-By Nightengale Newspapers in his hand, one held high above his head, Racetrack shouted amongst the crowed street in the early afternoon air. Hundreds of people rushed around him going their separate ways. Many of them stopped to buy a newspaper from the short brown haired adolescent as they passed. "City townhouses burn to ground!" He shouted to the streets around him. "Families run for lives!" In actuality the story had just been about a fire in a family's oven that had gotten slightly out of control and caused the neighbors to complain about the smoke. Racetrack preferred his version of the story, however. Racetracks papers had gone fast that day, so by that time in the afternoon he finally sold them all off. This free time led him down to the track to bet on the horses. It was his favorite thing to do, go watch those horses. To see them come flying out of the gate, then race at top speeds down the track, it was just such a rush. The best part, however, was seeing the horse he had bet on win. He always had to bet on a horse. The race wasn't half as enjoyable if he didn't. It, of course, was not so enjoyable when his horse lost. But still he kept coming back; no matter how little money he gained from it. Race didn't quite know why he kept up his betting so. Perhaps it was the thrill of being able to win. Although, he did know where he got it from, his father. William, his father, had always been a gambling man. Race remembered the long nights of poker his father's friends and he would have. They even let Race join in a few times. Race had always lost the few cents he had had to play with in those games, but it somehow spiked his thirst for the betting. Paying the man at the gate Race walked into the track area and stood by the fence, waiting for the race to start. He had bet on #9. It was a young horse, only having been in two races before, but it had won one of those races and come in second in the other. Race had heard it was one of the top contenders today, a sure fire horse for first place. Race smiled as he thought about his horse winning the race. His father had bet on horses too. It was amusing to think that his father had been the start of such an enjoyment to him. Race had never liked his father. Even when Race was very young he'd seen his father as harsh and unloving, back before he got worse. William always left the children as he went down to the bar to play pool and drink. He did not seem to want to bother with such annoyances as parenthood. Race and his brother and sister were very close because of it. The three of them basically raised each other. Their mother was always busy working as a nurse to get the family money, which their father would take half of for gambling. She had no time for them, so they took care of themselves. With just the three at home it made the house feel very desolate and quiet. It was as if they were orphans at times.Race shook his head and lit his cigar. He didn't like thinking about the past. It was over and done with now, no point dwelling in it. Yet he couldn't help think about his brother and sister. He did miss them. As much as he tried to convince himself he didn't care, he would see Elizabeth's face smiling down at him. Elizabeth had been his true mother. She was three years older then he was and had watched him like a hawk. Eric in turn had watched Elizabeth, he two years older than her. It was almost as if Racetrack had had two sets of parents. His brother and sister were clearly the better pair. Elizabeth had always been there to nurse his wounds after their father had one of his episodes. She would rock him back and forth, comforting the small boy. She held him so tightly sometimes it felt like she would never let him go. She had always seemed to hate their father for what he did to Race.His father...Racetrack had been the unwanted third child and thus the object of William's reckless anger and fury. William would come home some nights, after he'd lost too much money, and the mere sight of Race would send him into a rage. Bottles would fly, hits would land, and Race would be blamed for everything that was wrong in their lives. For a while Racetrack almost believed it. But Elizabeth would always be there to pick him up and tell him he was wrong. She never let Race fall and break because of their father.Racetrack sighed and looked up at the stands behind him. The affluent upper crust of the city sat in their box seats, protected from the hot sun, waiting. Race envied them so in their comfortable lives. A shot suddenly rang through the air and the horses broke out. Race jumped and turned back to face the track. This was the best part. If Elizabeth had been there she would have been rolling her eyes at the glazed expression on her younger brother's face. She had been quite upset when she learned her younger brother was starting to take after their father's gambling ways. Race assumed that she had been afraid he would end up like their father. Race knew it would never happen. He would never be like that. If Race had children ever he would never hit them, never leave them all alone, never scare them. The horses rounded the half was mark and #9 was in the lead. Race knew it might not last but he was exhilarated nonetheless. He had bet 50 cents on this horse; a whole 100 papers worth! All right, so maybe he bet a little much but that was the thrill of it. It wasn't worth betting if it didn't put a dent in your account either way Race cursed himself then. That had always been his father's philosophy. That had probably been the reason why the three children and their mother went without dinner some nights. Race didn't know how or why his mother had married that man. She was