On the night of September ninth, 1899, Racetrack Higgins and Tootsie Tellani stood outside the Newsboys Lodging House.

"Ya sure yer okay?" Racetrack asked her, with a worried look on his cute Italian face. She nodded and smiled at him, squeezing his hand in hers.

Now you may be asking yourself why Racetrack and Tootsie are out together in the middle of the night. Or why Tootsie is holding his hand. Or why he's concerned about how she is. Well, if you read Part I of this series then you know all the things Tootsie had to go through to be accepted in the lodging house. Normally, girl newsies have to stay at the Newsgirls Lodging House, but Kloppman had heard, bit by bit, how far she'd gone to be treated fairly and respectably by the boys and didn't have the heart to send her away. Besides that, he liked that she was the only one who paid rent on a regular basis! She and Racetrack had grown quite close during the strike, and it was no secret that Race had a thing for her. Her straight brown hair had grown out a little passed her shoulders, and now it was obvious that she was a girl. She seemed to be the only one in the lodging house who hadn't known Racetrack liked her, but it really didn't matter because she had developed quite a liking for him too!

After the strike ended, a pattern developed between them. Every morning Racetrack woke her up and held the bathroom for her (which was a very gallant thing to do in this lodging house). Then, after the day was through, they'd sit together at Tibby's and then take a walk in Central Park at night. These walks were kinda weird because no matter where they set out to be, they always ended up at the bench where she had slept on her first night in Manhattan. They had been doing this for about a week, when one night, during their walk in the park, Tootsie caught him holding her hand. She didn't mind one bit, and squeezed his hand in response. That night, while they were sitting on 'the' bench, he finally got up the nerve to do what he'd been wanting to for about two weeks.

"Heya Tootsie?" he asked, locking eyes with her, "I's been wantin' to ask ya....will ya be mine?"

Tootsie smiled widely, blushing a bit. "Of course I will," she said and the laughed a little. "I was wondrin' when ya was gonna ask me!" She put her arm around his neck and whispered close in his ear, "I'm tired, Race. Let's go home."

So they walked back to the lodging house, each in a better mood than when they'd left. The next day Racetrack woke her up as usual, and they went about their day as they usually would, except for one aspect. Racetrack asked her if she wanted to go to the track with him. She said yeah, and off they went. When they arrived, he placed his bet on Derby and smiled at her, remembering the day they met. He was getting into some really big money by betting on Derby, but he wasn't paying attention to that. He was reminiscing on the first day he met Tootsie. In fact, he didn't even notice when Derby pulled into the lead.

"Race!" Tootsie yelled.

"What?" he said, his whiny accent becoming very strong.

"Look ya dummy! Derby's out ahead!" Racetrack jerked his gaze from Tootsie's face and fixed it on the horses. Seeing that Derby was indeed leading the procession by a whisker, he suddenly became very enthralled in the race. It was the final lap, and Derby was only just ahead. Would he win? For the first time at the races in a long time, Racetrack was coming out of his skin! After what seemed like a hundred years Derby crossed the finish line-first! Racetrack about had a cow right there in front of God and everybody! He was yelling and jumping and whooping like a mad rooster, his hat being continually taken off and put back on in ecstatic gestures! Tootsie was thrilled too of course, but was too busy laughing her head off at Racetrack to celebrate much (you really should have been there. It was hilarious!). He hugged and kissed her, and ran all the way to the betting window, where he impatiently waited in line to collect his earnings. By the time his turn came Tootsie had caught up with him.

"There ya go, sir," said the guy at the window. "Fifty dollars for Derby!" He handed the boy the money.

Racetrack stepped out of line and counted the cool green bills, eyes as big as baseballs. Fifty dollars! It was more money than he'd ever seen in his life. He looked at Tootsie as he pocketed it, and knew exactly how to spend it all!

The lucky couple walked into Tibby's feeling like regular swells. It was still quite early, which would give Racetrack plenty of time. He sat Tootsie down and told her to wait there while he took care of some business. She watched him walk over to the bar and summon Mush over to him. She grinned, knowing she probably wouldn't see very much more of Racetrack tonight. Mush came to him.

"Listen, Mush," Racetrack whispered, handing him a dollar, "get Tootsie anything she wants, and you too. When she's done wit whatever she's gonna do here take her back to da lodgin' house. If she asks, I just went over to Brooklyn to talk to Spot, 'kay?"

