This is written for Circulation Two of the Newsies Pape Selling Competition representing my Newsies of Brooklyn! The theme is that the movie version of a character meets their musical counterpart. Mine is Spot meeting Spot in theater using the prompt "You don't know what you're doing, do you?" Current WC:2797
Border Patrol was never fun. Especially when you have much better things to do. Like being king of Brooklyn, just as an example.
Spot Conlon sighed and hooked his thumbs in his bright red suspenders. How he got stuck with the North Brooklyn Patrol beats him. Ain't I the one that makes other people do this stuff? He really hoped he would see some Queens trespassers so he would be able to do something.
Fortunately and also unfortunately, there was no disturbance from Brooklyn's neighbors to the north. His sweep started in the east, and headed across the borough westwards, towards Manhattan, stopping hallway there.
As Spot finished the route, he headed back towards the docks to meet up with the other patrols.
The ten or so boys gathered around the Nest, delivering their own news.
"Statin seems quiet."
"Doesn't look like much in the Bronx."
"My half of Queens was boring, Spot."
"Mine too. What about 'Hattan?"
"Not sure. Something seems fishy, though."
That caught Spot's attention. Nothing suspicious ever happened in Manhattan. Ever since the strike, the two boroughs have been good allies. The only Manhattanites who entered Brooklyn were either Racetrack or Jack. Jack, to check up on them, and Race to see if Spot fancied a game of poker. "What exactly did you hear?"
"Nothing much. Said dey found a new guy."
"So what? Dat happens all da time."
"Can't be sure, but I hoird something about you."
Spot's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "I think den I'm gonna pay Jacky-boy a visit tonight. Youse all is dismissed." The boys darted back towards shore, grabbing the papers they each had left in hopes of selling them before it became too late in the day. The sun had already hit his high point and had just started his slow dissent towards the sea.
He managed to sell the rest of the few papers he had bought from that morning, yet his mind was elsewhere.
Once the fleeting sun turned the sky bright orange, Spot left Rook in charge and headed off to Manhattan. His hand rested on the handle of his walking stick as he crossed the Brooklyn Bridge into Manhattan. Spot walked the path that he knew well from the days of the strike.
He brushed his dark blond hair out of his face when the cold wind decided that his hair would actually look best in front of his eyes. He was a few blocks away when the lampposts seemed to sway in front of him. Spot's feet tried to compensate for the world rocking, but he still fell against a shop wall. His hand rested on the wood, trying to steady himself. By looking around, he saw that no one else was affected by this. With a deep breath, he pushed himself back into an upright position and kept walking.
It didn't take long to arrive at their Lodging House. Kloppman gave an acknowledging nod towards him then gestured to the commons; Spot guessed that's where everyone was.
As he entered, he saw that everyone was gathered around a table, or more specifically, one person sitting at that table. Must be dis new guy. He couldn't see much from where he stood, only that he looked on the older side of newies, and had dark brown hair.
A few of the boys he knew looked up, including Jack, who jumped up. He quickly walked over and pushed him gently into the hallway. Spot's eyes widened at this treatment. This is just what he was worried about, Manhattan was hiding something! "What's goin' on 'ere?" Spot demanded to know.
Jack spoke very quickly, "Oh, dis? Dis is nuthin'. Ey, we gotta go. Wese got tickets at Irving Hall for tonight. Boots can't make so we have an extra. Wanna come?"
Spot blinked a few times, trying to wrap his head around the flurry of language that just issued out of Jack's mouth. "Uh…"
"We can talk afterwoirds. I promise."
"Alright den." Spot shrugged off the hand that still rested on his shoulder.
Jack smiled and turned to yell into the commons, "C'mon, wese gonna be late!" All the other boys streamed out onto the street, too fast for Spot to see the newcomer.
Spot ended up at the end of the procession to Irving Hall with Crutchy. He didn't mind slowing down a bit for him, he always was good for conversation.
"I'm so glad, well, I t'ink wese all glad that you could come tonight. I know it's gonna be a real treat." Spot didn't push the subject even thought his stomach felt like something in between queasy and just plain nervous.
They arrived at Irving Hall five minutes before the show started, so pretty much everyone was already seated. Spot had the ticket Jack had handed him and went inside. Even though they got their tickets beforehand, it's was still fairly last minute, so the group was divided into three to four sections. Spot was with Jack and Race towards the front and off to the right, and who knows where they rest of them got off to.
Spot turned to Jack. "So, who is dat guy?"
The lights started to dim and Jack put a finger to his lips. "Shh… I'll tell ya later, like I said." Spot almost growled and sunk into his chair in silent fuming.
