The Past Is Never Far

by Raindrop Allen

The final Spot and Raindrop story.

The Past Is Never Far

By: Raindrop Allen

Chapter One

…I just want you to know who I am…

Corrine took a deep breath and stepped out of the carriage. She adjusted her warm, black coat around her, and smoothed her new, green dress. She looked up at the dirty, run-down building in front of her and wondered if she was really at the right place. The freezing late November wind pulled strands of her hair out of place. A part of her began to doubt the sense in all of this. Gregory, the footman, moved to follow her, but she waved him back. It was something she had to do on her own.

She lived in Boston, with her adoptive parents Carol and George Williamson. But she had been born in the heart of Brooklyn, somewhere around here, to Lydia and Howard Conlon. And she'd had a brother, Benjamin. Her parents died in a fire when she was nine, and her brother disappeared. So, she went with her mother's good friend Carol to Boston. They returned to New York to visit some friends for Thanksgiving, and had been at a café in Little Italy when the owner had recognized her name and informed her of her brother living in Brooklyn. He'd changed his name and lifestyle, but it was Benjamin. She couldn't go home without seeing him.

Spot closed the door to his room, turned around, and leaned on it. He grinned at the brown-haired girl pulling off her shoes and taking off her coat. The dress she wore was old and worn, but he didn't care. More often than not, she wore the same clothes as the rest of the newsies in Brooklyn. This was just fine with him. He walked over to her and she stood up. He pulled her closer and wrapped his arms around him. Spot kissed her lightly and grinned.

"T'anksgivin' evenin' all alone wit you. Da poifect end ta da poifect day." The sounds of the other newsies in the main bunkroom were loud and clear, still intent on enjoying the holiday as well as they could. So was he. Spot lit a few of the candles he had in his room and walked back over to Raindrop. The door opened while he was in the middle of kissing her. He pulled away from her reluctantly, and looked up. A short dark-haired girl was standing just inside the doorway. She looked young and rich too. Average people didn't wear the kind of dress she had on. Or the coat. He raised an eyebrow at her.

"What?" he asked flatly. Raindrop laughed slightly under her breath. She usually thought his exasperation at being interrupted amusing. Especially when he had been alone with her. The girl shifted uncomfortably, and his returned his attention to her.

"I'm looking for someone," she said finally. "Someone named Benjamin Conlon. I was told he's calling himself Spot now." Spot watched her, expressionless.

Benjamin? He thought to himself. Benjamin? There aren't more 'n' ten people still 'round dat knows me real name. An' I doubt most ah dem remembah it.

He looked at Raindrop for a moment.

"Maybe ya oughta wait outside." She nodded, kissed him softly, and quickly left.

"I'se Spot. Who're you?" he asked warily. The girl drew herself up, trying to appear more than she was. Spot almost laughed aloud, rich folks were impossibly obvious, no matter what they were trying to hide. The girl was distinctly nervous, scared even. Not surprisingly either; young girls did not just stroll through the worse parts of the city unattended. And the certainly didn't come to see the leader of the Brooklyn newsies without good reason, and plenty of protection. The girl was a fool.

"My name is Corrine Conlon." Her smile reached her eyes and beyond. "I'm your sister, Benjamin." She took a step forward, towards him, and he instinctively moved backwards. It felt like he'd been punched in the stomach.

…You're the first to fight; you're way too loud. You're the flash of light, on a burial shroud. I know something's wrong. Well everyone I know has got a reason, to say, put the past away…

"Ya liah. Ya cain' be me sistah, she's six yeahs dead," he choked out. She couldn't possibly be his sister. But even as he looked at her she seemed more familiar, and he had a harder time disbelieving her. His eyes narrowed. "What're ya tryin' ta pull anyways?" She didn't take the accusation well.

"I'm trying to find my brother again. Benjamin, why can't you just believe me?"

"Me name ain't Benjamin," he snapped. "Ben Conlon is who I was. Me name is Spot, I'se a newsie, an' I don' want nuttin' ta do wit who I was." Corrine looked shocked.

"Ben," she said, and then changed her mind when she saw his glare, "Spot, I missed you. More than you can imagine. I know you didn't just forget about Mother and me and Father. Please…" she trailed off helplessly. Spot was reeling. He knew he believed her, but was too shocked to know what to do. He thought he had gotten over the deaths of his family. He never expected to see any of them again; it wasn't even wishful thinking he allowed himself. And for the first time in six years he completely lost control of his emotions. Something deep inside just snapped. The incredible shock of the entire ordeal completely overwhelmed him. He raised an eyebrow.

"Oh yeah?" he asked, eyes flashing dangerously. He felt like he could explode at any minute, he was so full of anger, frustration, bitterness, loneliness, and hurt that had been pent-up for four years and carefully hidden, well enough to even fool himself. "Oh yeah? Den bloody where was ya FER SIX YEAHS?" The last part he yelled at the top of his lungs. At that moment several things happened. Every newsie in the place looked up. When Spot was angry he slammed doors, he soaked people, but he never yelled. Not once had he ever lost his control, he always spoke calmly and coldly. Outside, Raindrop's hand found the doorknob to his room behind her back and tightened around it until her knuckles were white. Corrine went pale and backed away considerably. And Spot barely paused to take a breath.

"I AIN'T YER BLODDY BEN NO MOAH! BEN DIED IN DA FIAH JIST LIKE DA REST AH YA DID! I DUNNO WHAT YER DOIN' HEAH, AN' I DON' CARE! I WANT YA OUTTA ME LIFE, YA HEAH ME?" He flung the door open to his room and though off-guard, caught Raindrop in his arm as she lost her balance. He slammed the door behind them, and in complete frustration ran his fingers through his hair like he only did when he felt strongly about something. Not a minute after, Corrine opened the door and shifted nervously under the gaze of every newsie there. Spot sighed, barely audible, and said in a flat voice, "Tricks…" Tricks looked up. "I guess ya'll remembah me sistah, Corrine." Tricks' jaw dropped.

"Ya grew up…" he said awkwardly. She gazed at him coolly.

"You grew dirtier," she replied. Tricks glanced to Spot, to see his reaction. Spot's mouth tightened, but he didn't say a word.

"An' you'se turned inta a real priss, ya know dat?" Tricks snapped. Corrine turned to Spot, completely outraged.

"Are you going to let this street rat talk to me like that?"

"Yes," Spot replied coolly. "'E's right. Now git out."

"Spot," she said softly, suddenly being sweeter than sugar, and a little more than pleading, "Please don't make me leave."

What is wrong with me? I'm begging to a street rat! A disgusting, dirty, sleazy street rat that has been ruder to me in five minutes than anyone ever has in my entire life! And I'm begging to him, for him to let me stay! This is ridiculous, even if he is my brother! Some welcome! But she stayed. And she begged.

"If you would just let me come by during the day. I won't be too much of a bother. Please…I want to get to know you again." Spot snorted.

"Whatevah. Jist stay outta my way. I got stuff ta do, ain't got time ta spend on all dat family crap wit me long-lost sistah dat 'bandoned me fer six yeahs." Some of the newsies shifted uneasily. Anyone who hadn't figured out what was going on before, definitely knew now. And they also knew that Spot wasn't exactly thrilled with, well, her existence.

Corrine nodded.

"All right," she said quietly. "Ah…I'll be going now. I promised ah…the Williamsons that I wouldn't be long. What time should I come tomorrow?" Spot shrugged.

"Not before noon. Some of heah don' git ev'ryt'in' handed ta us on a golden plattah. We gotta earn money ta eat." Corrine nodded, trying to ignore the direct insult to her easier life.

"Where will I find you?" Spot shrugged again.

"I dunno. I'll be 'round somewheah." Raindrop nudged him, "Bettah not let 'er wandah 'round, nevah kin tell who'd beat 'er up." Spot nodded in agreement.

"Very good point. Fine." He looked at Corrine. "Be heah at fouah shahp, or fergit dis whole t'ing. Fer good." Corrine nodded.

"Very well. I shall see you tomorrow then." She turned toward the door and paused to see if anyone was going to walk her downstairs. No one moved. She held her head up and walked out. She had just passed through the door and out onto the street when the tears slowly began to roll down her cheeks.

That was worse than I could have ever possibly imagined. He hates me. They all hate me. And I have to go back tomorrow. I have to keep going back, until we leave, because I can't let them win. I have to prove to Spot – to Ben, that I'm not what he thinks I am.. I can't believe I'm related to…to that. He didn't even care that I came back.

They all watched her leave in silence. After a few minutes Spot turned to the newsies.

"Well," he said thoughtfully, and completely unfazed, "Dat was int'restin'." Tricks snorted, and the rest of the newsies burst out laughing.

"Hey," called Edge, after the noise had died down. "Who's up fer a game of pokah?" He looked at Spot. Spot shook his head.

"Cain't. I'se spendin' T'anksgivin' da best way I know how." Edge looked at him. So did half the other newsies. Raindrop raised an eyebrow at him. Spot smirked, pulled her close, and kissed her hard, in front of every newsie in the place. They whistled and catcalled to their hearts content and he let them, getting as much of a kick out of it as he knew Raindrop wasn't. He pulled away slowly, and she immediately buried her burning face in his shoulder shaking her head and laughing at the same time. Edge nodded thoughtfully and stood up, walking towards the two.

"Yeah, I'd have ta agree wit ya dere. Dat's much moah fun den any old pokah game…care ta let me join in da festivities?" Spot laughed and pushed him away. He grabbed Raindrop's hand and led her into his bedroom, grinning wickedly the whole way.

"Spot!" Raindrop groaned once he shut the door. "Did ya have ta do dat?" Spot laughed.

"Coise. Now I kin make it up ta ya." She rolled her eyes, but didn't object. But after a minute he pulled away and sighed heavily.

What on oith am I gonna do?

Raindrop looked at him, already figuring out his problem that he'd never voice in anyone's presence.

"Jist be yerself, remembah who ya love, an' who loves you. Da rest is jist details," she said simply. She kissed him lightly on the cheek and sat down on her bunk, getting ready for bed. "Hey," she said after a moment, "Ya lemme change clothes real quick?" He nodded and stepped outside of the room. Tricks took the opportunity to talk to Spot.

"Diff'rent, ain't she?" he commented. Spot snorted.

"Got dat right."

"What're ya gonna do?" Tricks asked him. Spot shrugged.

"Wait 'er out, I guess." Tricks nodded, and Raindrop opened the door, wearing a pair of pants that had at one time belonged to Spot, as well as a faded plaid shirt of his. She slid her hand into his.

"C'mon," she said softly. Spot turned around and followed her back into his room. He pulled off his shirt, socks, and shoes, and he started to climb up to bed. Then he stopped, and looked at Raindrop.

"I didn' want t'ings ta end like dis." She gave him a small smile.

"It's awright…jist promise ta make it up ta me soon, kay?" she said, grinning. Then she turned serious. "Hey…are ya awright?" He laughed shortly.

"I made it dis fah by meself, didn' I?" She nodded and smiled half-heartedly. Spot shrugged. "She's jist some moah of dem rich snobs." Raindrop looked at him for a moment.

"She's yer sistah," she said softly. Spot climbed to the top bunk and crawled under his blanket. Raindrop sat for a minute, and then blew out the candles. After she'd gotten back into bed they lay in silence for a while. At last Spot rolled over and said, "Night Raindrop." He paused, and then continued, "'appy T'anksgivin'. I love ya." Raindrop smiled in the darkness.

"Love ya too."

Chapter Two

Corrine tapped her foot in annoyance on the worn wooden floor just inside the Brooklyn Lodging House.

I've been here for forty minutes. He made such a big deal about me showing up! He probably decided to forget this whole thing just to spite me. About right then Spot turned a corner and began walking down the street to the Lodging House. His little dark-haired minx is with him, wonderful. They're laughing and talking, completely oblivious to the rest of the world around them. It's so improper. But what should I expect from mere street rats who likely don't even know anything about love?

Raindrop stopped short when she saw Corrine standing in the doorway. She nudged Spot and he looked up. They had both forgotten about her. She looked composed, but Raindrop knew her own sister too well to believe that.

"She's annoyed," she whispered to Spot. Spot laughed. They walked up to her.

"Ya ready?" Corrine looked at him condescendingly.

"You mean, 'Are you ready?'" Spot shook his head.

"Naw, dat ain't it." He turned around and led the way upstairs. The newsies looked up and saw the three walk in. Spot gestured to the gang.

"Dese is me boys." Corrine looked at him levelly.

"You haven't introduced me to your special little friend yet."

"Corrine," he said, "This is Raindrop." Corrine raised an eyebrow.

"Oh really. And she has what significance here?" She looked at Raindrop. "Do you even have a real name?" Raindrop clenched her teeth.

"Me name's Raindrop," she said flatly. "An' dat's it. I happen ta be a newsie heah in Brooklyn. Ta answer dem questi'ns I jist know is beggin' ta be ast: No, I don' wanna go live like all da oddah so-called ladies do; I'se happy heah, an' don' intend ta leave. An' don' t'ink I ain't in da know. I know jist exactly how you'se classy folks woik, an' I ain't int'rested in playin' yer games. I'se done enough wit dat as it is." Corrine looked at her brother.