Mush nodded. "Where ya really goin'?" he asked anxiously.

"Just to pick up some things in town. I won big at da tracks today. And, uh, Mush," he raised his eyebrows at him which meant for Mush to keep his hands off! Hey they didn't call him Mush for nothing! He raised his hands in innocence. He knew that if he made a move on Tootsie she'd soak him, then when Racetrack found out about it he'd soak him! "Alright," Racetrack said. "Don't let her go anyplace tonight. Tell her I said dat if she loves me she'll stay put, 'kay?" Mush nodded again, pocketing the dollar. Racetrack thanked him, and left the restaurant.

Tootsie watched all this with mild interest, but she didn't know what was up. She hadn't heard them talking. It was only about seven o'clock when Racetrack got to the first store he was to go to that night. A jewelry store. He had never been in joint like this, so he really didn't know what he was looking for.

"Good evening young man," said the man behind the counter. "May I help you?"

"Yes I do believe ya can," Racetrack said in a very businesslike voice. "I's lookin' for somethin' special for a girl, ya know?" He removed his cigar from his inside pocket. "Ya mind if I smoke?" Racetrack asked.

"Not at all," said the jeweler, "but ya know, their finding that that stuff could be bad for you."

"Yeah," mumbled Race, putting the cigar in his mouth and lighting it.

"So you want something very nice for your sweet heart, huh? Well how much did you plan to spend?" the man asked.

"I only got twenty five bucks," Racetrack lied. He knew that telling this guy he had more would get him robbed. The man nodded and presumed to show Racetrack all kinds of jewelry. He showed him rings, and necklaces, and bracelets, and earrings. All of which were turned down. "What about dis?" Race asked, indicating a necklace by the counter.

"Well, that necklace is pure silver," the man said, "and more than what you're planning to spend."

"How much?"

"Thirty two dollars," the man replied, very hoity-toity like. Racetrack nodded, took a puff of his cigar, and looked the guy straight in the eye.

"I'll give ya twenty for it," he said. He was very good at dealing. He had mastered the art at the tracks, where he often worked business with both rich men and con men alike.

"I could let it go for thirty." And so it began! The two swindled and haggled until Racetrack had him down to twenty six dollars. He took it then, before the man could change his mind.

"Sold," he said quickly. Irritated, the man glared at Racetrack as he put the necklace in it's proper case and gave handed it over. The boy smiled, almost pleasantly, and thanked him for his services. Outside he took the necklace out of it's case and examined it. It had a delicate silver band and a silver heart pendant. The pendant wasn't one of the flat, fragile kind. It was heavy and three dimensional, and it was all pure silver. Racetrack returned the necklace to it's case after it had passed inspection, and put the case in his pocket. Now he was off to buy what he wanted for himself. He stopped at the first clothing store he came to. There he bought a gray cotton vest, and a new hat to match. He had been needing a new vest and hat. His old ones were looking pretty ratty. As he was buying the clothes, he noticed the store sold cigars there at the counter. He decided to buy a box Havana's along with everything else. He was now down to twenty dollars and fifty cents. It was getting kinda late and soon the lodging house would start filling up. He wanted to be finished with all this before then. He ran all the way down to the florists, where he hastily bought a dozen roses. He had them put in a small, delicate vase, so they would live longer. With the clothes stuffed under his arm, the cigar box in one hand, the flowers in the other, and the necklace in his pocket, Racetrack Higgins walked back to the lodging house, feeling like the biggest man in New York! He had twenty dollars in his pocket (the flowers were fifty cents), and he was going home to the girl he loved! What more could a man ask for? When he arrived at the lodging house it was about 8:30, which assured him he had beat the crowd, so he walked right in without fear of being caught with his gifts. He raced up the stairs and hid the items under his mattress, except for the cigars. These he put under his pillow. The roses were impossible to fit under the bed and he didn't even try, but hid them in the only closet in the room. He was hoping nobody would try to go in there and find them by mistake. Breathing a sigh of relief he went back outside and hung out on the corner until saw Mush walking Tootsie into the lodging house. He smiled, but waited another five minutes before going up after them.

"Racetrack!" exclaimed Tootsie when he walked in the door. She leaped from the table where she and Mush had been playing 'Why's Race In Brooklyn?' and gave him a big hug.

