Because I am notorious for not finishing my chapter-stories, I made it all into one oneshot! Yay me! I own nothing.
Nine-year-old Sean Conlonheld his little sister, Laura, protectively in his arms. She was only six, and she didn't understand why her Mommy was yelling so loudly. Sean understood, but what he didn't understand was why his dad wasn't yelling back at her. He was only speaking quietly, in his soft, gentle way. John Conlonwas big and tall, with huge muscles, and could quite easily have clobbered anyone that annoyed him, but he never did. He never yelled, either; his voice was rarely more than stern.
Sometimes Sean hated him for it.
At times like this, for instance. When he and Mom fought. Mom always yelled and screamed, saying words that would get Sean in trouble if he said them. She would call John horrible names, and then she would say bad things about Laura and Sean. Sean would hold his hands over Laura's ears and try to block out the sound. Mom and Dad fought like that at least every other night, sometimes more. Ellen Conlon would shriek and tell her husband she wished she had never married him. Sean always thought she was just letting her emotions take control for a little while, that she didn't really mean it. Or maybe it was the alcohol.
But then she left.
Sean had made friends with the newsies by then, and they called him Spot, because of the mole on his back. He was ten and Laura was seven when they woke up and their mother was gone. She had left in the middle of the night, and left a note that said only that she had found someone who loved her better than John ever did.
Spot didn't miss her. But poor little Laura cried every night for at least three months.
John didn't make enough money at his factory job, so Spot decided that he would stay with his newsie friends of Brooklyn. His father wouldn't have to pay for his food anymore, and Spot could give them some of the money he earned.
But John didn't want his son to leave. They had a huge fight, and the next morning, Spot too had left. He was only thirteen, and Laura was ten. Unlike his mother, Spot didn't leave a note. He was just gone one day, talking the spare key to the house and his old cane with him. Laura and John were the only ones left in the house.
Laura grew up, seeing her brother less and less, until he only came around once a year or so. He had made a name for himself, the King of Brooklyn, the legendary leader that no one dared to cross. He was allies with Manhattan, and helped Jack Kelly when the strike happened. A few months later, when he was eighteen, he set out to visit his sister again.
But Laura had changed. After Spot left, she had become someone hard and cold. Her father put in longer hours at the factory, and some nights she barely saw him at all. Some nights he didn't even come home. Laura knew that he was only trying to make a better life for her, but she still hated him. Didn't he know that she didn't want more money, she wanted him? She wanted him to love her. She was fifteen, and had not been held in eight years, back when her brother held her while their parents fought. She was more like her mother than any of them realized, and she too fought with her father whenever he was home.
It was just after one of these fights when Spot came in. John had gone back to the factory, and Laura was lying on the worn out sofa which was her bed. She hated them, she hated all of them. Her mother and brother for leaving, and her father for staying. When Spot opened the door with the key around his neck, she didn't even look up. She didn't care who it was. She knew it wasn't her father, he wouldn't be back for hours. It couldn't be a friend, for she had none. That left only...
"Sean."
"Hey, Laura. How are ya?" He was standing over her, but she refused to look at him. He had their father's eyes, and she hated everything about that man at the moment. Looking at Spot just might make her cry. She stared stonily at the ceiling.
"Guess," she practically spat.
Spot drew back, surprised. The last time he had been here, his little sister had just turned fourteen, and while she had seemed sad and preoccupied, she was not angry. He was confused, angry that she would dare to be mad at him, and, though he would never admit it, hurt. This was his sister, after all! "Uh..."
She sat up, brushing her blond hair out of her face. "Well? Are ya just gonna stand there? Why'd ya come, anyways? Ta gloat? I saw what ya did last yeah (year). Whatdaya wan' me ta do? Bow down and worship ya?"
Spot smirked, despite himself. The girl had spunk, he'd give her that much. He couldn't remember that ever showing up before. "Well," he drawled. "Some recognition wouldn't be too awful. Aftah awl, Ise did some pretteh important stuff."
She stood so fast that he started. There was a cold gleam in her eyes, a hatred beyond anything he had ever seen before. "Get. Out," she hissed. He inwardly flinched at the barely controlled fury in her voice.
"Well," he said slowly. "If youse say so. But here's dacash for ya." He held out a small pouch, filled with spare change and a few dollar bills. She didn't move, just stared at him. He shrugged, tossed it onto the couch, and headed towards the door. "Oh yeah," he said, turning around to see that she still had not moved. However, her head whipped around at the sound of his voice. "Dere's a little sumptin in dere for ya. If ya wan' it."
He closed the door gently behind it, and Laura sank back onto the sofa, one hand over her face. She wondered, for the first time, why she hated them. After all, she knew that they were only trying to help. But sometimes... She sighed, and opened the bag. Might as well take half of it out, like she always did, to keep for herself. Her father never knew the difference, but she had almost twenty dollars now. As she was counting it out, though, she noticed a small strip of paper at the bottom of the bag. She pulled it out, thinking it was just an ordinary dollar bill, but it was not. It was a small peice of paper that had Spot's scrawl written on it. It read,
Hey, Laura. I was gonna come around sooner, but I heard you
and dad fighting. I came back later, and you was fighting
again. I figured you must fight a lot, so I wrote this for you.
I, Sean "Spot" Conlon, will allow Laura Mary Conlon
to be a newsgirl of Brooklyn anytime she feels like it.
P. S. If you do come stay with us, just go to the docks and if
I'm not there, look for Ace or Kya and tell them that I sent
you, but don't tell anyone who you really are or I swear I will
kill you.
Spot
Laura stared at the note, shocked. She was still mad at Spot, but she could feel the hatred slowly trickling away. He was offering her an escape, a way out. If she took it, she could easily forget her life here, the years of neglect she had known. She emptied the pouch of half it's contents and ran back to her "room", which was only a small closet like space with a chest of her things in it, shoving the rest of her money into it, and, after some hesitation, put on a small, braided bracelet that her father had given her for her last birthday, only a month before. Then she pulled out from under her pillow a picture of their whole family, before her mother left. She was only five in that picture, and Spot was eight. Her father had his sheepish grin on his face, and her mother was, wonder of wonders, smiling. She didn't know who had taken the picture.
