So thanks to my ONE reviewer! If you'll keep reading, I'll keep writing. I'm slaving over this story and I really just want to see it up, no matter how many people read it. But reviews would be oh so lovely, so thank you if you do review.
Hope you enjoy!
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Ask any newsie, Brooklynite of course, what was Spot Conlon's most terrifying trait? The response (aside from his infamous glare and cane) would be his secrets. Yes, secrets. And indeed, that was the truth. Spot Conlon was such a complex person, and each secret he carried just made his all the more frightening and mysterious.
Spot Conlon never shared his secrets, naturally, either. He trusted no one and nothing; if he died, everything he knew died with him. That was his outlook on things. But one of his secrets couldn't be kept, no matter how hard he tried.
After Spot had run away from home when he was ten, he tried to forget his past- the emotions, the experience, all of it. He put up a wall and hardened himself to it. He felt no remorse leaving home, with his alcoholic father and frail mother who overworked herself to provide for the family. He was glad to make his own way. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't let go of his eight year old sisters. And that was why when, four years later when he was the right hand man of Brooklyn's leader, in line to be the next king, he made the decision.
Twelve year old Madison and Emma had found him out and he was told of their father's disappearence and their mother's death to cholera. Instead of sending them to live under the care of the Queen of Queens- the only female-run and worked territory- or to the orphanage, something inside of him caved and the arrangement was made for the twins to live with the Brooklynites, who in turn swore with blood that no word of this was to be told to anyone, or the newsie be faced with their final soaking. Only Jack 'Cowboy' Kelley of Manhattan and Grace 'Gambler' Marquez of Queens were told outside of Brooklyn.
So now, four years later, the sixteen year old twins played double lives, working a day in a laundress shop to throw off the bulls, who would go staight to Hurst if the girls were caught and Hurst would then shut down Brooklyn's whole newsie circut. He only allowed his papes to be sold by girls within certain limits set in Queens and he made sure his rules were followed.
"So, headlines any good tahday?" Pockets asked a passing Brooklynite as the group entered the distribution center. The newsie shrugged.
"Da usual," the boy replied. He was a little guy, maybe eleven, and went white when he saw Spot "N-Nuttin' to bad, nuttin' to excitin' edda."
Pockets nodded curtly and the newsboy went on his way, looking warily back at Spot as he ran off. Pockets stalked off to go get his papes.
"Don' scare da kid!" Twirls said. "Yah could talk instead jus' standin' there like dat."
"Don' tell meh wha' tah do," Spot said. "Yoah lucky I'm lettin' yah two even sell tahday. When's da last time you'se wheah at-"
"-da hell hole?" Bells finished, referring to the laundress's. "'Bout a week ago."
"I wanted tah go tahday, but Bells heah said no." Twirls held up her hands, declaring innocence. "Don' blame dis one on meh."
"Thanks. Beh a good sista," Bells snapped back sarcastically. "I'm feelin' da love."
"A'right, enough. Twoils is right, Bells; use yoah head. And Twoils; stop bein' bitchy." He turned and then added, "An' split up tahday, will yah?"
Both girls groaned.
"Come on!" Twirls whined. "We'se a team! Yah don' just break us apart!"
"I do when da rest o' us need tah woik," Spot replied coldly. "All it takes is one o' you goils tah bring down Brooklyn."
"So no pressah," Pockets added, returning with a large stack of papes. He split the pile three ways and held out a hand.
"Pay up," he said, wiggling his fingers. Bells and Twirls handed his coins and shouldered two of the piles. Pockets, every day, bought the papes for the girls and they payed him back. It was just another precaution taken to ensure the no one would find out the girl's true genders.
"A'right!" Spot called loudly, drawing the attention of all of his boys. "Keep an eye out foah trouble an' be back at da docks by sundown. Now carry da banna!"
With a raucous cheer, the boys set out.
"Twirls, go wit Pockets," Spot said. Both twins looked glum at the prospect, Twirls because she hated the boy and Bells because she loved him. Or rather, time with him. "Bells, stay with meh and Bat Ears."
Bells rolled her eyes.
"Yah suck, yah know dat?" Bells complained, moodily walking out of the center.
"Yah told meh dat already," Spot reminded, shouldering his papes and walking after her. "Memba?"
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Headline's weren't horrible, but Twirls still was embellishing a bit.
"Fire rages! Oiphans killed! A few gone missing!"
The actual headline read 'Fire at Orphanage: All Saved.' While the first part sold, the whole saving and no death part was a major turnaway. So yes, she was embellishing. And yes, a little more than a bit. But really, who cared about the heroics of the firehorse when no one died?
A pedestrian passing by stopped and said, "One pape, please." Twirls, being polite as the gentleman in a top hat and looked like a big wig, hanged the man a pape and took his money with a chipper, "Many thanks, mista." She made sure her voice came out at a lower octave. The man, clearly thinking she was a boy, walked away without a backward glance. Just to be safe, Twirls touched her hat, making sure her hair was still stuffed under the cap. Bulls seemed to be everywhere today.
"Let's head ova by da fact'ries," Pockets suggested, coming to her side. "Da woikers have break an' maybe dad bull won' be crawlin' around so much."
Twirls nodded.
"Good idea," she agreed and both newsies scampered down the nearby alley and towards the riverline, where the industrial district made its home.
The factory workers, sweaty and covered in soot and dirt, were indeed on a break, just as Pockets had predicted. Plus, no bulls were in sight.
"Good call, comin' heah," Twirls said. Pockets grinned.
"Seh, I ain't so stupid," he replied boastfully. Twirls pursed her lips.
"Hey, don' get carrieid ahway," she said, holding up a hand in a signal to stop. "Yah picked a good spot tah sell. No one said anythin' 'bout yah no' bein' stupid."
