Morning came, bringing with it a few of my least favorite things: waking up, and unpacking.

Since unpacking and setting up house wasn't all that interesting, I won't bore you with the details.

Today was Saturday, so thankfully I didn't have to go to school just yet. Instead, I was gonna go help Pa with the shopping while Ma worked around the house.

Our apartment was surprisingly close to where Pa had grown-up and he still remembered the area pretty well, so for that I was thankful as well.

We headed downtown to shop for necessities and whatever Ma had written on the list.

While Pa was inside the mercantile store, I chose to stay outside and peruse the window displays and vendor carts on the street. Faintly, I heard what I guessed to be a newsboy, a young boy's voice calling out newspaper headlines. I knew a little about them, but only from Pa's stories from back when he was one.

A few of the people I passed gave me some looks, and I assumed it was from my clothing. A plain blue shirt tucked into a pair of simple brown pants – in other words, boy's clothes.

I didn't really mind anyway, since it was my every day wear. Skirts just weren't very practical for me when I was working back on the ranch. Maybe Ma would make me start wearing dresses and skirts, now that we were living in the city. Gee, I hope not.

I was busy admiring the toy store window display when I heard someone yell.

"Ay, Boots! Whaddaya think ya doin'? Youse gots papes to sell, I know ya do!" called a boy's voice sharply from somewhere close behind me.

Close enough to make me turn around to see what was going on. Just as I was about to turn, I felt a hand on my shoulder pull and turn me.

"C'mon, Boots, we ain't gots time f– oh." The boy stopped abruptly, realizing I wasn't 'Boots', whoever that was. "Uh, sorry, miss," he said, taking his hand off my shoulder and removing his cap.

I smiled at him and blushed involuntarily when our eyes met. "It's fine," I said. Actually, he was fine. Fiiine.

He had blue eyes, some of the bluest I've ever seen, a mess of golden curls, and to top it all, freckles. Freckles!

"Hey, you's okay?" he asked.

I blinked, coming out of my thoughts. "Y- yeah, I'm alright." I don't think I've ever heard anyone with that strong of an accent before. It wasn't bad, just different.

Breaking the little stare trance thing we were in, he spoke again.

"Might I interest you in this mornin's pape?" he asked as he pulled one from his bag.

I felt my cheeks redden, partially out of embarrassment, and partially from... I'm not sure. The heat? Yeah, sure, the mid-October heat, definitely not because a cute boy just winked at me. The embarrassment part was due to my pride. There was no way I was saying that I was too poor to even buy a newspaper.

"Oh- no thank you- sorry." Well, at least I managed a cohesive sentence. Nice goin', Charlotte.

"Aw, that's a'ight. Maybe next time," he said as he put his cap back on.

"Maybe."

Another moment of slightly awkward silence.

"I'm Racetrack, by the way. Racetrack Higgins. But everyone jus' calls me Race." he said.

I shook his outstretched hand. "Interesting. A nickname, yeah?"

Race nodded with a grin.

"Mine's–"

"Lottie!" interrupted the unmistakable voice of my dear ol' dad. "Quit flirtin' and come here, would ya?"

Now, I knew he was only teasing me, but my cheeks burned, nonetheless. I sighed.

Thanks, Pa.

"I guess I'll see ya around, Racetrack," I said quietly, briefly meeting his eyes before dropping my gaze back to the ground.

Silently, I turned around and headed back to where Pa was waiting for me.

What I didn't see, however, was Race's grin as he shook his head after me.