DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the newsies except for Spunks Gerberre,
ooo, big surprise there. The newsies unfortunately belong to the all-great,
all-powerful DISNEY!
So don't sue me, huh?
A Brand New Start
Dressed in the plaid knee-length skirt and long-sleeved white blouse the Institution she attended mandated as its official uniform, Spunks stared at herself in the oblong mirror that hung on one of the walls of her room, not at all pleased with the sight before her. Though she was glad of the fact that she had grown an inch or so, both in feminine curves and height, her face still seemed homely to her, as it was splattered with blotches of freckles. She narrowed her navy blue eyes and shook her head, noticing her shiny black hair that shook with it. That was another thing she hated; her hair. It had grown long now, well past her shoulders, but seemed much too lanky and needed a different style than the one she had grown accustomed to since her youthful days.
She sighed and became reminiscent of her past. The long years she had spent in the heart of New York seemed like a dream to her now as did all the fine people she had met in the process. Jack, Race, David, and…Spot.
She closed her eyes to prevent tears from streaming down her smooth, pale face. She would not shed a drop of her soul for that cheater! Even when her heart told her that perhaps Spot had been telling the truth when he said he did not want anything to do with his would-be fiancé anymore.
"A bit too late to be considering that now, Mack Gerberre," she said to herself in the most lady-like manner. Living in Pennsylvania for just months had taken away her rough New York accent. The fancy parties with her dad's friends and with the friends of hers she had managed to make in so little time, made her acquire a more studious way of speaking. She laughed. If the newsies heard her talking in such a way, they would tease her for an eternity!
A knock at her door pulled her away from her thoughts.
"Come in," she said in a ringing tone to convey the utmost politeness. The door opened quickly and in came a girl taller than Spunks with short blonde hair and sky blue eyes; Loraine Samwidthe. Loraine reminded Spunks so much of Spot that at first, Spunks did not even want to be friends with her, much less associate. But eventually she got over her barriers of spite and soon enough the girls became best friends. Loraine was from a well established family but you could not tell by the way she acted. She was ever humble and treated everyone as if they were her closest companion. All who knew her very much liked her and always treated her with a sort of distinguished respect, as if she were some high authority.
"We are going to be late for the first day of school if you continue to look at your pretty self, Miss Gerberre!" Loraine crossed her arms and smiled.
"There is nothing attractive about me, Miss Samwidthe," Spunks mocked. "We all can not be blessed with beauty as yours." She cast one last glance at herself in the mirror, grabbed her backpack, and then followed Loraine out of her room in an excited hurry. The first day of school indeed! And not just any school, Spunks' father had registered her for one of the finest private schools in all of Pennsylvania, if not the entire nation. She thought about this as she rushed down the grand staircase of her house. From a newsie to a high-classed young woman in mere months; the thought brought a smile to her face. She deserved it, didn't she?
When the two girls had arrived to school by means of walking, they were both astounded by the Institution's size. It was simply breathtaking. Spunks craned her neck back to see the top pillar of the cathedral-like building before her upon which a brass statue of an angel stood blowing a trumpet. Words could not express the gloriousness of the school she was to be a part of. She walked beside Loraine up the marble stairs of the main entrance when a young man who was seated on one of the steps stood up to greet them.
"Good day," he greeted courteously, "my name is Robert Paschal. I'm a senior here at the Institution. I have not seen you two here before. Are you freshman?"
"No," Loraine answered blushing. "My friend, Mackenzie, here just moved to Pennsylvania and is starting the school year as a junior. I, on the other hand, was raised here but attended a different school until my father transferred me here, where I will also be starting off as a junior."
Robert smiled. "Glad to here that. If you need someone to show you around, I am available for assistance."
"Oh really? That would be most helpful! I am sure this place could be quite confusing for newcomers."
Spunks' eyes widened. She did not want to be shown around like a tourist by some senior who expected to get more out of this innocent relationship than she was willing to give. She grew up in New York; she knew what was happening here.
"Actually, my father and I attended a tour of the school over the summer and I pretty much know the way quite well. But we do thank you for the offer of your help." She grabbed Loraine's arm and pulled her the rest of the way up the staircase. She did not regard the girl until they were inside the building. "We are here to get an education, not to ruin our lives by getting acquainted with creeps!"
