Disclaimer-I do not own the movie Newsie. I never will. A/C-I know, I know...the ideas keep coming out!
There is a funny four letter word in my vocabulary. It's Life. Life is something every newsie must deal with, brutally. They are thrown into a world of poverty and rejection. A cruel cold place in which you are rarely happy, and your best friends would watch your throat cut before they gave money to the mugger. I know because it all happened to me. I was a little rich girl, in my cousin's words. I lived in the city and Pulitzer's youngest nephew was at my feet, begging for me to let him stand up. But I hated it. Oh how I hated it!
My name is Spencer Antoinette Higgens. If you're wandering, my cousin is Anthony 'Racetrack' Higgens. My parents threw him out when he told them he would rather be in the company of his parents' rotting corpses than their's. I was left to fend for myself in the lion's den. My father was a wealthy mine owner in Pennsylvania and he ran the mines from New York City. My mother came from a family of Lords and Ladies that had immigrated from England. I had one sister who was engaged to a newsie, and Tony.
"Spencer!" My mother's bird-like voice interrupted my thoughts. I jumped. It wasn't the first time she had ever done that.
"Yes mother?" I walked from my room to the twisting stairwell to look at her, making sure that my crushed velvet emerald green dress was smooth.
She ran up to greet me. "Well, Jacob Pulitzer is here to see you. I thought you might want to know." I didn't really have any wish to see Fishy Pulitzer. We called him Fishy because his eyes were pale along with his skin and hair. He looked like paste.
"Of course mother! Tell the sweet man I'll be down in five minutes. I have to braid my hair."
She nodded and trotted back down the stairs. Her most precious dream was to see me walk down the aisle with Fishy Pulitzer. I would die first. He was a nice boy, or so I thought, but he looked like a fat tuna. I
I braided my long black hair with an olive green ribbon and then made my way to the parlor. My mother was nowhere to be found but that wasn't unusual. She always disappeared when Fishy was there. "Hello Jacob," I said eloquently as I sat down beside him.
"Why hello Spencer, my girl. How are you?"
"Quite well, thank you. And how have you been dear Jacob?"
"I've been just lovely." He leaned closer to me...closer than I would have liked but I let it slide.
"That is excellent. Would like something to drink?"
"Just you." He grabbed my shoulders and pushed me into the side of the couch, smothering my lips with his mouth. I struggled.
"Jacob Pulitzer! This is entirely improper!" I tried to wriggle free but couldn't. His hands were wandering up my skirt and chiffon. I felt tears sting my cheeks. "Jacob, please let me go?"
My mother stood in the parlor door, smiling. "It's alright Spencer. Let him have fun."
I screamed as I felt his hands on my body in places where they shouldn't have been. "JACOB! NO!" I slapped him hard and sent him off the couch. Then I stood up. "How could you?!" I shouted at my mother. "I can't take it anymore! You were going to let him rape me!"
"But you will be marrying him!"
"Fuck I will!" I shrieked. Then I tore out the door into the streets of New York. Like I said, I'm a snobby little rich girl and I had no idea where I was going. I knew it was night and I was in New York. I walked in my high heels for quite some time before I sat down on a park bench in front of some extremely squalid buildings. I was shaking with sobs and I was freezing. It was the middle of November in New York City. If I didn't get murdered that night, I'd freeze by morning.
Sometime later, a boy walked past with a cigarette dangling between his lips and a cabby hat pulled low over his eyes. He carried something in his hand and another something sticking out of the waistband of his pants. He looked at me for a moment before he sat down. I continued crying, not feeling like talking to someone I didn't know and being scared that he would kidnap me. This boy could obviously do more to me than Jacob Pulitzer. He had a lithe manner to him, like a panther waiting to strike at me.
"Are you sitting there for a reason, Sir?" I finally snapped.
He looked up quickly, his eyes reflecting the light and for a moment he looked like a cat. When he tilted his head slightly I could see it was anger and amusement in sky blue eyes. "Last time I checked dis was me territory. I can do what I want."
"I do not believe anyone owns the United States, Sir. This is not your 'territory.' Now are you here for a reason?"
He pulled the object out of his waistband and smirked at me. A slingshot! I dropped to my knees and begged. "Oh please don't kill me! I'll do whatever you want!"
He dropped the slingshot immediately. "I ain't gonna kill ya!" He seemed shocked that I would even say that. "Why ya so jumpy?"
"I had a very disgusting incident with Jacob Pulitzer."
The boy's eyes flashed again. "If dere's one thing I won't do it's treat a woman like she's a temple dat I can use whenevah I want. Ya don't like him do ya?"
"I hate him."
"What did he do?"
"He was trying to rape me while my mother watched and she was letting him!"
He looked down. "Dat's just wrong."
"Yes. And look at me, telling you all my secrets. What's your name?"