She put it in the bag. After all, she knew that those memories would never really leave, so why forget only some of them? She might as well keep a clear picture of her family the way it had once been. Back when they were happy, before Ellen and John began fighting. She pulled out a battered brown cap and stuck it on her head, wishing her hair was long enough to braid, but it only came down to her shoulders. She pulled out a pocket knife, tested it on the dresser, and the, satisfied, stuck it in her pocket. She bent down and pulled out a small bag with a shoulder strap, and stuffed an extra shirt, a skirt, a nightdress, and a pair of pants and suspenders. One year, when she was thirteen, Spot had explained that newsiesdidn't have a lot of clothes, maybe one or two outfits and some pajamas. If they were lucky, a jacket for when winter came. As Laura was not lucky, she did not have a jacket.
However, she was fit, as she did not eat too much or too little, and walked around outside in an attempt to find Spot. She never really knew why she did, just that she wanted to find him. But needless to say, she was used to walking for hours at a time outside. Also, no matter how cold it got, she never really was affected. Unless of course she was sick, and that happened every year just after Christmas without fail, varying from a sniffle or being bedridden. But that was only once a year, and she was usually fine after a week or so. Besides, she had only been bedridden once in her life, when she was six.
But she wasn't thinking of that now, as it was only October, and she wouldn't be sick for several months. She brushed her hair out of her face again, and headed out the door.
She knew her way around Brooklyn, and headed straight for the docks, her bag swinging at her side, her cool blue eyes watching everything. She had no idea how much she was like her brother, in more ways than one. She had the same eyes, her father's eyes, Spot's street sense, though she was not in trouble as much as him, the same short stature that they had inherited from their mother, and the same fiery temper. She was also very good at being ignored when she felt like it, and many people overlooked her. And one more quality she shared with her brother was her feirce loyalty to and love of Brooklyn.
After a little while she arrived at the docks. There were several newsies around, although most of them were not in the water, as it was very cold. She glanced around, but did not see Spot. She walked up to the nearest newsie. "Hey, you," she said. He turned to look at her in surprise, then scowled, seeing she was a girl. "Is Spot around here somewhere?" she demanded.
"Why should I tell you?" he said roughly. His brown eyes were narrowed.
"'Cause I wanna see 'im, dat's why." She glared back at him.
"Yeah, well, Spot don't like all youse goils hangin' around since da strike."
She crossed her arms and huffed. "Well, who said I wan'ed to have anytingta do with 'im? I only asked where 'e was."
"Well, 'e ain't here. Happy?"
Laura pretended to think for a moment. "No, not really I ain't. Where's Ace?"
The boy, whoever he was, suddenly grinned. Laura was surprised at this, but she did not show it. She merely raised and eyebrow. "Well, dat Ise can tell ya. He's not so shy of da ladies, Ace. Spot, now, he don' like da goils. Ace just loves 'em." She glared at himagain, and he turned around. "Hey, Ace!" he shouted. "Ya busy? Some little lady here wants ta see ya." He turned around to smirk at Laura, whose glare had turned into a look of utter fury. She held his gaze, staring at himuntil he fidgeted uncomfortably. Then she turned away, satisfied. A few minutes later, another boy walked up. He was at least six feet tall, ad he towered above Laura, who was barely five feet.
"Ya said someone wan'ed ta see me, Tink?"
"Yeah, dis one. Started out wantin' Spot, but she changed her mind." Laura glared at him again, but he seemed cockier now that Ace was here. Ace waved him away, looking at Laura.
"An' youse here because?"
"Because I ain't somewhere else," she replied, sticking her chin out defiantly.
"And why ain't ya somewhere else?"
"Because I'm here," she smirked. He stared a her, frustrated. Obviously his questions would get him nowhere. He tried a different tact.
"Tink said ya wan'ed Spot."
"He did say that, didn' he?"
"Well? Do ya?"
"That depends. Can I have 'im?"
"Eh, not gonna happen," said an unfamiliar voice from behind Laura. She turned to see a girl a few years older than her with black hair and bright blue eyes.
"Why?" Laura sneered. "You wid 'em?"
The other girl smirked, and it seemed remarkably like Spot's. She must spend a lot of time around him, Laura noted. "Nah. He ain't with nobody. He ain't got nobody, and nobody got him."
Laura smirked as well. "Well, I dunno if I got him, but he sure as heck got me."
"Oh?" Laura spun around and stared at the newest arrival. Apparently Spot had been standing there for some time, for he was leaning against a crate, quite at his ease.
"Well, suah(sure). Ya didn' tink I'd leave, did ya?"
"Well, kid, after dat incredible display, Ise guess you can stay." Laura nodded, not really amused. She held up her bag slightly, and Spot turned to Kya. "Show 'er da Lodgin' House and let 'er put 'er stuff away. She can start sellin' tomorrow." Kya nodded and walked off. Laura followed.
"So, do you and Spot knows each uddah or sumptin? Da new kids usually gotta pass some test or sumptin."
Laura smirked again. "I s'pose ya could say dat. We were... well... not friends, really... well, we was around each uddah a lot when we was younger."
Kya nodded, seeming to guess the rest. Of course, she was probably wrong. As they walked, Laura watched everything that was going on, memorizing the information and logging it away in her brain for later use. The way to the Lodging House, the boys standing around, some smoking, some just talking, the way the water sounded as it lapped up against the wooden beams.
Finally they reached the house. It was a large, shabby building, but Laura didn't care. She followed Kya into one of the upstairs bedrooms, where there were six bunk beds, three against eachwall. "Hey," Laura said suddenly. "How many goil newsies is dere?"