"Mack! You could have at least given him a chance. He seems like a nice guy. And by the way, I don't remember you saying anything about coming here over the summer to get a look around the place."
Spunks grinned mischievously. "I lied!" Loraine's jaw dropped open and she let out a frustrated noise as she chased the smaller girl down the crowded halls of the Institution.
* * * * * * *
Spot sauntered throughout Manhattan, keeping his face expressionless so as not to let others know what he was thinking about, or rather who he was thinking about. Since Spunks' leave, every newsie in Manhattan and Brooklyn knew that he was silently lamenting the loss of his former girlfriend, especially because she was the only one he had ever loved so deeply. A smirk on his face was a rare sight these days and he usually kept to himself all the time, no longer hosting poker games or anything of the sort. He wondered if Spunks still thought about him, or if she had moved on in her rich life. With a new family and a potential to be a muckety-muck, who would look down at their riffraff beginnings?
Spot exhaled a large breath of air. He would have to get over Spunks for his own health. He had recently overheard his own newsies talking among themselves about how their leader barely ate at all! Spot had not noticed it himself. He simply was not hungry that much anymore. One meal a day suited him fine, yet he knew it was not healthy. He glanced at the scenery before him, making sure he was heading down the right street. After all, he had not been to his destination since he was but a young child. But with a void residing in his heart now, he knew there was only one thing that could have a chance at filling it up.
It was only a block away now. The stained glass windows glistened in the sun and the gray stones of the building's walls shone with a sort of reverence as well, even though their surfaces were dull. Spot sighed. He had only come here once, and had only stayed outside the building at that, but now he would enter in. Enter into the church that he hoped would fill him with compassion again.
He reached for the golden knob of the single arched door and slowly turned it with a slight air of hesitation engulfing him. He thought to stop; to just turn around and run back into his miserable life where he would eventually die in grief anyways. If he did, he would no longer have to worry about his leadership duties, about whether he ate or not, about his friends getting caught by the bulls, and especially about the confounded girl who had stolen his heart from him! But something urged him on; a feeling of life. He closed his eyes to gain confidence, opened them, and turned the knob reassured.
The coolness inside welcomed him from where he stood on the doorstep. He peered in and saw that the sanctuary was empty, only occupied by statues of saints and a table where dozens of candles stood, a quarter of them lit. He stepped inside and closed the door quietly behind him. The sanctuary smelled of vanilla or cinnamon, he could not tell which, maybe it was both. The flooring was velvety and of a maroon color and the ceiling rose high above with chandeliers hanging elegantly here and there.
Spot walked farther into the church until he came unto the altar. Behind the podium where a preacher would deliver his sermon, a large wooden cross hung from the wall with a crown of thorns about its top. The Brooklyn leader was captivated by its immense structure and so lost in his thoughts that he jumped when a woman greeted him from behind.
"Good morning, young man," she said softly.
He turned around and his heart stopped. "M-m..."
The woman cut him short, gaping at him with wide eyes and trying to keep from trembling. "Patrick," she cried out almost in a sob. "Patrick!" She pulled him tight into a warm embrace that Spot willingly returned. The woman began crying now and her whole body shook with each whimper. "I can't believe you have returned! After all these years, I thought you lost! But just when I am tempted to lose hope, you walk right into my church! How did you know where to find me? My, you have grown so much! Oh, my baby has come back!" She had to pause to take a breath but was soon back to asking questions as if there would be no tomorrow.
"Ma, I'se missed youse so much," Spot said, and as he spoke, his voice cracked with weakness. He was on the verge of crying as well now. He pulled his mother closer and let himself become enveloped in the closeness he felt. His mother! He never thought he would see her again, and yet that had been up to him for he could have visited anytime he wanted to during his youth. "I'se wanted tah come heah. I'se been feelin kinda empty lately and I figured there aint nuthin like ya own family."
His mother smiled and finally pulled away until her son was at arm's length. Spot only now realized his mother was dressed in the attire of a nun, but he almost expected as much. Why else would she run away to the church after divorcing from his step-father?
Just then, a small boy around the age of ten who looked like the exact replica of Spot, came running into the sanctuary in a white gown. "Mother," he said disapprovingly. "Must I be an altar boy? This robe does not look at all right on me!"
