Hi everyone! I've gotten two chapters up in two weeks, that's pretty impressive for me! Don't panic others readers who like my other stories, I am still working on those too, but with trying to keep up with Fiction press too, I'm stuck. My name is still rellimes if you want to check there for my stories there too. So here it goes!

$N$

Wildcat clenched her teeth. Spot Conlon, here to apologize to her? Not possible! He was the "King of Brooklyn" for crying out loud! He wasn't supposed to apologize to others, he accepted them!

The girl newsie raised her eyebrows in mock surprise. "And to whom do Isa have the pleasure of thanking for making you, hmm? Jack perhaps?" Jack laughed. "Thank you for your undying faith in me Cat, but Spot came here on his own. I still don't know what's eatin' im' though. He's been jittery since he's gotten ere'."

Wildcat was taken aback. Spot had come here on his own? What crazy world did she wake up in this morning anyways? She crossed her arms and straightened out her back, looking dignified. Or at least was much possible when you're the 'mother' of seven orphans. "Alright, what makes ya so sure Isa ready ta forgive ya, Conlon?" she asked. Spot shrugged. "Maybe because Isa not here with me other boys, ready to take ya back to Brooklyn?" he responded. Jack snorted. "Ya don't got no others with ya 'cause you don't want to see them appologizin' to a giorl!" Spot glared at his enemy. "Youse lucky I don't bash ya in right now, Kelly!" he threatened, gripping his cane. But Wildcat bounded up and slid in between the two before they could do anything rash.

"Listen, both of ya!" she demanded. "I don't want no apology from youse, Conlon, because kings don't do that sorta thing. Itsa sign of weakness and youse know it. Jack, I don't care if you run this joint, but here Isa in charge here and there'll be no fightin' around here." Wildcat nodded upstairs. "Especially in front of da younger's. So both of ya get back to wherever ya came from, in Conlon's case Brooklyn and Jack's wherever he goes durin' da day and get a life!" And to prove her point, the newsie threw open the lodging house door and shoved them both out, then slammed it shut and bolted it. A minute later a rap came from it and she opened it once again to reveal Cowboy. "I stay here durin' da day," he grinned sheepishly. Wildcat smiled in amusement, let the embarrassed newsboy inside and peered out again. No Conlon. Good. She slammed it shut again and faced Jack, who was leaning on the railing.

"Youse gonna break it just like Race, Cowboy!" Cat wagged her finger at him while turning into the kitchen, where the younger newsies and Race and sneaked down to listen to her ranting. She shooed them out and sat down at the long table, twirling her Bowie knife absentmindedly. Jack jumped up on the stool next to her. "Don't you have papes to deliver or a certain Sarah Jacobs to see?" she asked. But Jack shook his head. "Sarah's sick and I gots Boots doing double shift today for me. Me an' Race ain't leavin' ya alone until all this blows over." He thought for a second; "And the younger newsboys, because I caught some 'o' them this mornin' plottin' to get Spot back for what he did to ya." Wildcat looked at him, confused. "You mean tryin' ta beat me into a pulp? Because he do that ta everyone and ya don't sees them goin' out there for everybody that gets soaked by the 'King of Brooklyn'. Plus I soaked im' first, am I right?"

"Youse mean he didn't try ta-""Nope," Cat interrupted. "But I shudder to think of what he does to the other ones from Queens, though."

It was a pretty well-known fact that there were more girl newsies in Queens than Manhattan. Actually, they were the only other paper that allowed girls to be newsies. Wildcat had always wondered what it would've been like to sell in Queens, but she wouldn't leave the Manhattan boys, not now. She just thought that the girls who sold in Queens were lucky, that's all. Not that she resented them. In fact, she had made a few friends whenever she was over in that area, visiting as a 'peaceful ambassador' as Jack called her. Anyways, the girls would always sneak into Brooklyn and try to catch a glimpse of Spot, and then have him chase after them and fail. It was a game of sorts for them. But it always ended up the same. She had even seen it. Conlon would catch up with them and do one of two things; soak them good or drag them off. That was the main reason Wildcat never brought Sarah selling with her, because Wildcat's favorite corner to sell papes was right near the Bridge. Jack would've never forgiven her if Sarah got nabbed on Cat's watch.

Jack interrupted Cat's thoughts. "Why ya thinks that Spot decided to come over an' apologize, ya think?" he asked, looking thoughtful. Wildcat shrugged. "Ya guess is as good as mine. Maybe he felt guilty?" Cowboy looked at her in disbelief. "This is Spot Conlon we're talkin' about, Cat. He's ta 'King of Brooklyn'! Willa, he don't apologize 'cause he feels guilty, he apologizes 'cause he 's in love!"