"So she's not exactly from lower class New York City. And you let her live here? In a dump? Worse yet, you fool around with someone of a higher class then you. It's an utter disgrace." Some of the taller, more muscular newsies in the room began to stand up, and move closer to her. Corrine eyed them nervously. When she turned back she found Spot directly in her face.

"Dere's a few t'ings ya need ta know 'round heah," he said in a voice colder than ice, "Foist, Raindrop nevah was one of dem ridiculous rich people dat ya t'ink so much of. Second, I ain't lettin' 'er stay anywheah. She lives heah solely on 'er own decision. Thoid, a place ain't a dump jist cause dere ain't none of yer gold covered foiniture. I kin tell ya right now, dis place means moah ta us den any of da 'ouses all of you'se got put tageddah. An' fin'lly, if anyone heah ever heahs anuddah woid outta yer mouth 'bout me foolin' around wit Raindrop, you'se is gonna regret it fer da rest of yer life." Corrine swallowed hard.

"Are you threatening me?" she asked shakily. Spot smiled dangerously.

"No. It's a promise."

…So we open up a quarrel, between the present and the past. We only sacrifice the future; it's the bitterness that lasts…

Three days later things had only gotten worse. Corrine learned to keep her mouth shut, her snide remarks only slipped out occasionally, but you could tell she was thinking them. Spot was increasingly impossible to live with. His abrupt attitude with Corrine spilled over to his attitude towards the newsies. They, of course, didn't say a word against it. Spot was the leader; he did what he wanted. But it didn't mean they liked it. In short, everyone was cross and had quick tempers. But Spot and Corrine agreed to keep seeing each other, each thinking a good deal more on the memories of their parents and old times than wanting to be with each other. Most the rest of the rest of the newsies couldn't understand why Spot let Corrine come back. Letting a younger, rich girl be rude to him was far beyond usual, excepting even his nasty retorts.

Spot and Raindrop were waiting in the main bunkroom of the Lodging House. Corrine was late, and Spot was annoyed at the prospect of being around her. He sighed heavily.

"Is she gonna show 'r what? I got oddah t'ings ta do taday." Raindrop nodded absently, absorbed in braiding her hair to her satisfaction. Then a door slammed below and hurried footsteps came up the stairs. Corrine opened the door and shivered. Spot raised an eyebrow, and Corrine took off her damp coat.

"It's raining very hard outside," she said, answering his unspoken question.

"Well, put yer coat back on!" Spot retorted, "What makes ya t'inks we'se stayin' inside?" Corrine looked at him in absolute horror.

"You can't be serious! It's terrible out there!" Spot snorted.

"Some of us has t'ings dat we gotta git done, no mattah what da weathah's like. Now put yer coat back on, 'r freeze out dere!"

"That's it!" Corrine seethed. "This is ridiculous! I refuse to be ordered around by a street rat who has no respect for me!" Raindrop looked up and stared at her. Corrine thought a good deal more of herself than was strictly necessary. Spot got up in her face.

"Oh yeah? Den what are ya doin' heah? Cause we shoah don' need yer snobbery in dis joint!" he snapped.

"I don't know," she retorted, "I have no idea why I bothered to come here in the first place! No family is better than having you for a brother!" Raindrop interrupted the two with her own furious comments. She grabbed Corrine's arm and backed her up against the wall.

"What is yer problem? Ya walk in heah actin' like you'se got da woild and we'se jist da rats you'se is trying ta git rid of! All dis family crap. You want yer respect, but how 'bout some fer yer oldah bruddah? You oughta be glad ya even got a bruddah!" She turned to look at Spot as well, "Da both of ya! Ya don' even know what ya got starin' ya in da face!" Corrine turned considerably pale, and Spot stared at her for a moment. Then he pulled her aside.

"Raindrop!" he hissed, "What da heck was dat about? You know why yer bruddah died – it wasn't yer fault, 'r mine, 'r nobody's!" Corrine watched them in surprise as Raindrop and Spot had a short but to-the-point fight – which wasn't exactly usual. Raindrop's eyes widened.

"You think I blame you for that?"

"Yeah, it cointenly sounds like dat! If I was you'se, I'd jist be grateful ya ain't lying dead somewheah, an' be glad dat I was dere."

"Maybe you'se is jist feelin' guilty!"

"Guilty?" Spot exclaimed, "Why should I feel guilty?"

"Oh I dunno," Raindrop snapped, "Dere's da liddle woid called 'moidor'!" Spot grabbed her arm and dragged her across the room. Corrine watched in shock.

Does she mean he murdered her brother?

"Awright, ya listen ta me," Spot hissed. "You know exactly what 'appened, an' why. Don' you dare t'row dat in my face. If yer gonna go on t'inkin' dat way I dunno why I ever boddahed!" Raindrop shook her head, angry and disgusted.

"Ya gotta one of da best t'ings you'se'll evah git, an' yer too stubborn to admit it! Ya kain't even see what ya got! Don' even t'ink 'bout givin' me all dat 'bout not carin' 'bout 'er, I know dat ain't true." She turned on her heel and walked out. She was half way down the stairs when Spot slammed the door at the top of stairs. Hard enough that the bunks shook. He looked at Corrine.

"Ya should jist come back tamorrah," he said. She nodded and quickly left.

…I'm the one who wants to be with you. Deep inside I hope you'll feel it too…

Raindrop leaned against a tall shaft that supported the overhanging roof near the East River docks. The rain had slowed considerably since the downpour Corrine had come through to get to the Lodging House. The drizzle fell in a gloomy pattern, and the sun sank below the clouds, leaving the city in a downcast mood.

I kain't believe what 'appened. I kain't believe how dey treat each uddah. Mebbe I don' adore Corrine, but she's a decent poison. Jiminy, Jonathon wasn't a decent poison, and I'd still love ta have a chance ta see 'im, ta tawk ta 'im again. 'e was me bruddah! Despite everyt'in' dat 'appened at da end, I still remembah da fun we had as kids.

Spot says he loves her. So why does he insist on actin' like dis? Why would anyone treat someone dey love like dis - someone dey hadn't saw in six years; someone dey t'ought was daid. With da way 'e's been actin' ya'd t'ink da only poison 'e cares about is hisself. If dat's what his own sistah means ta 'im, what am I? If everyt'in' in his life is decided on a whim, what does dat make me ta him? I don' know what 'is deal is, but 'e's taken dis all too fah. I know he's upset 'bout dis whole Corrine t'ing, but dat don' mean dat da rest o' us needs ta go t'rough dis crap. He's actin' jist like all dose rumahs 'bout 'im dat go 'round town. Aftah I got ta know 'im I didn' t'ink much of dem, but mebbe I'se wrong. He ain't above lyin' an' cheatin' ta git what 'e wants, I don' know any newsie dat is. So long as he ain't lyin' ta me. But if he ain't who I t'ought 'e was as a poison, den how kin he be da guy dat I t'ought loved me? Spot of da rumahs would do anyt'in' dat woiked in his favah.

…My life has been such a whirlwind since I saw you. I've been running round in circles in my mind…

Spot glanced at his bent and worn poker cards. He dropped them face down on the table.

"Fold," he said idly. The game continued around him while he thought.

Dat was a real mess dis mornin'. I don' know what I'se gonna do. Dis t'ing wit Corrine…

I nevah t'ought I'd see her again. I nevah even let meself t'ink 'bout dat. Ain't no use in wishin' fer da impossible. But it happened. I got me sistah back. She's so diff'rent now. Growin' up wit all dem snobs in Boston. I ain't so shoah I like dis new goil. An'…an' I guess part of me don't want ta get hoit again. It ain't like I ain't thrilled ta see 'er, cause I am. But…T'ings is all diff'rent. She ain't da same, an' neiddah am I. I dunno what good her bein' heah is gonna do. It's causin' trouble wit Raindrop. Dat whole t'ing wit 'er bruddah taday. Dat came outta nowheah. An' I don' know if she's been feelin' dat way since 'er bruddah died, 'r if dis is jist cause Corrine's been heah.

Jiminy, t'ings is so confusin'. Sometimes I kain't tell if I'se goin' up or down.

…Sorry I never told you all I wanted to say. And now it's too late to hold you…

Corrine slowly climbed out of the carriage. She miserably entered her hotel and went to her room, pulling her wet hat and coat off as she went. Carol and George looked up and smiled when she came in. Carol glided over to her young adopted daughter.

"Darling, you're back so soon. Is everything all right?" Corrine turned away.

"I'm fine Mother. I would like to be alone for a while though. I'll be in my room. Please let me know when it's time for luncheon." She continued into her bedroom and sat down on the edge, putting her hands in her face.

Carol looked at her husband.

"I'm not certain this was such a good idea," she told him. George nodded, "Yes, but it's her decision. It isn't our place to stop her." Carol sighed.

"Yes, but look at her! She's only thirteen. It isn't even proper for her to be out alone." George half smiled.

"You know how difficult is it to avert her from what she truly wishes to do."

Corrine took a deep breath and rubbed her eyes.

I don't know what to do. I don't want to just forget my brother again. I love him. I missed him. And I know part of it is my fault. He immediately stereotyped me as a rich snob, and I obliged him. I know I shouldn't have done that. And now it's too late to change his mind, to convince him I'm not who he thinks I am. I just…I can't seem to make myself act naturally when I'm there. It's all so different, and I'm nervous. His world is so different from mine. I never know what will set one of them off. He's only a few years older than me, but he's worlds beyond me. I feel so young and naïve there. I mean, I just found out that my own brother murdered his girlfriend's brother. How does one respond to that? How on earth did they end up together with that between them?
But Raindrop was right. I thought of her as some poor street rat with no values or respect for herself, but she makes sense. I don't understand her reasons for being a newsie…I can't understand how anyone would want to live like that. But she does know what she's talking about. I should've just been grateful to have found my brother again. I know that, but how is it going to help me now? I'm afraid things have gone too far to be fixed.

…Are you gonna tell me that you're okay? You don't need to hear me preach all night and day. Is that what your heart says, hiding in your fortress? It loves to whisper things that we both know…

Raindrop trudged up the steps to the main bunkroom of the Brooklyn Lodging House, dreading every minute of it. If Spot was still in even the slightest bad mood, he'd be all over her, demanding to know where she'd been, what she had been thinking, disappearing like that for hours. He didn't used to act so controlling, but things were different now. It was just typical wariness. She was honestly frightened of him, and that just killed her, not being able to even trust him far enough to be in the same room. He wasn't in the main bunkroom when she opened the door. Cards gestured toward the room she and Spot shared.

"He's in dere," Cards told her, "Waitin' fer ya." She took a deep breath, grateful at least that it wouldn't be in front of the rest of the newsies. If they weren't present she could pretend it never happened; it was better than seeing their pity, and knowing they couldn't do anything about it. She headed towards the room when O'Reilly spoke up.

"Ya know Rain, ya'd be moah den welcome joinin' us an' our game of pokah." Raindrop half smiled.

"T'anks O'Reilly, but maybe anudah time, awright?" O'Reilly nodded slowly, and she continued walking.

Spot looked up when she entered, purposely closing the door. He looked at her for a long moment, and then got up.

What 're ya gonna tell me? She wondered, Are ya gonna tell me dat if I'se evah late like dis again… Or dat you'se is fine, nuthin's wrong? Dat ev'ryt'in' will be jist fine? When are ya gonna realize what's really goin' on? What you're doin' ta yerself, yer sistah, an' da rest of us?

He put his hand on her shoulder and she unintentionally flinched. He slowly pulled his hand back and looked at her for a long time.

"I'se fine," she finally said, anything to break the unbearable silence. He nodded.

" I know."

"What about you?" she asked suddenly. Spot frowned.

"What're ya tawkin' 'bout?" he asked her. She shrugged.

"Ya jist been kinda funny lately. I know t'ing's ain't been dat easy, jist wond'rin' how ya's doin'."

"I'se fine," he said brusquely. She held her hands up.

"Hey, hey, I'se jist askin'." He turned around and pulled off his shoes and shirt, then climbed into bed after blowing the candle, without another word. Raindrop stood alone in the silent room for a few minutes, watching Spot's shadow. She sighed quietly, and got ready for bed in the darkness, too tired to even begin to try to figure out Spot.

Chapter Three

…She's taking her time, making up the reasons to justify all the hurt inside…

Raindrop woke early, just as the sun begin to rise. Spot was still sound asleep. She sat up in bed and looked out the window.

Maybe I'se jist ovah-reactin'. 'e' ain't been dat bad ta live wit. He's jist kinda confused right now, an' I'se been makin' t'ings woise. I shoulda jist left 'im alone fer a liddle while. I'se been ovah-reactin' ovah stuff dat nuthin', he's jist tryin' ta figuah out what's goin' on.

