Disclaimer-I don't own this movie...sorry.
I had never really thought about saying no to Jack Kelly when he asked me to join the strike. I just knew I had to object. That was who I was...basically a spoiled little leader. I'm Spot Conlon. You've probably heard of me...infamous savior of the Manhattan Newsies at their run-in with the Crypts. Yeah, that's me. But I'm going to tell you my side of the story...why I didn't errr... 'get along' with Cowboy. It all started when he first joined the newsies and I was still with Manhattan but my best friend was Blade...the leader of Brooklyn.
Kelly came to us thin and ragged. Beaten beyond recognition to people he knew and shunned by his own father, he needed help. Bad. And I gave it to him. Sure, I was self centered and egotistical. What kid with girls hanging all over him wouldn't be?
"I need a 'lil help. Do ya think ya could give it ta me?" He had approached me, blood covering him, on a rainy afternoon. I looked up, immediately putting my left hand in my pocket and wrapping the brass knuckles around it.
"Whadda ya need?" Was my question and it was cold as ice in January.
"Just somewhere ta stay...for awhile."
I looked him up and down. "What's ya name kid?" He was older than me but I was superior to him...at least in my own eyes.
"Fra-Jack. Jack...Kelly."
I gave him a skeptical glance and sold a paper to a passerby. "Whatevah. I'se Spot Conlon. I don't know if ya can stay but I can take ya ta Decker an' see if he want's ya as a Manhattan newsie."
"Decker?"
"He's da leadah were I am. I don't know how long I'se stayin though. Blade'll be movin on soon."
"I know...I asked da boy down da street who ta ask for help an' he says, 'Ya bettah look for Spot.' So I asks him, I asks, 'Who's Spot?' An he laughs but he answers, 'He has blue eyes an' blonde hair an' he's on dat corner right now.' So I came ta find ya."
The boy down the street was Blade. He had been selling in Manhattan that day. "Dat's Blade. C'mon. Ya bettah come see Decker." I grabbed his arm and for the first time noticed the cowboy hat on his back. "So what's ya story?" I asked as we walked toward Tibby's.
"Me dad roughed me up a 'lil and set me out. Me muddah's dead. I'm 10 years old. What's your's?'
I jumped. No one ever asked me my story. It was something I didn't like dwelling on. "My name is Kellen Conlon. My parents, me, an my lil' bruddah Braethon came heah from Ireland when I was 4 an' he was 1. My dad lost his job in a coal mine in Pennsylvania so we set out for da city when I was 6. Aftah dat he started drinkin' an' hittin' us. So when I turned 8; me an' Braethon ran away. He's in Tibby's right now but no one know's he's me bruddah. He goes by Liquor."
We walked into Tibby's and sat down with Liquor. He smiled at me. His eyes were the same blue but instead of blonde hair like me; he sported the usual Irish red. I motioned Decker over. He sat on the end of the table.
"Heya Kellen, Braethon. Who's dis?" Decker asked. He was the only one besides each other that could get away with calling a Conlon by his first name. But he didn't know Braethon was a Conlon.
"Dis is...Cowboy," I said, looking at the hat on his neck. Jack grinned.
"Yeah. So whadda ya want me ta do about it?"
"He needs a place ta stay an' since I figured dat I was goin ta Brooklyn ta stay wit Blade dat you could take on Cowboy." Braethon's gaze rested on mine. I hadn't told him I was leaving yet. He stood up.
"I'm goin home. I'll see ya latah Kel-Spot. Bye."
I swallowed. Braethon was going to be extremely angry with me later. It was the price I had to pay to hide our family. If people knew we were brothers, they would come after one to get at the other.
Decker looked out the door at Liquor. "He seemed a 'lil bit mad."
I nodded. "He did. So will ya take him on?"
"Cowboy? 'Course. I was nevah a person ta turn someone down. When are ya leavin for Brooklyn?"
Blade had walked in and now stood behind Decker. "I can answer dat. He's leavin tamorrow because I'm leavin' tamorrow an he's gonna be da new leadah of Brooklyn. Sorry ta steal ya boy Decker."
Decker laughed but I sat still. Braethon would take this really hard. I stood up. "I bettah go check on Liquor an' make sure he's okay. Latah guys."
I ran out of Tibby's and down the street to the lodging house. I tore up the steps calling, "Braethon? Hey Brae? Ya heah?"
A sob escaped the storage closet and I opened the door. "Brae? C'mon. It ain't dat bad heah without me. I been gone before."
He cried harder. "Not forevah. Ya leavin!"
I sat down next to him and closed the closet door. "Braethon...I'm still heah no mattah what happens or where I go."
He jerked away. "No. Ya gone. Ya leavin' just like dad made us leave Erie." (for those of you that aren't Irish, Erie is Ireland...not a town in Pennsylvania.) I put an arm around his shoulders.
"No, I'm leavin ta be Brooklyn's leadah. I can come see ya when I want to."