"Hey," he said, returning her embrace. "Has Mush been good to ya?"

"Eh...so-so," she sighed. Mush gave her a snide look. "So how was yer night?" she asked Racetrack.

"Pretty good," he said as he sat at a table. "Where's Boots?"

"Um, I think he's back at Tibby's," Mush said, wondering why Racetrack wanted to know where Boot was. "Why?"

"I need to talk to him," he replied. He had a very thoughtful expression on his face. It worried Tootsie. "I'm gonna go see him. Uh, Mush," he said, taking Mush into a corner to whisper to him, "will ya watch over Tootsie while I's gone?"

"Sure," Mush whispered.

"What's wrong wit you, Race? Yer actin' weird."

"Nevermind! I'm fine, don't worry. Just keep her here, and-"

"Ya know dat ain't so easy to do. It took all I had to keep her from followin' ya to Brooklyn, ya know."

"I'll make it up to ya, okay?" Racetrack said, "Just do dis for me."

"Alright," Mush sighed. "Thanks Mush," Racetrack said, and much to Tootsie's disappointment, left the building. She was getting tired of this! She hadn't seen him all evening, and it was beginning to look like they weren't going on their walk that night. She sighed, and decided to just go to bed.

"G'night Mush," she said, climbing the stairs to the bunkroom.

"Night Tootsie," he replied, and the light went out in the bunkroom.

Racetrack walked into Tibby's and immediately located Boots. "Heya Boots!" he called.

Boots came over to the bar where Racetrack was standing. "Hey Racetrack. What's doin'?" He had been drinking some pop and had just won a belching contest, so he was in a pretty good mood.

"Listen pal, I need ya to do somethin' for me." Racetrack said, half asking.

"Sure Race! Anything for you."

Race smiled at him. He knew he could count on Boots. "Would ya wake up Tootsie tomorrer mornin'?" he asked.

"Dat's all?" he laughed. "Sure Racetrack! Da way you's talkin' I thought I'd be doin' somebody in!"

"Thanks Boots!" he said, and walked out of Tibby's. He had everything worked out except for the actual placing of the gifts. He waltzed into the lodging house, which was now sparsely populate with the usual gang, crept quietly up the stairs, and into the bunkroom. He knew Tootsie would be asleep. He took the flowers out of the closet and set them on the night table beside her bed. He was barely making a sound, so as not to disturb her. She was the only one who was sleeping. All the other newsies were either at Tibby's or downstairs in the lobby. Then he took from his pocket a little piece of paper he'd gotten at the flower shop. It was a card that had flowers drawn on the front, but was blank inside. He began scribbling down something on the paper. It was a poem he had written about a million times in his head since the day he'd realized he loved her. When the poem was all on the paper he closed the card and stuck it into the bouquet of flowers. Then he pulled the necklace out from under his bed. He placed it on the table beside the flowers, and then slipped quietly out of the room, praying the whole time that he hadn't waken her up. And he hadn't.

She slept soundly until Boots woke her up the next morning. Boots usually woke up first in the mornings, and this day was no different.

"Heya, Tootsie," he whispered, shaking her a little. "Wake up doll face."

"What?" she asked, drowsily. "Where's Racetrack?"

"He's still sleepin'," Boots said. Boots had noticed the gifts placed on her nightstand, so as he left her side he set his lamp down on the table as well. This way she was sure to see them. Tootsie turned over in her bed, and her eyes at once fell on the flowers. First she thought she was still dreaming, but a quick pinch assured her consciousness. She sat up quickly, examining the flowers and breathing deeply of their sweet aroma. She smiled as she plucked from the bouquet the card that Racetrack had left. Inside it read as follows:

Your eyes are like the sun

Rising to greet the day

Shnning with passion and warmth

And showing me the way

Your smile warms my heart

And keeps my spirits high

Your laughter is a song

That soars into the sky

When I kiss your lips

I know what love can mean

I know you are my one and only

The only one I see

How I ever lived without you

I don't exactly know

But now you're all that keeps me going

When life becomes my foe

I love you, -Racetrack

Tears welled up in her eyes. Can you really blame her? Through the tears she saw the blurry form of a small red box laying beside the flower vase. She wiped her eyes and opened it.

