Spot's Milkshake
Chapter One: Milkshake?
Disclaimer: I don't own the Newsies, Disney does. I do own Brandie and Troy, Randy, and Johnny! and the plot!
"Hows it going sweet cheeks?" Harold Devirea asked me in the most annoying voice.
I turned to face him. He was always mocking me. "Don't ya need ta be selling them papes?" I asked him, pointing to the small stack of newspapers sitting next to him.
"Not at the moment." He leered at me, still smiling his same crooked smile. I rolled my eyes, and punched him in the face, making him trip over a crate that lay just inches behind him. He stumbled back a few more steps, and fell backwards into the Brooklyn River. I smiled and turned around to face the muffled sounding applause behind me. I waved to the Brooklyn boys who were staring at me with shocked expressions plastered to their dirty faces.
I caught a glimpse of the most handsome looking boy. He too was staring at me, dazed like the rest of them. I turned back around, and continued to walk back to Randy's Newspaper Stand. Randy's was where the newspapers were made and distributed to the newsies. I was going to work there, giving the newsies their papes. I had only just arrived in Brooklyn a week ago, and had just gotten a job at Randy's earlier that morning.
***
The next morning I woke up later then I would have wanted to. I hated myself for being so tired, but luckily I arrived at Randy's the minute the circulation bell rang.
"Nice run Brandie." Randy Smith told me the moment I walked in the door. "If you run that fast tomorrow, you might be out of a job."
"Yeah, well maybe I should buy meself a rooster that crows when da sun comes up." I told him sarcastically. He rolled his eyes, defeated. I walked over to where the papes were and started to haul them over to where me and Randy sat.
"Couldn't fin' the toothpaste this mornin'. Now me breath is gonna stink." I heard a boy outside the window say.
"It always stinks." Another boy told the first. A few boys chorused laughs.
"What'll it be kid?" Randy asked the first boy in line.
"30 papes." The small boy replied, as he handed Randy some money.
"30 papes!" Randy screamed to me two other boys that gave the newsies their papers.
Johnny got to the pile first and eagerly gave the sandy-haired boy his papers.
"Next"
"50 papes" A taller blonde hair boy said.
"50 papes." This time, I reached the pile of papers first and lugged them over to him.
"Next"
To my dismay, it was Harold. "Let's have that purty lady over there gimme my papes." He smirked at me. The only thing about him that made me smile was his black eye that I had given him the previous day.
"No requests. Now, how many?"
"50 papes." He looked at me and motioned for me to get his papes. I stood still on the spot. Johnny rushed over and brought the heavy stack to him. Harold looked rather upset. He gave me a cold, hard look, and then moved onward to the streets to start his day.
"Next" A medium sized-boy with red suspenders and a slingshot in one pocket walked up to the window. It was the handsome boy I saw yesterday at the docks.
"100 papes." He said all too confidently.
"100 papes!" Randy shouted.
I had only moved a few steps when he looked at me and saluted me with only two fingers. I was disappointed to see that Troy had gotten his papes for him and he left. There was something about him that drew me to him. He was quickly forgotten when more and more newsies demanded their papes.
"Next"
"80 papes."
"80 papes." Randy yelled.
***
"Where you from?" Troy asked me as we cleaned up all the papes that the newsies hadn't bought.
"New Jersey." I replied without looking at him.
"I see. What brings ya ta Brooklyn, New York?" He pressed further.
"Not much. I heard dat New York was da place ta be. So I decided to come here." That wasn't entirely a lie, but it wasn't the entire truth. I didn't want to talk about my past. I never wanted to think about it. This was my new life, my only life as far as I was concerned.
"Why isn't a strong, nice man like yourself out theah selling papes?" It was my turn to push a subject that didn't want to be pushed.
"Selling papes just ain't the life fer me."
"But giving papes ta the newsies out there is?" I asked him. He made no sense at all. There was something hidden within him. I could see it in his eyes. A dark sense hovered over him. He was a lost soul, just like myself, with no where to turn. "So what do we do once we're done here?" I asked him.
"I jus' go and hang around the city. There's nothing ta do, unless ya wanna stick around here with ol' Randy over theah." He motioned with his head to Randy, who was counting all the money the newsies had given him.
I certainly didn't want to stay with Randy all day. But I didn't want to be with Troy either. Johnny was only 11 and he had already left. I bid Troy goodbye, and left Randy's Newspaper Stand. I could hear the shouts of all of the newsies, trying to sell their papes before the day was over. I wandered through the streets for sometime, praying I wouldn't run into Harold.
