "it's going great. I can't thank you enough, really."

"Thank me?" Jack's face scrunched up in light confusion. "What'd I do?"

"Are you kidding?" Rosie laughed, "Race told me about the agreement. I get to stay as long as I earn my keep. And I know it was you who thought of turning me into a newsie. I'd still be shivering on the sidewalks if it weren't for you." Her sudden seriousness overwhelmed her. She wanted to push it away, but she was far too grateful. Jack had to know the depth of what he'd allowed her to be a part of.

"Ah, don't sweat it, kid," Jack easily shrugged off the recognition, but still felt the love. "Just remember to hide if the owners ever come down here."

"I'll be sure to," she laughed at his semi-joke.

Jack just smiled at her. He always loved bringing kids in, giving them a place to call home and a group of people to be family. It was almost too easy for the kids to attach strings around his heart. They were his. And this kid in particular, well, she was nothing like the other ones had ever been. She was sweet, and kind, and sassy enough to take a joke and then dish another one back at you. She was perfect. He could see her growing with the boys, who all already adored her. They all had a certain kind of respect for her that wouldn't come by easily for many. Almost, he thought, as if she were their princess.

"Well, Princess," her new nickname easily rolling off his tongue, "I'll have to introduce ya to a friend 'a mine real soon. These boy's'll drive ya mad before ya know it."

As if on cue, a little one smacked the leader's back with a pillow from behind. The poor thing didn't know it, but he'd started a war.

"Oh no ya don't, Smalls!" Jack yelled playfully as the child ran away from the fight. "Get back here, you!"

And soon enough, the single hit sent off a chain reaction, boys throwing pillows and roughhousing all over the room. It was a hilarious sight, and Rosie couldn't keep herself from laughing hard enough to lean on the bedpost.

That's when he'd gotten her. Albert had hit her with a pillow so hard that it knocked her to the floor. He'd taken her completely off guard, and quickly turned apologetic when he realized she was on the ground. He wasn't sure if Rosie would be okay with this kind of play and was too carried away to notice. His apologies ceased, however, when she took him by surprise and hit him back twice as hard. No one in the room could stop laughing as they tore away at each other with pillows and blankets.

By the end of the day, Race was still upset about not getting to have Rosie as his partner. He sighed as he walked past Jacobi's, thinking of how nice it would have been to buy her lunch and for them to spend time getting to know each other. Another day, he told himself, Another day I's gonna get to. He was in such a mood the entire day, with Rosie running through his mind, that he didn't even sell all of his papers. Two remained in his bag, and he ditched them in an overflowing trash can three blocks from the Lodge so nobody could give him grief for it. He cursed to himself as he took a long drag from the cigar dangling in his mouth. There goes 2 cents.

The wasted money caused another thought to cross his mind. He'd given away all of his money the night before in exchange for Rosie's safety. Another obscenity to himself. Not that he regretted it, of course, but how was he going to gamble if he didn't have some money to start with? He gave everything he had to the man in the buggy. The only thing he could think of was to gamble with something that wasn't his…

It was easy, but he hadn't done it in a while. So he prepared himself by mentally talking through his scheme. Pape, Pick, Pocket.

Pape. He went back to the trash can and picked up the cleaner newspaper from the top. He waited for a man in a fancy black coat to get in earshot, tucked his cigar away, then came up with the shmooziest headline he could think of. "Extra! Extra! Read all about it! Oil struck right in the heart of New York City! Get in on the action, folks!" The man practically ran over to Race to get a piece of information on the sudden money mine that was an oil strike. Sucker.

Pick. "Ah, an oil strike you say? Right in the heart of New York City!" the man dug in his front pocket for a coin. Race took the opportunity to search the man with his eyes. He looked for the bump of a wallet, the shine of a money clip, anything. And there, peeking right out of his back pocket, practically begging to be snatched, was a wad of money held together by a silver clip. Now all he had to do was reach…

Pocket. The man didn't even notice. As Race handed him the paper, he snuck the cash into his own back pocket. The man gave him a nickel, and Race almost felt a little bad, but was too busy planning out how he was going to double the amount of his stolen money. He pulled the cigar back out and took another long, celebratory drag. He walked the opposite way home, for good measure, and was relieved when he'd made it to the Lodge without being caught.

Inside the Lodge, the excitement was just beginning to wear down. Race could hear shouting and laughing in the bunkroom, a sound he hadn't taken part of in a while. Hoping to ease his mood and cut loose, he followed the sound.

As soon as Race had walked in, he was taken by surprise as Rosie fell backwards into him. He caught her instinctively, holding tightly to her waist and helping her to stand again. Her once soft hair was a crazy mess and as she turned to him, he could see that her eyes were wild with a living energy he hadn't yet been blessed to see.

"Woah!" she breathed, "Hey, Race!"

"Hey," he whispered in awe. Without him really deciding to, his fingers reached up to tuck her messy hair behind her ear. Suddenly they were both lost in a moment, his hand absentmindedly brushing against her arm over and over and her eyes locked onto his intense blue ones.

"Be careful, Race!" Finch's voice snapped him back to reality, "She bruises real easy!"

Race's eyebrows scrunched in confusion. Drawing his hand back only slighty, his eyes broke away from hers as he searched her, looking for the bruise Finch mentioned. There, right on her left shoulder, was a large red circle that took up most of the area. His eyes narrowed, and his mind raced.

Rosie had laughed at the teasing. She knew it was all just from having fun- nobody had hurt her on purpose or with bad intention. But Race wasn't as well informed.

"Who did this to you?" His voice was thick enough to throw Rosie off.

"I… I don't know, really," she giggled, a little unsure. "We were just having fun,"

He took a better look at the room and its chaos. It was surely dying down, but still intense and loud and he quickly understood the accident. A little embarrassed of himself, he brought his hand up to the back of his neck.

"Oh," he nodded. With a slight smile, he brought his eyes back to hers. Suddenly he was in a calmer state, hypnotized by the beauty before him. Her hair was still messy and the high energy in her face was just beginning to wear down. He didn't know how long he'd stood there for, drinking in her presence as if she were the blessed rain in a drought. Race felt the beating in his heart quicken as he counted her nearly nonexistent freckles and realized that the girl he'd been dying to be with all day was finally standing right before him. All he had to do was steal her away. He gingerly took her hand, fingers brushing against hers.

"Come with me," he whispered, unable to contain his excitement. She couldn't stop giggling as he ran her up the stairs, him stopping every few steps to shush her, as if the moment they were sharing was for only the two of them to ever hold.