She climbed out of bed and quickly dressed. Spot rolled out of bed just as she started brushing her hair. He came up behind her and took the brush from her. He slowly began running it through her hair, and she watched him cautiously in the mirror. When he saw her tense look in the mirror, his face tightened. He brushed faster, and when he was finished he put the brush back into her hand, and kissed her quickly. Just as abruptly, he put on his shirt, shoes, and left. Raindrop looked at herself in the mirror for a long time before she finally braided her hair and walked out into the large bunkroom. About half the newsies were gone, already off to buy their papers. Tricks joined her and they walked to the Distribution Center, just in time to see Spot leave with his stack. Tricks shot a curious look at Raindrop, but she didn't react.

By mid-afternoon, all of Raindrop's papers were long-since sold. She, Tricks, and many of the other Brooklyn newsies lounged in the Lodging House, impatiently waiting out their prohibition from the docks that the winter weather brought. She was in the middle of playing marbles with Ace and Hawk when the door opened. Everyone looked up, anticipating Spot and a foul mood. Instead, Mush walked in, slightly wary at being in Brooklyn uninvited, but otherwise in good humor. He said hello to Raindrop, and then sat on a bunk with Tricks until their game was over.

"How's t'ings been goin'?" Mush asked him. Tricks shifted uncomfortably and related the events of the past week.

"Basically," he finished, "Spot's been a real joik ta live wit, 'is sistah ain't much bettah, and t'ings have gotten kinda rough on Raindrop wit Spot. Not dat he's dat great ta live wit lately anyhow, but he's woise on her den da rest of us. Or mebbe it jist boddahs 'er moah den anyone else. Hard ta tell anymoah." Mush sighed and nodded.

"Is dere anyt'in' I kin do ta help? Tricks shook his head.

"Nah, dere ain't much anyone kin do. Jist wait fer Spot ta woik it out."

"Oh, an' speakin' of 'is royal high 'n' mighty, wheah is he?"

"I ain't seen 'im since dis mornin', but I'd bet he's wit Corrine." Mush glanced at Raindrop.

"Bad, huh?" Tricks nodded.

"Woise." Mush gave him a considering look.

"Mind if I stay heah fer a couple days? I mean, I don' like ta jist leave Raindrop…" he trailed off. Tricks grinned and said, "Oh yeah, I t'ink dat's a great idea. I know she'd like dat, an' da rest of us could use a new face 'round heah." He jumped off the bunk and sent Deer to Manhattan, to tell the other newsies that Mush would be in Brooklyn for a few days. Not long after, Raindrop, Hawk, and Ace finished their game of marbles. The afternoon was long past and none of them had eaten yet. Tricks suggested they go out for dinner and not bother waiting any longer for Spot. The other four newsies immediately agreed.

"So boys, wheah'll we go tanight?" Raindrop asked as they strolled down the street.

"We could pick up some food from vendors, an den go eat on da Bridge or somewheah," Ace suggested. Raindrop laughed.

"Yeah, an freeze doin' it. Why don' we find a café 'r sumptin'?"

"What?" exclaimed Hawk, "Instead of stealin'? An' miss da opportunity ta show Manhattan what Brooklyn's really like?"

"Not likely!" snorted Tricks, "I ain't runnin' from da bulls all night!"

"Ya bettah not," said a voice from behind them. The five newsies spun around. Spot stood behind the group, with Corrine. They both wore grins, though they were forced. Spot's steadily grew more annoyed as he noticed the members of the group. He supposed that at some level he was jealous of the close friendship between Raindrop and Tricks – the newsie who was his most trusted friend, and the one he had known the longest too. Ace and Hawk's presence didn't please him any more, it irked that they spent more time with his girl than with him, even though it wasn't as if he made himself available. And Mush. He wasn't overly fond of Raindrop's Manhattan friends dropping by all the time, especially this one.

"Hello everyone," Corrine said, trying to be pleasant. Raindrop returned her hello with a small smile, and introduced Mush.

"We was jist goin' fer dinner," she told her.

"Yeah," Hawk joined, "You two got any ideas?"

"Sure," Spot replied easily, "I know jist da place. It's a ways away dough. You guys mind walkin' ta Pierre's?" He grinned in satisfaction when he saw Raindrop's breath catch. Pierre's was their place.

Tricks watched Raindrop closely. He knew exactly what Spot was up to. Spot had a difficult time sharing Raindrop with anyone, and he'd always been somewhat grudging towards Mush. Raindrop hardly reacted though. She tensed slightly, but never said a word when the others agreed to go. She did, however, avoid Spot and Corrine, and dodged Tricks' eyes. She was chasing Hawk for stealing her hat when Mush leaned over to him and asked him what the deal was with Pierre's. Tricks raised an eyebrow.

"Deal? What d'ya mean, 'deal'?" Mush rolled his eyes.

"Oh c'mon. Obviously sumpt'in's up. What's goin' on?" Tricks sighed.

"It's like dis," he said. "Spot's annoyed wit Raindrop, so 'e's takin' us all ta Pierre's ta git back at 'er." Mush looked at him, confused. "Pierre's is dere place, ya know?" Tricks explained, "Jist dem. I kain't count all da times dey's gone tageddah. Spot's fightin' doity." Mush nodded slowly.

"No joke. She awright?" Trick's shrugged and gestured in her direction.

"Looks fine ta me. But den, she don' make da scenes when dere's a lot of people 'round."

Pierre was somewhat surprised to see so many of the newsies at his restaurant for dinner. Especially when it was always just Lissa and Ben together. He seated them in a large table and sent his daughter Maria to wait on them. She took their orders, and reported back to her father.

"It is curious, no?" Pierre asked her. Maria nodded in agreement.

"It is. Who is the girl sitting next to Benjamin? Did something happen between him and Lissa?"

"Oh," Pierre said, "That is Benjamin's sister Corrine, do you remember her? It has been a long time since I saw her last…well before the fire that killed Benjamin's family. We thought she had died in the fire as well, remember?" Maria nodded, "Yes, I remember her now." They watched the seven adolescents for a few more minutes in silence, until Maria finally spoke again.

"She's not the same anymore." Pierre looked at his daughter.

"Neither is he."

The scene was an unusual one, Pierre noted. When the group arrived everyone was tense, forcing smiles and laughter. Benjamin and Corrine were nearly at each other's throats; Lissa bubbled with laughter, but shot angry, hurt glances towards Benjamin when she thought no one was looking. A tall redhead Pierre assumed to be Tricks, Benjamin's best friend, was trying to keep the group in good spirits. The two other Brooklyn newsies were wary, but also seemed exasperated with the situation. The last boy Pierre didn't recognize, but from the way he attempted to distract Lissa from Benjamin he was likely a friend from Manhattan. The evening didn't start off well, but to his surprise they all seemed to relax and enjoy themselves. By the end of their meal, everyone was all smiles. Maria joined him in his watching just before they left.

"That is how it ought to be," Pierre told his black-haired daughter. "A sister and her older brother, friends…not enemies." Maria shook her head.

"No…look at Lissa. One dinner doesn't fix everything." Pierre nodded slowly and sighed.

"I'm afraid you're right."

Raindrop grinned at Hawk as he gave her his hand with a flourish.

"M'lady!" he cried grandly. She accepted it, and stood up. Spot and Corrine were a few feet away, talking. The five others joined them.

"Why don' we take da Bridge home?" Raindrop asked. Spot looked up at her.

"Oh," he said, "I'se walkin' Corrine back ta 'er hotel. Won' be back fer awhile. But you'se kin do whatevah ya want." He pecked her on the cheek and walked away with Corrine in tow, laughing together. Raindrop watched him with a flat expression for a minute or two, and then turned on her heel.

"C'mon, let's git outta heah," Ace said, pulling on her arm. She jerked away from him, and walked a few feet away.

"So nice of ya ta let us do whatevah we want," she muttered to herself, "We didn' wanna do anyt'in' wit'out yer permission, yer royal high 'n' mighty." Tricks slung an arm over her shoulders, and Mush put one around her waist. She smiled wryly at the two.

"Let's go home."

…Something's at the gate and rushing, all the rusty chains of time can't hold it back, memories of our former lives, that we knew…

Spot grinned to himself. The day had unexpectedly turned around, from rotten to a wonderful, comfortable feeling he decided he could get used to quickly.

"Did ya like dinnah?" he asked her. Corrine nodded enthusiastically.

"Oh yes. The food was excellent, and I enjoyed myself very much." Spot laughed suddenly, and Corrine looked at him curiously.

"I jist kain't believe all dis," he explained. "You'se bein' back an' all. It's da dream come true dat was always too wondahful ta even dare hope fer." Corrine agreed with him.

"I know what you mean. Remembering our old lives and spending time with you again are so completely different…and yet not. It's like…" she trailed off, unable to think of the words.

"…comin' home," Spot finished, with a smile. She laughed.

"Exactly."

They stopped in front Corrine's hotel and said goodnight. Spot walked home utterly content.

I ain't been dis happy in I don' know how long. Dis is da way t'ings ought to be, spendin' me life wit me family. If I could jist be livin' back in dat apartment on Lincoln Street wit me parents too. Dat would be da best t'ing in da woild. But den…Corrine is awready more den I evah hoped fer. Jiminy, maybe t'ings is gonna woik out okay aftah all.

He arrived his Lodging House and took the inside steps two at a time up to the main bunkroom. The walk home had been long, and most of the newsies inside were already asleep. He went into his room, and found Raindrop sitting up in bed, wearing the white nightgown she'd recently received from Maria. Her long, dark brown hair cascaded around her shoulders. She rubbed her green eyes sleepily and half-smiled when he walked in. Any other day that sight would have been enough to make him have to fight to keep his cool, she was so beautiful to him.

"I was waitin' fer ya," she said softly, "Ya were gone a long time."

"Corrine's 'otel is poitty deep in Manhattan. Took me awhile ta git home." He sat down on the edge of her bunk, pulling off his shoes and socks. "Oh Raindrop, ya have no idea how wonderful it is ta be wit her. I kain't believe it took me dis long ta figgah it out." He stood up and pulled off his shirt and undershirt. "It's like when I was livin' back wit' me fam'ly. Dere's so much I'se been missin', an' I ain't even known it. It's so good ta be able ta tawk ta someone who knew da same people dat I did, who remembahs da same t'ings dat I do. Dere ain't anyone else in da woild dat I kin tawk ta like dat." He kissed her quickly and distractedly, and after straightening shook his head and smiled to himself. "If me sistah kin come back, den oddahs t'ings can change too. I could really go somewheah. I could git outta dis place." He climbed up to his bunk, and soon fell into a dreamy sleep where his unvoiced fantasies came true.

Raindrop remained sitting in bed, in utter shock. She started blankly across the room, still trying to comprehend what Spot had said.

He could git outta dis place. He could really go somewheah. Is dat what 'e wants? I know dis life ain't da greatest, but I kin handle bein' kinda hungry most of da time, an' not livin' in da nicest, 'r cleanest place in da woild when it means I kin be wit da people I love da most. He's got da best bein' a newsie kin offah; no one is moah repescted or has moah powah. Ain't dat enough fer him? If he had da chance, would he leave us all fer da high-falutin' life? She drew her blanket closer around herself, shivering. Is what he wants more important den what 'e's got?

Chapter Four

Spot woke up extra early, moving about his room with silent feet so he wouldn't rouse Raindrop. He put on clean clothes and made a point of washing his face. He slid his cane through a belt loop on his pants, and shoved his slingshot into a back pocket. He didn't intend on needing it during the day, but trouble had a habit of finding him regardless, and he wasn't going to be at a disadvantage no matter whom he spent the day with. Raindrop sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes just as he ran a brush through his hair and took at last look at himself in the mirror. She frowned sleepily.

"Where're ya goin' so dressed up?"

"Do I need a reason ta look decent?" he countered her, without turning around. Raindrop rolled her eyes.

"Jist a questi'n, ain't nuthin' ta jump on me about."

"I'se spendin' da day wit Corrine, awright?" he retorted. Raindrop rolled her eyes again, this time in disgust. She climbed out of bed and padded across the room. She picked up her brush from her trunk, and was headed to the washstand when Spot caught her around the waist. He pulled her close and began to kiss her, but soon she drew away. He didn't say a word. But he looked at her.

"I need ta git ready, I need ta git dressed," she said awkwardly in response to his silent question. His eyes glittered.

"Raindrop, I'se gonna be gone prolly till late. A few minutes ain't gonna hoit nuthin'." She wrenched free from his grasp, but as she turned he caught her wrist and yanked her back, the brush clattering to the floor. "You get dressed when I say you can, and not a minute before," he hissed, punctuating his words by jerking on her arm. She stepped back awkwardly, off-balance from his steely grip on her wrist. He pulled her close, forcing her to look up at him. He held her there for a few minutes, staring angrily down into her eyes. Then he let go, as abruptly as he had grabbed her. He turned and walked out of the room in complete silence.

Raindrop unsteadily sat down right where she was. She shakily picked up her hairbrush and gripped it in her fist until her knuckles were turning white.

Tricks opened the door to Spot's room some time after Spot had actually left, intending to find out why his selling partner was taking so long to get ready for the day. He jumped when he saw her sitting on the floor in the middle of the room. Her face was as pale as the white nightgown she still wore, and she was shaking. He dropped to his knees beside her.

