By Melanie Miller
Specs tried not to let himself fall asleep during lunch. He was exhausted. A whole day of
selling papers wore him out, especially with his 'visits.' What the 'visits' really were, the other newsies had different ideas. Racetrack thought that his 'visits' referred to meetings with a girl. "Either she's so pretty Specs is afraid ta show hoir ta us, er she's so ugly she cain't be seen in public," Race would tease the taller, dark-haired boy. Kid Blink thought she was one of the high class girls. "Like da one Spot got a hold of, da one Katrin likes so much," he told the other newsies. "Specs has got manners, ya know? He's always a-takin' his hat off for goils, and he don't really tawk that bad either." Specs would just shake his head and laugh. Cowboy, on the other hand, figured that his visits were a secret way of making money somehow.
Their ideas couldn't be farther off, though. Specs had no money to spare, he worked just to make ends meet, especially with his extra expenses. He hadn't even spoken to a goil, except three in the last month. He talked with Jack's girl Sarah, of course, because she was always hanging around Jack. You could hardly avoid Katrin, Kid Blink's goil, because she lived at the
Lodging House. And then, the strange one was Amanda, Spot Conlon's high society girlfriend. Amanda had helped him arrange for his 'visits.'
Suddenly, Specs was jarred awake by a slap on the shoulder from Mush. "Aww, Specs, ain't you gonna eat dat?" he asked, pointing to the half eaten sandwich in front of Specs.
"Uhh, no," Specs mumbled and pushed the plate towards Mush, who began to eagerly attack the sandwich.
"You'se ok, Specs?" the other 'four-eyes' of the group, Dutchy, asked, concerned for his
friend.
"Sure," Specs lied. I'm ok if you count over tiredness, no money, and too little time to sell papes, Specs thought to himself, sighing. He didn't even notice the other boys leaving. He had
begun repeating something strange-sounding to himself, something like a foreign language.
"Specs, you'se awake? We'se all goin'," Racetrack waved a hand in front of his face.
"Oh, sorry," Specs followed the shorter, Italian out. Specs was a newsie of few words, so
his lack of response didn't surprise Racetrack. Race shoved his cigar in his mouth and walked to
catch up with Mush and Blink. Specs sighed. He had to talk to Amanda. Luckily tomorrow would be Saturday, the day he saw her.
He waited in line the following morning to buy his papes. "Specs, wanna hit Bottle Alley
wit me?" Mush called to him.
"Uh, no thanks, Mush," Specs stuttered, trying to think of an excuse.
Dutchy elbowed him. "You'se got a new secret payin' spot fer Saturdays, eh Specs?"
"Uh, yeah. That's it," Specs lamely agreed. "Better go if I wanna sell my papes." He walked off in the direction of the Brooklyn Bridge, selling papes as he walked.
His 'visits.' Specs hated lying. But the others wouldn't understand, he told himself again.
When his mother had died, Specs had promised her that he would fulfill his dream of becoming a lawyer to help the ordinary workers. The strike had showed him that he needed to keep trying.
Not only were there the newsboys, but the sweatshop workers Denton had talked about. Plus the
factory workers, who had no rights. If you got hurt, you were fired. David and Les' father sure learned that lesson. Specs wanted to fight for these peoples' rights in court. The only problem was how to get the schooling.
One time, Specs had run into Spot Conlon. Normally they weren't pals, but it had been
raining, and Spot said he knew a restaurant they could get some shelter in. Turns out it was the
restaurant where his girl, Amanda Coldrine, lived. Amanda was attending a high class girls
secondary school in Manhattan, but she lived with her aunt in Brooklyn to save money. Spot had
met her there, and although there was some tension in their relationship at first, it could now be
said that they cared for one another very much. As much as Spot hates to admit it, Specs smirked to himself.
When Specs had gotten into a conversation with Amanda about his dream, she had told
him to do something about it. Amanda helped him find a school where he could take night classes four days a week. She had been true to her word, so far. No newsies except Spot knew, and he was sworn to secrecy.
