A tiny slip of a brunette shivered in an alley. She didn't know what time it was because she couldn't see the sun or moon. Everything was dark, but her bright blue eyes were open wide.

Crutchy hobbled back to the lodging house from Tibby's. He had just finished eating dinner. He saw a still form in an alley, but even though she was sleeping in the street, she was well dressed, from what he could tell. Shaking his head and telling himself, What da hell am I doin' heah? he limped over to the alley, leaning heavily on his crutch.

"Hey, ya alive in deah?" he called.

"What? Who's deah? Wheah ah' yah?" the girl sat up, and when she looked straight through him, he knew she was blind. He sat on the ground and touched her shoulder.

"I'm right heah. M' name's Crutchy, goil. Whadda 'bout you?"

"Mary Elizabeth Carter."

"Dat's a perdy name, Mary. C'mon, I'll take ya somewheah's you c'n sleep t'night."

"What time is it?" she asked worriedly.

"Sh, its nearly seven at night. Don't worry about the way theah, I'll take ya."

"Crutchy, I'se blind, how'll I foind it again?"

"Jist gotta stick wid me, I guess."

He stepped up the stairs to the lodging house awkwardly. "But how'm I gonne pay? I dun got any money, or anythin' like a job, or any way t' *get* a job..."

"Don't worry, Mary. A friend of Jack Kelly, he's our leadah by da way, she c'n help ya," he smiled at her and she could probably sense it, because she smiled too.

"Thanks Crutchy, fah bein' so nice ta me."

"No problem," he said sheepishly. This girl was funny.

"Hey Crutchy, dis might seem kinda weird, but its da on'y way I c'n recognize people now. Will ya let me touch ya face?"

"Yeah, shoah."

She reached out a tentative hand, and she brushed it over his features, closing her eyes. "Aww, you'se a handsome fellah. Dis heah's ya nose, an' ya big bushy eyebrows, an' den ya got a broad forehead covahed wid hair, an' heah's a cheek dats prolly got freckles, eyes dat're closed an' prolly blue an' sometimes gray, an' den ya chin is sorta rounded, an' hea's ya--ya--" she paused at his lips, which were 'big an' prolly irresistable--a good kissah'. She got to find out first hand--or rather, first mouth.

He leaned in, but she closed the gap, and they started kissing. "Woohoo, Crutchy's got hisself a goil!" a boy whooped from the doorway. Mary looked up like a startled deer. "She's such a fawn, perdy an' tiny like," the same boy commented. "Whatcha doin' wid 'er, Crutchy?"

"I found 'er, Jackie-boy. An' she needs a place t' stay. But she can't sell."

"Why can't she sell papes?"

"She can't read."

"We c'n teach 'er."

Mary sobbed into Crutchy's shirt, and over her tears, she cried out, "Ya don't get it Jackie-boy, I'm blind!" Crutchy wrapped his arms around her in a loving embrace, and she slowly stopped crying.

"Well, what's she gonna do, den?" Jack asked.

"I was t'inkin' Medda's place. She could, ya know, help 'er out."

"Yeah. How long ya had dis problem, kid? By da way, I'm Jack Kelly, or Cowboy."

"I dun remembah, Cowboy. S' like, one day I c'n see fine, den da next, I can't. S' like my eyes are open, but dere ain't anyt'ing t' see. Everythin's dark an' shadowy--sometimes I get a shady form, but da's it."

Jack patted her on the shoulder. "She c'n stay fah free tanight, but she needs a job t' pay t'morrah."

"Ok, Jack." Crutchy smiled at his friend, knowing that if Jack let her stay for free too long, then Crutchy would try to support her on his own, and Kloppman would slowly run out of money, and the newsies would get jealous.

That night, Mary (newly christened Fawn by Jack) had a vivid dream, with sound and color. In it, she watched her family get murdered. But her best friend, Gregory, was there too. He ran with her, and mangled his leg badly when he tripped. Grimacing in pain, he called out 'Get goin' Anny!' Because Mary wasn't really Mary Elizabeth Carter. She was running from the man who killed her family, so she was Anita Louise Kirk *disguised* as Mary Elizabeth Carter, who didn't exist.

"Greg!" she yelled, sitting up straight.

"What?!" demanded the voice above her. Crutchy had somehow managed getting into a top bunk. Then the full force of what the little girl had said hit him. "Who said dat?" It was still dark outside, and most of the newsies grumbled from their beds for the two of them to shut up.