"Oh my god," she gasped. For a moment she didn't quite believe it. But soon she accepted the reality, and ran over to Racetrack's bed. She jumped in it, yanking him out of sleep. "Racetrack Higgins!" she cried, "I can't believe ya did dis!"

"What da hell?" he said. It was too early for him to think about what he'd done. "I didn't do it! I didn't do nothin'!"

"Da necklace, and da flowers," she said, and then added quietly, "and da poem."

Race sat up, scratching his head. "So ya like 'em?" he grinned.

"Do I ever! Dey's beautiful! Thank you!" she whispered. By now everyone in the room was awake. They didn't know what happened. All they saw was Tootsie in Racetrack's bed!

"Hey, hey!" taunted Mush. "Nice goin' Race!" Of course they were all jumping to conclusions. She was still holding the necklace, and now she stood up, and handed it to Racetrack. He rose behind her and wrapped it around her slight neck, fumbling a little with the latch. Now the rest of the guys understood what was going on. They were all feeling uncomfortable. It wasn't until now that Boots came out of the bathroom. The second the door was open there was a chaotic dash, and Racetrack and Tootsie were forgotten.

"Ya know what we's gonna do today?" Racetrack asked, pulling on his trousers and suspenders.

"Sell newspapers, like we do everyday?" she laughed. She was immune to seeing the guys in their underwear, and Racetrack didn't care anyway. She always slept in her clothes however.

"No," he said, very matter-of-factly. "We's gonna do whatever you wanna."

"Are you serious?" she asked skeptically.

"Of course I's serious!"

"Anything I wanna do?"

"Yep! I ain't even goin' near da circulation office," he said. Tootsie felt like a little girl again. She was all squirmy and giggly inside, but she was determined to remain calm. When they'd both had their turn in the bathroom, they walked outside and headed downtown. Racetrack was dressed in his new vest and hat, and smoking one of his new cigars. Tootsie was jealous.

"Ya know, I's still havin' to wear me brother's clothes?" she said, hands on hips.

Racetrack laughed. "Ya want some new clothes?" She nodded, her eyes smiling. And so they began their day. They walked all over Manhattan, and in and out of almost every store they could find. Racetrack gladly bought her anything she wanted, and more often than not had to haggle with the merchant for the lowest price. At the end of the day he took her to see a professional show on Broadway, which she loved more than anything else he'd bought her. When they got back to the lodging house that night, everyone was asleep. They crept into their beds and whispered their goodnights to each other.

The next day everything was back to normal. Racetrack and Tootsie went back to hawking the headlines and eating cheap greasy food from Tibby's. It was great! Racetrack went back to the tracks with five dollars. The other three he'd had left over had been put in his savings box. He bet on a new horse named Clover, who was said to be very fast. It was looking like Clover was going to win too, but at the very last minute a horse named Dodger pulled into the lead and won the race. Racetrack was absolutely devastated. He went back to the lodging house that night and told Tootsie he really didn't feel like going anywhere, but for her to take her walk without him. She didn't like it, but she left anyway. About ten minutes after she'd gone he got to feeling bad for not going and worried about her, so he got up to follow her. Tootsie had by now reached 'the' bench and was slouching on it thoughtfully. She was thinking a lot about her so called job. The taste of the "good life" that she'd gotten the day before had made her realize how much better things could be for her, if she only had the money. She couldn't be newsie forever. In fact, she was getting sick of it. She wanted so much more from life. Suddenly she felt a firm hand clamp down on her shoulder. Fear shot up in her and she froze, mind and body.

"Stand up!" whispered a gruff, unfamiliar voice. Tootsie took a deep breath, trying to calm herself enough to think. She slowly stood. Her mind was racing. Okay, she was being attacked. By a man. And he probably just wanted her money. She had no money. Not a good thing. Then a knife was jabbed into her back, and the man pulled her close to him so it was nearly piercing her. Her breath went short. Wonderful, now there was this knife. That was even worse! The man threw her to the ground. Oh holy Jesus!

"Ye scream, yer dead lassie!" Her attacker had a thick Irish accent, but he wasn't a very large man. If he didn't have that knife... He grabbed her and came down to his knees in front of her, forcing her onto her back.