Kya thought for a moment, counting on her fingers. "Well... Dere's you an' me, obviously. Den deres Dot and Dash... dey's da twins... Den dere's Inky... and Mouse... and Ally an' Monkey. Dey's pretty much glued tagedder (together). And den some o' da 'Hattan newsgoils stop by sometimes... but dat's all o' dem, unless sometimes if one o' da boys is really sick, dey get ta stay in here. But dat's only if dey's, like, delirious an' need 'round da clock care. Anyway, pick a bed. Youse can have dat one, dat one, or dat one."
Kya nodded and chose one on the top bunk. She had to stand on her tiptoes just to see over the edge, but she swung her bag up. She then climbed up after it and stared down at Kya, who smirked. "Well, I guess you would wanna be up high, huh...?"
"Laura." She smirked.
"Laura..." Kya rolled the name around on her tongue, then shook her head. "Uh-uh. Dat won' work. We better getcha a new name. How bout... Shorty?"
"Ah-ha, no."
"Awright, den, dat won' work... how's about... huh... you know any newsies here?"
"Just Spot."
"And he'd murder one or both o' us if we used a play off o' his name..."
"Not me, he wouldn'."
Kya raised an eyebrow. "You suah? Dere was dis one kid, got it into 'is mind to call 'imself Spot, Jr. He... well... you don' really wanna know."
"Youse right, I don'. But Spot, well... for one reason or annuder, he wouldn' hoit me at all."
"One reason or unnader, huh? Really, where ya know da guy from?"
"Well, if I told ya dat, I'm afraid he really would kill me, as shockin' as dat is."
"Awright... so... hows about Tops? Dat's Spot backward, an' if 'e asks we can say ya went straight fo' da top bunk. Don' know if he'll fall fo' it, but if youse right when you say he won' hoit ya..." She shrugged. "It's you're neck. So, whadaya say? Tops?"
"Tops." Kya spat in her hand, which was one of the tests they gave new newsies, especially girls. But Tops didn't hesitate when she spitshook with Kya.
"Awright, let's go back outside. His Majesty'll be wond'rin' where we are."
When they went outside, Spot was randomly shooting rocks at people and some wooden beams with his sling shot, a distant expression on his face, though he didn't miss a single shot. He only looked at the when they were about five feet away, and then he just nodded and continued shooting. Ace and Tink were nowhere around.
"So ya settled in, Laura?"
"Yeah."
"Kya give ya a new nickname yet?"
"Yeah. Tops."
He shot another bullet, then slowly put the slingshot back in his pocket. He turned to face her, his face blank, though his eyes were very, very cold. "Tops, huh? I wondah how ya came up wit' dat?"
Tops smirked, knowing she was playing with danger, and loving every moment of it. Kya, sensing that Spot was feeling rather deadly at the moment, cut in with, "She wen' straight to da top bunk, Spot, so I figahed we'd call 'er Tops. Ya know? Like... like da top bunk?"
"Oh," he said, his eyes narrowing. Tops just smirked again. "Like da top bunk." He turned to his sister and said so quietly that Kya could barely make out the words, "I swear, Laura, one day I will murdah you."
"Why?" she asked with as innocent an epression as she could muster. This wasn't much, as she was beyond all hope of ever being innocent again, but it was amusing to try. "I didn't do nothin'."
"Kya wouldn' let anybody fool aroun' wit' my name," he muttered fiercely, though still very quietly. "She musta guessed sumptin'. Wha'd ya tell 'er?"
"Nothin'. I told 'er me name was Laura, and dat you an' me knew each uddah when we was kids. Dat's all."
Spot grabbed Tops's wrist and dragged her, none too gently, away from the other newsboys and shoved her down onto a crate. She glared up at him. He was silent for a moment, merely regarded her cooly, his arms crossed. Finally he spoke. "Do ya know why I don' wan' anyone ta know who ya are?" he asked softly.
"'Cause da almighty leader o' Brooklyn don' care too much fo' family, dat's why."
"No, Laura, dat ain't it. It's cause you can get hoit out dere if da uddah boroughs knows who ya are. The Bronx, maybe Queens. Now Kya, she won' tell nobody anyt'ing 'less I tell 'er she can, but youse gotta be careful. I don' wantcha ta get hoit."
"Like ya act'ally cared about dat at all!" The fierce anger was back in her eyes, Spot noted. He was silent, so she went on. "Ya never cared abou' me! Ya just left, Spot. An' ya didn' come back." She shook her head then, her expression suddenly unreadable. "Whatevah. I won' tell no one nothin' 'bout me or you or any of it." She turned and walked away, her back straight as a ramrod.
The next day Tops went out selling with Kyaand one of the other girls, Inky. Inky was a writer, and her hands and face were always smudged with ink, even more than Spot, who sold so many papers his hands were practically black. She had brown hair and dark blue, almost black, eyes. Pretty soon Tops had caught on, and was screaming out headlines like the best of them.
"Ya catch on quick," Inky observed.
Tops shrugged. "Ise a fast learner, I guess."
That night, Tops met Ally and Monkey. Although they were obviously not related, they both had blond hair and blue eyes. "HI!" they cried simultaneously. "Are you the new goil?" one of them gushed.
"I ain't been here more dan one night, if dat's whatcha mean. But I wouldn' classify meself as new, exac'ly."
"Well anyway, Ise Monkey an' dis is Ally. Wese total best friends."
"Really? I couldn' tell."
After a few weeks, Tops had been accepted as one of the newsies of Brooklyn. She even met some of the Manhattan newsies, including the famous and beloved Jack Kelly, the not-so-famous, not-so-beloved David Jacobs, Boots, and Racetrack, who took it upon himself to teach her poker. She also met a few of the newsgirls from that area, but they didn't come around much.
There were newsiesfrom some other boroughs as well, but she didn't bother trying to make friends withthem. In fact, she didn't even bother trying to make friends with any of the newsiesin Brooklyn. she was friendly with a few of them, but friends...? Not so much. Friends would just be a waste of time. She didn't want or need friends. She wasn't like some people, who were just hid behind a mask but secretly longed for companionship. She just didn't want any.