He smiled. "What's your's?"
"Spencer Antoinette Higgens."
"Higgens?! As in Racetrack?"
I nodded. "He's my cousin."
"Well, in dat case. I'm Spot Conlon. Ya cousin is me best friend...if ya can say I have friends."
"Why were you out so late, Mr. Conlon?"
"Spot's awright. Mr. Makes me sound old. I was...doin things." He picked up the gold-capped cane that had been the object he was carrying and wiped the gold end on his shirt. It left a dark claret streak on his shirt. Blood!
I jumped away from him. "What the hell is that?"
He looked down at the cane and then up at my gray eyes. "It's a weapon...why?"
"I don't mean that, I mean what the hell was on it? Was that blood?!"
"Yeah. Had me a run in with Oscar Delancey an' he knows ya don't touch a Conlon's nerves."
I stared. "I just need a place to stay if you can do that, Sir."
"Spot is awright." He said it again and picked up the slingshot and cane. Then he aimed a marble right above my head. I shrieked but then changed my mind.
"I bet you couldn't hit shit with that!" I snapped. He desereved it after scaring me like that!
His eyes flashed fire and ice. He was pissed. "I bet ya gonna home or freeze ta death without me help!" Then he took aim and fired at a knot on a tree. It hit dead on.
"Well, then I'm sorry, Sir. I must be going now."
"Back ta Jake Pulitzer? Why don't ya stay wit me an' I can take ya ta Race in da mornin'?"
I stopped and smiled. "Would you do that for me?"
"Anything for a lady dat don't want mistreated. Ya get nothing but da best from Spot Conlon."
"Ah. A true Prince Charming are we?"
He froze. "I ain't no one's knight in shinin' armor goily. Sorry."
Something had obviously touched a nerve because he had stopped being so playful with me. He grabbed my arm and led me back to Brooklyn.
In order to understand this, you have to know Spot. He is an enigma. A category of his own. He's possessive, cruel, egotistical, and sometimes ruthless. But he is also playful, fun, hilarious, and adorable. He is the best friend in the world but also the worst enemy. He's a set of good and evil all balled in one. It's what happens when authors go crazy and turn their heroes into villains but Spot was different. He was powerful. You were with him or against him. There was no neutral ground. That's why we clicked like we did. I was neutral ground, trying to get out...and he was an orphan trying to escape life and get to neutral ground. If Spot can't be neutral, no one else can...but he let me for some reason...
A/C-How'd you like it? Spot is so...tempermental.
There is a funny four letter word in my vocabulary. It's Life. Life is something every newsie must deal with, brutally. They are thrown into a world of poverty and rejection. A cruel cold place in which you are rarely happy, and your best friends would watch your throat cut before they gave money to the mugger. I know because it all happened to me. I was a little rich girl, in my cousin's words. I lived in the city and Pulitzer's youngest nephew was at my feet, begging for me to let him stand up. But I hated it. Oh how I hated it!
My name is Spencer Antoinette Higgens. If you're wandering, my cousin is Anthony 'Racetrack' Higgens. My parents threw him out when he told them he would rather be in the company of his parents' rotting corpses than their's. I was left to fend for myself in the lion's den. My father was a wealthy mine owner in Pennsylvania and he ran the mines from New York City. My mother came from a family of Lords and Ladies that had immigrated from England. I had one sister who was engaged to a newsie, and Tony.
"Spencer!" My mother's bird-like voice interrupted my thoughts. I jumped. It wasn't the first time she had ever done that.
"Yes mother?" I walked from my room to the twisting stairwell to look at her, making sure that my crushed velvet emerald green dress was smooth.
She ran up to greet me. "Well, Jacob Pulitzer is here to see you. I thought you might want to know." I didn't really have any wish to see Fishy Pulitzer. We called him Fishy because his eyes were pale along with his skin and hair. He looked like paste.
"Of course mother! Tell the sweet man I'll be down in five minutes. I have to braid my hair."
She nodded and trotted back down the stairs. Her most precious dream was to see me walk down the aisle with Fishy Pulitzer. I would die first. He was a nice boy, or so I thought, but he looked like a fat tuna. I
I braided my long black hair with an olive green ribbon and then made my way to the parlor. My mother was nowhere to be found but that wasn't unusual. She always disappeared when Fishy was there. "Hello Jacob," I said eloquently as I sat down beside him.
"Why hello Spencer, my girl. How are you?"
"Quite well, thank you. And how have you been dear Jacob?"
"I've been just lovely." He leaned closer to me...closer than I would have liked but I let it slide.
"That is excellent. Would like something to drink?"
"Just you." He grabbed my shoulders and pushed me into the side of the couch, smothering my lips with his mouth. I struggled.
"Jacob Pulitzer! This is entirely improper!" I tried to wriggle free but couldn't. His hands were wandering up my skirt and chiffon. I felt tears sting my cheeks. "Jacob, please let me go?"