The woman laughed. "Matthew, did you not notice that we have a guest?"
Matthew looked past the woman and noticed the young man. "Oh, sorry mom." He nodded his head and began to turn away but something had just dawned on him. He slowly turned back around to face Spot and narrowed his eyes. He was utterly confused; this could not be! He looked at his mother questioningly and when she smiled that it indeed was right, the boy was elated. He threw out his arms and exuberantly shouted, "Patrick!!!" with about as much enthusiasm as a younger brother could convey.
Spot scooped up his small sibling in a hug and held him close. "Heya french fry, how youse been holdin up lately?"
"Mother wants me to be an altar boy. Can you believe that!?"
"Yea I can," Spot laughed. "Youse should be a newsie!"
The woman instantly shook her head. "Absolutely not! I have already lost one son to that dangerous business, I will not lose another!"
Spot actually laughed, and when he realized he had, his heart felt a little less burdened. The pain he had felt while coming here was slowly dissipating by being in the presence of his family members. "Ah, ma, it aint dangerous. Youse just gotta now how tah get around and all."
Matthew grinned. "Mother, at least newsies do not have to wear appalling white robes and carry around torches!"
"Matthew Peter Conlon! Go to your room this instant and think about the advantages and consequences of each opportunity. I am sure you will find that staying in the church business will greatly outweigh living in the dirty streets of New York with no promise that food will be served to you the next day!" The ten year old lowered his head in shame and slowly made his way to the back of the church the same way he had come.
When he was gone, Spot spoke up again.
"If I'se didn't know any better, I would think youse were tryin tah make me leave me life as a newsie from the way youse is degradin it."
"Dear, I only want the best for you. Do you even have a relationship with God?"
Spot looked away. He didn't even remember the last time he had spoken to God! And though it was something he was not proud of, he rarely let it get to him when he was lost in the airs of being a fearless leader. His mother took a seat on one of the pews of the church and he fell relaxingly beside her. It was nice to simply rest for a while with not a worry on your mind.
"Patrick, I want you to tell me all that you have been through since last we talked." Spot smiled at his family's use of his second name. He had no idea why they did not call him by his first name Andrew, or why he would not insist that they refer to him by his newsie name. Another thing he realized was that his mother had said she wanted to know what had happened to him since 'last they talked' rather than saying 'since you ran away from home'. He had to admit he was glad that she did not bring the whole matter up. A lot of emotions had been running inside of Spot when he had decided to run away from his family and abusive step-father. He just couldn't take the pain anymore and did not want to live in a place where fear constantly lingered.
"Well Ma, it's quite simple actually. There was this goil named Spunks who I loved tah death. At foist, we hated each other, but once we got over our pride and all that other crap, we realized we had feelings fer each other. So one thing led tah another and we ended up sleepin together."
His mother's eyes went wide. Premarital sex was not smiled upon from the eyes of the church and she made a mental note to pray for her son's forgiveness that night. Spot went on.
"Then she tells me that she only did it tah do it, ya know? So we'se stop talking fer months. Then, we get back together eventually. Things were goin so great until her father from Pennsylvania comes outta nowhere tah take her home. She was gonna stay wid me originally but then the shit really hit the fan!"
Her mother shook her head, once again surprised by the young man! Use of profane words! She would pray for proper speech to be bestowed upon Spot later that night. She watched Spot with interested eyes as he finished his story.
"Me and the goil were headin up to me room and when we get in, this other goil is waitin there. It was Hazel from New Jersey, remember her? Anyways, she comes at the worse time proclaimin her love fer me and of coise Spunks gets all pissed and leaves me fer her father even though I told her I still loved her and that Hazel was in me past! So now it's been a few months and I'se been feelin like crap the whole time."
The woman took Spot's hand in hers and smiled. "Well, you are more than welcome to stay here for as long as you like and we will even make the proper arrangements if you decide to stay here permanently. I would be more than happy to have my family back together again the way it should be. But know that I will always love you no matter what you decide to do." She leaned in and kissed Spot on the cheek before rising to her feet to show him to a vacant room where he would be able to sleep. The Brooklyn leader sighed in satisfaction. He knew he had made the right decision by coming home.