"Rain, what's wrong? What 'appen'd? Are ya hoit?" She finally looked at him, but wouldn't meet his eyes.

"No, no, I'se fine."

"Ya don' look so 'fine'," he replied. Then an idea occurred to him. His eyes narrowed. "Did Spot do sumpt'in' ta ya?" That got her to look at him.

"No," she said, plainly lying. She tensed visibly at just the mention of Spot. Tricks sighed. She was very capable of ignoring the fact that there was clearly a problem. And even if she did tell him what had happened, it wasn't as if he could do something about it. He sat down on the floor more comfortably and let her lean against him for a while. He put an arm around her shoulders and talked quietly to her, hoping it would work. Calming upset girls didn't exactly fall under his list of expertise…or even experience. And being anywhere with Raindrop was a bit uncomfortable these days. Spot was impossibly jealous, considering he didn't give her the time of day anymore.

"It's awright," he said in what he hoped what a soothing voice. "Jist take a deep breath an' t'ink about sumpt'in' else. Yer okay. I'se right heah, an' Mush is jist da uddah room." A tear or two leaked down her face, but in a few minutes she had calmed down considerably. She moved away from him and looked at her nightgown self-consciously, for the first time realizing what she was wearing. Tricks rolled his eyes and grinned. "You know," he told her, "I'se seen ya in woise den dat. Wet clothes aftah climbin' outta da rivah show lots moah." With a shriek she jumped up and grabbed her pillow and beat him with it.

"Out, out, out!" she shouted. Laughing, he stumbled to his feet and let himself be chased out of the room. Outside, Mush was the only newsie left waiting, and he looked concerned.

"What's goin' on?" he asked Tricks.

"I ain't shoah," Tricks replied. "I went in an' she was jist sitting on da floah in 'er nightgown. Wouldn' tell me nut'in' eithah. All I know is dat Spot's got sumpt'in' ta do wit whatevah it is."

"Couldn' it jist be one of dem goil t'ings?" Mush asked, more hopefully than realistically. Tricks shook his head.

"No. Sumpt'in' 'appened. Jist don' know what." Then Tricks briefly told Mush about Raindrop's state of undress, which amused the Manhattan newsie as well as somewhat appalled him. There were some things that were clearly different in the two boroughs. Before they could continue their conversation much longer, Raindrop joined them.

"Ya look nice," Tricks said cheerfully, "much more appropriate." Then he burst into laughter. Raindrop had a classically annoyed expression on her face.

"Der's sumpt'in' very wrong wit you'se lookin' at me like dat," she informed him. Mush grinned and elbowed Tricks when two bright spots appeared on her cheeks, making the redhead laugh even harder. "Arrgh!" she exclaimed in exasperation, and began hauling the two newsies out the door. "C'mon, if we don' git movin' we ain't gonna git any papes, let alone sell 'em!"

"Well," Mush told her, "we wouldn' be so late if ya hadn' taken so long gittin' dressed." With the emphasis on 'dressed', the two boys doubled up laughing again. Raindrop crossed her arms and tapped her foot on the floor. When they calmed down a bit she asked irritatedly them, "Are ya finished?" which only succeeded in setting them off once again. It was late when they finally managed to get their papes, but the boys had successfully diverted Raindrop's mind from the earlier situation with Spot.

Spot leaned lazily against a wall in the lobby of the hotel Corrine was staying at. He hadn't been able to convince the staff to let him up to see her. It left him quite a bit of time to think, which he wasn't pleased about. The most prominent thing on his mind was the trouble he'd had with Raindrop that morning, and he couldn't push it out of his mind.

I don' know why I jist flipped out on 'er like dat. It ain't like me at all. Don' know what 'er pro'lem was eiddah. She ain't nevah had a pro'lem wit me kissin' 'er b'fore. She ain't nevah acted like dat b'fore at all. But she's been actin' kinda funny lately, when it's jist da two of us. He frowned suddenly. She's been spendin' a lot of 'er time wit some of da oddah boys. Maybe dat's it. Maybe she's gettin' involved wit one of da oddah boys. He sighed in exasperation. He had to be out of his mind, she would never do that. There was no way. He pushed the idea out of his head; Raindrop wasn't like that.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw someone move. He turned and found Corrine coming down the stairs. He smiled broadly.

"Heya Cor," he said cheerfully, forgetting the morning's affairs. She smiled in surprise.

"Hi Ben. What are you doing here? I was just going to meet you in Brooklyn." He shrugged in response, ignoring the use of his real name.

"Didn' feel like waitin'. Hey, I t'ought dat mebbe we could go ta some of da old places we used ta see back when we both lived in Brooklyn. What d'ya t'ink?" Her eyes lit up.

"That would be wonderful," Corrine exclaimed. "I haven't seen any of those old places for years."

"Great!" Spot grinned. "Let's go!"

…Sometimes I wish I could, turn back time. Impossible as it may seem. But I wish I could, so bad…

Spot pointed to a jewelry store across the street.

"Dat's Mistah Taylah's shop. Dat's wheah Pa bought Ma her engagement ring, an' dat gold flowah necklace dat ya get fer yer sixth boithday." Corrine looked at her brother in surprise.

"You remember things like that?" Spot shrugged.

"Some of it. Uddah stuff Mistah Taylah's told me." Corrine was more surprised yet.

"You still talk to these people?"

"Yeah, shoah," Spot said. "When I gots da occasion. Like awhile back, I bought Raindrop dis ring. Mistah Taylah gave it ta me fer free, I jist had ta pay fer da writin' on it. Tawked ta him fer awhile den. An' Pierre, I see him all da time." Corrine shook her head.

"I don't remember any of these people or anything," she said regretfully.

"Well, c'mon," Spot said. "I know one place dat you kain't have fergotten." He took her arm and led her down numerous streets. At last he turned a corner and stopped dead on the sidewalk. They stared at the burnt structure between two apartment buildings. The old lot was littered with beer bottles, and overgrown weeds. The building itself was lacking the top half of the floors. The horror from six years earlier was suddenly very fresh in their minds. Spot swallowed hard. He hadn't imagined it would still be so shocking to see. Corrine's mouth fell open.

"I…I forgot how awful…" she trailed off.

"C'mon," Spot said. He turned around and walked away from Lincoln Street and the burnt apartment building. They walked away slowly, in silence. Spot picked out a cheap restaurant and they had dinner together. Corrine shook her head slowly.

"That was unbelievable." Spot grunted in agreement.

"Yeah, I know. Dat ain't what I expected." Corrine frowned.

"You've stayed in touch with all these people from our past. Hadn't you seen the old apartment as well?" He shook his head.

"No. I nevah went dere, cause…well, I jist didn'."

At last, however, they fell to talking about the happier memories they shared, and before long darkness had fallen over the city. Spot looked out the restaurant window thoughtfully.

"I really enjoyed taday," he told Corrine. She nodded.

"Me too, Ben." The waiter came by and left their bill. Corrine immediately began digging in her purse.

"Hey, hey, hey," Spot exclaimed. "What d'ya t'ink yer doin'!" Corrine looked at him flatly.

"I'm paying for dinner, what do you think I'm doing?"

"Ridiculous!" Spot scoffed. "Ya kain't do dat."

"I most certainly can," Corrine replied. "Be reasonable, Ben. I have more money at the tips of my fingers than you do in five years. You didn't work at all today either. It's only sensible that I pay for dinner."

"I can afford it," Spot insisted. Corrine raised an eyebrow at him.

"Perhaps. But it would hurt you more than it would me. One dinner is nothing to me. Don't be stubborn about your 'manly duty'." Spot didn't reply. He knew she was right, but he didn't want to admit it.

"Good," Corrine said. "I didn't want to spend all evening arguing over that. I'm tired, and I imagine you'd like to get home and see your girl." At the sudden reference to Raindrop Spot's face clouded over. "What?" Corrine asked. "What's wrong?" Spot shook his head.

"Had an argument of soahts dis moinin'. Don' worry 'bout it, it ain't nuthin' important." Corrine left the tip on the table and they stood up. They walked back to Manhattan slowly, mostly silent. When they arrived at Corrine's hotel Spot said goodnight and set back out to go home.

He took his time getting back to Brooklyn, thinking a lot about what could have been and wasn't. When he finally arrived at the Brooklyn Lodging House the bitter winter wind had chilled him through. He hurried upstairs to find only a few newsies still awake. Raindrop was sound asleep in their room.

Chapter Five

Spot woke up early, and in a better mood that he had in quite awhile. As he finished getting dressed he turned around and saw Raindrop sitting up in bed, watching him. He raised an eyebrow.

"You gettin' up?"

"Jist waitin' fer yer permission," she said nonchalantly, but the words hit home.

"Grow up," Spot muttered. He didn't want to think about that aspect of yesterday.

"Is dat permission?" Raindrop asked him with wide eyes and a slight air of feigned innocence. She knew she was only provoking him, but after the day before, she didn't care. He was not going to get away with hurting her and pretending like nothing happened.

"You should know bettah dan ta tawk to da leadah of Brooklyn like dat," Spot informed her arrogantly.

"Oh, get ovah yerself!" Raindrop snapped, losing her temper. "I'se sick an' tired of yer high 'n' mighty opinion of yerself. Trying actin' a liddle less hoity-toity an' moah human an' ya might find yerself getting' along bettah in life."

"I'se gettin' along jist fine!" Spot retorted. "I got what I need an' moah."

"Yeah, of course," Raindrop snorted. "Dat's why ya kain't speak two civil woids ta yer own sistah, an' ya don' treat me much bettah!" She jumped off her bed and walked out of the room. In the larger bunkroom the rest of the newsies were just beginning to wake up. Raindrop stomped into the washroom and splashed water all over her face. She stayed inside there for several minutes, trying to regain control of her temper. Spot was angrily waiting for her when she came back out. She stopped when she saw him and pretended to be very upset and apologetic.

"I'se so sawry, I nevah stopped ta ask ya fer yer permission ta leave da room. Please fergive me, great 'n' wondahful Spot Conlon," she exclaimed dramatically. Every newsie in the room stared at her. She faltered slightly when she saw the dangerous light in his eyes, but by then it was quite beyond too late to do anything about it. He grabbed her arm with a steel grip and began walking back to his room. Raindrop lost her balance and fell, but Spot hauled her back to her feet by her arm and dragged her to their bedroom door. He shoved her hard and she reeled into the room. Spot slammed the door behind her and locked her in with his key.

"You'll be sawry fer dis!" Raindrop yelled through the door.

"NOT LIKELY!" Spot roared back at her. At that point Mush jumped off his bed and headed towards Spot. By his set expression everyone knew that he intended to do all the damage he could to Spot before Spot knocked him out. Spot stood and waited for Mush's approach with a twisted smirk on his face.

"Brooklyn ain't ta yer likin'?" he mocked. Then he hit Mush in the jaw, which sent him staggering backwards. "Get out," Spot hissed. "Now." Then he turned and calmly walked out the room.

A little while after Spot left, Tricks walked over to the locked door Raindrop was behind and knocked softly on the door.

"'e's gone," he said quietly. Then he turned back to the rest of the newsies. Mush was still standing in the middle of the room in shock. The Brooklyn newsies were giving him a wide berth. They held no grudge against the Manhattan newsie, but it was usually best to avoid anything Spot considered trouble. Tricks went to the washroom and got Mush a cold washcloth to put on his face where Spot had struck him. Then he packed up the few things Mush had brought with him.

"Not ta say we hold anyt'in' against ya," Tricks told him, "but Spot gits what he wants, an' right now he wants you'se outta heah. I don' blame ya fer tryin' ta deck 'im dough. Dis keeps up much longah I may be tempted ta do it meself." Then he paused and looked around the room. "An' I don' care who knows it." At that moment the main door opened and half the newsies flinched, expecting Spot to storm back in. Instead, it was Raindrop. After getting dressed and waiting for the clear from Tricks, she had climbed out the window onto the fire escape and back into the Lodging House. She walked over to Mush, ignoring the watchful stares of the other newsies, and moved his hand so she could see his jaw. She winced as she looked at it.

"Ya shouldn' have done dat, Mush," she told him, but there was no anger in her voice. "Ya went and set him off. He won't likely let ya come back." Tricks raised an eyebrow.

"Mush set him off?" A few of the newsies laughed a little. "My dear, I doubt dat it was all Mush's doin'." Raindrop looked at Tricks wryly.

"Ya t'ink?"

…My outside looks cool, my insides are blue. Every time I think I'm through it's because of you. I've tried different ways but it's all the same. At the end of the day I have myself to blame. Could be I'm trippin'…

After helping Mush get ready to leave, Raindrop said goodbye to him and he left for Manhattan. The rest of the newsies went to pick up their papes and start selling. Tricks and Raindrop were the only people left in the Lodging House.

"Now what?" Tricks asked Raindrop. She shrugged.

"Beats me." She sighed. "Oughta go sell some papes, but I ain't up ta it taday."