"Fine. Just go Kellen. Go." I obliged and left him sitting in the closet.
"So Cowboy. How'd ya like Decker?" I asked later, placing a card on the table.
"He's a nice guy I guess. A good leadah from what I heah but a little soft. Very unlike someone else I know." He meant me as the 'someone else.'
I smiled. "Course ya do. Hey do me a favah huh?"
He looked up. "Yeah what?"
"Look aftah Braethon when I leave. He's really upset dat I'm goin."
Cowboy grinned. "Sure thing Spot."
I left the next day to live in Brooklyn and Blade was gone for good when I got there. No rules or guidelines. I ran the show however I wanted to run it. And I did for a whole two months. I saw Braethon every other day usually. He was a little cold toward me at first but he got over it. It was when Racetrack was sent to get me later that I finally realized my mistake of letting Jack Kelly in. He was supposed to watch Braethon, not let him out on his own.
"SPOT!" Race shouted to me from down the street. I ran toward him and stopped, trying to read his face for anything. I failed.
"What happened Race?"
"Liquor...got in a fight...said ta get ya...he ain't makin it, Spot."
My eyes widened. "What does dat mean? Is he dyin'?"
Race nodded quickly and side stepped to let me push past him. I was going to kill Cowboy for letting Braethon out of his sight! I burst into Manhattan lodging house to discover an eerie silence. I looked around. Blade had been summoned from wherever he had been and pointed up the steps. I took them two at a time and reached the bunkroom. Braethon was pale and his chest heaved. A bullet wound in his chest still bled. "Christ Brae...who did it?"
"Da...da...dad...He saw...me at da...corner...an..." I silenced him and sat down. Blade stood in the doorway.
"I knew it..." He whispered. "You two were bruddahs weren't ya?" I nodded an answer.
"Kellen, look...I didn't...mean ta make...ya mad...before about...leavin'. I...love ya..." His last words to me. I stood still for a moment and then turned to face Kelly who was in the corner.
"Jack, ya were supposed ta watch him! Ya let him out alone!" Blade stepped between us.
"Just go home...go home Spot." I couldn't let them see me cry so I took one last look at my baby brother's lifeless corpse and left. It was the most painful thing I have ever done. It's why I turned Jack down at the strike...why I wanted to hurt him so badly...and I suppose now it was no one's fault...but then I thought it was. Then it was a time when I let my Passion to be leader rule the reason to stay with Braethon.
A/N-Braethon and Kellen are two Irish twins I know. They're awesome and I dedicate this to them.
I had never really thought about saying no to Jack Kelly when he asked me to join the strike. I just knew I had to object. That was who I was...basically a spoiled little leader. I'm Spot Conlon. You've probably heard of me...infamous savior of the Manhattan Newsies at their run-in with the Crypts. Yeah, that's me. But I'm going to tell you my side of the story...why I didn't errr... 'get along' with Cowboy. It all started when he first joined the newsies and I was still with Manhattan but my best friend was Blade...the leader of Brooklyn.
Kelly came to us thin and ragged. Beaten beyond recognition to people he knew and shunned by his own father, he needed help. Bad. And I gave it to him. Sure, I was self centered and egotistical. What kid with girls hanging all over him wouldn't be?
"I need a 'lil help. Do ya think ya could give it ta me?" He had approached me, blood covering him, on a rainy afternoon. I looked up, immediately putting my left hand in my pocket and wrapping the brass knuckles around it.
"Whadda ya need?" Was my question and it was cold as ice in January.
"Just somewhere ta stay...for awhile."
I looked him up and down. "What's ya name kid?" He was older than me but I was superior to him...at least in my own eyes.
"Fra-Jack. Jack...Kelly."
I gave him a skeptical glance and sold a paper to a passerby. "Whatevah. I'se Spot Conlon. I don't know if ya can stay but I can take ya ta Decker an' see if he want's ya as a Manhattan newsie."
"Decker?"
"He's da leadah were I am. I don't know how long I'se stayin though. Blade'll be movin on soon."
"I know...I asked da boy down da street who ta ask for help an' he says, 'Ya bettah look for Spot.' So I asks him, I asks, 'Who's Spot?' An he laughs but he answers, 'He has blue eyes an' blonde hair an' he's on dat corner right now.' So I came ta find ya."
The boy down the street was Blade. He had been selling in Manhattan that day. "Dat's Blade. C'mon. Ya bettah come see Decker." I grabbed his arm and for the first time noticed the cowboy hat on his back. "So what's ya story?" I asked as we walked toward Tibby's.
"Me dad roughed me up a 'lil and set me out. Me muddah's dead. I'm 10 years old. What's your's?'
I jumped. No one ever asked me my story. It was something I didn't like dwelling on. "My name is Kellen Conlon. My parents, me, an my lil' bruddah Braethon came heah from Ireland when I was 4 an' he was 1. My dad lost his job in a coal mine in Pennsylvania so we set out for da city when I was 6. Aftah dat he started drinkin' an' hittin' us. So when I turned 8; me an' Braethon ran away. He's in Tibby's right now but no one know's he's me bruddah. He goes by Liquor."