She and Spot were also growing slightly closer, though Tops was nowhere near as open as she had been that first day, and still the anger towards him remained. They were barely brother and sister, even when they were alone, and defintely not when they were around other people, for they had been apart too long. But they were aware of their connection, and had to admit that they did feel slightly warmly to each other. Tops knew this, although she still did not forgive Spot.
On Christmas day, she felt the usual symptoms. Her nose was runny, her throat sore, her head pounding. Or course, there were several others who were sick as well, it was nothing important. But one evening a week later, while out selling, she began coughing. It was a deep, hoarse cough that took her completely by surprise. She was selling by herself that day, and had been sluggish and sniffly and slightly nauseous all day, but she had merely waved it away as the after affects of her cold. But now she could barely breathe she was coughing so hard. She bent over, clutching her stomach. The coughing was making her stomach roil, but she couldn't stop. This was undoubtedly the sickest she had ever been in her life. She retched into the snow.
Finally, after a few more minutes of coughing, she was able to spit out the foul taste in her mouth and wipe her face with a pape. She sagged wearily against the wall, not caring what people must think of her. Her hair all in her face, the ends covered in muck, her face pale, a filthy pape in her hand, an abandoned stack at her feet, next to a pile of...
She began shivering violently, and wished she had a coat. She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself. She hardly remembered the last time she had been this sick. It had been almost ten years.
Finally, she opened her eyes. But to her surprise, it was dark, everything was slightly blurry, and there was no one around. She looked up to see that the sun had set, and a few stars were barely visible. She let out a shaky breath. How long have I been standing here?
She barely had the energy to move, but she knew that it was either go back to the House, or spend the night in some alley and quite possibly die. As she was not yet ready to leave the earth, she decided that heading back was probably the best idea.
However, moving was not. As soon as she took one step, her knees buckled, and she nearly fell. She leaned against the wall, breathing hard. Okay, so it was either stay here and freeze to death, try to walk home, collapse, and freeze to death, or hope for a miracle.
The last one seemed easiest.
Hey, God. Tops wasn't a very strong Christian, but she did believe with all of her heart that Jesus had died for her. If it isn't too much, could you just kinda send someone down here to find me? I mean, Heaven's probably a really neat place, but I like it here for now. Thanks. Amen.
She lowered herself gently to the ground, careful not to move to quickly, lest her head start throbbing any more fiercely. She didn't know how long she sat like that, just that she was getting tireder and tireder, and struggling to stay awake. She knew that if she fell asleep, she would probably never be found.
Finally,when she guessed it was around ten or so, she heard someone running quickly up the street toward her. "Tops? Tops? Laura?"
She called weakly, "Here."
The person ran towards her. When they were close enough, Tops saw that it was Spot. "Gawd, Laura," he muttered. "How long ya been sittin' dere?"
She attempted a smile, or even a smirk, but failed dismally. "I dunno, do I?" she whispered. "Hey, Sean?" He bent down in order to hear her better. "Kin I have ya jacket? Ise a little co-." She was interupted by several minutes of coughs, after which she bent over and retched again. Luckily, this time Spot was there to hold her hair out of her face.
"We gotta get ya back ta da Lodgin' House," he said softly. "If ya feels like ya gonna throw up again, tell me." He helped her gently to her feet and half led, half carried her down the street. On the way, he told her why he was looking for her. "Ya know, Kya tol' me dat ya said you was gonna teach Mouse a new song." Mouse was the youngest newsgirl, only eleven, and loved to sing. "An' den ya didn' show up. I knew ya wouldn' tell dat kid sumptin den change ya mind wit'out tellin' 'er. Den ya didn' come, an' ya didn' come, so Kya an' I stahted lookin' fo' ya, an' we couldn' find ya nowhere, so we kept lookin' an' kept lookin'. Den I finally find ya and ya look half dead, an' ya know da rest."
Tops sighed and didn't answer. After a little while they reached the House and and, as she was unable to climb the stairs, Spot had to call Ace. "Take 'er to da goils' room. She can' take da stairs, and I can' carry 'er." Ace nodded, and Tops was transferred into his arms. He carried her slowly up the stairs, and she shivered uncontrollably. As he was unable to knock, he kicked on the door.
"Who's it?" asked a voice from inside.
"It's Ace. I gots Tops." There was the sound of scrabbling feet and then the door opened. One of th twins, Dot, opened the door.
"Oh, Lord, what happened to her?" Ace just shrugged and walked into the room.
"Which one's her bed?" he asked. Tops seemed half asleep, and he didn't think it would help to much to ask her.
"Well," said Mouse, stepping forward and pointed at it. "That one's hers, but we wouldn' be able ta take care of 'er up dere, so you can put 'er in dat one." She pointed at another bed, one of the bottom bunks. Ace gently laid Tops down in the bed, and she shivered again.
"I-Ise cold," she whispered hoarsely. Ace gently tugged the blanket out from under her and put it over her shaking form, but it didn't seem to make much difference. He stared at her for a few seconds, a frown on his face. Suddenly he felt hands pushing on his back. It was Ally, and she giggled despite herself.
"C'mon, you, get outta heah. We still gotta go ta bed. And take care o' Tops," she added thoughtfully. Ace shrugged and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him.
"Whatdaya t'ink happened?" Mouse asked breathlessly, her green eyes wide.
"Do ya t'ink she got beat up?" Dash demanded.
"Mebbe she's just really sick?" suggested Monkey.
"Maybe she has some deep, dark past and someone tried to get 'er secrets out of 'er!" Inky cried, then blushed as everyone turned to look at her.
"Maybe we should fix 'er up first and find out what happned latah!" said an authorative voice from the doorway, and they turned to see Kya, looking furious. She strode into the room, heading straight towards Monkey's bed. "Spot tol' me she was heah, an' Ace tol' me she was in dis bed," she said in answer to the questioning glances from the girls. Then she knelt by Tops's bed and placed a hand on her forehead. "She has one heckuva fevah. Hey, Tops," she said softly, and Tops muttered something unintelligeable. "How are ya, goil? Ya hot? Hungry? Jest tired?"
