Chapter One

Hi, again. It's been awhile… so this is the first chapter of my story that I have yet to have a proper name for. Well anyways… I got some great OCs that I will be using, but most of them will be coming into the story over the next few chapters. So yeah… Oh! And special thanks to SugarBubbleGum for helping me write this chapter! :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies

September 1897: Brooklyn

Kayleigh's P.O.V

Tuesday morning, I hovered on the corner of 45th and Second. I had hoped my escape from home had been an unnoticed one. I sighed. I thought I was sure about doing this. Last week I was sure. I'd been living with my stepfather and stepbrother for years, not asking myself whether I should run away or not. With my own courage, I was able to admit to myself that I wanted to run away.

Of course, that was before . . . everything. Now, I felt more like a puppet than ever. One minute, I wanted to run away. The next, I wanted my normal, good-girl life back, the life where I ran around outside for hours, snuggled with my mother and father, and spent hours playing with my old tag dolls. And then I wanted the freedom to pursue my own interests all over again. Except . . . what were my interests, aside from running away?

I left the corner street and walked through the dimly lit side streets on shaky legs. The streets were crammed with carts, all selling various items. I turned down an alley and tried to calm down. Then I paused, suddenly aware that someone was looking at me. Across the alley, I saw two older boys leaning up against the brick wall. Their state was so intense, they didn't even blink. My skin prickled and heat rose to my cheeks. The taller boy smirked and turned to whisper something to his friend. The other boy laughed, glanced at me, and whispered something back at the boy. Then they both snickered.

I hid behind another alley wall.

This was another reason why I wanted to run away - so I wouldn't have to spend every day at home with two men in my life who abused me. It used to be no one who abused me, until my stepbrother had turned to drinking.

I pushed into an empty alley that led to a dead end.

"Where are you going?"

I whirled around. The two older boys had followed me into the alley. "Hello." I tried to smile. "How are you?" I asked, hoping they would leave me alone.

They were dressed in bowler hats, complete with cruel stares and evil expressions. "Youse is pretty polite, doll face." The taller one replied nastily, his voice echoing off the alley walls. "Why is a cute little goil like youse all alone?"

I shrugged, inching away. "Yeah, well, I guess I was just taking a walk."

"Really? Youse was taking a walk? Youse look more like a runaway to me." The shorter boy said.

I looked away. "I ain't lying."

"Right." The taller one took a step toward me.

"Think what you want." I turned for the street. "I ain't scared of you."

The shorter boy furrowed his eyebrows. "No?"

I stopped. "No, I ain't."

"We'll have to change that, then." The taller boy tilted his chin. "But . . . we may have to soak ya. You being a run away on our territory is a terrible crime."

"I'm not a run away," I said through my teeth.

"Oh yeah?" One of them said, taking a step closer. "Prove it, baby cakes." His nostrils flared in and out.

I barked out a nervous laugh. I'd never been in this situation before. The boy lunged forward, wrapped his hand around my wrist, and pushed me against the wall.

I breathed in sharply. The boy's breath was hot on my neck and smelled like whiskey. "Stop it," I whispered, trying to squirm away.

The boy needed just one strong arm to hold me down. He pressed his body up against mine. "I said, prove it."

"Please, stop." Frightened tears came to my eyes. I swatted at him tentatively, but his movements just became more forceful. He ran his hand up my chest. A small squeak escaped my throat.

"There a problem?"

The boys suddenly backed up. Behind them on the far side of the alley stood a boy gripping a slingshot. I squinted. Who was that?

"It's none of your business, Conlon," my assaulter said loudly.

"What isn't any of my business?" The boy stepped closer. He wore red suspenders and a grey newsboy cap.

"I said stay out of it." The mean boys twisted around.

My hero's eyes moved down to the boy's hand on my wrist. He nudged his chin up the mean boy. "What's going on?"

The two evil boys glared at me, then let go of me. I shot away from the two assailants, and the two thugs stormed out of the alley. Then, silence.

"You alright?" The boy asked.

I nodded; my head down. "I think so."

"You sure?"

I sneaked a peak at the boy. He was taller than me, and his face was high-cheekboned and blue-eyed gorgeous.