"Then we won't," Tricks told her. She gave him an odd look. "We kin jist stay heah," he explained. "Aftah dis mornin' I t'ink ya desoive a day off."

"Awright," Raindrop replied. She lay down on a nearby bunk. Tricks took the one across from her and they talked for a long time.

"He's gonna be real mad when 'e gets back tanight," Tricks commented. Raindrop sighed heavily.

"Yeah. I know."

"Raindrop," Tricks said, and sat up to get a good look at her, "why'd ya do dat, huh? Why'd ya do dat? Dat was really dumb."

"Yeah," Raindrop breathed. "I know." But she didn't answer his question. "Jiminy," she muttered, "what's wrong wit me anyways?" She rolled over and buried her face in the pillow. Tricks got up and sat down on the floor beside her bunk.

"Hey, hey," he said, "don' git on yerself. Dis ain't yer fault." Raindrop didn't reply. Tricks turned and leaned against the bunk, slouching down far enough that he could rest his head on the mattress. Raindrop turned over and played with his hair a little.

"Why ya so good ta me Tricks?" she asked him. "Why ya always so good?" Tricks turned his head slightly so he could see her, and he half-smiled. Raindrop sighed and stared at the ceiling. "I kain't take much moah of dis. It's da calm b'fore da storm breaks, an' I don' wanna be around fer da storm cause it ain't gonna be fun." Tricks didn't say anything. Finally Raindrop sat up and got off the bunk. "I'se goin' out fer awhile," she told Tricks.

"Awright," he replied, and watched her leave. He shook his head slowly. He wasn't sure what was coming next, but he had a feeling Raindrop was right: whatever came, it was going to be a disaster.

Sometime after dinner, Raindrop walked towards the docks slowly. She hardly noticed the icy wind. She turned a corner, and someone fell in step with her. She stopped suddenly and looked at the boy she didn't recognize.

"Who're you?" she asked cautiously. It wasn't terribly safe to be out alone at night in Brooklyn. There were people that even the Brooklyn newsies avoided.

The boy smiled crookedly and he had a few teeth missing. But he spit in his hand and held it out to her. She took that as a good sign. She spit in her own and they shook.

"Me name's Slick Fingahs, on account of me skill at pickpocketin'," he told her.

"I'se Raindrop," she told him.

"Oh, really?" Slick asked her. "Da Raindrop dat's seein' Spot Conlon hisself?"

"The one an' only," she replied. "How did ya know dat? I ain't seen ya b'fore, wheah ya from?"

"Oh, I'se hoid da woid on da streets. I'se from a ways off, ain't been ta Brooklyn in a long time. Dat's why ya ain't hoid of me b'fore."

"Den ya used ta live heah?" Raindrop asked him. "Ya know Spot?" Slick nodded slowly.

"Yeah, I'se met 'im. Been yeahs dough." He gave her an odd look. "He 'round anywheah? Ain't like 'im ta jist go off 'n' leave his goil by demselves."

"Oh," Raindrop said carelessly, "he's off wit an old friend tanight." She did not want to tell this Slick Fingers too much. There was something vaguely sneaky about him that she didn't trust.

"Old friend?" Slick picked up on. "What's 'is name? Might know 'im."

"Her," Raindrop corrected. "Corrine". Slick gave her a very surprised look.

"Corrine-'is-sistah?" Raindrop looked at him warily.

"Yeah. How'd ya know dat?" Slick grinned.

"Told ya I knew 'im yeahs ago." Then he frowned. "T'ought da goil died dough." Raindrop shrugged.

"'pparently not." They began walking again.

"So what're ya doin' out by yerself dis time of night?"

…Little darling, I feel that ice is slowly melting. Little darling, it seems like years since it's been clear…

As the day wore on Spot pushed the ordeal with Raindrop out of his head. He and Corrine wandered around New York City, just enjoying them selves. As the afternoon passed, Spot turned his thoughts to dinner.

"Ya wanna stop an' git a bite?" he asked Corrine.

"Actually," she said, "I told Mother…ah, that is, I told Carol," she said, changing her reference to her adopted mother when she saw the look on Spot's face, "that I would be home to dine with them this evening."

"Oh," Spot said. "Well, okay.

"Why don't you join us?" Corrine asked suddenly.

"What?" Spot asked her.

"Yes, why don't you join us for dinner, Ben?" Corrine invited. "We would love to have you. Mother and Father have told me so." When Spot flinched, she sighed. "I have to call them that, Ben. Legally, they are my parents now."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he muttered.

"So will you come?" she asked him.

"Yeah," he said, "shoah."

They walked to Manhattan in silence, Corrine cheerfully, but Spot in a less light-hearted mood, once he began thinking about what he had just agreed to.

What am I gettin' meself inta? Dere ain't no way I kin pull off a whole dinnah wit dose people. I dunno anyt'in' 'bout how ta act wit dem classy folks. An' dey's has got ta be da ones dat knew me when I'se liddle, da ones da raised me sistah into da poifect liddle woman. Dey kin t'ink what dey want of me, but it'll upset Corrine. He sighed and Corrine looked at him, smiling.

"It'll go fine," she told him. "They're not expecting you to be perfect, don't worry about it." Spot laughed.

"Me? Worried? I'se Spot Conlon. Dere ain't nuthin' in da woild I'se scared of." Corrine raised an eyebrow.

"I'm a Conlon too, Ben. Say whatever you wish, I'm not an idiot." Spot raised an eyebrow at her, but didn't reply.

They walked to Corrine's hotel, and Spot hesitated outside the doors. He wiped his suddenly sweaty hands on his shirt, took a deep breath, and held the door open for his sister. They walked inside, and Spot suddenly felt more uncomfortable than he had in years. The fact that he had been to the hotel before was of no consequence, he wasn't about to meet his sister's parents then. He was acutely aware of his ragged appearance, and felt dirty in the midst of so many high-class people. Corrine stepped past him, and embraced a couple on the other side of the room.

"Mother," she said smiling, as Spot joined them, "This is my brother Ben." Carol Williamson smiled at the teenage boy.

"It is so wonderful to see you again, Ben. George and I have thought and prayed for you often. It is such a relief to know that you're still alive." Spot smiled uncomfortably.

"Yeah, I wanted ta t'ank ya fer takin' care of me sistah an' all." George stepped forward and offered Spot his hand. Spot shook it uncertainly.

"It has been our pleasure to have her as a daughter." The four then left the hotel, and got into the Williamson's waiting carriage. The driver took them to one of the classier restaurants in New York City. While the couple engaged in a quiet conversation, Corrine elbowed her brother.

"Well," she asked, "what do you think?" Spot grinned.

"Shoah beats walkin'." Corrine rolled her eyes.

"About them! What you do think about them?" Spot nodded slowly.

"Yeah, dey seem awright."

Chapter Six

…If what you want is what you're not, better stick with what you've got...

Spot leaned back in his chair and took a long drink of water. He had easily become relaxed with the Williamson's, and was enjoying himself more than he had in quite awhile.

"So, Benjamin," Mrs. Williamson said, "What exactly is it that you're doing now?"

"Well," Spot said with some pride, "I'se da leadah of da Brooklyn newsies."

"And this is a position of some importance?" she asked him, and smiled slightly. "I'm afraid I don't know much about that particular profession."

"Yeah, actually," Spot said. "See, dere's newsies from each part of da city, an' dey's each got a leadah, mostly jist ta keep t'ings undah control. Plus, some of da areas got rivals, an' a leadah kin keep t'ings tageddah." George frowned.

"You mean like a gang?" Spot caught the disapproving tone in Mr. Williamson's voice, and quickly sought to explain himself.

"It ain't a gang, we's jist a group of boys – well, an' Raindrop, an' we sell papes. But ev'ry group's gotta have someone in charge, an' in Brooklyn, dat's me. I kin also tell ya dat me boys is da best at da whole t'ing. Day kin sell like anyt'in'. I ain't gonna lie ta ya neither, Mistah Williamson, we fight too. Dat's paht of da life. But dere ain't no one dat kin whip Brooklyn." The Williamsons were listening with a genuine interest.

"So," Carol said, "Who's this Raindrop that you mentioned? What an odd name."

"Oh," Spot said, "See, we all gots nicknames. I'se Spot Conlon. Some of da oddah boys is named Tricks, Edge, O'Reilly, an' Cards. Da nicknames keep da bulls off our backs."

"'Raindrop' is an odd name, nonetheless," Carol commented.

"Well, dat's da t'ing," Spot said. "'Raindrop' is jist a nickname too, da only diff'rence is dat Raindrop ain't a boy. Her real name's Lissa Allen." Carol's eyes widened.

"A female?"

"It ain't dat big of a deal," Spot defended.

"Lissa is his girl," Corrine interjected. The group fell silent. Spot began to feel uncomfortable again. These people acted as if he were a criminal and it was a sin to date Raindrop. The Williamsons glanced to each other and seemed to agree on something.

"You know," George began, "we were talking a few days ago about you Benjamin." Spot raised an eyebrow.

"We thought long and hard about it," Carol told him. "And we decided that we truly want you to join us in Boston." Spot frowned.

"Dat's real nice of ya," he said uncomfortably, "but I kain't jist skip town fer awhile. I got t'ings I gotta do 'round heah. Money don' jist appeah in me pocket when I want it to."

"You misunderstand," George said. "We're not asking you to visit us. We're inviting you to have the same opportunities as Corrine."

"What are ya sayin'?" Spot asked carefully.

"We want to give you the life your parents would've wanted for you. Join us in Boston. You can have everything you've ever wanted. An education, a home, a family. You don't have to live on the streets anymore. You can make something of yourself."

"You want me ta come live wit you'se?" Spot asked in shock. Carol smiled.

"We want you to be our son."

"I…I don' know what ta say. Dis is unbelievable."

"What do you say?" Corrine asked eagerly. Her mother touched her arm and silenced her.

"Give him time to think, dear. This is a big step, either way he chooses. He deserves a chance to consider all his options."

"Oh Mother!" Corrine exclaimed. "You are so impossible. Of course he's going to come with us. This is the best thing to ever happen to him."

Is it? Spot thought to himself. Is it really da best t'ing ta happen ta me? It's great awright, but da best t'ing? It ain't like I'se dreamed of dis ev'ry night of me life. What really mattahs ta me? …Raindrop…Raindrop mattahs ta me. But does she mattah enough? Maybe dere's some t'ings in life dat are moah important dan lovin' someone. I loved me family, an' dat didn' stop dem from dyin'. Raindrop means da woild ta me, but she ain't never gonna git me anywheah in life. An' what happens latah? I kian't be a newsie ferevah. If she means da most ta me, how kin I stay an' know dat da best I kin give 'er is what she's got right now? It ain't much of a life neithah. If I go ta Boston, I kin be whatevah I want. I kin become someone. But den…ain't I someone awready? Ain't I da most respected newsie in da city? Maybe I ain't got much, but I don' need dat much anyway. I awready proved meself ta da woild once; I don' need ta do it again.

"Well?" Corrine asked him impatiently. Spot slowly looked up at her, at all of them.

"Dis is da most incredible t'ing ta ever happen ta me. Of all dat I evah wanted, I ain't even dreamed 'bout dis."

"But?" Corrine prompted, her face falling. Spot shook his head.

"I ain't shoah. Dis is lots ta take at once. I know dat you'se would do a lot fer me. But, in me own way, I'se awready made somet'in' of meself. I'se bettah off dan anyone else I know. On da oddah hand, yer offahin' me da best da dere is. Dat ain't jist somet'in' ta shrug off."

But what about all dat I'se awready got?

Spot sighed and looked at the Williamsons.

"I t'ank ya fer yer offah, but I kain't give up so much…even if it's fer moah." George nodded slowly.

"I think I know what you mean, son."

"I really do appreciate it," Spot told him. Carol smiled at him.

"Ben, in case you ever do change your mind, please know that we would love to have you. You can always come to us if you're in trouble, or if you need us." Spot smiled back at them.

"T'anks."

But was dat da right decision?

Spot walked across the Brooklyn Bridge slowly. After the Williamson's offer dinner continued smoothly. He regretted giving up the chance at a wonderful opportunity, but he couldn't leave New York City. At least, he thought so. There was another part of his mind that chided himself for not seizing the opportunity when he had it.

But da offah still stands, he reminded himself. Dey said anytime.

As he passed the docks he was drawn out of his deep thought by the sight of two figures. He stopped suddenly, squinting.

Hey, he realized, dat's Raindrop. What's she doin' out heah so late? An' who's dat guy wit 'er?

As he turned and walked toward the two, the boy appeared to have seen Spot. The boy moved closer to Raindrop, and Spot's pace quickened. He was still several yards away when the boy grabbed Raindrop and began kissing her. Curiosity and suspicion instantly erupted into total anger.

Slick Fingers smiled to himself as he watched Spot walk closer to himself and Raindrop. He knew it would only be a matter of time until Conlon showed up. Slick moved closer to Raindrop and abruptly grabbed her. He held her tightly and began to kiss her mercilessly.

