I was thinking the other day about why Spot came to the strike. Here's a random thought I came up with in the middle of the night. Kind of sad story, but anyway.
He used to be called Deer. He looked calm and quiet. But he was the fastest runner you could meet. He was one of Brooklyn's best. Dedicated even through the hardest fights.
Great kid, he was. I wasn't that close to Deer, but I knew him. We all knew him. He was Fist's best friend. You all know Fist, of course. The old leader of Brooklyn? It was all his fault what happened to Deer.
That fight with Queens. Fist had been taunting some of their bullies. Not a big deal. We do that all the time. But the Queenies, they couldn't take it. So they played dirty. They tricked Fist into hitting them. And then they started beating him up.
Deer fought by his best friend till the end. Till one of the Queenies pulled out a knife. Fist was held down, Deer held back. They killed Fist with that knife. Then they turned on Deer. But they made the mistake of having him watch his best friend murdered. Deer was filled with crazy energy and broke loose, running. Right into that street where the carriage hit him.
Deer was caught up in the wheels, tossed around. Queens was laughing. They couldn't have planned it better. The Brooklyn leader was dead, and his second-in-command was near death. They left then, ready for the rest of us to plan a double funeral.
It would have been, too. But somehow, Deer survived. I don't know how, but he did. But his leg… The gal who rescued him was able to set it, but Deer still can't walk without help.
Deer. Fastest runner in all of New York. And he can't even walk. It just about killed him, all this happening to him. First Fist, then his leg. There was no way he'd survive in Brooklyn anymore. Not with his forced inability to fight.
I was chosen to be the next leader. I didn't know what to do about Deer. We talked for a long while about it. We decided to send him to about the calmest borough in New York. Deer still wanted to be a newsie. I sent him to my acquaintance, Jack Kelly. Didn't expect any trouble.
Two years later, Jack comes back to me. He wants me to help him with a strike. A strike? No way. I've got my own problems to deal with. And do you really think that Deer will be able to fight his way through the strike? Never, Kelly. I spew out random thoughts about proving themselves. I didn't expect them to follow through.
"Spot," Mince comes up to me. I look at him, head cocked. "The strike…" he coughs here. I furrow my eyebrows. What strike?
"They went through with it. Cowboy and his boys knocked over the distribution wagon."
"So?" I'm angry at Cowboy. Doesn't he ever think of anyone beside himself? Mince looks uncomfortable.
"They got Deer." I feel like I've stopped breathing.
"Deer?" Mince nods. He hesitates before continuing.
"We're Brooklyn, Spot. We've got to avenge one another, even if we don't defend a former newsie." I glare at him.
"You think I don't know that? Damn Kelly! Why couldn't he just have dropped it and dealt with the jack up?" I'm muttering now.
"Pulitzer's set a trap for Kelly's boys tomorrow."
"A trap?" Mince nods.
"The cribs are gonna be there. If we don't help them, Deer ain't gonna be the only one hurt." I look out across the river, shaking my head at memories. Finally, I respond.
"Go. Get the others. We're going to Manhattan first thing tomorrow morning." Mince turns and races off to obey my order. Still looking across the waters, I finish my thought.
"For Crutchy."
Did this make any sense at all? Please review...