My knees felt wobbly. "I have to go," I mumbled, my arms trembling. I try running, only to trip over my own feet and fall into him, sending us against the wall. Shit. It is then that I realize my skirt is caught on his slingshot. I try pulling, as the boy watches with amusement, the bastard. I roll my eyes as he tries to get it unhooked. "If you can't get it out, I'll just take my skirt off." I said, bluntly.

His eyes widened, and then he grinned wider. "Is that a promise?"

I rolled my eyes again. Finally, my skirt comes loose, but it tears... all the way up to my knees! "Oh my God!" I yell, covering my mouth with my hand in shock at my skirt.

The boy smirks and scratches his head. "Well, hey, it looks nice," he says, smiling weakly.

I shoot him an equally weak smile. "Um, thanks."

"Youse alone?" He asked, keeping his eyes on my now exposed knees.

"Depends, why do you wanna know?" I asked, crossing my arms. The boy broke into a smirk.

"You know, I could use a girl with your kind of nerve. The name's Spot Conlon, Ise the leader of the Brooklyn newsies."

I nodded. "I'm sure you are. Anyway, I need a job and if you can provide one for me, I will do something that will make you happy." I said really fast.

The boy grinned. "Okay, you can be a Brooklyn newsie, but now you have to make me happy."

I thought of what I could possibly do. "They say the poorest are the happiest."

At this, the boy smiled and said, "Then marry me, and we'll be the happiest couple alive."

I smiled at his humor. "I'm only eleven... How about I'll give you a penny?"

Spot held up his hand. "And I'm only thirteen. Don't refuse it, dolly. Just accept the offer of being a newsie."

I sighed. "Fine, I'll be a Brooklyn newsie."

He smirked. "You know what that means?"

I shook my head.

Spot leaned forward. "You're a Brooklyn Newsgirl, I'm a Brooklyn Newsboy, and we're going to have Brooklyn children."

I shoved him away. "Yeah, that's not gonna happen."

He laughed. "Kidding! No, but seriously, come on, I'll teach ya how to be a newsie."

Narrator P.O.V.

Kayleigh twisted her light brown hair into a side braid awkwardly while she waited for Spot to go buy his papers from the Distribution Center.

"Hey." Someone stood over her.

Kayleigh looked up. "Hi."

A girl of about her age stared back at her with dark straight hair and dark eyes. She had a smart look to her, and grinned. She offered her hand. "My name is Samara O'Malley, better known as Wings. You?"

Kayleigh straightened, and shook the waiting hand. "Kayleigh Elissa, call me Brooklyn."

Wings smiled warmly and nodded. "New to town?"

Kayleigh, now Brooklyn, shrugged. "Not really." This girl seemed trust worthy enough. "I ran away, and Spot saved me..."

The girl looked over at Spot buying his papers, and leaned in closer. "You holding up okay?"

"Yeah. You?"

Wings shrugged. She gave a surreptitious glance around the circulation desk, which was full of Brooklyn newsies eager to buy their papers. "I'm not really supposed to be here. I'm from Manhattan territory, one of Jacky-boy's."

"Jacky-boy's?" Brooklyn asked, raising her eyebrows.

Wings shook her head. "He's the leader of the newsies over in Manhattan. You won't tell I was here, right?"

"Nope." Brooklyn avoided Wings' eyes. She'd made a friend and now her said friend wanted her to lie for her. "I won't tell."

"You're a hero," Wings smiled brightly, hugging Brooklyn tightly.

I'm really not, Brooklyn wanted to say. She chewed on the inside of her cheek.

"You're alright, kid." Wings took a step toward the sidewalk.

Brooklyn watched Wings walk towards the bridge, wondering what she was doing in this borough anyway. A cold sweat covered Brooklyn's body.

"Brooklyn!" Someone called behind her.

She twisted around to see who was calling her, and she tripped over some barrels. All of a sudden, she found herself on the ground.

"Oh my God, are you okay?" A voice called.

Brooklyn opened her eyes. Standing over her was Spot Conlon. He had his newsboy cap pulled low, so his face looked shadowed and hollow.

She yelped. This morning's incident with the Delancy Brothers, as Spot called them, kept coming back to her. Spot's face, his frustrated expression. How he just looked at the boys, and they had backed off. And was it a coincidence that he'd been walking through the alley at that moment, or had he been following her?

Spot crouched down. "Let me help you."

Brooklyn pushed the barrels off herself, cautiously moved her legs, and then looked at her knees to inspect the long, harsh scrape on her shin. "I'm fine."

