*Cynic*
A girl with straight black hair and violet eyes took a long drag from the cigarette she was holding, flicking ash from the end of it idly.
"Heya Cynic,"
Her head snapped up in surprise. "Oh! Hey Spotty-boy,"
The boy tried to look menacing, but failed when she laughed.
"I'se toldja not to call me dat,"
She looked at him crushing the cigarette with her foot. "Tough," she said, grinning.
Spot rolled his eyes.
"You wanna go for a swim?" she asked.
"Are you crazy Cynic? It's November!"
"Scared?"
"No, I just don wanna die in freezing cold watah."
"You'se is scared," she said teasingly.
"I'se not," he retorted.
"Yes, yes you'se is,"
Before he could stop her she was running towards the docks, shedding her clothes in the process.
"Dat goil is gonna be da death of me," he muttered chasing after her.
Spot arrived at the docks to see Cynic, with only a sleeveless undershirt and her pants on, launching a perfect dive into the icy-cold water.
"Cynic you'se an idiot," he yelled after her.
"Ya Bummer! Come and say dat to my face!" she shouted.
He grumbled and carefully folded his clothes, then jumped into the water, yelping from the cold.
"Conlon, come on, it is dat cold," she teased, dunking him under the water quickly, then swimming away.
"I'se gonna soak ya for dat!" he yelled swimming over to her.
She giggled and swam away from him. "Spot! Hey Spot!" A boy named runnah came up to them.
"I'se gots a message from Jack Kelly, he wants ta see yah tomorrow in Manhattan,"
Cynic's head snapped up at the words Jack Kelly., her eyes grew wide. After Runnah left she got out of the pier quietly. "Spot, who'se is Jack Kelly?"
"Ain't I evah tell you'se 'bout Jack?"
"Nah,: she said carefully.
Spot began a long ballad like speech about the strike and about Jack Kelly.
"Spot, I'se gonna go somwheah tonight, I'se will be back latah," Without a word she disappeared into the night, leaving a very confused Spot.'
Spot fell asleep, knowing that the next day was going to be interesting, he always had liked the Manhattan nwesies. After what seemed like only a minture of sleep he was shaken awake by runnah.
"Leave me alone," he mumbled.
"Spot, Spot, da cripps, dey got Cynic,"
Spot instantly was awake, he lept fro hi bed and was pulling on his shirt before Runnah could finish talking. "Weah is she?" he asked.
"Manhattan lodging house," whispered Runnah. SPot was off, his bare feet slapping the pavement as he ran. He arrived at the lodging house some time later, panting and out of breath. He raced up the stairs to see every single newsboy, silently staring at one of the bunks. The boys parteda as he came near. Cynic was sitting up, her dark hair hiding her face. Jack was sitting next to her with the oddest look on his face, Spot hardly notcied, all he cared about was that Cynic was alive.
:Did det hoit you'se bad?" he asked crouching near her bed. She looked at him, her hair still hiding most of her face. "Let me see," He said, reaching out a hand.
SHe pulled away. "No, Spot, I'se fine."
"No you'se not, now let me see," he was so upset that his voice wavered an iota.
She shook her head. He reached forward and pulled her hair from her face gently. He almost gasped in shock. Along her jaw line was a long, jagged cut. Above her left eye was a large bruise, probably the cause of a club. "Wheah else?"
SHe showed him her arm, which had long cuts on it and then stopped, not wanting to show him her back.
"Guys, could ya get out for sec?" The boys quickly filed out of the room. The only time they had seen Spot so mad was when he found out that Jack had turned scabber. Jack remained.
Cynic lifted her shirt up, revealing long welts and marks of a chain were cut deeply into her back. "I'se gonna kill dose scabbah's." he mumbled.
"You are gonna do nuttin of da sort." she retored.
"Yes I'se is!" he said "Dey can't get away wit dis."
"Dey won't be, you shoul've seen dem." she said smiling weakly. "I'se is gonna sleep now, you'se go back to Brooklyn, I'se fine now." Immidietly she was asleep.
"I'se just realized," said Spot to Jack in a strange hoarse tone. "Dat I'se rather die dan lose her."
"Spot, uh, well, how did ja find her in the first place?"
"She just came up to me one day and told me that she was now a Brooklyn Newsie, dat was when she was ten, she's sixteen now. Why?"
"Uh, well, she's. well, she's my sistah." said Jack, akwardly.
Spot tore his eyes from Cynic and gave his attention to Jack. "What did you'se just say?"
Jack repeated waht he had said.
"Dear lord,"