Back at the boardinghouse, Race and Specs walked to the doors. "How much did you make today?" Race asked Specs as they walked up the stairs. "About a dollar." Specs replied as he patted his pocket. "How much did you make?" He asked as Race opened his room's door.
    "Same." Race said. "See ya." He finished as he walked into the room and shut he door behind him. He had to get ready. Jack, Kathrine, and Crutchie were no where to be seen. "They must have been at the apartment." Racetrack thought. Perfect he was heading to a boxing match tonight. He needed some alone time to
regroup after the attack. His pride was hurt so seeing another guy getting beaten up would help him not wallow in self pity.
He crouched down on the floor and pulled out a cardboard box. In the box there was a new white shirt, new black pants, and new black shoes. He only wore this outfit once during his fathers funeral. The outfit reminded him of a happier time, something that he could use right now. As he changed he realized that today he wasn't dressing for a girl he was dressing for himself. He was going to do what he wanted to do. Not what anyone told him to do. Not Jack. Not Kathrine. Not Crutchie. No one.
His red hair was a tuff of curls on his head. He decided to brush it off to the side to give him a sexier look. He made his hair go partially over his right eye. "I need a haircut soon." He thought as he washed his face with ice cold water. By now it was 6 o'clock. The match started at seven. He decided to head out a little earlier in hopes of maybe getting a girl. He wouldn't admit it out loud but he was jealous of Jack and Kathrine's relationship. Their trust in one another was more than amazing. He was sunrises that they didn't get married yet.
He quickly and quietly walked down the staircase that led to the main doors. He began to smile as he felt like himself again. His body was still sore and some bruising on his body was still visible, but he was happy. Happy to be a teenager again. Happy to have fun. He swung the doors open to reveal the familiar image of a Manhattan night adults and teens smoking in every alley, couples walking arm in arm, with the smell of alcohol and cigar smoke filled the air. "Welcome home Race." He whispered to himself as he took in the sight. Realizing that he was standing on the steps starting at nothing he quickly began to walk towards the outdoor boxing arena. Although he dressed to impress, Race wasn't that set on finding a girl.
As he reached the ticket booth, he realized that there was a huge line. "Shit." Race mumbled to himself. He never liked long lines, even at the gate every morning, he never liked to wait. Reluctantly, he stood there for a solid 10 minuets.