* * * * *
More to come...
So don't sue me, huh?
A Brand New Start
Dressed in the plaid knee-length skirt and long-sleeved white blouse the Institution she attended mandated as its official uniform, Spunks stared at herself in the oblong mirror that hung on one of the walls of her room, not at all pleased with the sight before her. Though she was glad of the fact that she had grown an inch or so, both in feminine curves and height, her face still seemed homely to her, as it was splattered with blotches of freckles. She narrowed her navy blue eyes and shook her head, noticing her shiny black hair that shook with it. That was another thing she hated; her hair. It had grown long now, well past her shoulders, but seemed much too lanky and needed a different style than the one she had grown accustomed to since her youthful days.
She sighed and became reminiscent of her past. The long years she had spent in the heart of New York seemed like a dream to her now as did all the fine people she had met in the process. Jack, Race, David, and…Spot.
She closed her eyes to prevent tears from streaming down her smooth, pale face. She would not shed a drop of her soul for that cheater! Even when her heart told her that perhaps Spot had been telling the truth when he said he did not want anything to do with his would-be fiancé anymore.
"A bit too late to be considering that now, Mack Gerberre," she said to herself in the most lady-like manner. Living in Pennsylvania for just months had taken away her rough New York accent. The fancy parties with her dad's friends and with the friends of hers she had managed to make in so little time, made her acquire a more studious way of speaking. She laughed. If the newsies heard her talking in such a way, they would tease her for an eternity!
A knock at her door pulled her away from her thoughts.
"Come in," she said in a ringing tone to convey the utmost politeness. The door opened quickly and in came a girl taller than Spunks with short blonde hair and sky blue eyes; Loraine Samwidthe. Loraine reminded Spunks so much of Spot that at first, Spunks did not even want to be friends with her, much less associate. But eventually she got over her barriers of spite and soon enough the girls became best friends. Loraine was from a well established family but you could not tell by the way she acted. She was ever humble and treated everyone as if they were her closest companion. All who knew her very much liked her and always treated her with a sort of distinguished respect, as if she were some high authority.
"We are going to be late for the first day of school if you continue to look at your pretty self, Miss Gerberre!" Loraine crossed her arms and smiled.
"There is nothing attractive about me, Miss Samwidthe," Spunks mocked. "We all can not be blessed with beauty as yours." She cast one last glance at herself in the mirror, grabbed her backpack, and then followed Loraine out of her room in an excited hurry. The first day of school indeed! And not just any school, Spunks' father had registered her for one of the finest private schools in all of Pennsylvania, if not the entire nation. She thought about this as she rushed down the grand staircase of her house. From a newsie to a high-classed young woman in mere months; the thought brought a smile to her face. She deserved it, didn't she?
When the two girls had arrived to school by means of walking, they were both astounded by the Institution's size. It was simply breathtaking. Spunks craned her neck back to see the top pillar of the cathedral-like building before her upon which a brass statue of an angel stood blowing a trumpet. Words could not express the gloriousness of the school she was to be a part of. She walked beside Loraine up the marble stairs of the main entrance when a young man who was seated on one of the steps stood up to greet them.
"Good day," he greeted courteously, "my name is Robert Paschal. I'm a senior here at the Institution. I have not seen you two here before. Are you freshman?"
"No," Loraine answered blushing. "My friend, Mackenzie, here just moved to Pennsylvania and is starting the school year as a junior. I, on the other hand, was raised here but attended a different school until my father transferred me here, where I will also be starting off as a junior."
Robert smiled. "Glad to here that. If you need someone to show you around, I am available for assistance."
"Oh really? That would be most helpful! I am sure this place could be quite confusing for newcomers."
Spunks' eyes widened. She did not want to be shown around like a tourist by some senior who expected to get more out of this innocent relationship than she was willing to give. She grew up in New York; she knew what was happening here.
"Actually, my father and I attended a tour of the school over the summer and I pretty much know the way quite well. But we do thank you for the offer of your help." She grabbed Loraine's arm and pulled her the rest of the way up the staircase. She did not regard the girl until they were inside the building. "We are here to get an education, not to ruin our lives by getting acquainted with creeps!"