We walked into Tibby's and sat down with Liquor. He smiled at me. His eyes were the same blue but instead of blonde hair like me; he sported the usual Irish red. I motioned Decker over. He sat on the end of the table.
"Heya Kellen, Braethon. Who's dis?" Decker asked. He was the only one besides each other that could get away with calling a Conlon by his first name. But he didn't know Braethon was a Conlon.
"Dis is...Cowboy," I said, looking at the hat on his neck. Jack grinned.
"Yeah. So whadda ya want me ta do about it?"
"He needs a place ta stay an' since I figured dat I was goin ta Brooklyn ta stay wit Blade dat you could take on Cowboy." Braethon's gaze rested on mine. I hadn't told him I was leaving yet. He stood up.
"I'm goin home. I'll see ya latah Kel-Spot. Bye."
I swallowed. Braethon was going to be extremely angry with me later. It was the price I had to pay to hide our family. If people knew we were brothers, they would come after one to get at the other.
Decker looked out the door at Liquor. "He seemed a 'lil bit mad."
I nodded. "He did. So will ya take him on?"
"Cowboy? 'Course. I was nevah a person ta turn someone down. When are ya leavin for Brooklyn?"
Blade had walked in and now stood behind Decker. "I can answer dat. He's leavin tamorrow because I'm leavin' tamorrow an he's gonna be da new leadah of Brooklyn. Sorry ta steal ya boy Decker."
Decker laughed but I sat still. Braethon would take this really hard. I stood up. "I bettah go check on Liquor an' make sure he's okay. Latah guys."
I ran out of Tibby's and down the street to the lodging house. I tore up the steps calling, "Braethon? Hey Brae? Ya heah?"
A sob escaped the storage closet and I opened the door. "Brae? C'mon. It ain't dat bad heah without me. I been gone before."
He cried harder. "Not forevah. Ya leavin!"
I sat down next to him and closed the closet door. "Braethon...I'm still heah no mattah what happens or where I go."
He jerked away. "No. Ya gone. Ya leavin' just like dad made us leave Erie." (for those of you that aren't Irish, Erie is Ireland...not a town in Pennsylvania.) I put an arm around his shoulders.
"No, I'm leavin ta be Brooklyn's leadah. I can come see ya when I want to."
"Fine. Just go Kellen. Go." I obliged and left him sitting in the closet.
"So Cowboy. How'd ya like Decker?" I asked later, placing a card on the table.
"He's a nice guy I guess. A good leadah from what I heah but a little soft. Very unlike someone else I know." He meant me as the 'someone else.'
I smiled. "Course ya do. Hey do me a favah huh?"
He looked up. "Yeah what?"
"Look aftah Braethon when I leave. He's really upset dat I'm goin."
Cowboy grinned. "Sure thing Spot."
I left the next day to live in Brooklyn and Blade was gone for good when I got there. No rules or guidelines. I ran the show however I wanted to run it. And I did for a whole two months. I saw Braethon every other day usually. He was a little cold toward me at first but he got over it. It was when Racetrack was sent to get me later that I finally realized my mistake of letting Jack Kelly in. He was supposed to watch Braethon, not let him out on his own.
"SPOT!" Race shouted to me from down the street. I ran toward him and stopped, trying to read his face for anything. I failed.
"What happened Race?"
"Liquor...got in a fight...said ta get ya...he ain't makin it, Spot."
My eyes widened. "What does dat mean? Is he dyin'?"
Race nodded quickly and side stepped to let me push past him. I was going to kill Cowboy for letting Braethon out of his sight! I burst into Manhattan lodging house to discover an eerie silence. I looked around. Blade had been summoned from wherever he had been and pointed up the steps. I took them two at a time and reached the bunkroom. Braethon was pale and his chest heaved. A bullet wound in his chest still bled. "Christ Brae...who did it?"
"Da...da...dad...He saw...me at da...corner...an..." I silenced him and sat down. Blade stood in the doorway.
"I knew it..." He whispered. "You two were bruddahs weren't ya?" I nodded an answer.
"Kellen, look...I didn't...mean ta make...ya mad...before about...leavin'. I...love ya..." His last words to me. I stood still for a moment and then turned to face Kelly who was in the corner.
"Jack, ya were supposed ta watch him! Ya let him out alone!" Blade stepped between us.
"Just go home...go home Spot." I couldn't let them see me cry so I took one last look at my baby brother's lifeless corpse and left. It was the most painful thing I have ever done. It's why I turned Jack down at the strike...why I wanted to hurt him so badly...and I suppose now it was no one's fault...but then I thought it was. Then it was a time when I let my Passion to be leader rule the reason to stay with Braethon.
A/N-Braethon and Kellen are two Irish twins I know. They're awesome and I dedicate this to them.