Every Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday night, Specs trudged to the small
School for the Disadvantaged in Brooklyn, where they gave free night classes. In another month,
Specs would have enough credits to earn what they called a secondary school diploma. Amanda
told him he needed that to get into college, where he could learn more. The only problem was the cost. Specs wasn't sure how that would work yet, but he had decided to cross that bridge when he came to it.
Everything was going well. Specs loved the discussions and debates in his English class,
and he completed mathematics and history with ease. His only failing was Latin. Learning proper English was hard enough for a street boy of Manhattan, adding a foreign language was near impossible. Amanda, however, was fortunate enough to be fluent in Latin, thanks to her father. She tutored Specs every Saturday morning at her house. That was why she had insisted Spot be told about the whole thing.
"What if Spot catches you at my house one Saturday? I want to be honest with him,"
Amanda explained to Specs. He wasn't thrilled Spot knew, but he understood there was nothing
he could do about it. Better to tell him than to have Spot be angry with him. People who had the
greatest and most powerful newsie in Brooklyn angry with them didn't last long.
"Specs?" Amanda called when he entered the small restaurant. "We're back in the kitchen." We're, Specs noted. That meant Spot was here. He sighed, hoping that Spot wouldn't cause a problem today.
"Heya, Specs," Spot greeted him, spitting into his hand. Specs spat into his, and the two
boys shook hands. "How's everything?"
"Eh, same old, same old," Specs smiled, taking off his derby hat. "Amanda, I really need
help this week, or I think I'll fail the examination on Tuesday."
"Don't worry, what's the problem this time?" Amanda wore her blonde hair pinned up. Spot sat protectively next to her, his arm around her waist. She looked stunning, as usual. Specs still didn't understand what she saw in Conlon, but he didn't press it.
"Well, the verb endings again. This time the preterit ones," Specs sighed, dumping his
books on the table. He and Amanda began to furtively discuss the verb endings and the uses of them.
After a few minutes of Latin, Spot looked annoyed, but he kissed Amanda on the cheek. "I'se be back in a few hours or so ta eat lunch with ya," he told her. She nodded, giving him a quick kiss back. Specs sighed. He'd love a girl. But here wasn't time. Besides, who would like him? He was a nothin', a nobody. He didn't have the flash and style of rich boys, nor did he have
the charisma that got Blink and Mush their girls. No, he was just Specs. But that was all right with him.
After several frustrating hours, Specs finally could understand the Latin passages that had been assigned for homework. "I actually think I'se - I'm," he corrected himself, "going to pass this exam!"
"You sure is," Spot entered the room again. "By the ways, you'se bettah get back ta Manhattan. My sources tellin' me dat some ah da newsies are lookin' fer ya. And they'se not happy."
Specs glanced at the time. "Oh my gosh, it's almost three o'clock! I've been here for hours."
"Yes, you have," Spot elbowed him. "Wit my goil. Yer lucky I trust you, Specs." He put his arms around Amanda protectively again, and she elbowed him in the stomach. "Oof. I knew I'se shouldn't have taught ya dat move," he kidded her, reminding both of them of how they met. Spot had originally taught Amanda how to defend herself. And done an excellent job, as Kid Blink would tell you, since Amanda had once given him a shinner in the eye for a wrong look.
"Listen, thanks Amanda. I gotta run," Specs put on his hat and ran out the door. He ran
all the way back to Manhattan. He was supposed to meet Boots and Skittery at Tibby's at two o'clock. He hoped they wouldn't be mad or suspect something. Specs arrived, out of breath, only an hour and a half late.
"Specs, where ya been?" The other boys were just leaving Tibby's. "We thoughts you fergot us."
"Yeah, you'se do this a lot lately. And you is always late fer curfew. Twice this week, eh?" Skittery accused. "What have you been up to?"
"Nothin' Skittery," Specs scowled in the other boy's face. "Nothin'. Let's go find the others."
"Specs, don't you know nuttin'? Tonight's da big poker game in da Bronx. Ain't you comin'?" Boots looked skeptically at his friend's face. "You'se really outta it lately. More visits?"