Wildcat looked shunned. Then she slapped Jack across the face. "First, never say my real name again, ya hear? I don't like it! Second, he don't even like me, much less love, so don't go getting' into all 'o' that. I soaked him so that he could even barely walk, for cryin' out loud!" "He likes you because he's finally met his match! That's what's so special about youse, Wildcat! Do youse know how many of my boys like Race wouldn't think twice about askin' ya out? Because ya a girl who can relate ta em'!" Cat rolled her eyes. "Sarah ain't like youse, Jack. She's ya exact opposite!"

Jack nodded his head. "Well, opposites can attract too, ya know." Wildcat punched him on the arm playfully. "Hypocrite," she said. Jack grinned and shoved her back. "So can youse see where I'm a' going with this?' he continued, leaping up and looking her square in the eye much like Cat did when she'd caught one of the younger's in a lie. "Yeah, Isa guess. So I'll have to accept it, huh?" Jack smiled at his co-worker. "Yup!" he exclaimed happily. "And there ain't nothin' ya can do about it!" Cat crossed her arms. "So can Isa go an' sell me papes tomorrow, since you seem to have this all worked out an' everything?"Jack shook his head for the umpteenth time that day. "No, of course ya can't! Don't ya know that just 'cause Spot likes ya don't mean the others do too?" he nearly yelled. But Wildcat glared at him. She needed this job, and she couldn't have Jack keeping her home like a common housewife. She didn't like it, no matter how much she enjoyed her babysitting the younger's. She needed space and a little danger, which was just the way she was. Finally Jack relented on the account of worrying that he would be murdered by her glare. "Fine, but Isa sendin' Race with ya!"

But he was too late. For as soon as she had heard the word Fine Wildcat rushed out of the room, whooping like a child that had just been let out of the Refuge, which for her, was what captivity in the lodging house was like. Jack had to smile at that, and followed suit after her. But then he heard her shout back at him, "Why is it always Race?"

$N$

Spot trudged down the pier, dreading what the others would say when they saw that their leader had been to Manhattan all afternoon. One could always tell that one had been to Manhattan because they always came back talking like a traditional New Yorker. And now everyone would now. But maybe they would think he went over there to just to show he could do it. Well, he would find out. No, they wouldn't have to know. Normally after a day you lose the accent, so all he had to do was not talk and he'd be in the clear. At least until he went back.

As he approached the docks, Ink came out to meet him. "Hey Spot, where ya been?" he called out. Spot shrugged, not even opening his mouth. "Around, I take it!" Ink said for him, meeting him halfway and walking back with him. "Hey, some 'o' us were a' thinkin' 'bout running over ta Manhattan late tonight an' getting' that giorl, what-her-name, uh, Wildcat, yeah Wildcat back. If I heard ya correctly, youse didn't get ta finish ya interrogation last night."

Spot stopped short and ran out in front of Ink, holding his hands out in front of him and shaking his hand. Ink looked confused. "No? But why, youse always like a good 'venture!" Then he paused for a moment. "And why ain't you talking?" Spot's blood ran cold. He had found out. But the king of Brooklyn wasn't beat yet. He opened his mouth and pointed inside like he had a sore throat. Ink peered inside and laughed. "I can see da redness. Carry on, we's gonna wait until youse better ta make final judgment then." Spot made a thumbs-up and ran on ahead. Idiot, Spot thought to himself. People's throat's always red! Its da white ya look out for!"

Once at the edge of the docks, where the mettle beams were placed and spot normally slept on a good night, Conlon sat down and began to think, which was pretty uncommon for him. Everyone knew Spot acted first and waited for an explanation later, but today was different. He was different. The previous evening he had finally met his match, let her run away, and went back to apologize for trying to soak her the next day. That wasn't the King of Brooklyn he knew and trusted. He was a whole new person. And he didn't like it. The old Spot would've gotten up, no matter how painful it was, and chased after her until the world ended. This new guy let her off scot clean without as much as a word against her. That wasn't normal, not just for Spot, but for Brooklynites in general.

He couldn't understand himself. Why had he not gone after her, 3 years ago and now? Maybe, just maybe, he'd wanted her to run. He'd regretted taking her with him as soon as he saw the look in her eyes after he's hit her the last night, and again and again later on. Why? The more Spot found himself asking this question, the more anxious he became to find his answer. Man, this was going to bug him good. After about 15 minutes of sitting there and coming up with nothing, Spot took another look around at his surroundings. It was probably almost 10 o'clock. He hadn't noticed. Climbing up into his loft, he lay back and thought some more about his problem and the problem's problem. Then he got an idea. He would go back into Manhattan tomorrow after he sold the papes and find Wildcat. Maybe she would shed some light on the subject.

