~*~ Say When ~*~
"I see you there; don't know where you come from"
Naomi ignored Racetrack the rest of the afternoon, though the growls from his stomach continued to grow louder and louder as the day progressed. She refused to give in and stubbornly waited for him to surrender.
Mortimer came back around three in the afternoon. He sat on the ledge of the kitchen window and sung a song as she started preparing dinner. Softly, she began to sing a nonsensical song to follow his tune. Usually, she just sang about what she was doing but she had the sudden impulse to bother Racetrack if he was awake, "Racetrack, the ungrateful brat. Lays there hungry though there's noodle soup…yummy!"
"Terrible rhyme." He commented.
She stuck out her tongue in his direction and was then startled as Mortimer suddenly flew off the window ledge, zipped right by her and landed on the back of the couch. "Traitor!" She exclaimed after the bird as he peered down at Racetrack.
It was silent for a moment until Mortimer hopped off the back of the couch and landed on the boy, "Uh uh. Get off. Boids have diseases." She saw his hands raised to shoo Mortimer and she walked over and glared.
"Mortimer does not have diseases." Naomi told him indignantly.
Race cocked an eyebrow at her as she met his blue eyes. "Excuse me, Princess, if Ise offended ya. But ya feathered friend is trying ta make itself comfortable on my hoit ribs and I don't appreciate it."
They were such an ice blue she felt like they could freeze her all the way down to her soul. What happened to this boy to make him so cold? Where did he come from? Why was it that every time he opened his mouth she felt the need to turn around and insult him? "You don't appreciate anything." She shot back, but reached down and scooped up Mortimer, "His name is Mortimer." Generally, she was sweet to people and not nearly as brusque as this. He just seemed to bring it out in her.
A knock at the door had her turning before he could reply and going to answer it. Mr. Simon stood in the door way and smiled sweetly at her, "Hello, Naomi."
Mr. Simon was a charming old gentleman that always had her smiling. He would have been tall and thin but age and time had his back arched to where he walked almost bent over which is why she didn't mind running the few errands he had every couple of days, "Good afternoon, Mr. Simon. Is there something you need?"
"I know you told me that you were nursing someone but I really wanted a paper but I don't want to walk down a block…" he trailed off and looked hopefully at her.
She smiled as his brown eyes met her green ones, "Of course. I'll run down the block. I think there's a newsie at the corner."
From the corner of her eye, she saw Racetrack trying to sit up. His teeth were gritted against the pain as he swung his legs over the side and sat up, his arm wrapping around his ribs as he breathed heavily.
Mr. Simon smiled and handed her five cents, "Thank you, Naomi, dear. Keep the change." He turned and shuffled over to his apartment to the left of theirs and she shut the door and turned to raise an eyebrow at the boy.
"What are you doing?" She asked him.
"Sitting up, what does it look like, Princess?" He replied, his tone still a growl.
Rolling her eyes she set Mortimer on the table and moved to the door, "I have to run across the street but I will be back in two minutes. You better not have left that spot."
His head jerked towards her at that last word and she raised an eyebrow before she opened the door and closed it behind her, heading down the stairs and outside. She glanced both ways and wasn't surprised to see newsies on either corner from her building. One was talking to another boy and the discussion looked intense so she turned to the third, the one to her left.
When she got to the newsie he smiled at her before asking "Pape, miss?" He tone was pleasant as he took off his hat respectively.
She glanced down at her nickel before replying, "Two please." Thinking perhaps a paper for Racetrack would distract him and maybe lighten his mood.
His brown eyes fell to his papers as he counted two and pulled them out. They both jumped as a voice behind her shouted, "Mush! Mush!" startling Mush and causing him to drop the papers. They both bent to pick them up as a tow-headed boy with an eye patch, the one that had been on the other corner, came sprinting down the sidewalk to stop in front of them. "Mush! Racetrack just got back from Sheepshead. He heard dat Spot Conlon lost Brooklyn! Some are sayin' he's dead."
Naomi snapped her head up the instant the name Racetrack left his mouth. She took the papers from Mush, but moved two steps away to listen.
"Who'd Race hear it from?" Mush asked, looking puzzled, "I ain't nevah thought someone could take Brooklyn from Spot."