Satisfied that I had walked long enough, I found a bench alongside the road and sat down. As I watched the people bustle around in the streets, I couldn't help but wonder what life would be like here. So far, it wasn't what I had thought it would be. So I had helped at the Stand, but really, now what? That was only for about and hour and a half, including clean-up. The rest of the day was mine. I had enjoyed going to the docks the most. The only disadvantage of that was, that Harold might be there. He disgusted me to no end. He didn't even know me, yet he was always making my life a living hell. Luckily I would only see him in the morning.
"Getcha papes. Getcha papes over here." I strained my head to see who was interrupting my train of thought. To my pleasure it was the handsome boy from the docks.
"I'll take a couple." I yelled in his direction. He turned to me and I swear I saw him smile.
"How many? One?" He asked me.
"Three please." I flipped him a few cents and reached for the papers.
"Whatcha gonna do wit' 3 papes?" He asked, as he thrust the money in his pockets.
"Dunno." I mumbled as I read the headline. "I'm just takin em off ya hands." I looked up and smiled at him.
"The names Spot. And how's bout ya?" He sat down next to me, lying his papers on his lap.
"Brandie." I said, looking up from the headline.
"Well, 'Brandie' I best be gettin' out theah. Them papes can't sell 'emselves. See ya round' the docks sometime?" He patted the papers on his lap and stood up. Before I could answer he walked away. He yelled out random headlines. I stood up, and watched him walk away. So Spot was the boy that had sucked me into his life. I had never really needed anyone, yet now, I wanted to need Spot. He was different from anyone I had ever met.
"Can I show ya round Brooklyn?" Troy had walked up behind me. He startled me for only a moment. His words were extremely inviting. His smile made my knees crumble, allowing all my weight to fall to the ground. Somehow I remained standing.
"I would like dat." I was confused. Didn't I just fall for Spot, now Troy was creeping his way to my heart. No, Spot was just a handsome acquaintance. Troy on the other hand, well I was not sure of what Troy was. A working partner perhaps?
"Eva seen da Brooklyn Bridge?" He asked me. His dark hair swished in the wind.
"I've crossed it." I replied nonchalantly. I didn't know. It was almost like Spot was inviting me to the docks without saying it. He seemed like the type of person who wouldn't mind if I didn't go to the docks.
"Alright then, shall I show ya all da shops?" He looked at me. His face was radiant against the sun that shone so brightly. "I'd like that too." I told him.
He showed me the best, and cheapest restaurant in town, 'Canary Pub' it was called. I found this to be the oddest name, but it appeared to be normal to everyone else. Next, he showed me where the newsies slept. It had a simple name, Newsboys Lodging House. He explained to me that this name was used for all the newsies all over New York.
He took me by the library, the bank, and a few more restaurants.
"I want ta buy ya someting at the pub." He told me, referring to Canary's Pub. "No, that's alrigh, I'll make it until breakfast."
"I insist." He said to me, as he pulled me to the pub. I only tried to resist at first. I realized that I couldn't stop him. His grip was so tight around my wrist, I thought it was going to fall off. We twisted and turned through alleys and crowded streets. Most of the newsies were just about done selling their papers. I watched as they tried desperately to sell the last of the papers. I felt somewhat sympathetic, but newspapers and young boys selling them slipped my mind as Troy led me inside the pub.
It smelled of coffee that had lost its early morning smell, overcooked muffins, and smoke that filled the air. It was a fairly small area. The smoke traveled easily from the cigars that were being lit. I looked for the menu. It was a small chalkboard that I could barely see. Whoever had written it had incredibly small handwriting and very bad spelling. This irritated me. I vaguely knew how to spell, but I knew what I wrote. I did not enjoy trying to read what this idiot had attempted to write. I became frustrated with the small handwriting much sooner then I would have wanted. In my anger I ordered the only thing that I had managed to read.
"I'll have, uh, a milkshake?" it was more of a question than a statement. I didn't really know what a milkshake was, but Troy told me it was very thick ice cream.
"One milkshake." The man behind the counter announced to the entire pub. I glanced behind my shoulder and looked to see if anyone had turned to see who he was talking to. They didn't. I was almost relieved, and I don't know why. I glanced at that menu one last time. I was alarmed that I had chosen one of the most expensive items that you could buy there.
