Chapter Four

Queens Lodging House, Queens, New York

May 14, 1899

The walk through the center of Queens was an interesting one, to say the very least. More than once Spot and I had to dive behind a few barrels in a dank alley to avoid the coppers that were roaming around the streets. We both commented on how many more there seemed to be tonight. Of course, we might have just been seeing the same ones over and over again.

At last, we were just a few streets over from the lodging house and Spot and I crept out from where we had just been hiding. I observed Spot with a turned head, trying to figure out what he was thinking or feeling. We had shared nothing but foul words towards each other for the few hours that we knew one another, and yet we kissed and everything appeared like we were friends. Or more than friends? I didn't know if I wanted to be more than friends with Spot. I took what Cig said to heart, about Spot being a player that just wanted to bed girls. Cig was like my older brother, and he knew what was best for me. His opinion always ranked high up on the scale, and I wasn't about to brush off the warning he gave to me because Spot had appeared to prove him wrong. That wasn't how it worked.

Spot finally noticed me staring at him and shot his eyes toward me. He seemed less on-edge than what he had been before at the park. He had an ease going about him, like he could laugh and actually not have to worry about being sent to the Refuge or the misbehaving newsies in his borough. His right eyebrow quirked upward and he smirked softly, then shaking his head with a bit of a laugh.

I spoke softly. "Don' know how you're laughin' when ya owe me a twenty five cent bowler and have ta deal with da Queenies all day tomorra."

"Ya act like your borough's da toughest one in da city. Can't wait fa yous ta come ta Brooklyn." Spot shook his head and smiled again before reaching to his head and grabbing his cap with his right hand. His left raked through his still damp hair and then let it fall to his side to rest on the top of his cane.

"Here." He handed me the cap, looking sheepish. He cleared his throat as I stopped on the side of the street. He positioned himself in front of me, still holding the cap. I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that he wanted to give me his cap. It was his. His newsie cap. His pride. And he wanted to give it to me.

"Don't gimmie dat look, jus' take it. Ya look weird with ya floppy little braid an' no cap." He motioned his cap towards me again, and I still couldn't bring myself to take it.

"Spot... dat's your cap. I can't take it from ya, I'll jus' borrow one 'a Cig's old ones in the mornin'. I can't take your cap from ya."

He looked like he was getting frustrated. "I gave ya your name, I can give ya me cap if I want ta." He noticed I wasn't about to take it willingly from him, so he stepped forward and plopped it onto my head, then adjusted it until he deemed it to look right.

"Spot, I don't wa-" I tried to protest, simultaneously reaching for his cap to give back to him, but he cut me off and stopped my hand short. He carefully held onto my forearm and lowered it back to my side.

"Flor. For once can ya just not argue wit me? Jus' accept it, okay?" He looked at me seriously, almost begging to comply with him.

And I did. I gave into his eyes, and I gave in to his pleading. I let out a short huff of breath and flicked my braid over my shoulder and slipped my suspender straps off of my shoulders for them to lightly hit against my legs. Luckily my trousers could still stay up on their own.

I didn't hear Spot walking behind me for a few steps until I turned around and saw him still standing where I left him. His upper body was fully turned to face me with a pleasant smirk across his face, while his bottom half was still rooted in the position I had left him in only seconds before.

I continued progress down the street as I shouted back to him. "You comin' or what? I mean, I wouldn't be objected ta leavin' ya out there, but that means I'd get all 'a Brooklyn on my back about it. So, get ya ass in gear and catch the hell up before I lock ya outside!"

I turned around, deciding not to wait for Spot to catch up, and cautiously continued the walk towards the lodging house. I could already make out the sign above the door when I broke into a run. I heard Spot shout behind me to slow down, but I couldn't help but feel at risk being on the street so close to home. It was exactly the feeling that I always encountered when my mother had me run to the pantry in the very basement of our house. Even carrying a flickering candle couldn't reassure the feeling that something was chasing me up the steps to the door to the ground level of our house. It felt the same way now. I was almost to safety, and even though I had nothing to worry about, I would feel better getting through the door and shutting it soundly behind me.

So I did just that.

I leaped up the eight front steps in three giant bounds, lunged towards the front door and swung the door open, and closed the door soundly behind me. I had forgotten about a certain Spot that was supposed to be following me and then jumped and let out a small yelp when I heard a body come through the doorway. Of course, it was only Spot and I was just being over-sensitive, but I couldn't control when emotions from my childhood bubbled to the surface.

"Flor, what was dat back there?" Spot asked. "Ya just took off!"

I rubbed my eyes. "Hell, I dunno. Just... just sign in okay? An' then I'll get cha a bunk or a towel or somethin' to dry off with an' you can go ta bed, okay?"

Spot nodded, still obviously unsatisfied with my less-than-truthful answer, and I looked over the names that were signed in the book. We had a total of 24 regular newsies that I was aware of, and I counted all the names that had been signed in. We were at 20.