Specs sighed, knowing the taunting that would come. "Yeah, his goil must be demandin'
this week," Skittery teased.
"Shut up! Just shut up! None of you'se knows nothing!" Specs yelled and stalked off. Boots called after him, but Specs kept walking. Way to go, Specs, he yelled at himself. Smart, real smart. Blowing up at your friends always accomplishes so much. Stupid. If they didn't suspect something now, then they certainly would with his comment.
"Specs?" the timid voice suddenly disturbed his thoughts as he plopped down at the Lodging House on his bed.
"Oh, Katrin, it's you." Specs sighed with relief. "Aren't you goin' to the poker game?" Katrin shook her head, her wet hair apparent that she and Blink had been pushing eachother into the harbor again. "Nah, I hate gambling. You'se knows that, Specs."
"Oh, right. So, how's everything with you and Blink?"
"Great, as always," Katrin flashed him her killer smile. She hesitated in her next fewwords, saying, "Specs? Can I'se ask you somethin'?"
Specs groaned to himself but agreed. "Sure."
"Well, see, I was wonderin'. Your visits, what's they really about?" Katrin sat down on the floor in front of Specs' bed. He sighed. Specs didn't want to explain it to anyone, especially not Katrin. If Katrin knew, there was a chance Blink would. If Blink knew, Mush and Race would. And it would go on until it got to Skittery, and then the whole world would know. And probably the journal too, he laughed to himself. "Specs?" Katrin probed.
"Heya, Katrin, Specs! How's it goin'?" Specs breathed a sigh of relief, saved by Kid Blink's intrusion into the Lodging House.
"Pretty well, Blink, yerself?"
"Heard you was late today. Sell lots of papes?"
"Uh, yeah." Specs agreed with him. "I'se gonna take a walk." He left the room, thankful he didn't have to confront Katrin any longer. He just walked along the streets of New York, watching people. Old people, young people, Specs thought about how someday he could help them all survive. If he could only get past the newsies, he thought to himself, sighing.
"Now, when Shakespeare portrays the fairy Tuck in A Midsummer Night's Dream, what is he providing to the audience?" Specs forced himself to concentrate on the class at hand. He raised his hand.
The teacher called on him. "Uh, Shakespeare was giving the audience a humorous character for comedy, and also someone to relieve the tension of the king," Specs read from his notes he had written earlier.
"That's correct, excellent, Matthew," Specs almost couldn't respond to the teacher calling him by his real name. He had had to supply it for the class, of course. He just hadn't expected it to be so difficult to respond. It had been years since anyone had called him by anything excepts four-eyes or Specs. The class quickly concluded, and Specs began to gather his books together.
He stepped into the hallway, only to bump into someone.
"Oh, I'm sorry!" He offered his hand to the young lady on the ground.
"That's all right, I vas moving too quickly," the girl said in German-accented English. "I apologize."
"It's fine, really," Specs helped her gather her books up. "Listen, I'm Matthew, but everyone calls me Specs."
"I'm Kirsten. What means dis word, Specs?" The young girl shook his hand enthusiastically and laughed.
"Oh, like glasses, spectacles," he pointed to the glasses on his face. "It's just a nickname."
"Den you must call me Kirsty," She smiled. "For that is my nickname."
Specs took in a quick breath. "Well, Kirsty, would you like to join me for a sandwich? I know a restaurant near here."
"I'm sorry, but my brother is here to take me home. See? Let me introduce him," Kirsty waved to a tall, blonde boy approaching the steps of the building. "Hans, dis is my friend Matthew. But everyone calls him Specs. It is his," she struggled over the new English word, "nickname."
"Pleased to meet you Hans," Specs stuck out his hand. Hans enthusiastically shook it. "I was just saying I would take your sister out for a sandwich. You're welcome to join us. I'm hungry, and I don't like eating alone," he explained sheepishly.
"Sure, dat would be fine," Hans smiled at his sister, who nodded happily. "Vere vill ve go? I does not know dis area of New York. We live in Greenwich."
"You sure come a long way just for classes," Specs led the way to Amanda's restaurant, where he often went after classes for a sandwich.