"Ise cold," Tops repeated sleepily. "An- an' Ise a little hungry." She looked even paler, as though talking had taken a lot out of her.
"Mouse, go get 'er some more blankets. Inky, you go make somet'in' for 'er ta eat. Dot, you go an get a col' ra-" At that moment, Tops made a strange choking noise, and Kya looked at her in surprise. She gasped and leapt up from the bed. "An' someone get a bucket!" she shouted.
Spot sat in his bed, staring thoughtfully at the opposite wall. So, his little sister was sick. Really, he should have sen it coming. Really, it had only been five years ago that he left, right after Laura's yearly cold. But he couldn't remember her ever being this sick. Normally it was just a cold or something.
But then, was it really that surprising? No matter how used to living with the newsies she might be, everyone's first winter on the streets was the hardest, even withthe Lodging House at nights. That, coupled with her yearly sickness, was enough to cause this, Spot thought.
He looked around the room, wishing that he could see her. But Ace had said that the girls had pretty much kicked him out of the room, and even now they could them running around at Kya's orders. "No, a cold rag, Dot! Ally, just standing around won' do nothin' ta help 'er! If ya can' find sumptin ta do, den go ta bed. And Inky! Wash ya hands befo' ya start cookin' anyt'ing!"
Spot grinned and lay down. Yes, Kya would take good care of his little sister. But he couldn't help but wonder, as he often did, who had taken care of her before she came to them. He remembered that first day. "Like ya act'ally cared about dat at all! Ya nevah cared about me! Ya just left, Spot. An' ya didn' come back."
He thought back to the day four months ago, when he had set out to visit her again. But he hadn't gone that day, because he had heard her screaming at their father. "Dad! I don' care! Money won' make it bettah. I need... I need... nevah mind. Jus' go back ta woik. Make mo' cash. See what I care."
"Right den, well, I'll see ya when I get back, Laura."
"Whenever dat is."
He could only guess that John had gone to work more and more, neglecting his own daughter in the process. But Tops had told him nothing about her life before, only that she was glad to be gone.
He was soon asleep.
In the middle of the night, Kya heard Tops turning restlessly beneath her. She was in the bunk above the sick girl's, so that she could hear her if Tops needed her. She climbed down to see that Tops was rolling restlessy back and forth. Kya sighed. "Hey, Tops," she whispered, placing a hand on her shoulder and giving her a gentle shake. "Tops!"
Tops gasped and opened her eyes. "Sean?" she whispered hoarsely. "Where... Sean?"
"Sean?" Kya repeated in confusion. "Sean who?" Of course, she could guess who. She was one of the only ones that knew Spot's real name. She just wanted to find out how Spot and Tops were connected.
"My brother. Sean. Need... talk ta... Sean."
Her brother? Kya had guessed that the too knew each other better than they let on, and that they had most likely grown up together, but she had even thought that they might be related. "I-I'll get 'im." She walked quickly and quietly to Spot's bed, set apart slightly from the other boys'. "Spot!" she hissed.
He sat up. He always had been a light sleeper. "Huh? What?"
"Ya sistah wants ta see ya. She's in da bunk undah mine." Spot didn't even ask. He just jumped out of bed and ran to the girls room. If Laura was asking for him, it was probably serious.
He tiptoed past the other girls' beds and stopped in front of Kya's. He bent down to see Laura. "Hey, you. Ya awright?"
Tops opened one eye to look at him. "Ise okay."
"Ya need sumptin?"
"I want ya... ta sing."
"Sing?"
"Ya know... dat song... da one dat... Mom sang."
"I don' know if I know dat one anymore."
"Yeah... ya do. Staht singin'. Jest da... foist voise."
"Fine." Spot reached out and grabbed his little sister's hand, before singing softly,
Amazing grace, how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost, but now am found
Was blind, but now I see."
Tops's lips moved along with the words, though she didn't make any noise. She sighed contentedly. "T'anks. Dat's all... I wan'ed." She coughed again, and Spot gently brushed his thumb along her hand. "Oh, an' Spot?" her voice was more hoarse than before, but she didn't have to pause as long between words.
"Yeah, Laura?"
"I love you."
Spot tried to swallow around the lump in his throat. "I-I love ya too, sis."
As Laura slowly recovered, she and Spot grew closer and closer. She occasionally told him what life had been like after he left, and he shared with her some of his most secret selling tips. They sold together more and more often, which led to teasing from the other girls, and, in the case of Ally and Monkey, jealous glances. But Laura didn't care. She had her brother back.
"Kya?" she asked one day.
"Yeah, Tops?"
"Do ya know who I really am?"
"Yeah. When you was sick, ya asked fo' ya brother Sean. I figahed da rest out."
"Ya won' tell nobody?"
"Nah."
A few days after that she was selling withSpot. Two boys who she had never seen before were walking up the street, joking with each other and looking around. She called out the headline, and they paused and looked at her. She smiled, knowing she was pretty. It was one of the easiest ways to sell papes to males of any age, and annoy the heck out of Spot. He shot her an irritated glance, and she smirked at him. "Buy a pape?" she asked, holding one out. The two boys grinned at each other, then, ignoring Spot completely, each bought a paper.
Then one of them nudged the other and looked at Spot. "Well, doll, what's a pretteh t'ing like yaself doin' wit' da famous Spot Conlon?" one of them asked. Spot looked at him cooly, and Tops copied him, crossing her arms. While it was fun to annoy Spot, she hated it with a passion when boys actually responded. Spot did too, for he was very protective of his little sister.
"Ise sellin' wit' 'im."
"Youse a little young, ain't ya? I mean, wouldn' ya radder hang out wit' me an' me buddy heah? Wese a little closah to ya own age, ain't we? Aftah all, Spot's what, t'ree yeahs(years) oldah dan ya?"