"Oh my god, I'm being raped," Tootsie realized silently. Her whole body tensed up and she began to tremble with fear. She was suddenly very cold. He was wearing a mask, so she couldn't see his face. His breathed smelled like old, dead fish. It was putrid. She couldn't bear the stench. And his body was heavy and pressing down on her. She was nauseated. Her whole body screamed, "Do Something!!" but she could do nothing. There was nothing that could be done. Her body repulsed with spasms of disgust, but he had the knife poised under her chin so she couldn't move. Helplessness. Meanwhile, Racetrack had been walking at a brisk pace to catch up with her. He came up on the bench, their usual spot, and immediately he saw. He saw everything. He saw the man with his knife. He saw Tootsie, his beloved. And she saw him. Her crying eyes pleaded with him to help her. A cold wave washed over him, seeming to freeze his very soul. For a moment he was stupid. He didn't know what to do. But soon rage took over. Hot rage. Rage beyond madness. It hammered inside him uncontrollably. He ripped the guy up, and before he had even realized what had happened, Racetrack was emitting blows to the man's stomach. The knife was dropped and forgotten. Soon the man had fallen to his knees, and Racetrack began to kick him mercilessly. He kicked the man in the gut, the ribs, the back, but mostly the head. He was blind and senseless with his madness. His mind was a black cloud of fury. The man hadn't been able to do any damage, but if Racetrack hadn't come up when he did, Tootsie would have been raped! However, there was another element to this attack that neither of them knew about. There was another man hiding in the bushes, watching. He had been waiting for his turn with the girl, but it was obvious now that he just needed to be worried about saving his hide. He had managed to get a good look at this fellow who was beating his buddy, as he sat, crouched like an animal in the brush behind the bench. Tootsie had immediately crawled off the ground when she was freed, and was now busy buttoning up her shirt and trousers while Racetrack was took care of her problem. She turned around shortly and saw that the man was unconscious, but Race was still going strong. He fully intended on killing this guy! Tootsie grabbed his shoulders, and gently but firmly pulled him away from the bloody body on the ground. She sat down with him on the bench and held him, like a mother holds her son, until he calmed down. When his breath came back to normal, he looked over at her. As soon as their eyes met it was he who broke into tears.

"I'm sorry," he sobbed. "It's all my fault. I'm sorry I didn't go wit ya." He hid his face with his hands, and mumbled over and over that he was sorry.

"Ssh," whispered Tootsie. "C'mon Race. It weren't yer fault. How could ya have known?" She gave him a hug, and held him.

"Are ya okay?" he asked, still crying like a baby.

"I'm fine," she said, "thanks to you. If ya hadn't come he really would've hurt me, Race. He might've killed me!"

"I'm so sorry," he said again, a little calmer. "And I'm sorry ya had to see me actin' like dat." Tootsie said nothing. Racetrack, though he had stopped crying, was beginning to realize how insane he'd gone. He was staring at the man on the ground, bloody and broken. "I was gonna kill him," he said gravely. "I was. I was going to kill him." Tootsie tried to turn his attention away from the man, but he just kept staring at him. Shocked at himself. "I've never felt such hatred towards anyone," he said. "It was hurtin' my insides just to look at him. I wanted him to be dead."

"He didn't even hurt me Race," Tootsie tried to tell him.

"But he did!" Racetrack said. "And it weren't just for you. I was rememberin' my mother."

"Yer mother?!" Tootsie asked.

Racetrack's voice took on a cold, unfeeling tone. "My mother," he explained, "was raped and killed when I was ten years old..."

"Oh Race," she whispered grabbing his hand.

"...when I lived in Brooklyn. And I was tied to a chair and forced to watch da whole thing. Dere was bout three of 'em, from da tax collection agency. Dey came cus we couldn't pay our bills. Dey raped her, each takin' dere own turn, and den dey beat her to death." His voice went on in that numb monotone. It scared Tootsie. "Dey left us then, and I dat's when I took da knife outta me pocket and cut da ropes, and ran. I ran!" Just remembering the fear he'd felt that night disgusted him. "When I saw dat man, dat filth, doing da same thing to you, all dese memories came floodin' back to me, and I wanted him to die." Tootsie held his hand. She wanted so much to cry right now. How terrible that must have been for him. "I'm sorry ya had to see me like dat. I just love ya too much to let anyone hurt ya."

