Dusk was falling over Brooklyn and in the distance Spot could see storm clouds rolling in. Perfect. A storm to reflect my mood. He thought to himself.He was thinking over the days events and was amazed at how everything changed in a matter of minutes. Spot could feel the sick and angry feeling returning to the pit of his stomach with these thoughts. Angry, he brought his fist down on the table, turned on his heel and left the room. He hadn't checked on her since they brought her back to the warehouse and summoned a doctor. I shoulda protected her. I shoulda been watching her. He thought. He worked up the courage and walked into the room he shared with her. He could see her laying on her bed, she looked dead. He couldn't think that way, he knew she wasn't dead. Yet. One of the nurses working on her saw Spot and approached him.
"Youse okay?" She asked.
"How's she doing?" Spot asked ignoring her question.
The nurse looked back to her then back at Spot, "She's hanging on….but who knows…." her voice said dropping off.
Just a few hours before that Spot had been laughing with her in the street, she went by Reader. A name the might Spot himself had bestowed upon her. Why Reader? Spot said she always had an uncanny ability to read his moods and thoughts. Reader was his closest friend. They met when they were six, the night their apartment complex burned down and they lost everything. Reader, then she was Abigail, was standing on the corner crying, watching her whole life up in flames. Spot, then he was Connor, ran over to her telling her he'd take care of her forever. Between tears Abigail agreed and together they began their lives as newsies.
The warehouse was stifling for Spot, he could only pace so much anxiously waiting news on Reader, his Reader. Spot slipped out onto the roof just as the rain was starting. He lifted his face up to the sky letting the rain wash off the dirt and ugliness of the day. He leaned over the top of the warehouse, looking down onto the streets going over the events of the afternoon. How he could have done it differently. Spot and Reader had finished selling early that day and had decided to skip selling the evening edition in order to swim in the river. It had been a particularly hot summer day and both of them wanted to get the sweat off of them. Spot was a few feet ahead of Reader who was tying her shoe.
"Wait will ya Spot?" Reader called.
"Aw come on Readah will youse just leave it? Wese almost down to da rivah!" Spot replied.
Reader replied with a grunt. He always seemed to be in a hurry for everything. By the time she was done tying her shoe Spot was across the street from her. Without looking Reader ran into the street, she heard shouting and realized she was about to run right into a cart. Reacting to that Reader stepped back, narrowly missing the cart. Her quick reaction caused her to trip on her feet and land on her back. That trip proved fateful because just then another cart came, the driver not seeing Reader on the ground. The wheel rolled over Reader, right over her pelvis and mid section. Reader had no idea what hit her, but Spot, Spot saw everything. Spot ran into the street, almost getting hit himself. He crawled over to Reader who was still underneath the cart. Her green eyes were closed and black hair matted over her face. Slowly he brought his face to her mouth, hoping to feel the warmth of her breath. He let out a sigh of relief as he felt her breathing.
"I need help! Someone please!" Spot started yelling. He was silently cursing the crowd of people that were watching but offering now help.
"Ise got a cart heah!" A shop owner yelled, pulling a small cart behind him, "Let's place her on it and take her back to where yosue live?"
Spot nodded. He stood up and him and the shop owner gingerly laid her on the cart. Spot followed the cart silently praying, holding Readers hand in his. Don't die on me now Readah. He thought. They arrived at the warehouse that the Brooklyn newsies called home. Spot was lucky one of his birdies had seen everything because he got a doctor who was known to help the newsboys of Brooklyn from time to time. Once they got Reader on the bed the waiting game began for the rest of Brooklyn. Especially for Spot.
The events of the day were a loop in his head, each time he kept trying to change the outcome, but each time his head went back to the image of her lying on the ground helpless. He sat down on the roof thanking God for the rain. The one good thing from this horrible day.