The year was 1890 and the day after school let out for the summer my father left, leaving behind the three hundred dollars he had been saving for ten years since we crossed the Atlantic from Ireland to come to New York and his top hat he won in a bet. He was left for the west in search of land we could call home and when he did, me and my mother would go to him, leaving behind our cramped apartment in Brooklyn.

A week after his departure, mother wanted me to go to the grocer for sugar and flour for a cake she was going to make for one of her co-worker's birthday. I left the apartment building after tidying up my bed, arranged my hair into a loose pony tail with a small black ribbon, changing in to fresh clothes and putting on my shoes. I wasn't fond of the dresses I had to wear. Mother had saved some of her money to buy me new ones for my birthday and for payment for doing well in school. It really wasn't much of a payment considering that I didn't like them, but they were better than the ones that were too small for me. The one I was wearing that day was an emerald green dress, and the only one I would wear without much complaining. Mother liked this dress the best because of how it "complimented" my pale freckled skin and Irish skin.
Stepping out onto the sidewalk I noticed the newsie boys rushing around the streets yelling headlines and selling their papes. Every morning they were up doing the exact same thing they were doing now. There were faces I recognized from seeing them running around every day, and then there were others I didn't. And today there weren't many people on the streets except for the people going from one place to another. Other than that, it was quiet if the newsies weren't included.
I headed down the street and on my way to the grocer not having to worry about being slowed down by a mob of people going the same direction. Normally it would take good ten or twenty minutes to get to where I was heading, but without all the people, I'd make in less than that. As I came to the second corner I was suddenly halted by a small brown haired boy carrying a small bundle of paper. He looked no older than seven years old but looked as if he had been collecting dirt on his body for twenty years. My heart dropped feeling the need to take him home and giving him a bath and a new home.
"Would you like to buy a pape lady?" he asked holding out one of his papes. I frowned. Mother only gave me enough money to buy the sugar and flour. But he looked so sad! I hesitated and shook my head. His eyes dropped to the ground and dropped to his knees.
"Pwease lady? I only ask for five cents a pape," he begged, clasping his hands together as if he was begging. I stepped back into a sea of guilt. I wanted to help the poor guy so bad but I couldn't.
"Leo! Stop the guilt act and get your buttocks into selling those papes to someone with money!" a voice rang out from the alley. We both turned to see a tall blonde boy with red suspenders and a printed shirt. His eyes were big but full of adult like knowledge, a cane type thing in a sheath at his waist and in one hand he held a sling shot. The boy skittered off as he drew nearer and apologized to this boy named Spot.
"Sorry about that miss. Little boys have no experience with being persuasive," he muttered. I shook my head.

"No it's fine. I would have given him money if he kept going." His face lit up slightly from the mention of money.

"You have some?"

"Uh-"

He laughed as if catching on to why I was hesitating.

"I'm not trying to sell papes. Only going to apologize for saying that you weren't someone with money."

"Technically. It really isn't mine."

"You stole it?"

"NO! Dear god no. I'm heading to the grocer to buy sugar and flour for my mother," I explained and he laughed again, a smirk creeping onto his face.

"Ah. So you took money to buy something for your mother. How sweet,"

"No!" I exclaimed and started to leave. He was handsome but frustrating, and I didn't have to time to waste on being accused of stealing money from my own mother. I stepped out onto the street and instantly was pulled backwards as a horse drawn cart drove by, barely missing me by three inches.

"You really need to watch where you step miss or you'll be flatter than a dime," this Spot said smiling. I harrumphed and attempted once again to cross the road. This time I was successful and was once again on my way to the grocer, only to have another person join me.

"Would you like some company miss? I can carry your bags on your way home." He suggested.

"If you wish. Or is there something in it for you? Like buying a pape?" I retorted. He smirked.

"Only asking to help a miss with her errands. I'm not selling papes," he said spreading out his arms to reveal that he wasn't carrying any papes. I sighed and nodded and he held out his elbow for me to hold on to. I allowed him the pleasure of one of my hands and as we made our way Newsies whistled and winked at him. I couldn't help but blush at the thought of knowing of what they were thinking. Of course whatever they were thinking wasn't true.

When we reached the grocer he held the door open for me as I entered and wouldn't allow me to try to carry the items I was to buy. Instead he shimmied away each time I insisted on inspecting them and headed for the counter. He placed them on the clerk's counter and demanded that they both were to be sold at half price.

"What are you doing?" I hissed but he only answered with a wink.

"And you sir think I will listen to a child like you?" the clerk rebuked.

"For Spot Conlon you will," Spot replied cheekily. The clerk shook his head and Spot began to talk about how outrageously high the prices for my items were. The clerk look from me to him, and back at me.

"Who is paying for these items?" the clerk asked. I was about to speak when I was blocked from view and Spot said, "I am."

Then I had had enough of this. He was wasting my time bartering with a clerk you was selling the cheapest supplies in area. I stepped around Spot, reached into my pocket and put the payment on the counter.

"I am sir," I said and stepped back noticing the frown that was now on Spot's face. The clerk took the money and opened the cash drawer and gave me a dime back for change. I handed it to Spot and grabbed my bagged sugar and flour as I made my way out.

Outside Spot didn't offer me his arm and didn't say anything about what had just went down in the store, but he did pocket the dime I gave him. When we reached my apartment he bowed and finally introduced himself.

"I'm Spot Conlon, one of the Brooklyn Newsies,"

"I'm Shea Macbeth, head of nothing but my own life,"

"Can I see you to your door Miss Macbeth?" he asked and smirked. Probably from the fact that I didn't hesitate to introduce myself.

"I go by Shea. Only older men call me Miss Macbeth,"

"Who said I wasn't older than you? For all you know I can be almost eighteen,"

"Are you almost eighteen Mr. Conlon?"

"No, but almost seventeen,"

"That's only a year above. Doesn't count,"

"Ah so being only a year above you makes me not older?"

"Yes! Now are you going to see me to my apartment or not?" I asked angrily. He smirked and bowed as he opened the main door. As we went up the stairs he took the liberty of telling me everything about the Brooklyn Newsies. How they were the most respected of the Newsies and definitely were the toughest. No New York Newsies would have gone through with the strike two years back if Brooklyn hadn't joined. He was rather full of himself, but also proud of the union he was in.

At my door he took my hand bowed and kissed it. I blushed and shook my head. He smirked and straightened up and then said something that would revolutionize my thinking for the rest of the day and start an adventure of a new kind.

"I'm glad to have been in service to you today Miss Shea. If you were a newsy I would buy a million papes from you."

I smiled as the compliment ran through my mind, and then started to take it literally too. I nodded and thanked him for his service. He bowed again as I disappeared into my apartment. Through the door I could hear him say my name a couple times as he walked down the stairs. My mind began to race as I started to formulate the revolutionary idea into a plan and how I'd bring it up to my mother. Then I rushed to put the bag of sugar and flour on the kitchen counter and raced to the fire escape. I was just in time to see him exit the building and was able wave him down.

"Mr. Conlon!"

He looked up and returned my wave with his own wave and a smirk. Being on the third floor of the building helped either of us not have to yell so loud to be heard by one another.

"Yes Miss Shea?" he answered.

"Thank you!" I said and smiled bigger than I felt like I had smiled before.

"Anytime Miss Shea. I'll see you soon!" he said beaming and ran off down the street and into an alley. I leaned back as I gripped the railing. I couldn't wait to see him again, but I thought to myself that it would be sooner than he thought if tonight went well.