It was getting late. He had to get someone. Conveniently enough, as he strolled down the street he saw a little Italian sitting alone at the window counter of Tibby's. Racetrack was sipping something from a tall glass and reading the evening edition. He grinned to himself. Perfect.

" 'eya Cowboy." Racetrack greeted him cheerily as he sat down next to him.

Jack reached into his pocket and grinned.

"Got a bet ta make wit'cha Race." He said slamming a quarter down on the counter between them.

Racetrack looked genuinely interested as he folded his paper and set it aside. He was never one to turn down a bet.

"Two bits, dat's it? Betta make it worth my while Jacky-boy."

Jack smirked and nodded. He pulled another quarter out of his pocket and slammed it down on top of the first.

"Dat's more like it." Race said enthusiastically. "So what's tha bet?"

Jack leaned forward and grabbed the glass Racetrack had been drinking from. He took a sip of it and laying his other hand, palm down on the counter in front of him, carefully balanced the glass on top of it.

"Easy, right?"

Racetrack looked at him a little quizzically, but nodded.

"I'm willin' ta bet my fifty cents hea, dat youse can't one up me."

"What d'ya mean?"

"Alrigh', youse gotta put one hand on tha counter, tha other hand on top of it and balance tha glass on top of dat."

"Well how am I gonna get tha glass on top?"

Jack appeared to think for a moment.

"Tell ya what. I'll even help ya and put it dere for ya." He said poking Race in the shoulder.

"So all's I gotta do is balance a glass on top a my hands?"

"Dat's it."

"Alrigh' you're on."

Jack smirked.

"Ante up, Race."

Racetrack pulled two quarters from his pocket and slammed them down on the counter next to Jack's quarters. Then, with a look of absolute confidence he placed his right hand down on the counter and his left hand on top of it. Jack took his time, carefully balancing the glass. It wobbled and teetered a little as his finger and thumb finally parted contact with it, leaving it balanced precariously on the back of Racetrack's hands. Racetrack grinned up at him.

"Youse, Race, is an April fool." Jack said as he deftly slid all four quarters off the counter, stood up and strolled away.

" 'ey! Hey, Jack. Come back hea and get dis off!" Racetrack called after his retreating back.

Just before he made the door he heard the tinkle of breaking glass and Racetrack's angry cussing. He glanced back over his shoulder to see Race standing there next to his smashed glass, trying to wipe his spilled drink off his pants with his newspaper. Jack laughed and swept out the door.

A.N.: I don't own Newsies. This story is a day early, I know, but it's because it's an open-ended challenge. I call on you dear reader. Have a newsie play an Aprils Fool's joke on another newsie. It'll be fun, I swear.