"T'ree yeahs, two weeks, an' four days," Tops snapped, struggling to keep her temper. They're just idiots, she told herself firmly.
She could practically hear the smug smirk in Spot's voice, though there was still an undercurrent of anger. "Well, why don'cha jist get on back ta da Bronx, an' tell ol' Turtle Ise'll be at da meetin' tanight, no worries." The boy's grin faded, and he nodded and walked in the opposite direction. The other followed.
"Who are dey?" Tops asked after a few minutes.
"Dey's from da Bronx. Socks and Pen. Nevah see one wit'out da othah. Dey gets sent on all o' Turtle's missions. Sorta like da boids we got heah, but more obvious."
"Ah."
That evening, Spot left to go to some meeting about something or other. At least, that was what Tops guessed, because he didn't tell her anything. She was attempting to teach Mouse to play poker. "But why?" Mouse kept asking. "What if I don' got enough money ta buy papes da nex' day?"
"Don' worry, kid, I'll spot ya some cash if youse broke. Or maybe someone'll jist give ya money, seein' how cute ya look." Mouse blushed and looked down.
"So... I have two of da same cahds. What does dat mean?"
As Tops told her what certain groups of cards meant, it grew later and later, and Spot still wasn't back yet. Mouse finally went up to bed, and soon Ace, Tops, and Kya were the only ones left downstairs. Tops was unable to get comfortable in the hard wooden chair, and kept shifting. "Hey, Kya?" she asked finally.
"Yeah?"
"How long's Spot us'ally gone?"
Kya gave her an understanding look. Since she had found out that Spot and Tops were siblings, she and Tops had grown closer and closer. "Sometimes he comes back aftah a couple o' hors. Sometimes he don' come back till mornin'."
Tops nodded, stretched, and yawned. "Well den, I guess I'll go ta bed. Night."
"G'night."
Ace watched Tops thoughtfully as she walked up the stairs. "What is it wit' her an' Spot?" he asked curiously. "She got ta join wit'out any sorta test, da two o' dem is always hangin' out tageddah (together), and she's worried about 'im, but Ise nevah seen da two o' dem do any o' dat stuff dat Spot us'ally does wit' da goils. Ya know, da kissin' an' da feelin' ach udder an', well, da udder stuff. Who is she really? Dey have ta know each udder from somewhere."
"Yeah, dey do."
"Well, where?" Ace asked impatiently.
Kya was silent.
Spot arrived home around two in the morning, his eyelids drooping, his feet dragging in the dust. While he hated to admit it, staying up late was one of his least favorite things in the entire world. Most of his other newsies could pull a all-nighterand hardly notice it, while he desperately needed sleep. If he wasn't in bed by twelve, he would be, well, cranky the next morning. Therefore, he hated the meetings with Turtle, because it meant a good hour's walk there, and then another hour back. Also, it was only ever an excuse to play poker and drink beer.
Another thing he hated. Beer. He had heard enough stories from his newsies about how their father's hit them, and he well remembered those nights when his mother would come home so dunk she couldn't walk in a straight line and would start screaming at them. He hated the taste of beer, the strange light-headed giddiness, and the headaches afterwards. Horrible stuff.
Finally, he reached the Lodging House. He pushed the door open tiredly and stumbled inside. Deciding he wouldn't even try to climb the stairs, he wandered into the common room and sat down in front of the dying embers, leaning his head back against one of the chairs.
To his surprise, he felt someone's knees against the back of his head instead of the hard wood. Whoever it was removed his hat and began gently combing their fingers through his hair. He sat like that in silence for a few minutes, wondering vaguely who it was and not really caring.
Finally, the person said softly, "Rough night?" He recognized his sister's voice.
"Jest late."
"Mm."
Silence. Then, "What're ya doin' down heah?"
"Couldn' sleep. Musta dozed off in da chair, but I woke up when ya opened da door."
"Ah."
More silence. After a little while, "We should pro'lly go ta bed soon."
"Pro'lly." But he made no move to stand up, and neither did she.
"Spot?" Tops's voice was strangely wary, scared.
"Yeah, Laur?"
She closed her eyes at the use of her old nickname. She had always hated it, but now it seemed okay. She was silent for a minute more, and the asked softly, "Did ya drink anyt'in' dere?"
She still remembered the fights.
Spot stiffened slightly, and she pulled her hands away from his head. "Were ya?"
"Jest... Jest a little."
She stood up so quickly that Spot fell forward. He pulled himself up, drawing his knees up to his chest, to see the expression of horror of his little sister's face. "'Jest a little'?" she repeated. "Sean! Don'cha remembah Mom? Don'cha remembah what dat was like?"
"C'mon, Laur, not so loud. Youse gonna wake up da whole House."
"I don' care!" she cried, and plopped back down in the chair. "I don' wan' ya ta go da same way Mom did, Spot." He registered the renewed use of his neckname. "Tell me da trut'," she said, her voice suddenly quiet. "How often do ya drink?"
"Only when I goes ta da Bronx, an' sometimes in 'Hattan."
"Dat's not an answah, an' you know it. How often?"
He looked down. "At least two o' t'ree times a mont'. But I don' like it, Laura, I swear. I hate da stuff, but I can' get outta drinkin' it."
"Ya mean if ya don' deys'll t'ink youse weak? Or... or ya can' stop?"
"Da foist one." He saw Tops's shoulders sag with relief.
"T'ank God. I asked Kya, an' she said dat all you guys did at dose "meetins" was drink and play pokah."
"Kya talks too much. How'd ya get 'er ta tell ya?"
Tops shrugged. "She knows who I am, don' she? She talks ta me more dan da uddah goils do."
"Do da uddah goils talk ta ya much?"
Tops shrugged. She wasn't normally this open with anyone, even her brother, but somehow, in the half light of the fire, it seemed easier to talk. "No' really," she admitted. "Ally an' Monkey, well, I jest ignored dem fo' a while, so dey got tired o' tryin' ta be friends. Inky doesn' talk too much, but she lets me read 'er poems sometimes. Dot an' Dash is pretty nice, but we ain't really friends. I teach Mouse some songs, but she's kinda young. Kya's really da only one dat I really talk to at awl."