"Troy." I said tugging lightly on his shirt. "I, uh, well, I'm sorry." I pointed at the menu.
"Yeah, so ya bought da milkshake." He said.
"Yea, but it's 8 cents." I said, feeling slightly ashamed.
"An' I 'ave 10 cents. I ain't hungry anyways." He didn't look upset or anything. His eyes didn't reveal anything. I wish they would've because, I would have loved to know what he was thinking about me and my bad choice of food.
My mind did nothing for the next 10 minutes. I slurped my chocolate tasting milkshake and sat there, staring into space. The only thing that sucked me out of the void of nothingness that my empty mind had created was the noise coming through the door. I spun around and glared at the batch of newsies that were being incredibly loud. I was in one of those moods where I didn't want to be disturbed. They were jumping around and acting like the kings of the world. I rolled my eyes and focused on my milkshake. I hadn't even tasted it until now. It was the most wonderful thing my taste buds had ever tasted. I savored every sip.
"So's, how's it?" Troy leaned dangerously close to me. "It's wonderful, wanna try it?" I passed him the glass and he accepted. He gingerly held the straw up to his lips and took a small sip.
"It is nice. I wish I had enough money ta buy meself one." He said, taking another long sip. I had to grab it away from him, or he would've sucked it all down in one gulp.
"S'cuse me sir, but I tink that you were treatin' me, not yourself!" I playfully slapped him on the shoulder. He smiled at me. This time though, his smile did not make me melt. This was probably because at that exact second, Spot walked into the pub. I quickly turned around to face him.
He didn't notice me there at first, but within a couple seconds, he stopped in his tracks and stared directly at me. He seemed annoyed that I was there, sitting next to Troy, but hid that emotion away. I had to get out of there. I felt awkward sitting next to Troy with Spot in the same room.
"Uh, here ya can have da rest. I need ta get goin, thanks again." I hurriedly gave Troy my milkshake, and rushed out the door.
***
I had no idea where I was planning to go, I just knew that I had to get away from all of those feelings. Unfortunately, they followed me wherever I went. It was dusk by the time I stumbled onto the docks. Noone was there, and I thanked god for this. I had no intention of talking to anyway for the next few hours. I simply wanted to sit and think about everything that had happened today. I was not so lucky in that matter. I leaned back against a box, and began to relax. I had just drifted away to into a world of fairy tales, when I was startled by a most familiar voice.
"So where'd me milkshake run off ta?" I half smiled, half frowned. I hesitantly stood up. When I finally did, I saw none other than Spot.
"There's ya is."
I was throughly confused. Milkshake? What was he talking about? And why did he come find me?
"Why are you heah?" I asked him, trying to sound as polite as possible.
He seemed to be taken aback by my bold question, but he recovered quickly. "I was simply makin sure ya was ok." He answered.
"Why? Not ta be mean or anyting. Thanks fer your concern, but I hardly know ya. Why should ya be worried?" I asked. I hoped I hadn't sounded too harsh. I meant to tell him that I wasn't trying to belittle his kindness toward me. He seemed to take it the wrong way though.
"I'm sorry ta bother ya, what did ya say your name was? Brandie? Anyways, Brooklyn is a rough town, and ya don't seem to be familiar wit da streets. These streets ain't nice to newcomers either." He shot me the nastiest look.
"Well, would they hit a goil?" I knew what his answer would be before I asked him. To my surprise, it was different than I expected.
"I wouldn't think so, unless this certain goil poses a threat ta them. And maybe they would if this goil had the guts ta punch Harold Devirea in the face. Which, I believe ya did just yesterday." He smirked at me.
"So? What has Harold done ta anyone ta earn respect?"
"A great deal o' things." He said with no emotion.
This time I was the one taken aback. Harold didn't seem like the kind of kid who would hurt anyone. Ok, he was cute, but so incredibly annoying at the same time.
"Alrigh'. What did ya mean by milkshake?" By now, Spot wasn't the attractive boy I had met earlier. He was on the edge of becoming the second Harold in my life.
"Well, I noticed ya had a milkshake at da pub. Since most everyone has a nickname, I tought that maybe your nickname could be Milkshake?" He said this more of a question then a statement. I thought it over. Milkshake. This was the name everyone would call me. I wasn't sure if I liked this, but I went along with it.
"Milkshake it is then."
~A/N~ Alright! I love writing about Spot in particular I think it will be a hard task to portray him. I hope you all like this story! Reviews help A LOT! So please review...the next chappie will be up soon!
