Hello, all! I know, I know. I've been gone for far too long. I don't know if any of you have ever been to Disney World, but if you have, you know how fun and distracting it is. Just imagine 8 months of it. Best job ever, but it killed the muse. It took lots of listening to fireworks music and my own relationship issues to bring it back, but it did indeed come back. I can only hope that you guys like it as much as I enjoyed writing.

Enjoy!

Oh right. While I can get into the parks for free, I can't take my Newsies with me. Mostly because I don't actually own them.

"Get up already!" Race ordered, hitting Riley with a lumpy, borrowed pillow. She rolled over in response, pulling her knees in toward her chest. Race was fully dressed and ready to go, angry that his charge was not similarly prepared for the day. "Move it! I ain't got time for this," he snapped. Racetrack raised the pillow to whack the poor girl again, but stopped short when Specs, a whole head taller than him, snatched it out of his hands.

"Whaddya think you're doing?" he demanded. "Geez! That poor girl can't get any peace with you around, can she?" He looked incredulously from Race to the semi-awake form of the girl lying in bed, as if unable to believe that Racetrack could do such a thing.

"She doesn't deserve peace! Listen, just because she don't speak English doesn't change a thing," Racetrack ranted to him. None of these dopes understood his situation! "She's still my problem and I got papes to sell. If she don't get up soon, I don't get to my spot and if I don't get to my spot, then-"

"Then you'll live," Dutchy interrupted, peeking over Specs's shoulder. Returning Race's scowl with a playful smirk of his own, he darted underneath the arm that Specs still held the pillow with, just out of Race's reach, and crouched at the head of the bed. "Riley," he began gently, as if waking one of the younger boys. "Riley, Specs is here" he said in a singsong voice.

The girl rolled over toward Specs and blearily opened her eyes. "Spehcks?" she asked drowsily. Here, Specs beamed, dropping the pillow on Race's head and shoving Dutchy out of the way. At the sight of him, the girl visibly brightened, smiling and opening her eyes further. It was clear from last night's events that this was someone she could trust.

"Heya, Riley," Specs began, leaning over the bed. "Ya gotta get up, you know?"

She continued smiling, though it was clear she had no idea what he had just said. Specs, realizing this, mimed pulling back covers. "You know, up?" he tried. He pulled back invisible covers several times and stretched his arms above his head. He was running out of ideas when she exclaimed, "Mais oui! Bien sur! Je me reveille."

She sat up so fast that their heads collided and Specs stumbled backwards into Race. Riley, however, seemed unfazed and took advantage of the space he had recently vacated to tug on the boots she had stowed beneath her bed the night before. Dutchy patted Specs on the back, laughing at the sight of the girl's hasty awakening. "Who'd have guessed? You really got a way with the ladies." He turned to Race, who was catching his balance, and added, "You sure know how to pick'em Race."

"Yeah," commented Skittery, as he passed by. "He picks his girls just as well as he picks his horses."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Racetrack demanded, rounding on him.

"It don't mean nothing, Race," Skittery answered with a smirk. "Heya Boots, you seen my mitten?" he called out, heading downstairs and out of Race's reach.

"Don't mean nothing my old lady's corset cover," Race mumbled as he turned back to berate Riley. Much to his surprise, she was no longer hunched over the edge of the bed, lacing her boots like a good girl should. But then, this girl was causing him more trouble than imaginable, so perhaps he shouldn't have been as surprised as he was. As things were, he turned to Dutchy, an incredulous look on his face and asked, "Where'd she go now?"

Dutchy pointed his thumb over his shoulder, indicating the washroom. Race looked over his shoulder, and sure enough, there she was. In between Jack and Mush shaving, she was washing her face in the porcelain basin. Unbelievable! This girl was not like anything he'd ever dealt with before and she just kept getting weirder. When she was finished washing her face, he watched as Dutchy passed her a towel, amazed at how she had everyone eating out of the palm of her fancy, French hand. She took a few more moments to plait her hair, pulling it tight away from her face. Race stared at her from across the room. She wasn't even that pretty. Not really. "Hey!" he yelled at her, snapping out of it.

She whirled around, her own braid nearly smacking her in the face. "Hey, girly! We got things to do today, you know that? Come on!" he commanded. He crossed his arms and waited for her to head over. Instead of doing as she was told, she backed up against the wall and cast her eyes downward. She might not have spoken English, but she knew that voice, and she was terrified of it. "Specs, go tell her to get her French behind over here so we can get a move on already. I told you, I don't got time for this," Race said to his friend.

Specs gave him a look and rolled his eyes, but strolled on over to her nevertheless. Amidst the clatter and confusion of the boys cleaning up to start a fresh day, Specs tenderly placed a hand on her shoulder and chucked her under the chin. "He says you gotta go with him today," the boy said in a soft voice, motioning toward Racetrack.

"Non, non," Riley replied quietly. "Il n'est pas gentil a moi."* She shook her head furiously and though Specs knew about as much French as a doorknob, he could tell she didn't want to go with Race, and really, who could blame her? Race was terrible to her. So she didn't speak English – neither did a third of New York City. But Race was stubborn and it would take a lot more to convince him that she was from France, not the depths of the underworld.

"Yeah, I wouldn't either if I were you," he said with a chuckle. Riley smiled when he laughed, safe in the knowledge that this Specs person was someone she could really trust. "Heya, Race!" he yelled to the other boy. "How 'bout a bet?"

"What's the bet?" the short Italian asked as he sidled up to the two of them.

"I'll take over for you for the day. If I can teach her some English by the end of the day, then you pay my rent. Deal?" It wouldn't be fair to send her out with him. Not again. There was a reason he didn't sell with Racetrack anymore. He just couldn't believe that this poor girl had had to put up with his temper for as long as she had. It wasn't right for a lady to have to do such a thing. Especially one as harmless as Riley.

Race thought about it a moment before spitting into his palm and extending his hand toward the other boy. "But it sure ain't gonna work out for you. She's just a dumb girl."

"If you think so, Race. Come on, Riley," he added, taking her hand and pulling her back through the dormitory. He picked up his coat from the bed and fished Oliver Twist out from under it. "School's starting."

Racetrack watched with wide eyes as Specs pulled Riley down the stairs and out of sight.

Ok. So I know what it looks like, but it's not going down that road. Aside from that, I really hope you liked it. I know it's not much considering how long I've been gone, but it's my promise to you all that I'm not giving up on it. So give me thoughts, suggestions, rants, etc. BLAH! Je suis folle, c'est sur :)