But then his nagger came back to bite him. What are youse thinkin'? She don't wanna sees you! It screamed. Shut up! He told it.

$N$

Spot got up nice and early to start selling early to get over to Wildcat's corner early. He had always known she was there, but that was before he knew she was a girl. Jack might've placed her someplace else or had her sell with a partner. If he had gone with option B, Spot knew he would've chosen his left-hand man Racetrack. And losing Racetrack was hard when he don't wanna be lost. Fortunately for Spot, though, Race wasn't there, only Cat. She was out of papers and was sitting down on the bench she normally stood on the get buyers. He came up behind her and spoke. "I gotta a problem."

$N$

Wildcat nearly jumped when she heard Spot's voice behind her. She twirled around so fast she almost fell off the bench, and she did, and recovered by landing on her feet like the other night, knife in hand yet again. "Watta youse doing here again, Conlon?" she demanded, Bowie poised to kill instead of hurt. Spot held up his hands in defense. "Like Isa said, I gots a problem." "We'll start talkin'," Wildcat said. "Because I just set Race back for more papes an' he won't be gone forever!" Spot smirked. "Boss assigned ya a protection detail, how nice!" he taunted. Wildcat tightened her grip on her knife. "If ya want me ta fix ya problem, you better keep them smart- ales comments to yourself," she warned checking over her shoulder to see if Race was back yet. Spot sat down on the bench next to her and looked glum. "I am a mess," he stated. "Ain't that the truth," Wildcat murmured to herself. Spot turned and gave her a mean look. She threw up her hands. "Alright, alright, I ain't gonna say nothin' else!"

"It's just, the first time Isa met ya, it was like everything else, take da fact that Cowboy went an' rescued yaws and gave me a good soakin'. But I was still welcome in Manhattan somewat, so I could've gone after youse-""But ya didn't!" Wildcat interrupted. She wasn't really sure where this was going, but this conversation had better end quickly, because Race should've been back by now. But then again, if he wasn't back now, he must've stopped by the wrestling match on the way back to the newspaper factory, so he could be a while. "Right, Isa didn't! That's me problem!" Spot continued. "I didn't follow youse last time and Isa didn't follow youse two nights ago either!" He hopped up from the bench and started to pace in front of her. "I should've done it, but I didn't! It's watt I normally done, but now I won't even go out to do the normal stuff Isa likes ta do an' visit Manhattan instead to find youse and talk to ya. I haven't sold me papes after da incident 'cept dis morning an' even then Isa only bought 10! So dis bothers me even though it shouldn't an' I go down here ta find youse even though I knows you don't wanna see me and… and…-" Spot frantically grabbed Wildcat's shoulders in a desperate attempt to stop himself from getting even more shaken up and started to shake her. "I needs help!"

Wildcat was shocked. It was bad enough that the Spot Conlon was admitting that he was in trouble, that wasn't good, but what was even worse was that she couldn't even help him! Gently removing Spot trembling arms from her shoulders, she stood up and helped him back onto the bench. Then she was the one to place her arms on his shoulders. "Now youse listen ta me, Conlon. I can't help you, given the state of mind youse in, but Isa can help ya understand why ya freakin' out like ya just did, ya hear me?" Spot staring up at her with scared eyes. That was odd. "Y-E-S," he said slowly.

"Good," Wildcat continued. "This means that ya finally growing up, Spot! All youse known ya whole life was take what ya need an' get out of it if youse get caught, right? Well, for a while youse don't get caught, so life gets easy. You start to enjoy it. But 3 years ago, with me, the balance started to tip." She took one hand and flattened it out and started to rock it back and forth to illustrate a point. "You gets ova that an' starts to get back into routine again, but then I turns up later and everything's goes south again, don't it?" Spot nodded semi-consciously, so Wildcat turned around and sat on the bench again, this time checking for Race. Once she realized he wasn't there, she turned back to Spot, who was also glancing at her direction. She stretched out her legs a bit and started to talk again. "Since me comin' back up 'causing a lot of problems for ya, I think itsa best for me to go now."

And with that said, the newspaper girl stood up and walked away, not saying a word.