"Mm."
"Are you close to any o' da boys?"
"No' really. I trust Ace, but we ain't really frien's. Kya's pro'lly da closest t'ing I got ta one." He peeked at her shyly. "An' you."
"Yeah. You too, Spot."
They sat in silence for the longest time yet, and Spot was just deciding that he should probably brave the stairs, when Laura said again, "Spot?"
"Yeah?" he mumbled. He was already half asleep.
"Do ya believe in God?"
Spot startled awake. It took him a moment to gather his thoughts. His sister was staring at him expectantly. However, his thoughts seemed muddled and confused. Did he believe in God? "I guess I dunno."
Tops nodded; apparently that was what she expected. "Do ya wanna go ta church wit' me some time? I nevah sell on Sundays, an' I know a real nice place. An'," she added, "Ya don' have ta dress up. It ain't fancy or nothing."
"I... I dunno, Laur."
"Okay," she said, giving in without a fight, which surprised him. However, she knew that pushing him too hard might just make him run in the opposite direction. "But anytime ya wanna come, o' talk abou' God, Ise heah."
"Yeah. Okay." He yawned widely, and Tops smirked again.
"Youse goin' ta bed now, mistah." Spot nodded, too tired to care that his little sister was bossing him around.
"Don' wanna climb da stairs," he mumbled, and she giggled. Giggled. He perked up immediately and stared at her in shock. When was the last time Laura, the loner, the one who never even smiled, only smirked, had giggled? He couldn't think of a single time in the last four years.
It only lasted a few seconds, but Spot was still shocked, because now she was smiling. It was an unsure smile, and half smirk, but it was a smile. "Well, c'mon, Ise'll help ya up da stairs, Mister Conlon."
The next morning, Spot was a crab and Tops seemed subdued. It was March twenty-first. "Strange..." she muttered as she came down the stairs. "Do da uddah newsies know? I'll have ta ask Kya..." But when she whispered something in Kya's ear, Kya just looked confused.
"Why? What's taday?"
"Hmm? Oh, nothin'. I was just checking to make sure I had da dates right."
"Yeah, okay."
Tops sighed as she walked away. He told Kya his real name but not his birthday? What is wrong with that boy?
Tops sneaked upstairs after she finished selling and rooted around under her mattress for a few minutes before pulling out a small square of fabric and gazing at it thoughtfully. He'd better like this; I nearly met Dad again getting it for him.
Grinning, she stepped outside and headed to the docks. Spot would be there. He was always there, if he wasn't off soaking some poor idiot. This evening, he was there. "Hey! Conlon!" she shouted. He turned to look at her over his shoulder, a carefully blank look on his face. "I need ta talk ta you!" She kept on walking toward him, ignoring the other newsies he was talking to. For one instant, one split second, he looked horrified, but then his face went blank again.
"Be dere in a sec, Tops," he shouted back. He said something to the newsies and they walked off, muttering something under their breath. She leaned on a crate, smirking as he came over. "Please, Tops, please, don't, don't, don't, don't, dont!"
"Ho-oh no, Spot. You ain't gettin' outta dis." She shoved the cloth in his hands. She had wrapped it in an old paper, and watched him anxiously as he unwrapped it slowly, his back to the other newsies. His hands slowed as he pulled the cloth free of its wrapper.
"Laur..." he whispered, an expression of wonder on his face. "How did ya get dis?"
She shrugged. "I snuck back ta da house. It wasn' too hard ta find; Dad nevah touched none o' Mom's stuff. I doubt he'll even realise it's gone."
"I forgot she used ta sew stuff like dis."
"S'called embroidery, I t'ink. Ya like it?"
"I'd hug ya if dere weren' so many people aroun'."
"Ya welcome."
Spot examined the little square of fabric more closely. It was a small meadow, a house and a few trees. He barely recognized it, but knew it was their home in Ireland, the place he had left when he was two. Laura had never been there. Embroidered in the top left corner were the words, "Beo go maith, gáire go minic, grá mórán". Or in English, "Live well, laugh often, love much".
"Not that she ever did any o' dat..." he murmured.
Tops shrugged. "So what? 'S a nice t'ought."
"Yeah," he agreed. "'S a nice t'ought."
"Spot? Ise gotta go ta 'Hattan fo' a few days."
"What?"
"Ise gotta go ta 'Hattan fo' a few days."
"Why?"
They were sitting on the edge of one of the many docks, enjoying the sun. There were a few other nesies around, but none of them were in hearing distance. It was a well know fact at this point that if Spot and Tops were talking together with there heads bowed, it was better to stay out of the way.
"Penny was heah da uddah day, right? Well, she invited me ovah."
"Why?"
"Pro'lly just ta play pokah an' hang out."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." But she didn't look at him when she said it.
"I didn' know ya was close to 'er."
"Ise not."
"Mm."
A few days later, Tops had an extra shirt shoved in her small bag and the picture of her family. "I'll be back tamorrow," she told Kya. "I'll stay da night, get my papes, an' sell 'em on da way back ovah heah."
"Suah(sure). See ya den."
"See ya." And with that Tops walked off.
However, she did not stay the night. Around three in the morning, she approached the docks, weeping bitterly. This sight was so uncommon, if any of the newsies had been there they would have been struck dumb. But it was late, and no one was outside except a stray cat.
Tops dropped heavily onto a crate, dropping her bag on the ground, and buried her face in her hands. Her whole body shook with the force of her sobs. Inwardly, she was cursing herself for being an idiot. Did ya think the woman would wrap her arms around you and tell you she loved you? You shouldn't have expected any more than you got, Laura. But this did nothing to help her misery.
Around four she had cried herself dry and just sat there hiccuping for another ten minutes. Finally, she wiped her eyes and sneaked back into the Lodging House.