such a sweet angel. Yet she was very soft willed, thus causing her to bow to her husbands every wish. That trait in her may have been what produced the marriage in the first place. Race remembered one night the two older children were still not home, choosing to work late, leaving Race and his mother alone. William had come home again quite drunk, but this time with money in his pocket. He had slapped the money down on the table and proclaimed loudly about his skill in obtaining it. Race had then made the unwise decision of speaking up. "But yer just gamblin' to get it, da" Race had said, quietly and coldly from where he sat at the table. William had rounded on him, smacking him across the face, sending him clear out of his chair. Race tasted blood that ran out of his mouth, as if it was a reminder not to do such stupid things. William then pulled Race roughly to his feet and slammed him into the wall. Race remembered the great feeling of fear and betrayal that gripped at his heart looking into those unfeeling eyes. William yelled at Race about all the things he should be grateful for and how Race was the cause of all their money problems anyhow. William had ended his 'lecture' to Race with a final smack to his cheek and a drop to the floor. All the while Race's mother had sat and watched. When William left the room she looked to have tears in her eyes, but she did not go to help her son. Instead she told him to go to bed and went away to her bedroom, to William. Racetrack had realized as he sat there, his mouth bleeding, what a hold his father had on their family. His mother was so afraid that she would not even touch Race when these things happened. It was as if she thought she would only make it worse. Race felt so abandoned by her and he knew it was William's fault. He controlled all four of them and there seemed to be no way out. At only 8 years old Racetrack had sat there, fighting back the tears, thinking that he could be trapped in that hellhole forever. The horses were in the final stretch then as Race cleared his thoughts. #9 was tied with #2 right next to it. Racetrack held his breath as they neared the finish line. As he watched #2 suddenly put on a burst of speed and reached past #9 as they crossed the finish line. Racetrack's heart sank. '50 cents down the drain.' He thought. All his profits from the day's selling were now gone. Race sighed and walked out of the yards, back into the now dimmer New York streets. It had been the last race of the night and now all that was left to do was to walk back to the boarding house. As Racetrack walked thoughts of his family came again. They had always moved around, running from William's gambling debts or searching for a new job. Race wasn't sure where he was originally from, but he had always been told it was Boston. Race didn't ever remember living there. For all he knew Boston could be a wooden crate. He remembered living in Providence, Rhode Island the most, however. They had actually spent almost a year there before they moved to Philadelphia. It had been the one place Race had had an actual birthday. He was turning 7 that year, a big improvement on 6. On the day Elizabeth and Eric gave him a bag of marbles. Racetrack had been overjoyed. 12 brightly colored spheres stared up at him from the depths of the bag, glistening like diamonds. They were the best gift Race had ever received; he still had them even now. However, the most memorable thing about that birthday was not the marbles. Races father got him a present. Years before that, William hadn't even acknowledged his son's birthday, let alone get him a present. It was a harmonica. It wasn't a beautiful of fancy thing, just a cheap red one he had bought second hand. The thing, however, had filled Racetrack with wonder. It suddenly seemed as if his father had changed. William showed Race how to play it, even taught him a few songs. He spent the whole day with Racetrack, fooling around and playing songs. William even taught Race how to play poker that day. It had been one of the happiest days that Race could remember from his childhood. That brief moment of fatherly love was, however, broken the next day when Race asked to learn another song on his harmonica and was hit on the back by a belt instead. Racetrack sighed and tried to clear his thoughts. Thinking like this always made him depressed. He had to think of something else, the race, or playing marbles with the guys. Marbles... He did miss Elizabeth. He had loved her most of all. It was as if she was the only light that had been in his world. There was Eric too of course, but he more just watched over the two to make sure they stayed out of trouble. He had been too busy working to try and get the family some much-needed money. Race missed those two.As much as he had loved them there had always been one thing he resented about them. Their father had hassled all three of them. He'd threatened Eric, yelled at Elizabeth, but Race was the only one he ever hit. Racetrack didn't truly know why. It just seemed that he produced some unstoppable anger in William. Perhaps it was because when he saw Race he saw his mistakes, and he couldnt take that. The thing that really ate at Race the most about all that though was that none of them did a damn thing to stop him! Elizabeth had always helped him after the fact, but at times that was little comfort. The scars were still there and the wounds still stung no matter how hard Elizabeth tried to erase them. Race felt so abandoned by them when it happened. William would advance upon him and they would just turn away with tears in their eyes. It was bad enough his weaken mother would not come to him in his pain but that his