1. STANDING IN THE WAKE OF DEVESTATION,

WAITING ON THE EDGE OF THE UNKNOWN.

"Who's da boy?"

"Spot, you got it all wrong—"

"Who da hell is da boy? For the last damn time!"

"I'm a girl, you dipshit."

"Holy shit! Match? It looks like you set her on fire! Oh crap, she's blacking out again!"

"Ah, c'mon. I don't set people on fire!"

"Why didn't ya tell me it was a goil!"

"Spot, we—"

"Just shuppud."

"Take your own advice, Blue Eyes."

"I like her bettah when she's outta it."

Spot stood looking over the girl, her red hair equal to her fiery personality.

Boots shook his head, knowing that even though he had tried to tell Spot she was a girl, that it was no use.

The two others were Brooklyn Newsboys themselves, one with the same dark red hair as the girl, named Cano; short for Volcano. Which was ironic, because he never exploded, so to speak. He was the comic relief the boys always went for, with the ability to make anyone laugh, smile, and fall in love with him. He was everyone's sweet brother. He stood a whole eight inches taller than Spot, even after the leader had finally grown.

The other Brooklynite was Match. He was Cano's twin brother, impossible to tell apart at first. The only thing that really gave away the difference was Match had a weird obsession with blowing things up and setting things on fire.

"Put her in my room foah da night," Spot commanded, jerking his head towards his room.

"Only cuz you said so, Blue Eyes," Cano said, mimicking the girl from earlier when that's what she called Spot.

"Watch yoah mouth," the leader snarled, to which the twins both batted their eyelashes like little girls, pretending to have innocence.

As the redheads carried the girl out of the room, Spot turned to Boots.

"Where'd you find da goil, anyways?"

"She was on da bridge. I didn't know what ta do, so I brought her heah."

"You'se don't say?" Spot said, smirking with sarcasm.

"I was only heah ta visit Boomer. So I'm on my way out. Nice ta see you again, Spot." Boot said, avoiding eye contact with the powerful boy in front of him.

Spot nodded his head and was walking away before Boots really left.

The arrogant leader walked into his room, seeing the twins had put her in the extra bed.

"Now get outta me room, ya pyros."

"Hey! Only Match is da pyro." Cano said, shoving Spot gently on his way out. The twins had a special part in Spot's heart, their goofiness a relief. Sometimes.

"I ain't a bad pyro. I just like fiah." The other freckled boy replied, shoving his brother.

"No, you like settin' tings on fiah."

"Ain't it da truth!" Coal, another newsie, peaked her head into the hallway as the boys walked down in. Match's hand was just as big as her head as he set it on the top of her head, ruffling her pin straight, shiny, pitch black hair. She stood out in New York, with her layered black hair that didn't quite touch her shoulders, and giant dimples. She was gorgeous. You were taken back by her, even as a newsie, no matter who you were. But out of everyone, she found herself taken aback by Match.

Spot laughed and found himself shaking his head. He walked over to the girl. She looked like she needed sleep. Her clothes were torn and charred, but she didn't seem to have any physical damage, but it was hard to tell because she was absolutely covered in what looked like soot.

Spot found himself thinking, why does everyone have something to do with fire?

HOLY SHIRTLESS SPOT CONLON, I'M HAVING AN EPIPHANY.

Please, refrain from being completely mortified, as I am determined to finish this. SOON.

I have inspiration! FROM A SONG. & IT HIT ME, LIKE STEPPING IN FRONT OF TRAIN. (Which I do not advice doing.)

Dontcha just look when a muse hits like that? I do.

I'm not telling you what song, but I AM SO FRICKEN EXCITED, as you fellow writers may have also expirienced,

as of feeling that you have the best idea EVER.

:3

Much Love.

(Chapter Title= Iridescent by Linkin Park)