Raindrop reeled, but she couldn't shake herself free from Slick's grasp. Suddenly someone appeared and yanked Slick backwards. Slick's grip on her was so tight Raindrop fell to the ground as well. The figure she soon recognized as Spot bent down and pulled Slick to his feet.

"I told ya ta nevah show yer face heah again," he hissed, with more anger than she had heard in his voice before. He threw him back to the ground. "Dis," he said roughly, "is fer Raindrop." Then he fell to the ground and began punching Slick. Raindrop gasped, and scrambled out of the way. She shakily stood up and leaned against a large post, near the water's edge. She watched in absolute shock and horror as Spot proceeded to thoroughly soak Slick Fingers. While he did, two more newsies appeared. When Spot finally finished he yanked Slick back up to his feet. Then he threw him at the two other newsies. Slick fell at their feet. O'Reilly and Cards hauled Slick back to his feet.

"An' dis is fer showin' yer face in Brooklyn," Spot said coldly. The two other newsies dragged Slick away and disappeared down an alley.

…Manipulated romance…Pretty speeches in the dark…Banging on your big drum…You captivate their hearts…But underneath the mask, is a man of straw. A master of excuses, closing every door…

Spot turned back to Raindrop; first hugging her, then checking to see if she was okay.

"T'ank goodness I got heah when I did," he muttered. Raindrop raised an eyebrow at him.

"Don' ya t'ink dat was a liddle harsh?" she asked him. Spot stopped dead and stared at her.

"Da soakin'? Harsh? You t'ink dat was harsh? Let me tell ya right now, dat boy got ev'ry'tin' he desoived. No one touches what's mine an' gets away wit it, I don' care who it is. Dey t'ink dey kin get away wit foolin' wit what's mine an' dey's got anuddah t'ing comin'." Raindrop stared back at him, a mixture of shock, hurt, and anger overwhelming her. "Coise," Spot continued, "dere's also da mattah of who he is. Dat boy…his name ain't Slick Fingahs jist cause he's good at pickpocketin', he's developed some uddah talents as well. He's gettin' off easy as far as dat goes. He's also one of da boys dat went wit Undahhan' when he left fer Jersey. Dey ain't welcome heah."

"Is dat all I am to you'se?" Raindrop whispered in shock, oblivious to everyting else Spot had said. "A possesion? Ya know, yer really on da top of me list," she hissed. "I don' t'ink I'se evah met anyone dat's as self-centahed an' conceited as you'se. I am a person, Spot. A person. Ya kain't jist treat me like an' object. I'se got feelin's too, ya know. In fact," she exclaimed irrationally, "as far as I'se concoined, Slick's a much better person den you are." Then she stopped. The look of rage on Spot's face was incomparable. She'd obviously pushed him over the edge this time.

"Oh yeah?" he whispered dangerously. His eyes were flashing, but his voice and body were smooth and unwavering. "Yeah? Ya t'ink so, huh? I kin tell ya right now, dere's one t'ing I kin do dat Slick kain't even come close to." He stepped closer to her and gripped her arms. Then he tilted his face down and began kissing her. First roughly, stopping her from being able to turn away and letting some of his anger out. Then, after awhile, she stopped struggling and Spot concentrated on the kiss. It wasn't long before he got a whole-hearted response from Raindrop. He lessened his grip on her arms and she slowly slid them around his neck while he wrapped his arms around her. Finally he pulled away and released her abruptly. Raindrop tripped backwards a few steps and stared at Spot. He stood in front of her, smirking.

…I see you, the only one who knew me, and now your eyes see through me. I guess I was wrong…

Raindrop stepped away from Spot in complete euphoria. Her anger had disappeared while he kissed her and she had forgotten everything except how good it felt to be with him. Then she caught a look at his face. He smirked at her with the most self-satisfied, arrogant expression she'd seen in her life, and it suddenly dawned on her what he had done. She wiped her mouth on her sleeve and looked at Spot for a long moment. He stared back at her with the same intensity. Then she turned around and walked away. The only sounds were the river lapping softly on the bank and Raindrop's steps retreating into the dark night.

Tricks stepped out of the shadow he had been hidden in and Spot turned around to look at him.

"Dat ain't gonna help fix t'ings," Tricks commented. Spot raised an eyebrow and snorted.

"It wasn't supposed ta." Tricks left the edge of the building and walked closer to the Brooklyn leader.

"You know," he said quietly, "you'se got some real noive." Spot tilted his head and shot Tricks a look that dared him to keep talking. This time, however, Tricks didn't back down.

"I gotta tell ya Spot," Tricks said, "I don' care how mad ya got at her fer whatevah, what ya did ta her was wrong. Usin' people and messin' wit' deir feelin's ain't right." Spot rolled his eyes in disgust.

"What would someone like you'se know about anyt'in'?" he asked Tricks.

"I know plenty," Tricks snapped. "I ain't blind. I'se seen how you'se been treatin' Rain, an' it ain't right. Ya ain't been any bettah ta yer own newsies. Ya know, ya tawk all about how yer da leadah and all, but you ain't been much of a leadah lately. Ya been treatin' us all like we ain't woith yer time of day, an' I'se sick of it. We all are." Spot closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, they were blazing.

"I don' care what you'se t'ink. You'se ain't in chahge, an' dat makes all diff'rence, don't it? So you kin jist close yer mouth an' keep it shut till I ask fer yer opinion. An' as far as Raindrop goes," he snorted, "what diff'rence does it make if I have a liddle fun wit her?" Tricks stared at him for a moment, and then swung back and slugged Spot in the eye. Spot staggered backwards a few steps, and then flew back at Tricks, first punching him in the jaw and then hitting Tricks with his cane. After a few minutes he stopped. Tricks had collapsed on the dock but was still glowering at him. Spot turned around and walked away without a word.

…Where you gonna hide when it all comes down? Don't look back, don't ever turn around…

Raindrop walked around Brooklyn for a long time, completely wooden. After awhile she was exhausted and she stopped in a park, sitting down against a tree. Then, another shadow fell across the grass. Raindrop looked up and saw a boy standing nearby.

"Hey Rain," a low voice said to her.

"Hey," she said softly. The boy moved more into the moonlight, standing in front of her.

"Oh, Tricks," she exclaimed when she saw his face, "what happened ta ya?" Tricks touched the blood that was still slowly tickling from the side of his mouth.

"Ain't a big deal. Me 'n' Spot got inta a fight."

"A fight?" Raindrop asked him. "Oh no, not ovah me..." Tricks didn't answer. Raindrop sighed. "It was, obviously. How did ya know?" Tricks laughed sharply.

"Ya t'ink yer off by yerself all da time? Dere's always a newsie nearby, if Spot ain't wit ya. Anyhow, I saw ev'ryt'in', an' dere wasn't no way I'se gonna jist stand dere an' watch him do dat wit no comment. He jist didn' like what I had ta say." Raindrop didn't say anything for a long time and Tricks sat down beside her.

"Arrgh!" she finally exclaimed, clenching her fists. "How could he do dat? I hate him Tricks, oh, I hate him so much." Tricks slowly put his arms around her and let her lean on him. Tears slowly leaked down her cheeks until she was sobbing. After she finally stopped crying, they sat in silence for a long time.

"Now what?" Tricks finally asked her. Raindrop laughed bitterly.

"Well, it's obvious dat I kain't stay in Brooklyn."

"What?" Tricks exclaimed. "Raindrop, I know ya ain't happy wit him, but ya kin jist stay in da bunkroom wit da rest of us." Raindrop shook her head.

"No, Tricks. I ain't goin' back dere."

"Manhattan, den," Tricks said. "Awright. I kin still see ya den, it ain't dat far." She looked at him sadly.

"No. No, I'm done wit dis whole business."

"What d'ya mean?" he asked her.

"I'm goin' ta me sistah's house," she told him. "I don' wanna be a newsie anymoah." Tricks looked at her, surprised, but didn't argue.

"Awright," he finally said. "Ya want me ta walk ya dere?" Raindrop shook her head.

"I'll be awright," she told him. He nodded slowly.

"Okay." Then he paused. "Rain, what should I tell Spot?" She shrugged.

"I don' care. I nevah want ta see him again."

She stood up off the cold ground and headed out of the park, walking towards Manhattan. Tricks watched her slowly disappear in the darkness.

Chapter Seven

…Was it just a dream? Or did we just go through the motion? I admit that I did my bit to believe you, but sometimes I was afraid… Now I have always been strong, so I know that I can go on. But right now I feel so dead inside…Was it just a dream? Did I feel your devotion? Dreams are never what they seem. Did we just go through the motion?…

Raindrop pounded on the door of Beverly's apartment and waited. It was several minutes before she saw the glow of a light from beneath the crack between the door and the floor. Beverly opened the door and stared at her sister in shock. Lissa stood in her dirty newsie clothes and tangled hair. Beverly hurriedly ushered her younger sister into her home and took her to the kitchen. Beverly lit some more lamps and began heating some water on the stove to make hot chocolate. She sat down and got a good look at her sister. Her eyes were red and there were dried tear streaks on her cheeks.

"Come with me, Lissy," she said to her, and led Lissa to her bedroom. She found a nightgown for Lissa to wear, as well as a robe to put over it. Beverly pointed her to the bathroom and left her to change clothes. Beverly waited in the kitchen, wondering what had happened to her sister to make her come to show up in the middle of the night. She hadn't seen Lissa in months. Since she had insisted on running around New York City with the rest of the street rats, they had seen eye to eye on next to nothing.

Raindrop returned to the kitchen hesitantly, unsure what to tell her sister.

"I left my clothes in the bathroom," she told Beverly. "Um," she said after Beverly had sat her down and handed her a cup of cocoa, "I'm really sorry for coming so late at night, but I didn't know where else to go."

"It's fine," her sister assured her. "Lissy," she started, but Raindrop cut her off.

"Please don't ask me any questions, Bev. Not tonight. I'll tell you tomorrow." Beverly nodded. "Um," Raindrop hesitated, "would it be okay if I stayed with you, here?" Her sister smiled.

"You know you're always welcome to visit, Lissa."

"No," Raindrop replied. "I want to stay here. Permanently." Beverly looked at her in surprise.

"Really?" Then she smiled. "Oh, Lissy, I would love that!" Raindrop smiled back at her briefly.

"Would you mind going to bed now?" she asked Beverly. Her sister smiled again and laughed.

"Of course not." Beverly led Raindrop to the spare bedroom and made sure she had enough blankets to keep warm. Raindrop climbed into the bed after Beverly left and stared at the dark ceiling. Then she sighed, rolled over, and fell asleep.

Raindrop eagerly ate the breakfast Beverly cooked for her, and asked what her sister had been doing since she'd seen her last.

"As Winston's widow, I received all the money he had had after he was discovered dead in an alley – and it's plenty for me to live quite nicely if you hadn't noticed," Beverly told Raindrop. "I found this apartment – and it cost a pretty penny, you can tell – and then I got busy putting my life back together. As you can imagine, I found myself back in social circles almost immediately, and now I'm mostly occupied with parties and other engagements. Oh, and Lissy, just wait until you meet Derek Whitman!" she bubbled. "He's my fiancé, and you won't find a more perfect gentleman. I'll have to have a few close friends over in the next few days so that they can meet you. Oh, I just know you'll love everyone. Especially Derek. I can hardly wait to show you off!" Raindrop smiled uneasily.

"That's really great, Bev," she said, "but you know I'm not really the kind of girl to show off." Beverly laughed.

"Oh, you are too cute, Lissy. Just wait until I get you cleaned up and in some nice, new clothes. There won't be a prettier young lady in New York City, and everyone will know it.

"Now," Beverly said, "do you want to tell me why you're here at all?" Raindrop sighed.

"I don't know what happened. Things have just spun out of control. Being a newsie isn't all I expected it to be, and I can't do it anymore." Beverly looked at her younger sister.

"What did he do?" she asked Lissa.

"What?" her sister replied.

"Your precious newsboy," Beverly said. "What did he do?"

"Since when is this about him?" Lissa demanded. Beverly laughed at her.

"Lissy, you've been traipsing around New York City for months as a newsie without any complaint. You fought me desperately to remain a newsie. And one night you suddenly appear on my doorstep and declare you're never going back. You can't tell me this isn't about a man." Lissa sighed.

"Okay, so it is. Please don't insist on knowing all the details, Bev. He wasn't who I thought it was, and be content with that."

"Fair enough," Beverly agreed. "It's all in the past now."

The next few days passed uneventfully. Beverly was delighted to have her sister to take care of and fuss over. Lissa would have ordinarily found the entire ordeal too much to take, but she was determined to forget everything that had happened to her as a newsie. She put on as cheerful a face as she could manage, and set about her new life.

Tricks leaned back on his bunk and watched the other newsies while he thought. The Lodging House seemed very empty without Raindrop, though there were plenty of newsies around and she had only been gone for a few days. He had to admit the dark-haired girl meant more to him than he usually let anyone know.