Even though she had walked for a while and crying had taken a lot out of her, she decided against going to sleep. She was still sad, and she knew that staring at the ceiling all night would do nothing to help; she wasn't going to sleep at all. Instead, she sat down in front of the fireplace and leaned her head back on the chair. But, just like a few nights ago, she felt someone's knees instead of the chair. Unlike that night, she was awake enough to look up and see Ace.
"Ace?" she asked in confusion, scooting away.
He just looked at her silently, his eyes closed, his mouth open slightly. His chest rose and fell gently with each breath. "Y'know," Tops said conversationally. "As attractive as you may be, I would appreciate it if you didn't pretend to be asleep. I'm not plannint to tell you anything."
Ace was still. Tops rolled her eyes. "Fine," she muttered under her breath. "We'll do this da hard way." And without further ado, she stood and kicked his shin. His eyes immediately snapped open and he grabbed his leg.
"Tops!" he gasped. "What'd ya do dat for?"
"Well," she glared at him. "It's not like Ise just gonna start tellin' ya my secrets cause youse asleep. Ise not jus' gonna say somethin' like" Here her voice became very high pitched. "'Oh, Ace, my trip to Manhattan was just simply awful. I was goin' ta see a show, but I broke a nail an' had ta stay at da Lodgin' House.' Haha, no."
"Well, excuse me for bein' concerned."
"Concerned my foot."
"Was too. I heard ya cryin' outside an-"
"Was I dat loud?"
"Kinda."
"Great. Continue."
"Sos I pretended ta be asleep, t'inkin' dat just maybe ya might be a little more willing ta tell a half-dead guy your secrets." He grinned sheepishly.
Tops rolled her eyes. "If you must know, I was goin' ta see someone, but I had convinced myself dat dey'd be kinda glad ta see me. O' course, dey weren't, at all, but I shoulda known dat, huh?"
Before Ace could answer, Tops lept up. "Ise goin' ta bed now. See ya in da- well, it's already mornin', so see ya later." She dashed up the stairs. Ace could only stare, wondering if he had seen more tears in her eyes. For some reason, he wanted to get up and follow her.
Look, don't touch, he reminded himself. If Spot was as close to this girl as he seemed, it would be toying with death to admit his feeling for her.
"Hey, Tops, youse back early." Tops translated her brother's meaning: "What went wrong?"
"Later," she muttered. She gazed into his eyes sadly.
"Later as in now?"
"Ise'll kill you some day, Spot Conlon."
"Yep. Dat means now."
She sighed, defeated. Now she was tired, and she didn't feel like fighting him.
"Okay," Spot said, pulling her back towards the Lodging House. "No one's heah, so we can start wit' somethin' easy: Why did you go to 'Hattan?"
Tops looked down and swallowed, hard. She could feel the tears coming up and tried in vain to keep them from falling. Despite her efforts though, one tear rolled down her cheek. Spot stared at her anxiously. If his little sister was crying, something was very wrong. "Laura?"
"I saw Mom," she gasped finally. Spot stiffened.
"You... you... what?"
"I saw Mom," she repeated, and two more tears fell.
Spot either couldn't or wouldn't answer, so she continued in a choked voice as more tears fell, "P-Penny said dat dere was a new lady workin' at dis one place, somethin' like Medda's. But Penny said dat whoever it was was more grope-y an' dat she was practically naked half da time. Penny tol' me dat a lotta da boys kept droolin' over 'er, and she tol' me what she looked like." She looked up at her brother, who looked sick. Her body shook as she suppressed a sob. "She described her perfectly, Sean. Even da little scar on 'er chin." She closed her eyes and placed a hand on the wall. "I-I had ta see 'er, Sean. I had to! But... but... I tried to sell 'er a pape as she walked outta some bar, I'd been followin' her, an' she saw me... an'... an'..." Tops couldn't go on; she was crying too hard. "I didn' t'ink I'd care dis much," she whispered. "I mean, I barely knew 'er! But she recognizd me an' called me... t'ings. Sean, she tol' me she hated me an' dat I was an idiot fo' tryin' ta find 'er. Den she just walked away."
"Laura," he said in a choked voice as she began to sob again. He reached out, and she nearly fell into his arms. He sroked her hair for a few minutes in a clumsy attempt to comfort her, while he himself was filled with rage and sadess and hurt and a million other emotions.
"She... hates... me!" Tops gasped and started crying again.
"Laura," he said again and pushed her away slightly so that he could look her in the eyes. They were swollen and red. "Laura, she ain't worth it. She's just stupid ta wanna miss out on you." He could think of a few more colorful adjectives to call her, but after she had hurt Laura so badly, he guessed his sister wouldn't want to hear it.
She nodded but didn't looked convinced, and she still cried. "Sean, why's dis happenin'?"
"What?"
"What'd we do? We was just kids, Sean, an' she left. An den you left, and den Dad left, an' I was by myself. You all left, Spot, an' no one even cared about me! No one wondered what would happen ta me if I had ta grow up alone. You left ta make money. Dad did da same t'ing! Sean, he hasn't touched me in seven yeahs(years). Does anyone love me? Or even care about me? Why'd it have ta happen to me?"
"I-I dunno." He hadn't expected this at all. "What about dat God t'ing you do?"
"I dunno anymore," she whispered, and in that instant, all of her defenses just crumbled. Spot saw a lonely little girl trying to make it in a cruel world, with no one to lean on, no one to confide in, and full of pain. She was scared, alone, hurt. She was convinced that no one cared for her. And the worst thing was, he found himself wondering if she was right. Did he really love her? They had been apart so long, it was hard to see her as his sister. She was more of a close friend, now that he thought about it.
But now that he saw her hurt and scared, completely open, he realized that she was more than just a close friend. "Laura," he said softly, taking her hands in his. He gazed into her eyes. "I love you. Don' you ever t'ink anyt'in' else, because youse my sister an' I love you."
"I love you too, Sean," she whispered brokenly and flung her arms around his neck. And he believed it.