Chapter One: Milkshake?
Disclaimer: I don't own the Newsies, Disney does. I do own Brandie and Troy, Randy, and Johnny! and the plot!
"Hows it going sweet cheeks?" Harold Devirea asked me in the most annoying voice.
I turned to face him. He was always mocking me. "Don't ya need ta be selling them papes?" I asked him, pointing to the small stack of newspapers sitting next to him.
"Not at the moment." He leered at me, still smiling his same crooked smile. I rolled my eyes, and punched him in the face, making him trip over a crate that lay just inches behind him. He stumbled back a few more steps, and fell backwards into the Brooklyn River. I smiled and turned around to face the muffled sounding applause behind me. I waved to the Brooklyn boys who were staring at me with shocked expressions plastered to their dirty faces.
I caught a glimpse of the most handsome looking boy. He too was staring at me, dazed like the rest of them. I turned back around, and continued to walk back to Randy's Newspaper Stand. Randy's was where the newspapers were made and distributed to the newsies. I was going to work there, giving the newsies their papes. I had only just arrived in Brooklyn a week ago, and had just gotten a job at Randy's earlier that morning.
***
The next morning I woke up later then I would have wanted to. I hated myself for being so tired, but luckily I arrived at Randy's the minute the circulation bell rang.
"Nice run Brandie." Randy Smith told me the moment I walked in the door. "If you run that fast tomorrow, you might be out of a job."
"Yeah, well maybe I should buy meself a rooster that crows when da sun comes up." I told him sarcastically. He rolled his eyes, defeated. I walked over to where the papes were and started to haul them over to where me and Randy sat.
"Couldn't fin' the toothpaste this mornin'. Now me breath is gonna stink." I heard a boy outside the window say.
"It always stinks." Another boy told the first. A few boys chorused laughs.
"What'll it be kid?" Randy asked the first boy in line.
"30 papes." The small boy replied, as he handed Randy some money.
"30 papes!" Randy screamed to me two other boys that gave the newsies their papers.
Johnny got to the pile first and eagerly gave the sandy-haired boy his papers.
"Next"
"50 papes" A taller blonde hair boy said.
"50 papes." This time, I reached the pile of papers first and lugged them over to him.
"Next"
To my dismay, it was Harold. "Let's have that purty lady over there gimme my papes." He smirked at me. The only thing about him that made me smile was his black eye that I had given him the previous day.
"No requests. Now, how many?"
"50 papes." He looked at me and motioned for me to get his papes. I stood still on the spot. Johnny rushed over and brought the heavy stack to him. Harold looked rather upset. He gave me a cold, hard look, and then moved onward to the streets to start his day.
"Next" A medium sized-boy with red suspenders and a slingshot in one pocket walked up to the window. It was the handsome boy I saw yesterday at the docks.
"100 papes." He said all too confidently.
"100 papes!" Randy shouted.
I had only moved a few steps when he looked at me and saluted me with only two fingers. I was disappointed to see that Troy had gotten his papes for him and he left. There was something about him that drew me to him. He was quickly forgotten when more and more newsies demanded their papes.
"Next"
"80 papes."
"80 papes." Randy yelled.
***
"Where you from?" Troy asked me as we cleaned up all the papes that the newsies hadn't bought.
"New Jersey." I replied without looking at him.
"I see. What brings ya ta Brooklyn, New York?" He pressed further.
"Not much. I heard dat New York was da place ta be. So I decided to come here." That wasn't entirely a lie, but it wasn't the entire truth. I didn't want to talk about my past. I never wanted to think about it. This was my new life, my only life as far as I was concerned.
"Why isn't a strong, nice man like yourself out theah selling papes?" It was my turn to push a subject that didn't want to be pushed.
"Selling papes just ain't the life fer me."
"But giving papes ta the newsies out there is?" I asked him. He made no sense at all. There was something hidden within him. I could see it in his eyes. A dark sense hovered over him. He was a lost soul, just like myself, with no where to turn. "So what do we do once we're done here?" I asked him.
"I jus' go and hang around the city. There's nothing ta do, unless ya wanna stick around here with ol' Randy over theah." He motioned with his head to Randy, who was counting all the money the newsies had given him.
I certainly didn't want to stay with Randy all day. But I didn't want to be with Troy either. Johnny was only 11 and he had already left. I bid Troy goodbye, and left Randy's Newspaper Stand. I could hear the shouts of all of the newsies, trying to sell their papes before the day was over. I wandered through the streets for sometime, praying I wouldn't run into Harold.
