My name is Nona. I'm 16 years old. And this is how I might have died:

I was driving along highway 49 like I did every other day of my life. I had my music (country of course) blasting loud and the windows rolled down. It was summer. My long brownish red hair was flying around my face as I sung along to every song. I had my sunglasses on and an arm out the window. I was headed to the library.

I never saw the truck.

All of a sudden I was flying. My head banged back and I could feel the steel wrap close to my body. I couldn't scream but I saw the sky and the ground all mixing together like I was a kid again, rolling down a steep hill. All of a sudden, everything was still. I couldn't move and my eyelids were so heavy. I slowly decided I could take a nap since I wasn't really driving. The last thing I remember was Jerrod Nieman telling me there was nothing wrong with one more drinking song.

I woke up in a sunny place. The ground was hard beneath me.

'I should be dead.' I thought to myself. I sat up slowly, my head spinning. I thought I heard faint beeping in the background, but other than that I heard people in the distant talking. I looked around and knew I was dead. Sitting in front of me, wearing an almost world famous smirk, was Spot Conlon. Spot was a character from a 1992 Disney musical called Newsies. We should definitely not be meeting…

"You'se gonna talk?" Angel-Spot asked, his bright blue eyes shining. I looked around quickly. The sky was so close, it had to be Heaven, it was big and open and only broken up but puffy white clouds.

"Where am I?" I asked automatically. He laughed hard.

"She speaks! Thank God! You're on the roof of the Brooklyn lodge house a 'course! My names Spot Conlon. But you already know that don'tcha Nona?" He asked with a wink. I nodded. Spot was un-usually chipper. Not that I really knew what he was like…I had loved the movie and read countless fan fictions, but of course I never actually knew the boy who lived only in Disney's imagination….and apparently Heaven.

"What are you doing here Spot?" I ask rubbing my head. He sighed deeply and shook his head, sending his dirty blond hair falling into his face.

"I is the only one who comes to you in your time of need and you criticize me for being here. The things I do for you Nona!" He ranted angrily.

"You've never done anything for me Spot." I said, angry I was fighting with a fictional character.

"My God woman! Don't you remember 7th grade? I was your best friend. You knew I was always sitting in the desk next to you. You knew I was always there when some jerk came along to ruin our fun. I was there when you had nothing Nona, and you have the nerve to call me fictional!" Spot huffed angrily, and it came back to me.

Newsies used to be my life. Every thought, dream, and word out of my mouth pertained to Newsies. I had given birthdays and memories to people that were only husks, only ideas. I had made them real. I thought back to when my life had started to change, and I started to grow up. The newsies had faded slowly from me.

Tears began to well slowly in my eyes. I looked up at Spot and cried. I don't know where all the fun we used to have went. Where all the memories of secret discussions with a tough boy only I knew about went.

"Where'd you go Spot? I've been through Hell since then. I needed you sometimes. Where'd you guys go?" I cried softly. Spot took one of my hands. His touch felt so real, solid. He looked into my eyes and it seemed like he was looking at my soul.

"We never left. Check your notebooks filled with stories of our adventures, check the sketch books we came to life in, check the forest we'd protect from the Bronx, and the park where you told us to go when it wasn't always safe at home for us. I guarantee our pictures are still in your room somewhere. Find the red suspenders your mom got you for Christmas that year. Check the hat that resembles Racetrack's so much. Don't be afraid to look for us. Turn around, look hard enough, and we'll always be there. We've been just as lost since you got an actual life. But when your life gets too hard, the newsies will be there to lift you up. Newsies stick together." He said and I stopped crying slowly.

I thought of all the things he told me too. I squeezed his hand hard and closed my eyes imagining all those things. The wind that whipped across the roof died suddenly. I squeezed my eyes closed tighter. The light got brighter, sharper, and the faint beeping got louder.

'This doesn't feel like Heaven should.' I thought to myself. I gasped and opened my eyes. I wasn't on Brooklyn's roof anymore. I was in an uncomfortable bed surrounded by my family.

'I'm in the hospital.' I thought quietly. My family cheered and cried snotty tears as the saw I was awake. I smiled faintly, feeling so weak. I'm not dead! It's because of Spot. I knew it was true.

My eyes carried themselves to the chair in the corner. Lounging there was Spot Conlon. He tipped his hat, winked at me and faded slowly until the chair was empty. I smiled again and knew he was right. He will never really leave. The newsies will never leave me.