"Some Brooklyn newsie dat was at Sheepshead. Racetrack's heading back to tell Jack. He ain't gonna be happy about dis." The boy with the eye patch replied.
Naomi had heard enough. She hurried back to her building and as she turned up the staircase she found the boy in question, who was not Racetrack, clutching the banister on the stairs with his good arm. She put her hands on her hips and glared up at him, "Oh no. You're turning your butt back around and going back into that apartment."
"Bite me, Princess. Dere ain't no way Ise stayin' in dis place with you for five months." He glared at her, but it lost its effect as he sucked in a breath as pain flashed across his face.
"You won't make it five feet down the street in your condition." She snapped back, insulted that he was completely against the notion of spending a few months in her company.
"Dat's alright, just need ta get ta a newsie." He replied.
She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, "So, my family takes you in to help you and this is how you repay us? All the hard work my mother did to wrap your ribs, the bandages she used that came out of our pockets and the wire she used to stitch up the deeper cuts. Do you realize what she did for you? She set your arm, nursed you all night, got only a few hours of sleep before she had to go to work. You lied to me, too and now you're running?" She scoffed and moved to go around him as she added, "Fine. Be a coward."
His back stiffened at her accusation, "Spot Conlon don't run from anything, sweetheart. And I ain't a coward." And then he realized his mistake.
She smirked smugly at him, "I already knew. I heard some newsboys talking outside and they mentioned a newsie whose name was Racetrack and it clearly wasn't you. So you're the king of Brooklyn that has fallen, hmm?" Naomi taunted. Of course she had heard of Spot Conlon's name whispered among the newsies when she stopped by Tibby's on rare occasions to get a little food during her errands but never had she thought that this boy would be him.
Glaring, Spot shut his mouth and slowly turned away from her. He began to make his way slowly up the stairs and she realized he was going back to the apartment. Surprised, she followed up behind him. Though he took it slow, she didn't move to help. Naomi could see his damaged pride and decided to let him keep what little must have been left. When he reached the door to the apartment, she moved around him and went to Mr. Simon's to drop off his paper before heading back. Though she hadn't been gone long, he was already to the couch, his breathing heavy as he slowly lowered himself down onto it.
"I didn't do this 'cause of ya little speech." He told her from his spot on the couch as she shut the door.
"Why'd you change your mind?" She asked, walking over and laying a gentle hand on his forehead. He was burning up.
Spot didn't even move to knock her hand away and she hid a small smile at her victory as he replied, "News of my failure will be all around da city. No body will be found, so they'll know Ise survived. Dey will search da lodging houses and at da moment…" He paused as if he couldn't bare to say it aloud, "I'm in no condition ta defend myself. Dis is da safest place."
She moved to the kitchen and dipped a rag in some cold water before ringing it out and bringing it back to lay it across his forehead. His eyes were closed and it looked as if he were sleeping but as she pulled the blanket over him to keep him warm he muttered, "Keep da damn boid away from me."
Smothering a laugh, she headed back into the kitchen. Glancing outside, she realized it was almost time for her mother and Bea to get back so she hurriedly finished cutting up the potatoes and adding them to the pot. She busied herself around the kitchen doing small, menial tasks while humming to herself quietly. When she could hear her mother and sister's steps on the stairs, she turned to the sitting room and saw Mortimer perched on the back of the couch, wings tucked in as he slept above the boy.
Smiling, she went around the couch and took the wet rag off of his brow and laid the back of her hand once again against his wet forehead. His temperature hadn't gone down and the fever was beginning to worry her. Could the exertion from earlier have brought this on? Or was something infected?
As her mother came in she felt a wave of relief until she caught the tired look on her mother's face. Placing the rag back on Spot's brow, she moved to the kitchen as Bea came flying in. "Naomi! How was your day?" She asked before Naomi could even open her mouth. Glancing over to the sitting room, Bea interrupted Naomi before she could answer the girl's first question, "How is he? Has he awakened? What's his name? What happened to him? Did you find out where he's from?"
"Bea, give her a chance to answer one question before you ask another, hmm?" Their mother spoke wearily as she gave Naomi a hug in greeting, "How's he doing, love?"