"Mack! You could have at least given him a chance. He seems like a nice guy. And by the way, I don't remember you saying anything about coming here over the summer to get a look around the place."
Spunks grinned mischievously. "I lied!" Loraine's jaw dropped open and she let out a frustrated noise as she chased the smaller girl down the crowded halls of the Institution.
* * * * * * *
Spot sauntered throughout Manhattan, keeping his face expressionless so as not to let others know what he was thinking about, or rather who he was thinking about. Since Spunks' leave, every newsie in Manhattan and Brooklyn knew that he was silently lamenting the loss of his former girlfriend, especially because she was the only one he had ever loved so deeply. A smirk on his face was a rare sight these days and he usually kept to himself all the time, no longer hosting poker games or anything of the sort. He wondered if Spunks still thought about him, or if she had moved on in her rich life. With a new family and a potential to be a muckety-muck, who would look down at their riffraff beginnings?
Spot exhaled a large breath of air. He would have to get over Spunks for his own health. He had recently overheard his own newsies talking among themselves about how their leader barely ate at all! Spot had not noticed it himself. He simply was not hungry that much anymore. One meal a day suited him fine, yet he knew it was not healthy. He glanced at the scenery before him, making sure he was heading down the right street. After all, he had not been to his destination since he was but a young child. But with a void residing in his heart now, he knew there was only one thing that could have a chance at filling it up.
It was only a block away now. The stained glass windows glistened in the sun and the gray stones of the building's walls shone with a sort of reverence as well, even though their surfaces were dull. Spot sighed. He had only come here once, and had only stayed outside the building at that, but now he would enter in. Enter into the church that he hoped would fill him with compassion again.
He reached for the golden knob of the single arched door and slowly turned it with a slight air of hesitation engulfing him. He thought to stop; to just turn around and run back into his miserable life where he would eventually die in grief anyways. If he did, he would no longer have to worry about his leadership duties, about whether he ate or not, about his friends getting caught by the bulls, and especially about the confounded girl who had stolen his heart from him! But something urged him on; a feeling of life. He closed his eyes to gain confidence, opened them, and turned the knob reassured.
The coolness inside welcomed him from where he stood on the doorstep. He peered in and saw that the sanctuary was empty, only occupied by statues of saints and a table where dozens of candles stood, a quarter of them lit. He stepped inside and closed the door quietly behind him. The sanctuary smelled of vanilla or cinnamon, he could not tell which, maybe it was both. The flooring was velvety and of a maroon color and the ceiling rose high above with chandeliers hanging elegantly here and there.
Spot walked farther into the church until he came unto the altar. Behind the podium where a preacher would deliver his sermon, a large wooden cross hung from the wall with a crown of thorns about its top. The Brooklyn leader was captivated by its immense structure and so lost in his thoughts that he jumped when a woman greeted him from behind.
"Good morning, young man," she said softly.
He turned around and his heart stopped. "M-m..."
The woman cut him short, gaping at him with wide eyes and trying to keep from trembling. "Patrick," she cried out almost in a sob. "Patrick!" She pulled him tight into a warm embrace that Spot willingly returned. The woman began crying now and her whole body shook with each whimper. "I can't believe you have returned! After all these years, I thought you lost! But just when I am tempted to lose hope, you walk right into my church! How did you know where to find me? My, you have grown so much! Oh, my baby has come back!" She had to pause to take a breath but was soon back to asking questions as if there would be no tomorrow.
"Ma, I'se missed youse so much," Spot said, and as he spoke, his voice cracked with weakness. He was on the verge of crying as well now. He pulled his mother closer and let himself become enveloped in the closeness he felt. His mother! He never thought he would see her again, and yet that had been up to him for he could have visited anytime he wanted to during his youth. "I'se wanted tah come heah. I'se been feelin kinda empty lately and I figured there aint nuthin like ya own family."
His mother smiled and finally pulled away until her son was at arm's length. Spot only now realized his mother was dressed in the attire of a nun, but he almost expected as much. Why else would she run away to the church after divorcing from his step-father?
Just then, a small boy around the age of ten who looked like the exact replica of Spot, came running into the sanctuary in a white gown. "Mother," he said disapprovingly. "Must I be an altar boy? This robe does not look at all right on me!"