He could barely pay attention to the show, which was nice, as always. Wasn't fantastic, as you'd expect. It was Vaudeville. Medda did a solo number at the end which was beautiful. She was wearing her dark pink, almost lavender dress with frills at the bottom. Her curly red hair was in a graceful twirl on top of her head.
When it finally finished and the applause ended, the lights came up and folks began leaving. "Alright," Spot started before Jack could get away. "Who is dat?" Race sniggered behind him.
"Well, I thinks you should talk wit him youse self." Jack saw and nodded at the rest of the group made their way towards the three of them. "G'night, Spot." Jack laughed softly and left. Race slinked his way past him as well, touching a finger to the brim of his cap.
All the other boys followed the two out of the auditorium, leaving only Spot and the new guy. They both had hands in their pockets and heads slightly tipped. The newcomer looked around 17, maybe 18. He was wearing a short-sleeved dark red shirt over a wide chest, black suspenders, and long black pants.
The blond walked up to the brunette and stuck out his hand.
"Spot Conlon." He said. The other boy shook his hand
"Spot Conlon." The other responded.
"Come again?"
"You hoird me, Spot Conlon."
"But I'm Spot Conlon."
"So am I."
Spot, the first one, put his head in his hand. "I'm so confused."
The second one pursed his lips and set his jaw. "'Ow do you t'ink I felt? Before your Jack tried to help me."
The blond looked up. "My Jack? He ain't mine. I live out in Brooklyn."
"He's more yours dan mine."
Spot, the blond one, looked to the side and saw Jack in the shadow of an archway. "Jack Kelly, get over here right now!" He yelled, and pointed towards the floor by his feet.
Snickering, he complied. "Heya, Spot."
"Which one?" Spot grumbled. "You don't know what you're doing, do you?"
"Oh yeah, so, um. To keeps things easier, I'll call you," he pointed to the blond, "Spot. And you," he pointed to the other one, "Conlon." (AN: I'm going to do that as well)
"Well ain't you creative." They both responded sarcastically, and then grinned at each other.
"Did youse introduce Conlon to the rest of your boys yet?"
"Yeah, well. He came to us." Jack responded.
"I don't wish to offend you, but where did you come from?" Spot asked.
"I came from Brooklyn." Conlon crossed his arms.
Spot bristled. Jack gently stepped in between the two. "Here's what I think happened: He's from a parallel universe." Spot stared at him in disapproval. "I'm serious! What else could it be?"
"So many things, Jacky-boy. How old is youse? Ten?" Spot sighed and rest his head in his hand. "What do you think of this?" He asked Conlon.
He shrugged. "I don't know what else could be possible. This New York looks different than mine. Enough is similar, but some things just ain't right."
"So, where you come from, you're Spot Conlon?"
"Ay, I still am!" Conlon's brow furrowed. "Can we takes dis somewhere else? I think wese gettinn' some attention." His gaze shifted to the stage, where Medda was hurrying towards them.
"What are you boys still doing in here? If you're gonna fight, please don't use my theater again. You caused enough damage last time." She softly scolded.
Jack brought his hat to his chest. "You wouldn't kick us out, would ya, Medda?" She playfully smacked him with her folded up fan.
Spot laughed. "C'mon Jack, we best get going. And c'mon, Conlon, man is that weird to say." He muttered to himself and stuck his hands in his pockets.
Conlon shook his head and followed Spot out, who was nearly dragging Jack behind him. "My Jack ain't anywhere as clingy as dis." He added as Jack whimpered, "Nor dis sentimental."
The three boys wandered the city, slowly zigzagging their way back to the Lodging House.
"So, do youse remember anything before you got here? Like, what da heck happened?" Spot began as Jack became self-reliant again.
He only shook his head. "I was heading back to da docks, passed an alleyway, saw this bright, blueish flash, and then I was on the Brooklyn Bridge. Your Brooklyn Bridge. For some reason, it made more sense to go to Manhattan. I had only just got to their lodging house when Jack announced they were going to da Vaudeville, didn't really get to talk to dem much. Only got through basic introductions. Introductions being only Jack and mineself. I didn't even know about you 'till we were halfway to the theater." He shrugged and kept walking.
Spot pursed his lips. "And I thought the day was normal."
Jack laughed as they walked up the steps to the Lodging House and entered the commons. "Let's play a game. And by let's, I mean youse." He pointed to Conlon as a crowd of newsies surrounded them. "So, all my newsies would be in your world, too?"
"I would suppose so. But I neva really got to know Jacky's boys."
"Alright. We'll start easy." Jack grabbed Crutchy and showed him to Conlon.