That's when Tootsie broke down. She couldn't hold it in any longer. Racetrack wiped away her tears, and kissed her. Not just a peck on the cheek like how it had been, but full on the lips, and as he kissed her he could feel the tears streaming down her face. Then they sat together in thoughtful silence until they decided, without saying a word to each other, that it was time to go back to the lodging house.

And now we are back to where we started. I hope you understand fully the answers to the questions you might have had in the beginning! Now I will go on with the story. They decided not to tell anyone else the things that had happened that night, and Racetrack knew Tootsie would keep his past a secret. They both cried themselves to sleep that night, but very quietly, so that nobody would hear them.

The next morning there was a very noticeable change in the air about the city. Everything had an ominous feel to it. As if the whole world was expecting something terrible to happen. Racetrack first noticed it when he was about to go outside. He was standing in the lobby, putting on his hat. Tootsie came up behind him.

"Whasamadda?" she asked. He came out of his trance and smiled warmly at her.

"Nothin'," he said, and walked outside.

Now you must remember the rapist's companion. The night before he had followed Racetrack home and then had gone straight to the cops. He told the police that this kid had just attacked his friend while they were walking home from a poker game, completely unprovoked. He and his friend were completely innocent, of course. The police chief, Devery, had sent about four cops over to the lodging house to arrest Racetrack for attempted murder. And so the moment Racetrack was outside the cops had handcuffs on him, and were reading him his rights. He was, to say the least, confused about the whole thing.

"What are ya doin'?!" Tootsie screamed at the cops. Racetrack didn't say anything. He knew his odds were better if he just kept his mouth shut. He gave Tootsie a look that meant for her to be quiet too and let him handle it. She did so, but followed them all the way to Centre City Court, where Racetrack would be tried for attempted murder. Of course, Racetrack was seen as simple riffraff, and he knew that they wouldn't bother with giving him a fair trial with a jury or a lawyer or anything like that. He decided to represent himself, and to give the judge the real story instead of whatever was said to get him arrested. He had been in trouble enough times to know his rights. He was led into the court room and up to the judges podium. There he noticed Mr. Snyder, the warden of the Refuge, standing beside it. The judge, whose name was Michael Lindsay, was introduced, and Racetrack was asked if he was represented by counsel.

"I would like to represent myself, yer honor," he replied.

"Very well," the judge said. "You have been charged with attempted murder. How do you plead?"

"Not guilty, yer honor," Racetrack said.

"We have an eyewitness saying you are the man who attacked his friend in Central Park. Will you please give your story again, Mr. Daity?"(Which is the name of the guy who saw Racetrack the night before.)

"Yes, your honor. Mr. McCollins and I were walking home from a poker party, and we took a short cut through Central park. We had just passed this bench, and, um...well I stepped off into the bushes to, er, relieve myself, and I heard a struggle behind me. I turned around and saw that punk attacking Mr. McCollins. I didn't know what to do, so I just got a good look at him, found out where he lived, and reported him to the police." He finished his complete lie, and sighed. The judge nodded, then turned to Racetrack.

"Is that what you remember, young man?" he asked.

"No, yer honor. Dat wasn't da way of things at all," Racetrack said.

"Oh?" said the judge. "Is that so?"

"I'd like to present my side of da story, if ya please, yer honor?" said Racetrack. Mr. Daity and Snyder began to protest, but the judge quieted them both with a raise of his hand.

"I like to run a fair courtroom," said the judge. "Go ahead Mr. Higgins."

"Well...," Racetrack began, "my girl and I, we always take a walk in Central Park every night. But last night I wasn't feelin' too good, so I stayed home. But, I dunno, 'bout ten minutes after she left, I started feelin' bad about not goin' wit her, so I went out to follow her. We always end our walks at da same bench every night, so dat's where I went. When I got dere...I saw her pinned on da ground by a man who had a knife held under her chin." Racetrack paused, struggling to keep his voice steady. Recalling the whole story was surfacing some quite uncontrollable emotions. Mr. Daity, the judge noticed, was starring at the ground. "When she sees me, yer honor, she starts cryin', and dat's somethin' I can't stand! I was pretty angry, as you can imagine, so I gave da sicko a pretty good soakin'! After dat we went home. Now if it's a crime to defend girls when dere bein' raped, den lock me up, yer honor."

The judge nodded again. "Is there someone else, besides Mr. Daity that can confirm your story, Mr. Higgins?"