$N$

"Wait!" Spot yelled out. "Where youse goin'?" Wildcat looked over her shoulder and frowned. "My turnin' up in youse life's bringin' up lots of things you don't need its best if you stay in Brooklyn from now on. I'll switch corners; you don't come into Manhattan, everyone's happy!" Wildcat then broke out into a run, and by the time Spot could get to where she was she was gone, disappeared into the crowds. Spot searched around for a minute; then he saw his person of interest. Bad news was, she was with Race now, pointing at where spot was now. Even more bad news? Race was coming his way. Spot turned tail and ran back to Brooklyn. But all that time, he was thinking, ya ain't gonna get away that easily, Cat!"

$N$

For about an hour, Race and Cat scanned their corner for any sign of Conlon. Wildcat knew where he'd gone; Race refused to believe it. Finally she was able to convince him to go back for more papers, but as they were heading back, Race confessed he had been watching a match instead of the clock (like she'd thought) and by the time they would get back to the stands they would've already been shut down. Cat was furious with him for leaving her that long, and refused to speak to him the rest of the day. That didn't work. They reached the lodging house with Racetrack on both knees, begging to be forgiven and Cat, tired of being nagged, gave in. "But youse gonna stay with the older boys tonight like normal!' she warned. "No you and Crutchy listenin' though the younger's keyhole to me stories, Ya'll too old for that anyways!" Race blushed at his being caught and followed her into the building.

Sarah was already there, back from her 24 hour illness and helping David gather everyone together for the meal. Jack was there too, helping, but at the sight of Wildcat he and Sarah bounded over and left David to tend to the newsies by himself. "Hey, look whose back!" Sarah grinned. "Where ya been all day?" Cat elbowed Race. "Sorry! We would've been back earlier, but someone left me to go watch the wrestin' match!" Jack slapped Race across the back of the head. "Youse left her there, by herself, so you could sneak off to go do whatever while Cat was about a block away from Brooklyn! Race, ya fired! I'm goin' with her this time around to sell. You goes back to ya old street!" Race hung his head for the second time today. "First Cat gets onto me 'bout that, then you. Who's next, David? Isa said Isa was sorry!" Jack looked at his face and relented. "Alright, but still, Conlon could've shown up-""He did show up," Wildcat murmured. Jack whirled around to face her, a look between shock and rage in his eyes. "What?" he shouted, so loudly that it got ever boy in the kitchen's attention. He waved them off, but once his back was turned the look in his eyes was back. Cowboy started to pace furiously in front of them. "Who does he think he is?" Jack exclaimed angrily. "He has no right ta just go ova into Manhattan when I specifically told im' not ta an' see youse! That's it! I'm goin' ova ta Brooklyn me self!" Jack was about to storm off towards the door, but Sarah held him back. "Jack, Cat's got to say something to you," she said calmly. Jack hadn't apparently filled her in on the recent events yet. But nevertheless Jack stopped and looked at Wildcat. "What?" he asked sort of rudely. He hadn't completely gotten the look off his face.

"I took care of Conlon, Cowboy," Wildcat told him. "He's in a pretty bad emotional state, and he don't even know why. That's why he came to this afternoon. He thought I could fix em', since most of them seem to revolve around me." Jack lost his look and gained another one real fast, one of confusion this time. "So what did ya say?" he asked her slowly. "'Said that it was better he not come ova ta Manhattan anymore an' I switch places with Race so that when he's on the bridge he don't see me either," Wildcat answered proudly. Personally, she thought her plan was a good one. Spot didn't know his way around Central Park, where Race normally sold besides the matches. He barely even knew his way to the newsie lodging house!

Jack considered this idea for a moment. Before he could answer though, Sarah cut in. "I think it's a good idea! That way Wildcat's not anywhere near Brooklyn or Spot and Race can keep an eye on the Bridge. The first thing Conlon or his gang is going to do if they come over here is find Cat, which wouldn't be difficult if she was a mere block away! But they don't know the way to anywhere but here and the presses, so even if they knew she was in Central Park they wouldn't be able to get to her before Race came back reported, and we sent someone to go find her first."

Cowboy considered this for a moment, and then nodded in agreement. "Isa sees ya point. We'll switch Wildcat and Race for today, and if it works out, we'll keep it like that and if it don't we can always revert back ta the original idea.

Race grinned and Wildcat muttered yes! Under her breath. Maybe this could work.

$N$

"Cat, cat, tell us a story!" Les, Hotshot and the other younger's pleaded with her, pulling their den 'mother' up the stairs. Well, trying to at least. Wildcat had mastered the ability to stand her ground long ago and run when necessary, and tonight no different than the rest. But all the boys wanted were a story, so Wildcat reluctantly followed them up the stairs and into their room. She sat down on Snitch's bed while he and the rest piled onto the floor.