My mother stood in the parlor door, smiling. "It's alright Spencer. Let him have fun."
I screamed as I felt his hands on my body in places where they shouldn't have been. "JACOB! NO!" I slapped him hard and sent him off the couch. Then I stood up. "How could you?!" I shouted at my mother. "I can't take it anymore! You were going to let him rape me!"
"But you will be marrying him!"
"Fuck I will!" I shrieked. Then I tore out the door into the streets of New York. Like I said, I'm a snobby little rich girl and I had no idea where I was going. I knew it was night and I was in New York. I walked in my high heels for quite some time before I sat down on a park bench in front of some extremely squalid buildings. I was shaking with sobs and I was freezing. It was the middle of November in New York City. If I didn't get murdered that night, I'd freeze by morning.
Sometime later, a boy walked past with a cigarette dangling between his lips and a cabby hat pulled low over his eyes. He carried something in his hand and another something sticking out of the waistband of his pants. He looked at me for a moment before he sat down. I continued crying, not feeling like talking to someone I didn't know and being scared that he would kidnap me. This boy could obviously do more to me than Jacob Pulitzer. He had a lithe manner to him, like a panther waiting to strike at me.
"Are you sitting there for a reason, Sir?" I finally snapped.
He looked up quickly, his eyes reflecting the light and for a moment he looked like a cat. When he tilted his head slightly I could see it was anger and amusement in sky blue eyes. "Last time I checked dis was me territory. I can do what I want."
"I do not believe anyone owns the United States, Sir. This is not your 'territory.' Now are you here for a reason?"
He pulled the object out of his waistband and smirked at me. A slingshot! I dropped to my knees and begged. "Oh please don't kill me! I'll do whatever you want!"
He dropped the slingshot immediately. "I ain't gonna kill ya!" He seemed shocked that I would even say that. "Why ya so jumpy?"
"I had a very disgusting incident with Jacob Pulitzer."
The boy's eyes flashed again. "If dere's one thing I won't do it's treat a woman like she's a temple dat I can use whenevah I want. Ya don't like him do ya?"
"I hate him."
"What did he do?"
"He was trying to rape me while my mother watched and she was letting him!"
He looked down. "Dat's just wrong."
"Yes. And look at me, telling you all my secrets. What's your name?"
He smiled. "What's your's?"
"Spencer Antoinette Higgens."
"Higgens?! As in Racetrack?"
I nodded. "He's my cousin."
"Well, in dat case. I'm Spot Conlon. Ya cousin is me best friend...if ya can say I have friends."
"Why were you out so late, Mr. Conlon?"
"Spot's awright. Mr. Makes me sound old. I was...doin things." He picked up the gold-capped cane that had been the object he was carrying and wiped the gold end on his shirt. It left a dark claret streak on his shirt. Blood!
I jumped away from him. "What the hell is that?"
He looked down at the cane and then up at my gray eyes. "It's a weapon...why?"
"I don't mean that, I mean what the hell was on it? Was that blood?!"
"Yeah. Had me a run in with Oscar Delancey an' he knows ya don't touch a Conlon's nerves."
I stared. "I just need a place to stay if you can do that, Sir."
"Spot is awright." He said it again and picked up the slingshot and cane. Then he aimed a marble right above my head. I shrieked but then changed my mind.
"I bet you couldn't hit shit with that!" I snapped. He desereved it after scaring me like that!
His eyes flashed fire and ice. He was pissed. "I bet ya gonna home or freeze ta death without me help!" Then he took aim and fired at a knot on a tree. It hit dead on.
"Well, then I'm sorry, Sir. I must be going now."
"Back ta Jake Pulitzer? Why don't ya stay wit me an' I can take ya ta Race in da mornin'?"
I stopped and smiled. "Would you do that for me?"
"Anything for a lady dat don't want mistreated. Ya get nothing but da best from Spot Conlon."
"Ah. A true Prince Charming are we?"
He froze. "I ain't no one's knight in shinin' armor goily. Sorry."
Something had obviously touched a nerve because he had stopped being so playful with me. He grabbed my arm and led me back to Brooklyn.
In order to understand this, you have to know Spot. He is an enigma. A category of his own. He's possessive, cruel, egotistical, and sometimes ruthless. But he is also playful, fun, hilarious, and adorable. He is the best friend in the world but also the worst enemy. He's a set of good and evil all balled in one. It's what happens when authors go crazy and turn their heroes into villains but Spot was different. He was powerful. You were with him or against him. There was no neutral ground. That's why we clicked like we did. I was neutral ground, trying to get out...and he was an orphan trying to escape life and get to neutral ground. If Spot can't be neutral, no one else can...but he let me for some reason...
A/C-How'd you like it? Spot is so...tempermental.