"Yes dere is, yer honor," Racetrack said. "Da girl's waitin' for me outside, and if you'll let her tell her story I know it'll match up, more or less, to mine."

"Very well," sighed the Judge. "Send the young lady in." There was really no doubt in the judges mind that Racetrack was telling the truth, but he had to go through the motions to make this a fair trial. Tootsie came in. "State your name, please," a cop said.

"Tootsie Tellani," she said.

"Tootsie?" asked the judge.

"Well...dat's what dey call me. My real name's Lucille. You can call me Ms. Tellani."

"Very well," said the judge. "Ms. Tellani, will you please give your account of what happened last night?" Racetrack had seated himself on top of a desk, and he watched Tootsie encouragingly.

She sighed. "Yeah, yer honor. Me and Racetrack always take walks in Central Park, but last night he weren't feelin' good so he stayed home, and I went by meself. I was sittin' on da bench we always go to, when dis man, outta nowhere, poked a knife in me back, and told me to stand up. I did...and he threw me to da ground. He told me if I screamed I was dead." Tootsie choked on that last word and took an unsteady breath, tears coming to her eyes. "Den he laid on top of me," tears streamed down her face, but she went on, "and started unbottonin' my pants and shirt. He had da knife under my chin and just knew as soon as he was done wit me he was gonna use it." Racetrack's eyes had been watering the whole time, but it wasn't until now that he bowed his head and clasped his hands over the back of his neck, to hide the his tears. "Dat's when I looked up and saw Racetrack standin' dere, and he was so angry yer honor. I could just see da hate in his eyes. He pulled da guy off a me, and he started soakin' him. I got up and turned away from them. I really didn't wanna see da bloodshed, ya know, and I buttoned up me clothes. When I turned back around Race was still kickin' da guy, even dough he was already out like a light. I pulled him away from da bastard, even though he deserved for Racetrack to just kill him, and sat down wit him until he calmed down. And den we went back to da lodging house where we live." She had stopped crying now but was still pretty shaken up. She walked over and sat beside Racetrack, whose head was still bowed. Wrapping her arm around his waist, she laid her head on his shoulder.

"I see," said the judge, and sighed. "And what were you doing there, Mr. Daity? I couldn't help but noticed that you weren't in either of their stories. And this girl was not in yours, yet she was obviously there."

With his head still bowed he mumbled, "waiting for my turn."

Racetrack immediately lunged at him. It took three cops to hold him back. Tootsie was disgusted, and felt very dirty and contaminated. She shuddered, and tears sprang to her eyes.

"I've heard quite enough!" said the judge, revolted. He was ready to start issuing sentences.

Now, for the first time, Warden Snyder spoke up, not wanting to lost the money that one more boy would bring into the Refuge. "Your Honor," he said, "even though this boy was clearly defending an innocent girl, something must be done about the violence in our streets. If this boy gets off with no penalty, then he will go on thinking he can beat people up in the streets and get away with it! I-"

He was cut off by the silencing hand of the judge. There was quiet in the court room for a while before Judge Lindsay finally came to a decision. The tension was stifling. "I have decided," said he, " to declined the charges against Mr. Higgins to assault and battery, and fine him twenty dollars or four months confinement in the House of Refuge. Can you pay the fine?"

Racetrack sighed. "No, yer honor, I can't."

"Then you will be escorted to the Refuge after this court is adjourned. As for you, Mr. Daity, you and your friend will be arrested and held, without bail, for rape, and for you perjury, until a court date can be decided. This court is adjourned!" he said, and rapped his gavel. This was the cue for everyone to explode into action. The police started walking towards Racetrack.

He turned to Tootsie, who was crying. He ran the back of his hand along her cheek, his eyes watering a little too. "Hey," he said, wiping away a tear, "it ain't too long." He smiled, and pulled her into a hug. "Wait for me?" he whispered into her soft brown hair. He felt two tears fall on his shoulder and absorb into his shirt. Tootsie held him tightly. She never wanted to let go.

"Till da end a time, Racetrack," she said in a choked whisper. Their embrace was torn apart by two cops who ushered Racetrack out of the courtroom and down to the Refuge. And, because of disruptive behavior on Racetrack's part, Tootsie was left to eight, not four, of the hardest, most miserable months of her life.

Part Three!