"You dropped this back there." Spot handed Brooklyn her silver locket her real father had given to her before he died. It had a small photo of her mother and father inside.

"Um, thanks." Brooklyn took it from him, feeling uneasy.

Spot frowned at the scrape. "That looks kind of bad. You want me to take you back to the lodging house? I think we might have some bandages . . ."

Brooklyn's heart pounded. First her abusive family, then the run in with the Delancy Brothers, and now this? Why was he helping her, anyway? Wasn't he supposed to be too tough to care? "Really. I'm okay," she said, her voice rising.

"Can I at least walk you to the lodging house?"

"No!" Brooklyn yelped. Then she noticed how much blood was gushing out of her leg. She despised seeing blood. Her arms started to feel limp.

"Brooklyn?" Spot asked her. "Are you . . . ?"

Brooklyn's vision warped. She couldn't faint right now. She had to get away from Spot. And then everything went black.

When she woke up, she was lying on a soft bunk bed in a small room. A bunch of small bandages crisscrossed the scrape of her leg. She looked around woozily, trying to get her bearings, when she noticed who was kneeling by her.

Spot smirked down at her. "Boo."

Brooklyn screamed.

"Whoa!" Spot paused and held his hands in the air, a gesture that said 'Don't shoot!' "Sorry. I was just playing."

Brooklyn sat up. "What are you doing?" Brooklyn screeched. "Where am I?"

"You passed out," Spot said calmly. "From the blood, maybe. I didn't know what to do, so I lifted you up and carried you back to the lodging house. You're in my room."

Brooklyn glanced at her feet. Spot picked her up? Like, in his arms? She felt so freaked, she felt like she was going to faint again. He could've done anything to her.

"Take me outside," Brooklyn cried. "I can walk around."

"But . . ."

"Seriously. Let me leave."

Spot helped her stand and faces her. She wobbly stood, and then fell. The corners of his mouth dropped down and his eyes widened in concern. "I didn't mean. . ." He ran his hand through his hair. "What was I supposed to do? Leave you there?"

"Yes," Brooklyn said.

"Well, um, I'm sorry then." There was no way Brooklyn could walk without wobbling, they both knew it. "'Come on," Spot said. "I'll take you back outside."

Maybe she was overreacting. There were a lot of people who could easily kidnap her if she was all by herself. She sighed. "Um, I can stay here. If you want."

He stared at her for a minute. One side of his mouth curled up into an almost-smile. The expression on his face said, Um, okay, crazy girl, but he didn't say it.

He lifted her back in his bed, and Brooklyn quietly inspected him. His blue eyes just looked deep and brooding. She thought of how he saved her from the Delancys that morning. She wanted to thank him, but what if he asked more about her past? What would Brooklyn say? 'Oh, they were giving me a hard time because I ran away from home.'

Brooklyn finally thought of a safe question. "So, you're the leader of Brooklyn newsies?"

"Yep," he answered. "Most famous and respected newsie in of New York, from Queens to Harlem."

Queens. Brooklyn's whole body, including her toes, tensed. She tried not to show any reaction, and Spot stared at his slingshot, seemingly unaware that she was nervous. Queens had been her old home, where her father and older step brother had hit her countless times. "And, um, where were you before Brooklyn?" She asked.

Spot stared at her, shifted uncomfortably, and then shook his head. "Sorry, girlie. I don't do back stories. However, I am becoming very interested in yours."

Brooklyn sighed. "Me either." Something inside her began to thaw. Spot seemed sort of . . . relatable. And nice. Before she could say anything else, the other newsies began climbing up the stairs to their bunk rooms.

Spot stood up. He pulled the worn sheets up to Brooklyn's chin, their fingers touched. A little spark went through her. Spot looked at Brooklyn for a moment, and she looked down at their fingers. She pulled her hands away.

"So, uh, rest up. I'll see ya later..." Spot said, walking toward the door.

Brooklyn's head shot up. "W-Why?"

Spot turned to her. "Well, I have to come back to my room sometime."

"Oh," Brooklyn answered. "Of course."

As Spot left the room, she felt her heart slow down. For some crazy reason, she'd thought Spot was going to kiss her. But this was Spot. The two of them together was about as likely as . . . as, well, them being together.

Please Review and tell me what you think! It will make my day! :)