"Well, I think dat learning English, learning to write it, is very important. I work as a sewer of dresses for my uncle all day," Kirsty explained. The look in her eyes explained the unspoken words to Specs. Kirsty worked in a sweatshop. He sighed. Would there ever be a way to end the unfair labor? he asked himself.
"I'm a newsie," Specs smiled, proud of his job. The two Germans looked confused. "I'm a newspaper boy, selling papes... er, papers."
"Oh, the ones I hear so much about? Were you in the strike last summer?" Hans looked excited. "We were not in America yet, but I have heard from my cousin about dis."
"Yes, I was very involved in it," Specs laughed. "I'm good friends with the leaders, Jack Kelly and David Jacobs." They walked into the restaurant. "Amanda? Miss Josephine?" Specs called to his friend and her aunt. "I brought some friends, we're hear for sandwiches."
"Heya, Specs," Aunt Jo, Brooklyn accent apparent, came and gave him a motherly hug. He blushed. "Miss Josephine, this is Kirsty and her brother, Hans. Kirsty takes classes at the school I go to," he explained. "Can we have three roast beef sandwiches?"
"Sure thing, I'll make them up. I'd have Amanda do it, but she's out wit dat Spot Conlon again. On a school night, too. Spot Conlon's gonna have ta answer ta me," she said menacingly. Specs thought she was only half teasing.
"Spot Conlon? I have heard this name, too," Hans looked puzzled trying to remember. "Yeah, he's the best newsie in Brooklyn," Specs smiled at Kirsty while answering Hans. She blushed. "So, Kirsty, what classes do you take?"
"Oh, I am taking basic English classes. I also just signed up for mathematics, which I am very... oh, I cannot think of the word," she sighed. She asked her brother a question in German, and he responded with an English word. "I am very nervous. Dat is the word. I do not know this mathematics."
"Well, don't worry, I can help you with that," Specs smiled. A little too eager, aren't we? He asked himself. He smiled. Specs liked Hans, he seemed nice. And Kirsty was a wonderful girl.
"Hey, how old are you'se?"
"I am nineteen," Hans replied, "And Kirsty just reached sixteen years last month." Specs smiled. Perfect. When the sandwiches came, he half listened to Hans babble on, clearly the talker in the family. But the other time, he was watching Kirsty. She was beautiful, with bright green eyes and long blonde hair. She still looked straight off the boat, an expression he had heard people use before. She wore her traditional German kerchief on her head, and her hair was in a long braid down her back.
Specs blushed twice when she caught him staring. "Hans, Kirsty, we really better get goin'," Specs looked at the clock on the wall. "I'se past curfew anyway at the Newsboys Lodging House. Kirsty, when's your next class?"
"Ah, tomorrow night, mathematics," she replied after some thought.
"Alright. I'll see you tomorrow then," Specs told her. "You too, Hans," he added as an after thought, not wishing to anger the large, older brother. Hans nodded enthusiastically. He walked them to the trolley station, where they caught a line back home. He ran through Brooklyn, and climbed up the Lodging House stairs.
"Well, look who decided ta show up!" Racetrack caught sight of him at the window. "Late again, Specs?"
He apologized, "Sorry. I was-" "Visiting," all the other newsies in the room teased. Specs turned beet red and began to get ready for bed. He was terribly embarrassed. Cowboy tried to talk to him about his money making scheme, but it only made matters worse. He quickly fell asleep, well aware that he had made two wonderful friends today.
"Extra! Extra! London Bridge begins to fall!" Specs called out his improved headline on the International news, page 21, entitled 'Repairs begin on the famous London Bridge.' The news had been very slow, so even with his improved headlines he didn't finish selling papes until mid afternoon. Walking toward the Lodging House, he ran into Blink and Katrin.
"Heya, Specs," Katrin called down the street.
"Heya, Katrin, Blink," Specs returned the greeting. "You'se done wit sellin'?"
Blink smiled, not a rare occasion, and said, "Sure thing. Katrin's jist goin' back ta da Lodging House ta change, and den we'se going over ta Midway fer dinner." Blink and Specs sat and talked while Katrin went upstairs.