It took Pockets a moment to process what her diss had mean, just proving Twirls' point. When he did get it, he grumbled, no so quietly, about "goils and dere mouths bein' in da wrong place." Twirls rolled her eyes and went to sell.
She observed as she sold that many more workmen were purchasing papes, eagerly flipping through the pages in search of an article.
"Wha' is everybody lookin' foah, mista?" she asked, in her boy voice, a man as he held out money, which she exchanged for a pape.
"Oh, we were jus' looking to see if old man Hurst ran anythin' on the newsie rabble," he aswered. Twirls' eyes widened in shock and fought the urge not to show her baffled self.
"An' wha' rabble would dat beh?" she asked, trying to act nonchalant.
The man waved the pape.
"That's why I bought this," he explained and went to sit beside his fellow workers. Twirls ran off before they discovered there was no story and started asking for their money back.
The rest of the day passed by and Twirls heard no more of a rabble, but Pockets seemed tenser as they neared the docks at the end of the day. The majority of the Brooklynites were already there, milling around and jumping into the river.
Twirls quickly scanned the swarm and found her sister sitting on the dock, dangling her legs in the water. She looked so serene, just staring off across the river onto the skyline of Manhattan. Twirls, smiling devilishly as a thought entered her mind, walked swiftly towards her.
Creeping up silently from behind, Twirls yelled, "Boo!" and when Bells jumped, dramatically like she usually reacted to things, Twirls pushed her into the water below, with a satisfying splash.
"TWOILS!"
Bells' scream pierced the air and newsies who heard dashed over to see what was going on.
"Twoils!" Bells cried again, swimming to the side of the dock and, with the help of two of the boys, heaved herself out. She stood up, sopping wet, and gave her sister the infamous Conlon glare. Her hat had fallen off when she had hit the water and one of the boys who had been swimming tapped her ankle and handed it to her. She jammed it back on her head angrily.
"Chilly?" Twirls asked, holding back laughter, which came out once she looked at her sister again. Bells looked ridiculous. "It's a good look foah yah."
Bells shook her head. The newsboys around her were chortling. She shot them a look and the noise stopped instantly.
"Wha' is goin' on?"
All heads turned to see Spot, flanked by Pockets, standing on the bulkhead above them.
"Back tah dah house," Spot said commandingly. "An' no stayin' around and spyin'. Yah know wha' will happen if I catch yah. Which I will."
Heads nodded and the newsies left, running off in all direction, making their usual amount of noise as they did so. Even those older than Spot respected, if not feared, him. He was the King of Brooklyn, chosen by the last leader, and for good reason. That was why all listened to him.
"Now foah you'se two." Spot turned to his sisters, who hadn't gone running. They tended to never listen to him, even when the rest did. Bells had pulled her cap off and was ringing out her hair.
"Wha' the hell happened?"
He jumped down, Pockets behind him, as Twirls replied, "Jus' havin' a lil' harmless fun."
Spot smirked as she watched Bells' quite unlady like reaction.
"Hey now," he warned, directing it to Bells. "Get yoah cap on. We'se got a lot tah talk about."
Bells tied her hair up with her now damp ribbon and pulled her hat over it.
"Okay?"
"Fine."
She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest.
"Now," Spot continued, "movin' on. I'm guessing you'se hoid some'in about a rabble somewheah tahday."
Twirls nodded.
"I was gonna ask yah about dat," Twirls said. "Wha' happened?"
"Dat's why I sent 'dem home." He jabbed his finger over his shoulder in the general direction of the lodging house. "Cowboy's comin' ova an' so's Gambla, from Queens. We, meaning them two and meh and Pockets, need tah talk."
Bells and Twirls looked at each other, and then back at Pockets and Spot.
"So why areh yah botherin' tah tell us any o' dis?" Bells asked. "Does it involve us?"
"Nah, it doesn'," Spot replied. "But I need yah tah make shoah no one leaved dah house. No one can know wha' is goin' on."
"So yah orda us tah babysit, but won' tell us wha' da heck is goin' on?" Twirls questioned.
"Exactly," Pockets said as the twins moaned.
"Come on, Spot!" Twirls pleaded. "Why can' weh know wha' yoah talkin' about?"
"Stop whinin'," Spot ordered. "An' you can' know foah da same reasons da rest o' da New York newsies can' know about yah two."
"Why would dat beh?" Bells questioned angrily.
"It'll cause trouble, lass," Pockets replied.
"Why, cause we goils?" Bells questioned.
"Mahbe," Pockets challenged. "Or mahbe cause yah got such a big mouth!"
Twirls looked taken back. Pockets and Bells never argued.
"Wha' are yah saying?" Bells' temper rose with the volume of her voice. "Dat I can' be trusted tah keep a secret?"
"A'right, enough," Spot said, stepping between the bickering duo. "Pockets, shut up. An' Bells-" his tone softened slightly as he turned to his sister. Well, soft for Spot. "Everyone's gonna know soon. Jus' trust meh and do wha' I'm askin' yah tah."
Bells locked eyes with her brother for a moment and then turned and ran off without a word.
"Sheh'll get ova it," Pockets said. "Jus' forget it."
Spot nodded.
"I wasn' worried," he answered. He looked toward the base of the bridge, which was in view. He held up his hand to block the setting sun from glaring into his eyes and said, "Dere heah."
Turning to Twirls, he added, "I'm trustin' yah. Know go."
Twirls nodded and left the main dock, but doubled back and ducked underneagth the bulkhead, getting as clsoe to where Spot held his meetings as she could. he had said no staying around and spying. No one had said anything about eavesdropping.
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So it's slightly longer than the last chapter, so I'm hoping this one brings in more reviews. If you're reading this, you know what to do.
-iheartron547