Satisfied that I had walked long enough, I found a bench alongside the road and sat down. As I watched the people bustle around in the streets, I couldn't help but wonder what life would be like here. So far, it wasn't what I had thought it would be. So I had helped at the Stand, but really, now what? That was only for about and hour and a half, including clean-up. The rest of the day was mine. I had enjoyed going to the docks the most. The only disadvantage of that was, that Harold might be there. He disgusted me to no end. He didn't even know me, yet he was always making my life a living hell. Luckily I would only see him in the morning.
"Getcha papes. Getcha papes over here." I strained my head to see who was interrupting my train of thought. To my pleasure it was the handsome boy from the docks.
"I'll take a couple." I yelled in his direction. He turned to me and I swear I saw him smile.
"How many? One?" He asked me.
"Three please." I flipped him a few cents and reached for the papers.
"Whatcha gonna do wit' 3 papes?" He asked, as he thrust the money in his pockets.
"Dunno." I mumbled as I read the headline. "I'm just takin em off ya hands." I looked up and smiled at him.
"The names Spot. And how's bout ya?" He sat down next to me, lying his papers on his lap.
"Brandie." I said, looking up from the headline.
"Well, 'Brandie' I best be gettin' out theah. Them papes can't sell 'emselves. See ya round' the docks sometime?" He patted the papers on his lap and stood up. Before I could answer he walked away. He yelled out random headlines. I stood up, and watched him walk away. So Spot was the boy that had sucked me into his life. I had never really needed anyone, yet now, I wanted to need Spot. He was different from anyone I had ever met.
"Can I show ya round Brooklyn?" Troy had walked up behind me. He startled me for only a moment. His words were extremely inviting. His smile made my knees crumble, allowing all my weight to fall to the ground. Somehow I remained standing.
"I would like dat." I was confused. Didn't I just fall for Spot, now Troy was creeping his way to my heart. No, Spot was just a handsome acquaintance. Troy on the other hand, well I was not sure of what Troy was. A working partner perhaps?
"Eva seen da Brooklyn Bridge?" He asked me. His dark hair swished in the wind.
"I've crossed it." I replied nonchalantly. I didn't know. It was almost like Spot was inviting me to the docks without saying it. He seemed like the type of person who wouldn't mind if I didn't go to the docks.
"Alright then, shall I show ya all da shops?" He looked at me. His face was radiant against the sun that shone so brightly. "I'd like that too." I told him.
He showed me the best, and cheapest restaurant in town, 'Canary Pub' it was called. I found this to be the oddest name, but it appeared to be normal to everyone else. Next, he showed me where the newsies slept. It had a simple name, Newsboys Lodging House. He explained to me that this name was used for all the newsies all over New York.
He took me by the library, the bank, and a few more restaurants.
"I want ta buy ya someting at the pub." He told me, referring to Canary's Pub. "No, that's alrigh, I'll make it until breakfast."
"I insist." He said to me, as he pulled me to the pub. I only tried to resist at first. I realized that I couldn't stop him. His grip was so tight around my wrist, I thought it was going to fall off. We twisted and turned through alleys and crowded streets. Most of the newsies were just about done selling their papers. I watched as they tried desperately to sell the last of the papers. I felt somewhat sympathetic, but newspapers and young boys selling them slipped my mind as Troy led me inside the pub.
It smelled of coffee that had lost its early morning smell, overcooked muffins, and smoke that filled the air. It was a fairly small area. The smoke traveled easily from the cigars that were being lit. I looked for the menu. It was a small chalkboard that I could barely see. Whoever had written it had incredibly small handwriting and very bad spelling. This irritated me. I vaguely knew how to spell, but I knew what I wrote. I did not enjoy trying to read what this idiot had attempted to write. I became frustrated with the small handwriting much sooner then I would have wanted. In my anger I ordered the only thing that I had managed to read.
"I'll have, uh, a milkshake?" it was more of a question than a statement. I didn't really know what a milkshake was, but Troy told me it was very thick ice cream.
"One milkshake." The man behind the counter announced to the entire pub. I glanced behind my shoulder and looked to see if anyone had turned to see who he was talking to. They didn't. I was almost relieved, and I don't know why. I glanced at that menu one last time. I was alarmed that I had chosen one of the most expensive items that you could buy there.
"Troy." I said tugging lightly on his shirt. "I, uh, well, I'm sorry." I pointed at the menu.