Suddenly Katrin called down, "Heya Specs?"
"Yeah?"
"When did you'se start readin' Shakespeare?" she teased him.
"What?" Specs raced upstairs. His pillow had fallen off his bunk, and two Shakespeare plays lay exposed to the world. "Oh, no. Katrin, did anyone else see this?"
"How's I supposed ta know? No one's been here since I been here," she shrugged. "What's da big deal anyway? Since when did you start readin'?"
"Hey, what're those?" Blink kicked the blanket that Specs hid in front of his other books under his bunk. "More books!"
"Specs, what's goin' on?" Katrin gave him her best mean look, trying to demand an explanation. Specs just shook his head, unable to believe he'd been discovered.
Blink put his arm around Specs, saying, "Come on, we'se won't tell. You ain't been the same newsie lately. Fer da past couple months, you'se always gone fer long times, and you'se comin' in after curfew. You were da one who'd yell if we was two minutes late normally," he accused lightly. "Specs, what's this about?"
Specs sat down on his head. "It was bound to come out eventually," he sighed, half to himself, half out loud. He gradually explained the whole thing to the two other newsies. "And so dat's why I'm never here, and dat's why I'se got the books."
"Specs, why didn't ya say so?" Kid Blink looked at him with his one good eye. "Dat's a great idea! To fight fer da working people of New Yawk!" Katrin stared at Specs, obviously impressed too much to even say a word. "Specs, it's great! Just great!" Blink pounded him on the back, congratulating.
"Here's my problem," Specs explained. "I only got one more month of classes. Then, I can go to college! But how is a newsboy supposed ta pay for college?" The three newsies stared at one another, but no one had an answer. "Exactly. I don't know what to do."
"Hope," Katrin hugged Specs. "Hope and pray. Somehow Specs, you'll get to college," she smiled at him. "I know you will."
"Heya Kirsty!" Specs yelled down the hallway after he was finished with his science class. He waved his hat in the air, hoping to catch her attention.
"Specs!" She smiled at him.
Specs noticed that she had a large purple bruise on one cheek. "Kirsty, what happened?" "Oh, I, um," Kirsty was suddenly at a loss for words.
Just then, Hans showed up. "You fell, ja, Kirsty? Isn't dat vat Uncle Ivan said?" Hans' look had great meaning to the girl. She simply nodded her head. The three began to walk towards the trolley station, Hans leading the way.
Specs looked at his friend skeptically. "Kirsty," he asked quietly, "you can tell me. Did you fall into your Uncle's hand?"
"Actually," Kirsty whispered back, "into a stick he vas holding. I did not finish my order in time today, and he vas very angry vith me," she explained. "It is my fault."
"No it's not!" Specs put his arm protectively around her. "Kirsty, we have to get you out of that sweatshop. And soon."
"Specs, do not worry yourself," Kirsty moved away from him. "Come, ve must catch up vith Hans. He is already a block ahead of us." She quickened her pace, and began to talk to Specs about his life as a newsie. Specs concentrated and respected her change of subject, but he didn't let the thought of getting Kirsty out of the sweatshop leave his mind. And he did worry himself about it, long into the night at the Lodging House.
Over the next few weeks, Specs became good friends with Kirsty and Hans. They were both hardworking Germans. He even went to their house to eat one Saturday night for dinner, meeting their whole family. He realized they were struggling to speak in English for him, and was impressed by their courtesy. The best, of course, was Kirsty. Specs was helping her with her math at the school every day, and they were forming a good friendship. Specs often wished it could be more, but he was also aware that that was impossible. He was just a newsie, a nobody. It pained him to see Kirsty slave away in the sweatshop, though. Specs wanted to help her, but he didn't know how.
"Heya, Specs," greeted Katrin about two weeks later at the Lodging House.
No one else was around, so she asked, "How's studyin' comin?"
"Pretty well, I only have another week of classes left. Then, who knows? Amanda said something about a school in Vermont, but she never mentioned it again, and I don't want to push," Specs frowned. He would never save up enough money as a newsie to go to college, even if he sold 100 papes a day, like Jack.