"Greg? Ah ya deah?"

"Da's me real name, but I on'y said I'se Crutchy," Crutchy bumbled.

"Greg? Is dat really you? S' me, Anny!"

Greg flipped his torso over the side. "S' dat really you? Anita Lousie Kirk?"

"A' coise! Would I a' toljah dat if it weren't true?"

"KEEP IT DOWN UP DEAH!" Kloppman yelled from downstairs.

"Yeah, keep it down!" Jack called out across the room.

"Shuddup, alla you'se!" Crutchy snapped.

"Greg, I'm so sawwy dat I di'n't help ya! I was stupid, I ran. I'm such a coward. I failed ya."

"Naw, Anny, ya jist got scared. I was scared fa you'se too. I toljah t' run, remebah? Mistah Green woulda hoitcha woise. Whad happened t' ya eyes d'ough?"

"Its a disease. I lived wid me aunt aftah dat, an' den dis started happenin'--it got darker an' darker every day. We di'n't have da money fah da cure. Den Mistah Green foun' me again. Da's why I'se runnin', Crutchy. He found me two nights ago, an' he killed Aunt Jo."

"So deah is a cure?"

"Yeah. But nothin' shawt of a miracle would eithah let me affawd it or somehow miraculously heal by myself."

"A' coise. Dat's why dey call 'em long shots."

"What about ya leg?"

The other boys were still listening. They had never heard Crutchy's story, or Fawn's, for that matter.

"S' possahble dat I get beddah. But like ya said, nothin' shawt of a miracle."

"Well, dat's why dey call 'em long shots, ain't it?" she said, echoing his words.

The next morning, Crutchy led Fawn to Medda's place, introduced them, explained a little, and left to sell.

"I admit, there isn't much I can do for you, Fawn. Wait! Can you sing?"

"Yeah, I'se been singin' fah awhile now..."

"Well, show me. Sing something, and if you do well enough, you can be in the show."

"Yay! Ok, heah goes nuttin' an' everythin'." She sang a slow lullaby her mother had taught her.

"Fantastic! You're in, but I need to teach you some new songs." Fawn nodded happily. This would be so much fun!

Fawn was a hit. Medda introduced her as Fawn Star. She shrugged at the name, and let herself be walked onstage, before breaking every heart in the audience. She was like an angel in the gutter. Medda got her a cane to help her keep from tripping, and with Crutchy, she made quite a pair.

One day, though, she saw Kloppman trudging towards her to wake her up. She could see the blue in his shirt, the bright smile on his face. "Heya Kloppy!" she said brightly. He wondered what was different, then a little voice in the back of his mind said, *Her eyes are focused on you...does that mean? Can it be?*

"I'm invisible, can ya see me?" he joked.

"Yeah, I can see ya full an' cleah, quit ya teasin' an' get outta me way." His smile got broader. "Yeah, s' great, ain't it? Jus' like it happened, it dissahpeahed."

"Dat's wondahful, now all we need is one more miracle."

"What, Crutchy?"

"Naw. Gettin' Jack outta bed wid a smile." They looked at each other and laughed.

Fawn clambered up onto Crutchy's bed, and kissed him awake. "Well, dat's a nice way t' wake up," he commented. He noticed her eyes weren't staring through him, and she hadn't touched his lips to find them.

"I see ya, Greggy boy, an' ya jist as handsome as evah," she whispered in his ear. He blushed, and then the full impact of her words hit him.

"Ya mean it? Ya c'n see?"

She nodded happily. Crutchy grinned. She helped him get down and he kissed her again. Sighing in contentment, she knew that this was the only boy she would ever want.

Crutchy walked Fawn to Medda's every morning, since it was on his way. This morning, though, he tripped painfully and his kneecap shifted. "Ow!" he gasped in agony. Then suddenly, it felt better. Completely free of the pain that had plagued him ever since the accident. He tested the leg lightly. It didn't give at all. He jumped up and down, crutch forgotten.

"Two miracles in one day. I'se t'inkin' I'd beddah switch t' Christianity," they commented at once.

Life was finally completely pain and ridicule free for the two of them. They were together. They were safe. They were soon active Christains. They had never been happier. Crutchy was renamed Long Shot, for two reason. The obvious, and because he became the best kid with a slingshot since Spot Conlon. It was an unbelievable miracle for both of them, neither who should have lived past twenty.

Dat's why dey calls 'em long shots, ain't it?