Written for Newsies Challenge #2: 1000 words, starting with "Everything would have been fine if he just hadn't..." and ending with "Mondays were always rotten anyhow."

"Everything would have been fine if he just hadn't pulled down his knickers."

"Nah, really?"

Mush glared at Racetrack and continued his rant.

"We could have kept running, I mean, come on, those Times newsies are fat and lazy anyway, they couldn't catch us. And then it was a hop skip and a jump and we'd be home free… with the stolen marbles back. But nooo," he muttered mockingly. "Good old Snipes had to bend down and flash his shiny hiney at our pursuers."

Mush crossed his arms and sat down unhappily.

"Well," Race drawled, "you gotta admit, it was pretty funny."

Pointing to his blackened eye, Mush retorted, "You think this is funny? Stupid Snipeshooter tripping over his dropped pants-"

"Well, you didn't have to stop and help him."

Mush continued as though he hadn't been interrupted, "-not being able to get back up, screaming bloody murder. What kinda partner-in-crime would I be if I left my partner-in-crime down?" he finished indignantly.

"So you turned around," Race picked up the narration, "dropping the marbles-"

"I couldn't very well help him up with only one hand! It was a really heavy bag! Well, not really, but-"

"-yanked at Snipes' arm, yelling for me to stop-"

"We coulda taken 'em if you'd came back!"

"And promptly tripped over your own feet."

Mush blushed and shoved Race lightly. Smirking, Race kept going.

"By this time, the entirety of our boy Code's Times boys have surrounded you-"

"We were outnumbered!" Mush reminded Race, hoping to take the sting out of the next comment.

"And they properly made you match Snipeshooter, retrieving the marbles, and sending you home…"

Mush cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"…without pants. And guess who happens to notice you?"

"Strange as it seems, the coppers don't really like almost-nudity," Mush retorted sourly.

"And you were stupid enough to try and run from the same kind gentlemen who picked you up last week for stealing that loaf of bread from Old Man Tucker."

"Not run! Just… walk very quickly?"

"So when they catch you, you start to fight them," Race prompted. "In your underclothes.."

"Code took my shoes, too! I stubbed my toe!" Mush defended himself pitifully.

"Lucky you, getting sent straight to the Refuge isolation cell. Damn, boy, can you imagine what it would have been like if you'd still had Snyder in charge?"

Mush shuffled his feet. "The new guy took pity. He laughed his head off first, but he only kept me for a few hours and charged me a dime for 'in-dih-cents-see'."

Racetrack raced an eyebrow. "You mean indecency?"

Mush shrugged his agreement.

"Such a kind friend," Racetrack said, voice dripping in false sincerity, "causing a distraction so Snipeshooter, who only had a shirt to his name, could find his way back to the lodging house with minimal embarrassment."

"Everything would have been fine if he just hadn't pulled down his knickers."

"You mentioned that," Race drawled.

"I will never--never!-- be able to face Code again. And he took my marbles!"

"The marbles that you, Snipes, and Swifty have been stealing from newsies all over Manhattan for the last three years?"

"And then had them stolen away from us," Mush said bitterly.

"Multiple times. Reminds me of that legend of Cortez. Every time his treasure changed hands, it grew. Or maybe that was the Aztecs? Or some pirates? Dunno… have to ask Davey to tell me the story again."

"Well it's true, ain't it?" Mush defended. "Every time we had it stolen from us, more marbles were added. But that's the last straw! To have Code of all people get the best of me! I will never be able to live that down! Never!"

"Lil' bit dramatic, there, ain't ya?"

Mush shook his head defiantly. "I hate Snipes right now. And of course it would happen on a Monday. Monday's need to be a-polished."

Race coughed slightly to cover his laughter.

"Careful, now," he said, father-like, "you're starting to sound like Skittery."

"I am not!" There was a pause, and then, "So, uh, where's Snipeshooter right now?"

"Hiding from you. Think he's crazy? He knows your gonna kick his little b'hind the instant you run into him again."

"S'all his fault. Do you really blame me? Thanks to him, I got a lovely shiner, another mark against me at the Refuge and with those officers, and to top it all off, I lost my marbles!"

Racetrack couldn't help himself and he burst out laughing. Mush was on the verge of pouting childishly when a sandy blond head stuck itself out in the cooling air.

"Mush! You're back!" Jack exclaimed cheerfully. "Just the man I wanted to see. Remember that girl you met last night? She stopped by earlier to see if you were here."

Mush perked up noticeably.

"Really? Is she still here? What'd you say? What happened?"

Jack was still smiling, but now, it looked fake and held up by sheer will.

"Oh, uh, she said to say hello, said she might stop back the park later."

Pretending to suddenly remember something vital to do, Jack acted the part of needing to quickly part ways with pity. As he hurried down the street and in the suspicious direction of the local park, Mush settled himself into the stairs and looked expectantly at Racetrack. Drumming his fingers on his knees, Mush waited for Race to collect himself.

"Well?" he demanded when the other boy had composed his attitude enough.

In a sing-song voice, Race called, "Hurry, Jack, tell Snipeshooter! Get him away from Mush's girl before Mush realizes what Snipes's done! Hurry Jack, hurry!" With a falsely startled look, Race noticed Mush sitting beside him and continued in the sing-song voice. "Oh, dear, Mush is sitting right beside me. Whatever shall Snipeshooter do now? Because he is gonna die!"

Racetrack positively cackled at the idea.

Dejectedly, Mush put his head in his hands.

"You love causing trouble, don't you, Race?"

Then he sighed. Monday's were always rotten anyhow.

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