"Crutchie! Hey, I like da hair."
"Thanks!"
"How about dis one?"
"Specs! Dis ain't dat hard."
Jack then grabbed Boots. "Uh…I'm not sure. Mush?"
"Mush!? Dis is Boots."
"Boots? I've neva hoird of a Boots before."
"Well, dat's Mush." Jack pointed towards Mush who greeted Conlon with his warm smile.
"Huh. Guess there's some differences after all."
Game all done, a few of them introduced themselves. Conlon didn't recognize anyone. It was so weird. Seeing some people with the same name, but a different face, yet with similar personalities.
"Race?" Conlon asked, looking through the people.
"Where?" Jack peered through the group. "Racetrack?" He called.
Racetrack jumped up. "Yeah?" He made his way over, unlit cigar in between his fingers. "How'd you recognize me?"
"I…I thought you were the Race I knew. You looked like him, just for a second." Conlon swallowed. "You were blond."
Race overdramatically gasped. "What is da world coming to? Me, blond? I have never been anything but dis my entire life." He grabbed a handful of his dark brown hair.
"Sorry," Conlon said, "Must be gettin' tired."
"It's okay. It's getting late anyway. Get ta bed, people. S' going to be a weird day tomorrow." Jack shrugged as the boys made their way to the bunks. "Where are you going ta go?" He turned towards Conlon, who looked lost.
Conlon faced Jack. "Could I stay here?"
"O'course. Just thought you might have wanted to go to Brooklyn."
"Thanks, but I think I'll stay here." He turned to Spot. "No offense."
Spot shook his head. "You're good. I think I'll stay here too, Jacky-boy."
Jack nodded and headed off, leaving the two Spots alone.
"This might sound weird…" Conlon started.
"Oh really? 'Cause I've never heard weird stuff before."
"Shut up, I ain't finished." Spot snickered and motioned for Conlon to continue. "You remember when I saw Race and said he was blond. Well, he was blond. My Race is blond. It was him, just for a second, but it was him. I think this, break in between our realities, is becoming bigger. People are slipping back and forth. Switching, flickering like an old lightbulb."
Spot stood in silence as this explanation washed over him. It seemed impossible. But a lot of these things have been happening lately, so not that much can surprise him anymore. With a deep breath, Spot spoke. "Well, I ain't gettin' any sleep tonight."
Conlon chuckled. "Neither am I. I don't think I could until we get dis all figured out."
"We needs smart people."
Conlon's head snapped up. "What about dat… dat… Davey guy? Ain't he pretty brainy?"
"Yeah, David might know sumthin'." Spot crossed his arms and pursed his lips in concentration. "I'll talk to Jack tomorrow to see if we can all meet up. Ha, see if we can explain this to him."
A small laugh was heard across from the boy in red suspenders. "I…don't think you need ta worry about it." Conlon grinned.
"Wh…" Spot began, then realized. "You guys told David, too? Was I the last poirson ta know about dis?" He took several steps forward with dark eyes.
He held up his hands defensively. "Wasn't my idea. I thought you shoulda been told foirst. I know that's what I woulda wanted, so it must be true for you as well." He shrugged.
"Yeah. Can't get mad at youse. That's just weird." Spot's head still churned with the thought of there being another him. His vision swam and there seemed to be nothing he could do about the worn carpet rushing towards his face.
Groaning, Spot rolled onto his back after the impact with the floor. Conlon was kneeling at his side, dark brown eyes filled with concern. "Did you feel it, too?" He asked as he helped the blond to the couch.
"Felt what?" His voice sounded scratchy.
"I think you know what. Like bein' dizzy. Suddenly, no warnin' at all."
"Yeah. It's happened before. When I was on my way here from Brooklyn." Spot remembered when he fell against the building. He thought it was a gentle earthquake, because no one else felt it. But this time wasn't an earthquake at all. This one was so much more. "You said something like you felt it, too."
Conlon gravely nodded. "Not even a second after you collapsed, I felt lightheaded. Your fall was just enough warning for me to sit down so I wouldn't fall as far."
"Glad I'm so helpful." Spot pursed his lips. "Since wese da same poirson, figuratively speakin', does dat mean wese kinda, connected?"
"Maybe. Dat might be fun ta test." Conlon got a wicked grin. Spot copied the smile knowingly. "Let's set aside dis problem for a while." Conlon extended a hand to help Spot up.
Spot led the way to bunks where he had spent a few nights during the strike. The found two empty bunks in opposite corners and settled in for the night.
Thanks for reading! I'll have the next chapter up in a few days!