Meanwhile, the atmosphere in Brooklyn was steadily growing tenser. The night Raindrop left, a couple of the Brooklyn newsies asked Spot what was going on. Spot had only scoffed that Raindrop was being ridiculous and would probably return in a few days. The newsies had then cornered Tricks when Spot was out with Corrine, and made him tell them what was going on. Tricks told them what happened, and none of the boys liked what they heard. Circumstances with Spot didn't improve when he was then constantly on edge and snapping at everyone. Spot had already provoked two fistfights, and the newsboys were sullen enough that another might break out at any time. Tricks hadn't seen Spot in this bad of a mood in a very long time. Not since the last fight Spot and Raindrop had, and even that seemed friendly compared to this. The only relief any of them got was when Spot went out somewhere with Corrine. He acted like the perfect gentleman when he was with her. It also gave the newsies some time without him, which was greatly appreciated.

Tricks sighed and rolled a marble between his fingers. He missed Raindrop.

Lissa stood outside of the Brooklyn Newsboys Lodging House. She smoothed her dress down beneath her new winter coat and half-smiled to herself. It felt very odd to be there, dressed like she was. She brought her mind back to the reason she was there. She took a deep breath, and walked in and up the stairs of the Lodging House. She tried to open the door to Spot's room when she reached the main bunkroom, but it was locked. She sighed in exasperation. It was in the middle of the morning; none of the newsies were there. She'd have to climb in through the window to get her things.

One thing was clear, she noted as she went up the fire escape and lifted the window. New and expensive dresses really just were not made for this kind of activity.

But that's okay, she said to herself. This is a one-time experience anyway. She carefully came in through the window and into the small room. Once inside, she stared at her bunk bed in shock. Sitting on it, equally surprised, was Spot.

"I…I'm just getting my things," she stammered. Her heart pounded, but he didn't reply. He did, however, watch every move she made. She quickly retrieved everything from her trunk and threw them in an old knapsack. She didn't expect to use most of it ever again, but there were a few things from her childhood that she wanted to keep. She turned to go to the window again, but Spot got up and unlocked the door for her. She turned around to look at him as he closed the door. She caught his eye for a moment, and then he firmly shut the door. She heard the click of the lock, but no footsteps walking back to the bunk bed. She wondered what he was doing in his room in the middle of the day, but then decided she didn't care.

She walked back down the stairs, her new shoes loud on the wood. Just as she reached the main floor, Tricks came in the door.

"Raindrop!" he exclaimed. She smiled back at him.

"Hi Tricks. How are you?"

"I'se fine," he said, looking her over. "But look at you'se! Tawkin' all fancy, and dressed jist as nice!" She smiled and turned a bit red.

"I know it's not what you're used to seeing me in," she said shyly.

"Aw, ya look wondaful," Tricks told her. He honestly was very surprised.

I didn' t'ink she'd look so diff'rent, but she does. I'se used ta da goil in faded pants and shirt with a long braid down her back, wisps of hair framing her face. Dis goil ain't a goil at all…dis is a real lady. Nice, warm, winter coat, expensive dress made up in da latest fashion undahneath, dark hair all done up and ev'ry piece in place. She ain't a kid no moah; she looks like a woman.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked him softly.

"I'se jist surprised," he told her. "Ya look real diff'rent."

"I know," she said quietly, admitting that she wasn't being herself.

"But not bad," Tricks assured her. "Yer happy now, right?" He caught her eye and looked at her for a long moment, but she didn't reply.

"Hey now," he said to her. "Do what ya have ta. Ya know you'se always got a place heah – I don' care what Conlon says. Jist make shoah dat whatevah ya decide ta do, it's right fer you'se. Dat's what's important." She looked at him sadly.

"Tell the boys I miss them and I won't forget them." Tricks nodded.

"I won't ferget," he promised. "An' dey miss you'se," he added. "Da place ain't been da same. I miss you'se," he said awkwardly. She threw her arms around him, and he hugged her tightly.

"I miss you too," she whispered.

From the top of the stairs, Spot silently watched the two. He could hear every word they said, though it wasn't necessary. He watched them without any visible emotion. In a moment, she left the Lodging House, and he slipped back into his room before Tricks came up the stairs.

Chapter Eight

…I don't wanna hear your name. I don't wanna feel your pain…

"I've invited a few guests over for dinner tomorrow night," Beverly said as they had breakfast the next day. "We'll need to go to the seamstress today to fit you for a new dress."

"Oh Beverly," Lissa laughed, "You've already spent so much to make me new dresses. I have a dozen, can't I just wear one of those?"

"Goodness Lissy," Beverly exclaimed, half-scandalized. "Do you want to make me look a fool? This is going to be a very important dinner; you must look your best. My closest friends will all be here. You need to make a good impression." Lissa smiled to herself at her sister's shallowness, but then consented. When they finished eating, they put their coats and and headed to the dressmaker's. On the way, she recognized a familiar face. Snoddy was selling newspapers on a street corner near the dressmakers.

"Beverly," she said distractedly, "I'll be there in a moment."

"Don't take too long," Beverly said absently as she entered the shop and began smiling at the women inside. Lissa turned around and went back to Snoddy. She handed him a penny and he gave her a newspaper. She looked at him curiously for a moment, and he returned her gaze with suspicion.

"Is dere sump'tin' I kin do fer ya, miss?"

"Yes, there is, Snoddy," she replied. His eyes widened at the use of his name.

"How d'ya know me name?" She laughed.

"Don't you recognize me? Raindrop?"

"Oh, wow," he said. "Whaddya doin' trussed up like dat?" he asked in surprise.

"I'm living with my sister here in Manhatten now."

"Why's ya doin' dat?" he asked.

"How are things going at the Lodging House?" she interupted him, and ignored his question.

"Oh, awright," he said. "Da usual, really."

"That's good," she said. "Tell everyone hello for me, would you?"

"Awright…" he said, confused. "But kain't ya jist do dat yerself?"

"I'm not a newsie anymore, Snoddy. It was nice to see you again though." She turned quickly and walked away. Snoddy watched her leave in surprise.

Lissa entered the dress shop and smiled at her sister.

"What do you think of this blue?" Beverly asked her. Lissa took the cloth from her sister thoughtfully.

"I think it's beautiful," she said.

Dressed in her new blue dress, Lissa graciously smiled at the other sitting at Beverly's dining room table. She was mostly excluded from the conversation, but was aware that all that would be changing in the next few weeks. There had already been mention of several young girls for her to associate with, and more than a few eligible suitors. She wasn't sure if she liked that idea, but reminded herself that she had known this was coming when she had decided to come back to Beverly's. This was the way her life was always supposed to have been. Beverly excused herself to answer a knock at the door and Lissa listened attentively to Derek Whitman, Beverly's fiance, describe a young man from the East Side whom he thought would be perfect for her to meet. Beverly returned smiling, but asked Lissa to join her in the kitchen for a moment. Lissa excused herself and followed her sister curiously.

In the kitchen, Beverly took a deep breath and faced Lissa.

"That trash was at the door, asking to see you," she said.

"Which trash?" Lissa asked cautiously, knowing full well that Beverly's definition of trash encompassed all the newsies, and Lissa's mainly just included Spot.

"Your precious newsboy trash," Beverly said. "I told him not to come back. I said you were busy and wanted nothing to do with him."

"Did he say what he wanted?" Lissa asked faintly.

"Does it matter?" Beverly asked her. When Lissa didn't reply, she left the room.

Lissa leaned back against the counter, thinking.

What did he want? It's taken him this long to come…it must have been something. A noise at the window broke her train of thought. Spot was prying the window open. She watched him in surprise. When he finally opened it, he climbed in and said sarcastically, "T'anks a lot fer da help."

"What do you want?" she asked him. He ignored her question.

"Nice place ya got heah…all high-falutin'. All dem rich clothes. Poity nice covah, I'd say."

"You say a lot of things," Lissa snapped. "What do you want? I'm in the middle of having a dinner," she said, annoyed. He laughed at her.

"Give it up, Raindrop. Ya kain't tell me dat dis is who ya are, I know ya bettah den dat. Yer no lady."

"This is who I am," she told him. "This is where I belong."

"You don' belong heah," he said in disgust. "Why're ya heah anyway? Yer a newsie, ya should be at a Lodgin' House. Ya don' belong in dis woild." She didn't answer him. "Well?" he demanded. She took a deep breath and looked him straight in the face.

"I'm here because this is the only place in New York that I could get away from you. There is no Lodging House in this city that hasn't heard of you. But here – there's nothing. No one knows who you are, and no one cares. There is nothing of you here. You don't exist." Spot stared at her in surprise. "You don't exist," Lissa repeated quietly. "And I don't want you to."

"Raindrop," he said, "I-"

"Am leaving now," she finished for him. "If I wanted to see you, I would have stayed in Brooklyn." She turned around and left the room.

Lissa returned to the dining table, smiling graciously. The guests welcomed her back, and she murmured apologies for her absence. Dinner resumed, but her mind wasn't on the conversation.

I can't believe he showed up here. I can't believe he had the nerve to as good as break into my home, and then reprimand me for what I've decided to do with my life. He has no right to tell me what I should be doing. He acts like he knows who I am, but he has no idea what I want. He doesn't know me.

What could he possibly have wanted? He doesn't do things without a purpose. He didn't just come to scorn my clothes…he must've had a reason. Whatever it was, he certainly didn't approach it very well.

And still…it was kind of nice to see him again. Who am I fooling? I still love him. I miss him.

No…I miss who I thought he was.

…You'll see that, you're the only one for me…

Spot stared at Lissa in shock as she walked out of the room. He couldn't believe that she had just walked out on him. He couldn't believe that she had said what she did.

She couldn' possibly mean dat. Not wantin' ta see me. She's jist still mad. I ain't nevah see her dis angry 'bout sumptin'. I didn' know dat she was so upset about all dis.

She kain't mean it dough. I know dat she loves me…she must know how I feel 'bout 'er. Dis'll all jist blown ovah. Dere ain't nuttin' I kin tell her right now dat she would believe, but I ain't gonna give up. She'll see. She kin say whatevah she wants, none of dat aint evah gonna change anyt'ing.

…This intoxication thrills me, but I'm afraid it's gonna kill me…

Lissa woke in the dead of night a few nights later. She sleepily wondered what had aroused her. She waited for a few moments and heard nothing. She pulled her coverlet around her tighter and soon fell back asleep. Long minutes passed, and then ever so slowly, the window to her bedroom slowly opened. A dark figure slipped in and crouched on the floor, listening. Lissa woke again, startled to find the dark figure stooped over her. She gasped in alarm, and her mouth was roughly covered by Spot's hand.

"Shh!" he hissed. Her eyes widened in recognition, and she struggled to pry his hand away from her mouth. His grip tightened, and he leaned over her body to keep her from hitting him.

"Shaddup and listen ta me!" he hissed again. She nodded, frightened, and he relaxed his grip on her, but didn't pull away.

"Raindrop, dis is insane," he said quietly but forcefully. "Insane! Dere ain't no reason fer ya ta be heah. Ya don' belong heah. You'se kin act dat paht all dat ya want, but ya ain't some high-falutin' lady. Yer a newsie! Ya belong in Brooklyn – ya belong wit me. Don' even act like ya don', 'cause we both know dat it's true. You 'n' me, we ain't just two people, we got sumptin' an' der ain't no good reason fer us ta be apart." Lissa watched him uneasily, as he spoke with an intensity she had rarely heard, and a passionate wildness that unnerved her. She wasn't sure what he was going to do next.

"Ya know, you'se kin act all like ya don' even care who I am," he continued, "but we both know dat dat ain't true. Ya t'ink that I don't know dat jist touchin' me sends electricity t'rough yer body? Ya t'ink dat you kin jist walk away from all dis?" He moved his hand away from her mouth, but she said nothing, only breathing roughly. She stared up at him. He bent as if to kiss her, and then thought better of it. He ran a finger lightly along her jaw line and smiled devilishly at her. She swallowed hard and he got up smoothly and left.

Lissa lay awake in bed for a long time. Her mind was whirling with the night's events. She didn't know if she was more troubled by the encounter with Spot, or her reaction to it. As angry and hurt as she was in her heart, Spot was right about her responding to him unconditionally.

Chapter Nine

…Now we're grown up orphans that never knew their names. We don't belong to no one - that's a shame. You could hide beside me, maybe for a while…

Corrine and Spot sat at Pierre's restaurant in the middle of the day. They finished their meals and Corrine took a deep breath and looked at Spot.

"Um," she said, "I have something I need to talk to you about, Ben." He looked at her curiously.

"I'm going back to Boston tomorrow," she said awkwardly. Spot stared at her.

"Why didn' ya tell me sooner?" he exclaimed.

"I'm sorry," Corrine apologized. "Something has happened at Father's company, and we have to return immediately."

"Well…well, stay heah while dey leave," Spot said. Corrine laughed. "No, really," Spot continued, "stay heah, wit me. Dere's room at da Lodgin' House," he implored.

"Oh, Ben," Corrine said, "I couldn't possibly do that and you know it. I belong with the Williamsons. That's where my home is."