Naomi smiled at her mother, she had grown a few inches taller than her petite mother a year or so ago, and replied, "He was awake earlier and is quite the stubborn boy. His name is Spot, I take it he's a newsie. He hasn't told me what happened." That last part wasn't a lie, not really considering he hadn't; she had heard of it from the boy with the eye patch. Plus, her mother and sister didn't need to know all the gory details. She moved back towards him as he slept and once again brushed that obnoxious strand of hair off his brow, "But, I'm afraid he's got a fever…"
Lily hurried around the couch and felt his head, "Hmm…" She pulled back the blanket to feel his ribs as he shifted uncomfortable in sleep. Naomi watched, mesmerized, as her mother's skillful fingers traced over him looking for any wound that was left unattended that could have become infected. An ache started in her chest as she realized that she'd never get to be a nurse like her mother. She'd never had any formal education, a fact she knew bothered her mother. Her father and mother had always taught her everything and her mother had stayed home to raise them until the sudden death of her father had forced her mother to look for a job.
Hurrying away from the scene, Naomi went to check on dinner. She listened intently, though, as her mother looked him over and Bea asked curious questions. Finally, her mother came out and dipped her hands into the warm, soapy water and dried them on a hand towel, "Well, there's no infection I can see. We just have to wait it out, I'm afraid. He may be unconscious for a couple days, it's hard to say. Try and get some water and maybe some soup in him tomorrow." She paused and met Naomi's matching green eyes, "Are you going to be able to handle him?"
Rolling her eyes, Naomi took the bowls down from the cupboard and sat them on the table like any other night. "Yes. I did fine with him today, didn't I?"
"You'll have to change the bandages tomorrow. Do you remember everything I taught you?"
"Of course." Naomi replied, "Bea!"
Bea glanced up from her seat next to the sofa, "He's mumbling. Something about a ruckus and a guy named Jack." Her sister said as she came over for her food.
Naomi bit her lip, remembering him saying something about a Jack when she had found him but decided to keep the information to herself. Maybe tomorrow, if it looked like he'd be asleep for awhile, she'd seek out this Jack. The dark-haired girl distinctly recalled the boy with the eye patch saying something about Racetrack telling Jack. Was this Jack he talked about a fellow newsie?
Although, he had mentioned here was the safest place for him. She silently debated, wondering if she could get the knowledge she wanted without cluing the boy in. It would be an interesting adventure.
Her thoughts took off and she could picture herself being a spy, coyly charming the boy into telling her all the questions she had about Spot Conlon…except while she could imagine the scenario, she knew deep down that she was a terrible actress. Lying had never been easy for her, she prided herself on how blunt she could actually be. There was no way she could pull a fast one on this Jack, especially if he was a newsie –boys who were notorious liars. He'd smell it like a shark smelling blood.
Before she knew it, her mother and sister were heading to bed and she was laying out the blanket and pillow on the floor near the window. She could see his face in the light of the small oil lamp she had going and she couldn't seem to pull her eyes off of him. His nose was slightly upturned, his brows furrowed in a perpetual scowl it seemed and his lips had been in a straight line the entire time he'd been awake –unless he was smirking. This Spot Conlon didn't seem to ever truly smile and realizing that made her a little sad.
The greatest and perhaps the worst thing about him were those blue eyes. They were beautiful, but cold and almost…unforgiving. As if he'd had enough of the world and was tired of everything he'd seen. The permanent hardness that was in every line and contour of his face had her brushing her fingers across his cheek, along his brows trying to smooth it out. It seemed not even in sleep he was happy.
Before she could stop herself, she whispered, "What has happened to you?"
Of course, she didn't expect an answer but she still felt disappointed when the silence stretched out between them. Sighing, she dropped her hand to her side and slowly walked to her made up bed. It wasn't the most comfortable but she wasn't about to toss the boy on the floor as beat up as he was or as frustrating as he'd turned out to be.
He just needed a lesson in the good things in the world and she was more than happy to teach him.
A/N: A Special thank you to my wonderful Beta reader, xxWicked Wench! Kudos and hearts because she's amazing. If you haven't read her stuff, I highly recommend you do! Thanks to all who have been reading and especially those who are reviewing! You guys rock! Hope you enjoyed this chapter, lemme know your thoughts in a review!
Truly,
Joker is Poker with a J~
Disclaimer: I only own what you do not recognize. Everything is is property of their respective owners.