"Yeah, so ya bought da milkshake." He said.
"Yea, but it's 8 cents." I said, feeling slightly ashamed.
"An' I 'ave 10 cents. I ain't hungry anyways." He didn't look upset or anything. His eyes didn't reveal anything. I wish they would've because, I would have loved to know what he was thinking about me and my bad choice of food.
My mind did nothing for the next 10 minutes. I slurped my chocolate tasting milkshake and sat there, staring into space. The only thing that sucked me out of the void of nothingness that my empty mind had created was the noise coming through the door. I spun around and glared at the batch of newsies that were being incredibly loud. I was in one of those moods where I didn't want to be disturbed. They were jumping around and acting like the kings of the world. I rolled my eyes and focused on my milkshake. I hadn't even tasted it until now. It was the most wonderful thing my taste buds had ever tasted. I savored every sip.
"So's, how's it?" Troy leaned dangerously close to me. "It's wonderful, wanna try it?" I passed him the glass and he accepted. He gingerly held the straw up to his lips and took a small sip.
"It is nice. I wish I had enough money ta buy meself one." He said, taking another long sip. I had to grab it away from him, or he would've sucked it all down in one gulp.
"S'cuse me sir, but I tink that you were treatin' me, not yourself!" I playfully slapped him on the shoulder. He smiled at me. This time though, his smile did not make me melt. This was probably because at that exact second, Spot walked into the pub. I quickly turned around to face him.
He didn't notice me there at first, but within a couple seconds, he stopped in his tracks and stared directly at me. He seemed annoyed that I was there, sitting next to Troy, but hid that emotion away. I had to get out of there. I felt awkward sitting next to Troy with Spot in the same room.
"Uh, here ya can have da rest. I need ta get goin, thanks again." I hurriedly gave Troy my milkshake, and rushed out the door.
***
I had no idea where I was planning to go, I just knew that I had to get away from all of those feelings. Unfortunately, they followed me wherever I went. It was dusk by the time I stumbled onto the docks. Noone was there, and I thanked god for this. I had no intention of talking to anyway for the next few hours. I simply wanted to sit and think about everything that had happened today. I was not so lucky in that matter. I leaned back against a box, and began to relax. I had just drifted away to into a world of fairy tales, when I was startled by a most familiar voice.
"So where'd me milkshake run off ta?" I half smiled, half frowned. I hesitantly stood up. When I finally did, I saw none other than Spot.
"There's ya is."
I was throughly confused. Milkshake? What was he talking about? And why did he come find me?
"Why are you heah?" I asked him, trying to sound as polite as possible.
He seemed to be taken aback by my bold question, but he recovered quickly. "I was simply makin sure ya was ok." He answered.
"Why? Not ta be mean or anyting. Thanks fer your concern, but I hardly know ya. Why should ya be worried?" I asked. I hoped I hadn't sounded too harsh. I meant to tell him that I wasn't trying to belittle his kindness toward me. He seemed to take it the wrong way though.
"I'm sorry ta bother ya, what did ya say your name was? Brandie? Anyways, Brooklyn is a rough town, and ya don't seem to be familiar wit da streets. These streets ain't nice to newcomers either." He shot me the nastiest look.
"Well, would they hit a goil?" I knew what his answer would be before I asked him. To my surprise, it was different than I expected.
"I wouldn't think so, unless this certain goil poses a threat ta them. And maybe they would if this goil had the guts ta punch Harold Devirea in the face. Which, I believe ya did just yesterday." He smirked at me.
"So? What has Harold done ta anyone ta earn respect?"
"A great deal o' things." He said with no emotion.
This time I was the one taken aback. Harold didn't seem like the kind of kid who would hurt anyone. Ok, he was cute, but so incredibly annoying at the same time.
"Alrigh'. What did ya mean by milkshake?" By now, Spot wasn't the attractive boy I had met earlier. He was on the edge of becoming the second Harold in my life.
"Well, I noticed ya had a milkshake at da pub. Since most everyone has a nickname, I tought that maybe your nickname could be Milkshake?" He said this more of a question then a statement. I thought it over. Milkshake. This was the name everyone would call me. I wasn't sure if I liked this, but I went along with it.
"Milkshake it is then."
~A/N~ Alright! I love writing about Spot in particular I think it will be a hard task to portray him. I hope you all like this story! Reviews help A LOT! So please review...the next chappie will be up soon!