Disclaimer: This is the only one I'm going to put on my story! I DON'T OWN NEWSIES, I WOULD BE EXTREMELY HAPPY IF I DID THOUGH.
Note: see bottom of page, I don't want to spoil the story!
Chapter One: The Sad Beginning.
A young girl stepped off the immigration ship, on to the docks of Brooklyn, clutching a sleeping baby to her chest. She suspiciously looked around, as if waiting for something to jump out at her. Her face was still wet from the tears. Looking down at the sweet face of her daughter, tears resurfaced and fell on to the cloth that was wrapped around the baby to keep it warm.
"Oi, you! Why you crying?" Someone asked, and stepped out of the shadow that obscured the view from his face.
She lifted up her head, facing the voice—the man. "It's none of you're business." She said with a light Russian accent.
"When a goil cries, it usually has something ta do with a man. And dat's me." He said, while a smile adourning his face.
"What's your name?" She asked, clutching her baby even closer to her.
He smiled reassuringly and replied, "Me name is Patrick, but everyone calls me Tap." This time he grinned, making the girl back away.
"And—Tap, what do you want from me?" She hissed at him.
"I want to help you." The sincerity shone from his eyes. She took one step closer.
"You can't give me anything…" She said, tears welling up. "Not anymore…"
He stepped forward and took a peek at the baby, "Is she yours?"
She smiled sadly as she placed one finger on the baby's forehead, "Yes. Mine. My daughter."
"Where's your husband? Or youse boiyfriend, or whatever…" He asked sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.
"He—left. This is all I have left." She rocked her baby, back and forth.
The baby started to wake up. "She doesn't look full Russian…what else is she?"
"She's Chinese and French too." She shushed the baby and rocked her again.
The man contemplated the idea of this girl staying with him. He was about the same age as her, if not a year older.
"Why don't you come and stay heah with me and da boiys?" He asked her. She nodded her head and followed him. 'Why not?' She thought, she had nothing to lose, or so she thought.
Five Years Later…
"Spot! Spot!" Ana squealed, chasing the blond boy that was running around the docks, his hair whipping at the sides of his face as he tried to dodge past the barrels.
"Ana…I'm tired," He whined as he still ran, "Can we'se stop?"
Ana answered his question by slowing down and leaning against the barrel. Spot bent over and breathed heavily.
"Youse run re—ally fast, Ana…" Spot commented, his big blue eyes shining into her plain brown ones. At those words, her eyes lit up and she punched him lightly on the shoulder. "Hey! Dat was a compliment—Ow don't hits me!"
"I'se know," She giggled at Spot's annoyed face. "I just wanna hit ya."
She laughed as Spot tried to punch her, but he missed every time, soon they were chasing each other around again.
Three pairs of eyes watched this scene.
"I can't—I can't believe Patrick is gone…" Julia whispered to Paul and Rachel Conlon.
Paul or Baits, patted Julia on the back, "It shocked us all, 'specially da newsies dat all loved him. Like me…"
Rachel tried to lighten the mood by adding, "Why youse! I knew youse was cheatin' on me wit' Tap!"
Julia choked back a sob and forced a smile at Rachel. She then faced Spot and Ana, smiling dazedly.
"Ana took it the hardest…" She said to no one in particular. "And she's oblivious to it all."
Spot and Ana held each other's hand when they walked up to the cluster of parents.
"Mama. I want to marry Spot when I'se grow up!" She said earnestly, her eyes gleaming.
"Me too!" Spot said grinning widely.
All three of the parents looked at each other and laughed, "You can decide to marry when you grow up."
From there, their friendship escalated every day, they were happy. Overjoyed with nothing to lose…
Until Spot's parents died.
"Ma! Ma! Dad! Don't leave me! I love you! Ma! Dad! No-no!" He screamed at the top of his lungs as they lowered his parent's casket into the ground, Ana behind his grasping his arm so he wouldn't fall into the pit.
Spot sat there, by their grave looking off into space. No trace of emotion on his face.
He finally snapped out of it and said tonlessly, "It's time to grow up, I'se got to take up my responsibility, I'se going to be da leadah of the Brooklyn newsies."
Ana interjected, "Youse can't, you're too young, Spot." She gently soothed him with her words, Russian poems that her Ma taught her and Spot, though Spot couldn't remember it. "Even though your—parents are—gone, I'm still here. And rememba Spot, I'll always love you, no matta what…" She smiled lovingly at him and he hugged her.
"You promise?" He asked, looking her straight in the eye.
She smiled at him and held up one pinky, he took his and pinky-promised her. "I promise, Spot. I promise."
If someone were to look on these two children, they would see happiness,as well asthe rough look of two people who had to grow up so soon.
Spot Conlon lost his parents at the tender age of 7 and was forced to become a newsie to earn a living.
Anastasia Vladimir was forced to work at a local factory and look after her widowed mother. She soon lost contact with Spot because of her heavy burden, while Spot went through the strike and had fun with his friends, but forgot the most important one he had. Since the factories now had some machinary, they fired all the women and kept the men to take care of the machinary. She was forced to work at "The Wailing Cats" or in other words, a whore-house.
Spotwas going to come back and pay her a visit she wasn't quite expecting very soon…
NOTE: Ana has some friends in the whore-house. If you want to be then review and gimme the descriptions of you and etc. There's also gonna be some ex-girlfriends of Spot if you want to be one of them. Tell me otherwise in the review. Thanks