"Aww, Specs," Katrin punched his shoulder playfully. "You'll find a way."
He met Kirsty that Wednesday night, except she was alone. After they ate a snack, she explained it to him. "My brother couldn't make it, but he said he thought dat I vas in good hands. He really likes you." Kirsty smiled at him as he was silent.
Finally, he cleared his throat and asked, "Do you?"
"Vat?"
"Do you like me?" Specs blushed as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Kirsty didn't answer. "Because I like you," he said lamely, feeling embarrassed as they walked from the ice cream parlor to the trolley line.
"Specs, I tink dat you are vunderbar!" She patted his cheek. "Wonderful!"
"That's what I hoped to hear all day," he smiled at her, taking her hand. "Kirsty, I have a surprise for you. I know that you don't like working for your uncle sewing."
"How did you know dis?" Kirsty looked astonished. "I have never said anything to anyone, not even Hans! I would never speak badly of my uncle's business... but Specs, you are right." She lowered her voice to a whisper, saying, "I hate it dere."
"Well, I have good news for you," Specs smiled, ready finally to spring his surprise on her. "My friend Amanda, and her Aunt Josephine? Well, Miss Josephine says she needs a helper in the restaurant, and I said you would probably take the job. We can go there tomorrow if you like."
Kirsty threw her arms around him. "Thank you, Matthew!" she held him tightly. Specs wasn't sure what to do, he had never held a girl in his arms before. I like the feeling, he thought to himself.
"Kirsty, I'm just glad I can help you," he whispered in her ear, still holding on. "You mean so much to me." And when she looked at him, their faces drew close together, and the two kissed. Specs wasn't really sure how to handle it, but he gently pulled away after a few moments. "Thank you."
"Matthew," Kirsty blushed as they sat down on a bench, waiting for the trolley, "I'm very very glad I met you."
"And I'se glad I met you," Specs smiled back at her. They sat there, quietly enjoying one another's company, until the trolley arrived and Kirsty went home.
The next morning, Specs met Kirsty at the trolley station and took her to Josephine's Restaurant. He told Kirsty to wait outside while he found the owner. "Miss Jo?"
"Specs! It's been a while," Aunt Josephine pushed some hairs off her sweaty brow. "Didya tawk ta dat goil? I'se really needs some help. Amanda is either studyin', er at school, er wit dat Conlon boy. I shudda never encouraged dose two," she muttered.
"Actually," Specs interrupted her, "I talked to Kirsty. She said she would be thrilled to work here. And I brought her along today. She's outside, but I wanted to make sure it was ok to bring her in."
"Sure! Can she start now, I'se sure needs the help," Aunt Jo looked over his shoulder, expecting to see the girl. She waved for her to come in. "Heya, I'm Josephine, jist call me Aunt Jo, it's easier. Can you cook?"
"Ja," Kirsty replied, then blushed. "Yes, ma'am. I can cook, clean, wash dishes, anything you need."
"Wonderful. I'se needs the help," Aunt Jo smiled. "Well, tell Specs good-bye, you'll see him tonight at classes I assume?"
"I'll be here to pick you up and we'll walk together," Specs looked at Kirsty's green eyes. She nodded, and then kissed him on the cheek. He walked out, and nearly ran into Amanda Coldrine.
"Specs!"
"Amanda, how are you?" he asked politely.
"Specs, I have the most wonderful news! My father needs a new assistant in Vermont, so I cabled him and told him that you would be the perfect boy. He wired me back, and he says that he'll pay for your college if you work for him," Amanda threw her arms around him, hugging him. "Isn't that perfect?"
"Poirfect," Specs repeated. A million thoughts ran through his head. Here it was, the chance of a lifetime. But, leave New York? All his friends, and everything he'd ever known? And what about Kirsty? But this was the chance of a lifetime.
"Specs?" Amanda had continued talking. "Are you listening to me?"
"Amanda, I'll let you know." He turned and walked away, leaving a certain high class blonde standing with her hands on her hips, shocked.