"OK so what kind of story would youse like tonight? Can I continue the one about the Indian chief? Or maybe-""Tell us a real story Wildcat!" Les shouted. "Yeah, tell us yours!" a voice came from the closet. A round of shshsh's followed immediately after, but Wildcat could still hear who was talking. She walked over to the door and yanked it open, sending Boots, Race, and Crutchy tumbling out. Boots bonked Crutchy on the head and stood up, red faced. "Isa told ya ta keep youse mouth shut!" he scolded them, then turned and gave a hastily grin at Cat. "We was just leavin'!" He grabbed the two other newsies and dragged them out of the room. Cat rolled her eyes and returned to her seat. "Ok, here the story goes," she said. After that she began to weave her tale, her own tale, her own story, filling in a gap here and a detail there with something so extravagant that she hoped it would wash away the memory of what had happened last. She didn't need anyone blabbing her life's story out to anyone, which was for sure!

Unknown to her, another someone was listening outside the window, someone who understood every word.

$N$

Spot shifted uncomfortably in his tight position outside the younger's window. After returning to Brooklyn, he had told his gang not to wait up for him since he was going to be out all night. Then he returned to the Bridge, when he was sure Race and Wildcat weren't still there and made his way to the newsie lodgings. He had gotten there just in time to hear Cat start her story, which was what he had wanted her to do when she was the captive. Now he could without harm coming to him, at least for now. But if he didn't want to get caught, he had to stay just below the window, which was pretty uncomfortable.

"Once upon a time, there was a little giorl, not much younger than youse are now, who lived on the streets." Wildcat began. "Her mother was dead; her father drove her out and shot himself in the head. She had been taken ta distant relatives, but they didn't want her. She lived in the orphanage for some time, but she hated it there and escaped, and no she had no home, no money and no food. This little giorl was in short poor, but she didn't care. She loved her life on the open roads of New York, stealin' what she could without so much as a trace and bringing it back to the abandoned building she had made her home in. That was how she became as quiet as a mouse, because she had practiced sneakin' around before she ever stole anything.

"One day the giorl was jumped by a group of drunks outside a bar late one night returnin' home. She barely made it outta there, and from that day on she learned that sneakin' wasn't enough. She got hold of an old bowie knife and started to practice with it. She stole some paint and made a target out of a wooden board so she could get better at throwing it. Early in da mornin' the giorl would get up and run just about everywhere in Manhattan, sometimes even in Brooklyn too, getting faster and faster each time and mapping out the city. Pretty soon, she was almost untouchable! She was fast, clever, silent and better than the newsies in Queens with a blade. She had her whole life planned out, but something changed all that. Someone changed all that.

A few years ago, probably at least four, the giorl was out runnin'. It was a beautiful day outside, the kind that ya don't just spend indoors! Even though it was still early, several people were out on da streets already, including a milkman and another giorl, around the first one's age, carrying a basket of laundry to the cleaners. Normally the giorl would have gone about her own business and continued jogging, but right as she started to pick up the pace a cry rang out. She turned and saw the giorl with the basket on the ground and an out-of-control milk wagon rolling her way. The first new knew what to do. Without thinking, she leapt out into da road and pulled the other giorl outta harm's way just as the wagon tittered by.

Breathin' hard, the two got up and began to search for fallen clothes. "Thank you for helping me out there," the other giorl said. "I really appreciate it!" The first one smiled kindly and shrugged. "Youse welcome. Watt's ya name?" The other giorl finished picking up the laundry and helped the first one to her feet. "My name's Sarah," she answered. "Yours?" "Willa, but I don't like dat name," the first giorl replied. Sarah nodded in understanding. "So what do I call you then?" Willa thought for a moment. "Since I don't gots an actually name, Willa Isa guesses." Sarah laughed. She shifted the basket under her arm and beckoned Willa forward. "I'm going to the cleaners. I could use the company, if you want to come." Willa considered it for a moment. "Sure," she replied at last. "Give me something to do."

After that the two giorl became best friends. A few years later, after she met Jack on strike, Sarah asked him if he could use another newsie. This gave Willa something to actually live for. It quickly became her life, and she put her skills to use in it. Willa is actually still around today. But she goes by a different name. Wildcat."

Cat finished her story about the time Spot heard soft snores coming from the younger. He heard her quietly get up and make her way to the door. But at the last second, she bounded over to the window and dive out of it and onto the fire escape beside it, right where Spot was. Before he could react though, he felt a firm hand on his shirt. It pulled him upward and against the railing. Once again, he was face to face with Wildcat again. But this time, he knew he had pushed too far.

Ok, I've finished!Thx E.G. Winston for reviewing! U 2 Ealasaid Una! Winston, this chapter goes to you! – rellimes