siblings turned away, crying for him. They could cry all they wanted but it wouldn't change what happened. There was one occurrence that really stuck out in Race's memory. He must have been 9 at the time. His father had moved the family to New York then. The gambling circuit was very good there. One night he came home after losing a great deal more money than he should have and found Race in his way. Race didn't remember the beating so clearly, a couple of hits to his face and a kick to his side. What he really remembered was sitting with Elizabeth afterwards. "Why does he do it Lizzy?" Race had asked as Elizabeth cleaned off his swollen cheek, "Wha' did I ever do?" "It's just the way things are." She had said. These words had sent such a shock wave through Race's mind. This couldn't just be 'the way things are.' Race wasn't going to live like that. Elizabeth had no room to speak about 'the way things are.' She was never hit; she was never blamed for all their father's wrongs; she had it much easier than he. When he really thought about it Race figured this was the moment he had decided to run away. Finally arriving at the lodging house racetrack sat down on the front steps, not really wanting to go in yet. Staring out at the night sky Racetrack thought about that fateful day. Almost ten years old that day and the family was moving again. This time their father had decided on Richmond, Virginia. How they ever came up with enough money for the train Racetrack never knew; most likely his father stole it. The five of them had boarded the train and each sat on one of the stiff wooded seats in the car. Racetrack hadn't wanted to leave. He had really started to like New York City. Though its streets were crowded and dirty it felt like a place that could be home. As the train started to move Race looked out at the city he was leaving behind. Looking in front of him he saw the family he was going with instead. A fire had lit inside of Race then. He knew he couldn't stay with these four. If he was to survive and live a full life he had to go. He could not stay with them it would be his end. Gritting his teeth and taking his small bag in his hand Racetrack leapt up from his seat and ran towards the back of the train. He heard the shouts of his family behind him but paid them no heed. Finally reaching the end of the train Racetrack held his breath and leapt off onto the landing. Pain shot through his leg but Race got to his feet and ran as fast as he could. He heard his family yell for him from the fast receding train, which grew further away behind him. None of them got off the train to stop him, but he did hear one thing that brought a small tear to his eye as he thought of it. In the midst of his flight and the train's rumbling retreat he'd heard his mother cry, "No, not my baby!" It was amazing to think that he was really her baby. Then he was hardly her baby as he ran far away from her arms. He still didn't feel like her baby now. The only things he really knew for sure was that they didn't get off the train to stop him. They let him go. After that he was alone, really alone. He left the relative safety of the train station and went out into the busy New York streets. First walking out there had given him such a rush. These streets were his newfound freedom. Realization, however, quickly sunk in when he realized he had no money, and only a bag of marbles, an old harmonica, an extra shirt, and the clothes he was wearing. Racetrack smiled slightly as he thought of that first night he spent out on the street. Numerous whores on street corners propositioned him, probably because he just looked like a cute little lost boy. One man even tried to take him home. Race had run away pretty fast from that.For a while Race worked odd jobs. He did deliveries for one man who owned a deli. He in turn gave Race a small room in the back. However, Race didn't stay long. The other two boys that worked there were not accommodating of the new arrival. After four months, six jobs, and his tenth birthday Race finally found the newsies. Looking up at the lodging house sign Racetrack realized how this place had been hi salvation. Race found a new family here and a new way of life. There he even found his new name. It was a release and a way to cast his old life aside. As a newsie he was Racetrack, not that other boy. Here he had his brothers to live and work with. Being a newsie meant he would always have the others to back him up; it meant he was safe. In the years he spent there he was no longer afraid and no one could push him around any more. As a newsie Racetrack became a whole different person, one that could stand up for himself and anyone else too. He was a newsie now and he could be just what he wanted. Still, there were times, rare as Race forced them to be, when he thought back to his family. He wondered where they were now. Perhaps they had actually stayed in Richmond and settled down, though Race doubted it. Eric and Elizabeth would be old enough to be on their own by then. Race hoped that some good came to them and that they did not end up trapped with their father. He also thought of his mother. Did she survive? Looking out at the street Racetrack saw Jack walking up. "Hey race." Jack said, as he sat down next to him. "Whatch ya doin' out here?" "Thinkin'." Race answered, still looking out at the sky. "Bout'?" Jack asked, turning to him. "Things I shouldn't." He said, looking at the ground. Jack just looked at him, then out at the sky. Race glanced briefly at Jack then up as well. The two just sat there in silence looking up at the sky, Races thoughts settling back to his present life. No more memories for that night. -Finite- |
 |
 |