Disclaimer: I don't own Racetrack or Oscar and Morris DeLancey. (Wish I did.)

This is just kind of a feel-good story I'm gonna be shooting for here. It's my first big real thing, but I'm not gonna go through with it if I don't get some support. Reviews are nice! VERY nice! If no one reviews it or likes it, I'm probabaly not going to write any more in it. Ise loves youse guys! =)

I tentatively stepped onto the Brooklyn Bridge. It was unbelievable that I had escaped from the orphanage keeper, Miss Carlton, again! Now I'm on my merry way to Manhattan for the first time. Skipping along, I stopped at the top of the bridge and stared at the river in awe. The moonlight shone against the deep blue water like glass, and I sighed. It was so beautiful that I couldn't help but to. In all of my fifteen years, this was one of the most wonderful things I had ever seen.

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of feet stomping up behind me. I whipped around and stood facing two drunken men, both laughing and pointing at me. How rude! I smirked and faced the water again, trying to ignore them. Of course, that didn't work.

"Hey, cutie! What's youse name?" the taller, mustached man called to me. Ignoring them wasn't going to work, I decided.

"Emma, what's it to ya?" I snapped back at him. I tried to sound as brave as possible, but inside I was whimpering with fright. I was stuck on top of a bridge alone at night with two drunks. Something told me this wouldn't end well.

"Emma? Ain't dat a goil's name?" the other drunk shouted back, guffawing. It took me a minute to figure this out. Then I remembered that I had a hat on, I probably looked like a boy. Maybe if they thought I was a boy they would leave me alone.

I thought of a clever cover-up and lied, "I said Emmand, not Emma." Seemed clever enough.

"'Ey, Morris, let's soak 'im!" Crap. I don't know what soak means, but it probably isn't good.

"Yeah," 'Morris' replied, and they stumbled forward to me, I frantically looked left and right, but there was no escape. The two men were closing in fast, and I couldn't do a thing about it.

Non-Morris finally reached me and socked me in the eye. "AUGHH!" I screeched. Okay,didn't see that coming. And it hurt. I instinctively swung back, but I'm no fighter. He blocked my punch and twisted my arm behind my back. I femininely screamed again as jolts of pain zapped straight from my fingers down to my toes. Squeezing my eyes shut, I pleaded for him to stop; he just ignored me and laughed. When I opened my eyes, my heart skipped a beat and I gawked in horror at the blue river spread below me. Morris had me in an arm lock over the side of the bridge now. One false move and I would be dead. A tear rolled down my cheek and I started shrieking again.

Then a younger voice spoke.

"'Ey now, boys, let 'im go," the calm yet dangerous voice of a boy about my age spoke. I tried to twist around and catch a glimpse at my savior, but all that did was cause more pain and put me farther over the edge. Dammit.

"And how ya tink dat's gonna woik (work) out, Racey?" Morris snickered.

"A bit loik (like) dis, Morris." I was suddenly yanked back onto the bridge and tumbled into the street. Landing face down in a puddle, I couldn't see anything, only hear the smacks of punching and angry shouts. I was finally heaved up by strong arms and relieved to see not one of the drunks, but apparently the boy who saved me. He had short, dark brown hair and dark brown eyes; very Italian-looking, I noted. Pretty cute, too, but in his own kinda way.

"C'mon! Dey ain't gonna lay deah all night!" he shouted at me. Clutching my arm, he took off down the bridge, dragging me along in the process. When I finally found my footing, I sprinted alongside him until I was almost too tired to run anymore. Thankfully, he shoved me off into an alley on the side of the road. I ungracefully slouched to the ground and he sat beside me, both of us panting hard.

I started rapid-firing questions at him. "Where are we? Who are they? Who are you? What the hell is-"

He responded by clamping his hand over my mouth. I struggled for a moment before hearing heavy footsteps and seeing the two men pass the alley. I caught my breath and stared wide-eyed, heart thumping faster and louder than usual; the way it always does when I get scared. After a few minutes, the Italian boy let go of my mouth and calmly said, "Youse in Manhattan. Dose is da DeLancey bruddahs. Ise Anthony Higgins, but call me Race. And youse just got attacked by two drunks an' I saved ya life. Is youse filled in now?" He finished on a sarcastic note, and I rolled my eyes.

"What do dey call youse?" he politely asked, striking a match and lighting a cigar.

"Emmand," I lied.

"Emmand? Strange name. Now dat just won't do. What about Tiger? Yeah, I like dat. Tigah." He took a puff of his cigar and I stared at him. Who did this guy think he was, just saving me and then going off sharing life stories and giving nicknames like we were the best of friends? Ugh.

"So what happens now?" I asked, sighing deeply and resting my head on the brick wall behind me.

"I go back to da LH." He noticed the puzzled look on my face and explained, "Lodging house. Us newsies pay rent to stay deah."

"Oh."

"I'm sure Mista Kloppman won't mind if youse wanted to stay deah for a night or two, if youse ain't got no place to go," Race offered. I swelled up with happiness and relied,

"Yes, please!"

Race looked at me funny for a second, and I remembered that boys have no manners. I quickly turned away, blushing, and started out of the alley. Once we reached the damp street, he veered right and I wordlessly followed him. We walked in comfortable silence for another couple of minutes before reaching the 'LH'. As we approached the door, he spun around and faced me.

"Da boys get kinda crazy sometimes, just warnin' ya. And we'll let youse stay free for 'bout two nights or so, but afda dat, youse on yoah own." He half-smiled at me and opened the door. I took a deep breath before following him in. He and I trampled up the creaky wooden stairs and Race stopped again.

"Dat on da right is da bathroom, dis is da bedroom. We ain't got no open bunks, so youse gonna hafta either sleep on the floor or finda bunk buddy. Either way ain't very – 'ey, who's dat freaky-lookin lady?" Race suddenly changed the subject and I froze. My blood ran cold and shivers blossomed up my spine. Slowly and carefully I peeked over my shoulder.

"EMMA!"

"…I love you, Miss Carlton?"

YAY! First chapter's done! Hope you liked it. Let me know if you want me to put up another chappie, I can write 'em in like a day. But if no one REVIEWS it then I'm not gonna post any more. Oh well, hope you liked it, yaddah yaddah hooray everybody!

PS Race doesn't know Emma's a girl right now, but he'll find out in a few chapters. ;)