Saved jist foa bein' a goil (Spot Conlon One-Shot)
I do not own Newsies in any way.
I was sellin' in Brooklyn, when some guys came up to me and started soakin' me. My cap fell off and my long blood red hair fell down my back.
"Oh Spot is gonna kill youse", one of the guys said, "When he heahs 'bout youse soakin' a goil, he's gonna banish youse fwom sellin' anywhere".
The boys ran off.
I looked at my torn papers. At this point, I broke down and cried.
"Hey, youse okay?", someone asked.
"Please! Don' hoit me!", I yelled. I looked up and saw a boy with a cowboy hat and red bandana. I noticed him looking at the cut on my arm.
He took off his bandana and wrapped it around the wound. He looked about 17 or 18.
I was barely 14. He picked me up and carried me somewhere. I felt him set me down on a soft surface.
"She don' look too good Jackie Boi", a voice said.
"Youse Spot right?", I asked him.
"Yeah", he said.
"It was yer newsies who soaked me", I said softly.
His grey eyes became almost black with rage. His hand clutched the top of his cane tightly that his knuckles turned white.
I put my hand on his and his grip loosened. "I'm fine", I told Spot.
"Youse not fine!", he yelled.
"Please", I whispered taking his hand.
*Spot's Pov*
Her crystal blue eyes filled with tears. "Don' hoit anyone 'cause of me", she begged.
I ripped my hand away from her. "Fine! Ise won'!", I snapped at the girl.
"Spot", Jack said softly. I glared at him.
He grabbed my arm and dragged me into a room.
"What?", I asked.
"She's a goil. Youse gotta be gentle and soft spoken wit 'er. She's fragile enough as it is", Jack said, "She could be da goil Spot. Da right one. Dee one! Da one and only".
"Youse right Jack", I told him, "Tanks".
For the first time in years, I, Spot Conlon, actually smiled.
*Flames' Pov*
Spot came back in smiling. "What's yer name?", he asked.
"Dey call me Flames", I told him.
"'Cause of yer hair?", he asked.
"Nah, 'cause Ise gots a bit of a tempah", I told him.
"Really?", he said smirking, his eyebrow raised.
"Can youse fight?", he asked.
"Try me", I told him.
He lunged at me.
I went for his cane and grabbed it out of his belt loops and hit him in the stomach, knocking him to the ground.
Spot lay on his back gasping for air.
"Any of youse wanna try?", I asked the Brooklyn boys.
They shook their heads no.
"Tought not", I said. I helped Spot up.
"Ise will keep ya", he said still gasping for air.
I handed him his cane back and said, "Dat'll teach youse not ta save someone jist foa bein' a goil".