The woman laughed. "Matthew, did you not notice that we have a guest?"
Matthew looked past the woman and noticed the young man. "Oh, sorry mom." He nodded his head and began to turn away but something had just dawned on him. He slowly turned back around to face Spot and narrowed his eyes. He was utterly confused; this could not be! He looked at his mother questioningly and when she smiled that it indeed was right, the boy was elated. He threw out his arms and exuberantly shouted, "Patrick!!!" with about as much enthusiasm as a younger brother could convey.
Spot scooped up his small sibling in a hug and held him close. "Heya french fry, how youse been holdin up lately?"
"Mother wants me to be an altar boy. Can you believe that!?"
"Yea I can," Spot laughed. "Youse should be a newsie!"
The woman instantly shook her head. "Absolutely not! I have already lost one son to that dangerous business, I will not lose another!"
Spot actually laughed, and when he realized he had, his heart felt a little less burdened. The pain he had felt while coming here was slowly dissipating by being in the presence of his family members. "Ah, ma, it aint dangerous. Youse just gotta now how tah get around and all."
Matthew grinned. "Mother, at least newsies do not have to wear appalling white robes and carry around torches!"
"Matthew Peter Conlon! Go to your room this instant and think about the advantages and consequences of each opportunity. I am sure you will find that staying in the church business will greatly outweigh living in the dirty streets of New York with no promise that food will be served to you the next day!" The ten year old lowered his head in shame and slowly made his way to the back of the church the same way he had come.
When he was gone, Spot spoke up again.
"If I'se didn't know any better, I would think youse were tryin tah make me leave me life as a newsie from the way youse is degradin it."
"Dear, I only want the best for you. Do you even have a relationship with God?"
Spot looked away. He didn't even remember the last time he had spoken to God! And though it was something he was not proud of, he rarely let it get to him when he was lost in the airs of being a fearless leader. His mother took a seat on one of the pews of the church and he fell relaxingly beside her. It was nice to simply rest for a while with not a worry on your mind.
"Patrick, I want you to tell me all that you have been through since last we talked." Spot smiled at his family's use of his second name. He had no idea why they did not call him by his first name Andrew, or why he would not insist that they refer to him by his newsie name. Another thing he realized was that his mother had said she wanted to know what had happened to him since 'last they talked' rather than saying 'since you ran away from home'. He had to admit he was glad that she did not bring the whole matter up. A lot of emotions had been running inside of Spot when he had decided to run away from his family and abusive step-father. He just couldn't take the pain anymore and did not want to live in a place where fear constantly lingered.
"Well Ma, it's quite simple actually. There was this goil named Spunks who I loved tah death. At foist, we hated each other, but once we got over our pride and all that other crap, we realized we had feelings fer each other. So one thing led tah another and we ended up sleepin together."
His mother's eyes went wide. Premarital sex was not smiled upon from the eyes of the church and she made a mental note to pray for her son's forgiveness that night. Spot went on.
"Then she tells me that she only did it tah do it, ya know? So we'se stop talking fer months. Then, we get back together eventually. Things were goin so great until her father from Pennsylvania comes outta nowhere tah take her home. She was gonna stay wid me originally but then the shit really hit the fan!"
Her mother shook her head, once again surprised by the young man! Use of profane words! She would pray for proper speech to be bestowed upon Spot later that night. She watched Spot with interested eyes as he finished his story.
"Me and the goil were headin up to me room and when we get in, this other goil is waitin there. It was Hazel from New Jersey, remember her? Anyways, she comes at the worse time proclaimin her love fer me and of coise Spunks gets all pissed and leaves me fer her father even though I told her I still loved her and that Hazel was in me past! So now it's been a few months and I'se been feelin like crap the whole time."
The woman took Spot's hand in hers and smiled. "Well, you are more than welcome to stay here for as long as you like and we will even make the proper arrangements if you decide to stay here permanently. I would be more than happy to have my family back together again the way it should be. But know that I will always love you no matter what you decide to do." She leaned in and kissed Spot on the cheek before rising to her feet to show him to a vacant room where he would be able to sleep. The Brooklyn leader sighed in satisfaction. He knew he had made the right decision by coming home.
* * * * *
More to come...