"I'm yer bruddah!" Spot insisted.

"You're a street rat!" Corrine replied. "I'm a lady! I can't stay with you!" Spot sat back in his chair, as if he had been slapped.

"A street rat," he repeated.

"I'm sorry…" Corrine said.

"Ferget it," Spot muttered. "Jist ferget it." He stood up, shoved his chair out of his way, and forcefully stormed out of the restaurant. Corrine watched him leave in dismay. Pierre, who had watched the exchange from the kitchen, approached Corrine.

"Do not worry," he assured her. "Benjamin is upset. He does not want to lose his sister again. He'll understand, in time." Corrine sighed and paid Pierre. She walked out of the café and, to her surprise, found Spot leaning against the café wall. His arms were crossed and he was angrily staring off in the distance, until she came out.

"Waitin' ta walk ya home," he muttered.

"You didn't need to do that…" Corrine said softly.

"I know," Spot said.

"I'm just going to go to the hotel," Corrine told him. "I need to pack. I'll come by the Lodging House tomorrow morning before I leave." Spot nodded, staring at the ground.

"Yeah. See ya tammorrah."

He waited until she had walked down the street and turned the corner. Then he went in the opposite direction, towards the Lodging House. He walked through the main bunkroom after arriving. Tricks was sprawled on a bunk near the door. He watched Spot come in, looking at him with a blank expression. Spot joked with him for a moment, but Tricks merely responded with a tone of apathy bordering on insolence. Spot rolled his eyes and gave up. Tricks had been impossible to deal with since Raindrop had left. Spot sat down to a poker game, planning to gamble the rest of the night away as he had in the days before Raindrop came, but couldn't concentrate on the game. He finally gave up and went to bed.

… The game of life is hard to play. I'm gonna lose it anyway…

Spot lay awake in bed for hours. He couldn't sleep with so many things running through his mind. Long after the newsies had fallen asleep and the Lodging House had become silent he stared up at the ceiling and tried to find answers in the darkness. He finally climbed out of bed, pulled on his shoes and a coat and climbed out the window and went up to the roof. He sat down on a crate and put his face in his hands.

A street rat. I kain't believe she called me dat. I t'ought she'd gotten ovah dat stupid idea. She's jist like I foist t'ought she was. Arrogant rich goil. He sighed. It's true dough. I know I ain't got class. I'se jist a street rat, really. One wit powah, but still a street rat. An' she is a rich goil. She ain't arrogant, but she's got money. Of coise she kain't stay heah. Dis ain't her place anymoah dan her fancy place in Boston is fer me. Jiminy, how could I ask her ta stay heah when I knew I couldn't evah stay wit her? What was I t'inkin'? Dat was so dumb.

I jist…she's me sistah. I love her so much. I nevah t'ought dat I'd see 'er again and I jist kain't lose her again. I'se gonna miss her so much.

I kain't expect 'er ta stay heah dough…and I kain't leave all dis an' go ta Boston. I'se got me own life heah. I got me newsies an' dat's moah den most street rats got. Me newsies'll back me up no mattah what. I got den and dat's impoahtant. I'se made sumptin' of me self heah. Maybe I ain't da richest guy around, but I like where I am. I like bein' a newsie, and I like leadin' Brooklyn, an' der ain't much dat could be improved. Except…Raindrop.

…Never want to fly, never wanna leave, never wanna say what you mean to me. Never want to run; frightened believe you're the best thing about me. You could be the best thing about me. What if you're the best thing about me?…

Raindrop. How could I have let dis happen? How did dis happen? One day t'ings were moah poifect den I evah t'ought was possible, an' den da next t'ings fell apart. An' dis all stahted when Corrine came, but I kain't believe dat she's da reason. Raindrop nevah acted like she was jealous o' Corrine. She said dat I didn' treat Corrine da way I should. An' I didn'…she was right. She…she also said dat I didn' treat her da way I should, an' dat I treated 'er jist like she was a possession. Jiminy, an' I did. How could I do dat ta her? I kain't believe it. No wondah she hates me. No wondah she left Brooklyn ta be one o' dose fancy ladies. I had ta really hoit 'er fer 'er ta leave like dat. She ain't no high-falutin' goil…but she'd raddah be dere den t'ink 'bout me. What kind of a horrible person am I? She's such a wondahful person an' look what I did ta 'er. How could I do dat ta dat best t'ing dat evah happened ta me?

…Do you wake up on your own? And wonder where you are? You live with all your faults…

Lissa hung her robe on a hook and folded back the covers on her bed. She climbed in and curled up beneath the warm comforter. She closed her eyes for a moment, and then sighed, opening them again. Beverly was a strong believer in retiring early, and Lissa was accustomed to playing cards or being with Spot until much later. Thinking about Spot brought his last comments to her mind.

He's right, she thought. I'm not a lady. Saying I am, acting like I am…it's such a charade. She sighed, reflecting on the day's events. She and Beverly had had an early breakfast, and then visited a few of Beverly's friends. They met Beverly's fiancé Derek for a light lunch, and then spent the afternoon playing croquet in a park with Derek and several other friends of Beverly. Dinner was spent in a quiet restaurant with Derek, Beverly, Lissa, and the latest young man they were trying to set her up with. Not long after returning home she and Beverly went to bed. She sighed again.

Okay, so it was not what I would call a fun day. I'm not one much for the light-hearted pastimes of people who think that their clothes and money are the only things that matter. I hate the constant parade. …I hate pretending to be someone I'm not and never will be.

She climbed back out of bed and pulled a dress out of her wardrobe. She dressed quickly and buttoned her boots. She crept quietly out of her room and went down the hall. She stopped at her sister's writing desk and scribbled a message to her, then grabbed her coat from the closet and tiptoed out the door. A long walk later, she was standing in front of the Brooklyn Newsboys Lodging House. She walked around back and climbed awkwardly up the fire escape. To her surprise, she found the window to Spot's room wide open. She frowned and continued up the fire escape to the roof.

…Am I your fire? Your one desire?…

Spot was sitting on a crate, hunched over, with his face in his hands. She walked slowly towards him. He didn't move, but when she stopped a few feet away from him he said roughly, "Go on, leave me alone. Git outta heah." She pulled a nearby crate to where he was seated and she sat down.

"Are ya deaf?" he snapped tiredly.

"No," she answered quietly. Spot's head jerked up.

"Raindrop!" he exclaimed. She smiled slightly at him. "What are you doing here?"

"I've just been thinking," she said simply.

…I see the questions in your eyes. I know what's weighing on your mind; you can be sure I know my heart…

"I want to talk," she said after a few minutes. "About you. About me. …About us."

"Corrine's leaving tomorrow," Spot said woodenly. "Dey have ta be back in Boston fer Mr. Williamson's company. Tricks hasn't spoken ta me in days…he won' have anyt'ing ta do wit me. I don' know what ta do. I don' know what ta do fer da foist time since me parents died." He shifted and sighed. "So dat's me. About you…I awready told ya what I t'ink about you. And as fer us…well dat's about obvious. Ya made it poitty clear awready dat it's ovah."

"Oh Spot," Raindrop sighed.

Chapter Ten

…And bad mistakes…I've made a few. I've had my share of sand kicked in my face, but I've come through…

"Look Raindrop," Spot said, " I love you. I always have, an' dat ain't gonna change. I know I ain't always poifect…but…Rain…" She looked up at him, tears filling her eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "…I'm so sorry." He pulled her close to him and she leaned her head against his shoulder. He moved her so she was looking at him. "I'm sorry for ev'ryt'in'," he said. "I love you. I know I haven' treated ya da way ya desoive. I'l try ta do bettah. Please, Rain." She looked at him and nodded slightly. Spot hesitated for a moment and then leaned towards Raindrop. His lips brushed hers and she leaned closer to him. He kissed her full on the mouth and his arms pulled her closer to him. He finally leaned back and she smiled at him.

"C'mon," he said, "let's go inside. It's late an' Corrine's train leaves early." Raindrop followed him back down to their window and Spot helped her in. He kicked off his shoes and tossed his coat on the floor. Raindrop unbuttoned her coat and laid it on the chest. When he turned around she found Spot staring at her.

"What?" she asked, self-consciously.

"I…" he stammered, "Uh…I jist…"

"What?" she asked smiling.

"I know ya don' like the fancy clothes 'n' stuff," he said, "but ya look good, Rain. Real good." She smiled again, blushing.

"Um, speakin' of," she said. "I, uh, kain't go ta bed wearin' dis dress…I kinda need ya ta…" Spot laughed and turned around. Raindrop unbuttoned her dress and slipped into her bunkbed.

"Awright," she said. Spot laughed, "You set?" Raindrop playfully glared at him.

"The petticoats will keep me warmer." Spot smiled at her. He took off his suspenders and tossed them on the floor. He leaned over Raindrop, smiled, and kissed her goodnight.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too," she whispered back.

Raindrop woke up before Spot and lay awake thinking for a few minutes. Then she got up out of bed and wrapped her blanket around her. She moved quietly out of the room and into the main bunkroom. She kneeled down by Tricks' bunk and shook him softly.

"Hey, hey," she whispered.

"What?" he groaned groggily.

"It's me," she whispered. "Tricks, get up!" He rubbed his eyes and grinned when he saw her.

"Raindrop, what are ya doin' heah?"

"I'm back," she said. "I tawked ta Spot an' t'ings are awright now." Tricks' face darkened when she mentioned Spot.

"Rain-" he started.

"No," she interrupted him. "I promise, t'ings are fine. Don' hold dis against him, awright? Please?" Tricks frowned and sighed.

"Awright. Fer you." Raindrop grinned.

"T'anks Tricks!"

Spot walked out of his door and over to Trick's bunk. Raindrop stood up, and Tricks rolled out of bed.

"Hey, listen," Spot said uncomfortably.

"Yeah, it's fine," Tricks said. He spit in his hand and help it out to Spot. Spot spit in his own and they shook.

"C'mon," Spot said to Raindrop, "the train's leavin' soon." She walked back into their room and put her dress back on while Spot got cleaned up in the main washroom. She unbraided her hair and pinned it up the way Beverly insisted was the most fashionable. When she walked back into the bunkroom the newsies went silent for a moment and then began whistling and catcalling. Raindrop blushed. Before she could say anything, the door to the stairs opened and Corrine walked in.

…It's true, it ain't easy to say goodbye…

Spot smiled when he saw her and walked to the door.

"Hey," he said quietly. "Jist a minute, awright?" Corrine nodded and Spot walked over to Raindrop.

"I'm gonna go ta da station wit Corrine, awright?" Raindrop nodded.

"Yeah, shoah. I'se gonna go back ta Bev's…I need ta tawk ta her in person an' git me t'ings."

"Awright, I'll see ya latah den." He moved closer to her. "An' hey…ya look beautiful." He smirked and kissed her softly. He let go of her and walked back to Corrine and they left the Lodging House.

Tricks walked over to Raindrop.

"Hey, what'cha doin' taday?"

"Goin' ovah ta Bev's 'ouse…I didn' explain ta 'er, and all me stuff is dere."

"Oh…" Tricks said. "…D'ya maybe want some company?" Raindrop looked at him for a moment.

"Yeah. Shoah."

…You'll always be a part of me; I'm part of you indefinitely…

Spot and Corrine walked slowly to the train station. When they got near the station Spot stopped and pulled Corrine aside.

"Look," he said, "I gotta tell ya, I'se sawry 'bout what I said earlier. I t'ought about it, an' I undahstand. I know dat ya kain't stay heah an' I undahstand why ya won'. I shouldn' 'ave asked ya to." Corrine smiled.

"It's fine, Ben. I know how you felt. It's okay."

"I want ya ta know," Spot responded, "dat I love ya. It don' mattah dat we're diff'rent people…completely diff'rent people. It don' mattah dat we're in such diff'rent places in life. Yer still me sistah and dat's what mattahs. …I don' wanna lose ya again." Corrine smiled.

"Ben, I promise you won't. We'll stay in touch. I'll come back and visit. I'll even dress the part of a street rat to fit in." Spot smiled back at her.

"Dat sounds wondahful. An' I'll come ta see you'se, an' I'll weah summa dose fancy clothes you'se all weah." Corrine laughed.

"Wonderful. I'll have Father buy some for you." Spot grinned back at her.

They continued to the train station, where they met the Williamsons.

…Missing you is just a part of living, missing you is just a part of life. I'm living out the life that I've been given…

The Williamsons boarded the train, and the porters loaded their luggage. Corrine stood in front of Spot one last time and hugged him.

"I'm going to miss you," she said softly.

"I'll miss ya too," he replied. She boarded the train and in a moment she was at the window, waving goodbye as the train pulled out of the station.

Spot wrapped his arms around Raindrop late that night. She smiled at him contentedly.

"How'd it go wit yer sistah?" he asked.

"Well, she wasn't thrilled," Raindrop replied, "but I t'ink t'ings will be bettah between us in da futuah."

"I'm glad," Spot told her.

"Me too," she smiled. He tilted his head and kissed her, soft and long. He grinned at her.

"I've missed doing dat."