Dutchy saw his friend Specs coming toward Tibby's as he walked towards the door. "Heya, Specs! Why ya lookin' so blue? Ya run into Denton or something?" he joked with him, playfully punching the dark haired boy in the arm.
"Nah, Dutchy, jist..." Specs hesitated. "Can I'se talk to you?"
"Specs, I'se yer friend. We'se always been close. What's the problem?" Dutchy pushed Specs into a booth and began to talk with him.
"See, I ain't been honest wit ya about my 'visits,'" Specs explained, putting his hands on the table. "Really, I haven't been." He began to speak properly to emphasize his point to Dutchy. "I have been taking classes to finish my schooling at night school in Brooklyn. I want to be a lawyer, so I can defend people like us in court. Remember when we didn't have a council when we all got arrested? I want to be the council to defend people like us."
"Wow!" Dutchy clapped the other boy on the back. "Specs, dat's amazing! I mean, you'se gonna be educated, and I cain't even read!" Out of all the newsies, only Specs knew Dutchy's secret, that he could hardly even spell out his own name. "Why didn't ya tell us?"
"I was embarrassed," Specs admitted. "And I also didn't want any sympathy, or mocking, or anything." He sighed. "I was just afraid. But here's the problem. You know Spot's girl, Amanda?" Dutchy nodded his blonde head. "Well, Amanda's father is a lawyer up in Vermont. And he's offered to pay for my college if I'll work for him while I'm attending the college up there."
"What's the problem?" Dutchy looked confused, not a rare occurrence for a boy who couldn't even read.
"How can I leave all of you?" Specs looked at Dutchy. "I mean, you've been my family since Ma died. How can I just leave?"
"You won't leave forever, Specs," Dutchy patted his arm. "You'll be back. And we'll be here. Specs, you'se gotta do what is roight fer you. Take dat job in Vermont, Specs."
Specs stood on the steps at the train station. He had never expected this many people would see him off. All the Manhattan newsies were there, and Amanda was there, too, with Spot and some of his newsies. Once all the Manhattan newsies has heard the story (told to everyone by Dutchy, Katrin, and Blink, now that they weren't sworn to secrecy), they all agreed that Specs should go. Everyone pinched their pennies together to buy him a new suit. Racetrack even gave up going to the track for a week so that he could buy Specs a brand new derby hat to replace his old one.
Slowly, the newsies came one by one to say good-bye to Specs. When Dutchy came, it was all Specs could do to keep from crying. "Dutchy, what can I say? You'se been my best friend since I became a newsie," Specs punched his friend playfully in the arm. "I'm gonna write you letters in care of Kloppman. He'll read them to you, I promise." Dutchy smiled, trying not to let tears show through.
Katrin and Blink came next, slightly sooty. "Aww, Katrin, did you push Blink into a coal pile?" Specs laughed.
"Hey, it wasn't my fault, it was his," she pointed her thumb at Blink, who just grinned. "Hey you two, stay out of trouble, understand me?" Specs hugged them both. He turned to Amanda and Spot. "I wouldn't be here without you, Amanda. And without you, Spot, letting your goil tutor me in Latin," he tried to joke, blinking the tears away. "Heya, Spot, don't let nobody walk into Brooklyn without you knowing."
"Do I ever?"
"Nah," Specs turned, the tears flowing freely now. He wiped them away with one hand, and turned to get on the train. He waved good-bye to everyone, noticing there was one person missing. She must have forgotten, Specs sighed. He turned to enter the train, when he heard a voice.
"Matthew! Vait!" Specs turned and ran off the train. He picked Kirsty up in his arms and swung her around.
"I'll miss you," he whispered, giving her a long kiss. "But I'll write. And you will have Amanda or Miss Jo read it to you, right?" she nodded.
"Specs?" Kirsty pulled his hat off with one hand and brushed his hair back with the other. "I love you."
"I love you, too, Kirsten. And I'll be home soon." Specs turned, and went on the train. As he waved through the window to his friends, he reflected to himself. He was starting a new life. But that didn't mean he had to forget his old one. Especially not his friends.