I sighed. "Okay, dat's good enough. I'll show ya to the washroom and you can use my towel I guess, and then just pick a bunk to sleep on. I got's ta stay up and wait for everyone ta get in so I can lock up." Spot nodded understanding the procedure.

I returned downstairs and grabbed a book that I had stashed behind the counter: Pride and Prejudice. I kicked my feet up and began the wait for the rest of the crew to get in. I was only two chapters in to the book, after starting it just a few months ago. For one thing, my reading rate had rapidly decreased in the eight years that I had been living on the streets and fending for myself. I was no longer in the, ironically, Christian school like I was enrolled in before I left home, and at eight, although my reading level was high for my age, it hardly had the chance to get better. This was the only time I had to read too, so my progress on the story was always slow. Sometimes Catch would come down and wait with me, and since her vocabulary was superior to mine, just from a few extra years of school, I could read maybe four or five pages a night compared to one or two without her help. It was all a very slow process, but I was more than determined that I would finish the book at some point or another, regardless of how long it took me.

I found comfort in Elizabeth Bennet and her sisters. Even her disagreeable mother. I found solace in such a faraway place like England and a time period so different than the present. I knew deep in my heart that my longing for such a place was useless, but I could imagine, couldn't I?

As I propped my feet up onto the front desk and opened the book, I leaned back in my chair and checked the small pocket watch that was under the counter as well. It was almost eleven. I sighed and folded back the dog-eared page of the book and began trying to decipher what was being said. Something along the lines of a Bingley coming to town and Lizzie's father refusing to see him so that the girls could go see him then was being expressed. I didn't fully understand it though. If the girls wanted to go see him, couldn't they just go? Why did their father have to be acquainted with him at first? It didn't make sense to me.

I had gotten through about three quarters of a page after fifteen minutes when all four of the missing newsies straggled in. Quirk being one of them.

They nodded to me as they filed into the lobby, and then headed to the bunkroom as soon as they were done signing in.

Quirk hung back as I was putting away the sign in book as well as Pride and Prejudice. "Ya won't eva guess who I'se just wid." She looked at me with almost dreamy eyes and then they turned back to an excitable, but still rather girly, expression.

I laughed softly, trying to keep my voice down, and knew that she was with Kid Blink. "And if I could?"

She mulled over some responses and then came to the conclusion of one."Wull, ya can't, so dere ain't no 'wut if' necessary, is dere?"

I laughed again, fully knowing what she was about to tell me. "I'se wid Blink." She sighed with content. "Ya know, I tink dere's an actual chance dat he migh'... ya know... like me."

"A boy? Like... QUIRK?" I gasped and clutched my chest in fake astonishment. "Quirk, I hate ta be da one ta break it to ya, but Blink's only got one eye. He can't see so good." A smile spread across my face as I stood up from my chair and walked around the corner. She knew I was joking around.

"Hey, I know what cha mean. I'se not so sure 'bout it neither." Quirk sighed and began to walk up the steps as I locked the front door.

"Aw, Quirk. You know I'se just kiddin'." I threw my arm around her shoulders as I caught up to her. "I like da thought a' you an' Blink togetha. It's cute." I smiled, and Quirk grinned happily. I grew serious, "But don't you dare tell anyone I said dat, I'll deck ya."

"Cross me heart if you cross yours." She returned the stare and I nodded in agreement.

We split directions at the top of the stairs. Quirk headed back to the bunkroom and I went to the washroom to clean up before bed. I shuffled towards the large pump that supplied water for the basin and filled up a large pitcher with, regrettably, cold water. I carried it over to the mirror where I normally washed up and poured a bit of it into a shallow tin bowl, removing my-Spot's cap from my head and hanging it on a peg beside the mirror in front of me. I dipped the tail end of a ragged washcloth into the water and rubbed the cloth across my face to try and rid some of the dirt that had gathered there. I looked at my hair in the mirror and noted its greasiness, but knew there was nothing I could do about it. I french braided it down my back and disregarded it, moving to brush my teeth.

At last, I deemed myself ready to sleep and picked Spot's cap off of the peg. I twirled it around on my fingers as I quietly made my way across the hall and through the bunkroom. I took my time at the beginning bunks to check on the little ones. I went around to the bunks and pulled the blankets over the ones that had seemingly collapsed into bed and kissed the six boys on the forehead. A few of them cracked open their eyes and murmured a goodnight to me which made my heart warm. It was a nice way to end my night.

Once I had checked and double-checked them all, I walked towards the divider at the end of the hall. I shuffled in and moved towards the rack that held all our clothing. I pulled down a spare pair of long johns, seeing as mine were still partially wet and kicked my boots off in the general direction of my bed behind me. I tossed Spot's cap onto the chair beside me and began to unbutton my shirt to toss it to the same chair. I pulled my suspenders down and took off my pants then, groaning at the mud from the river that had collected on them.

As I began to unbutton the top of my long johns I heard a cough behind me. A deep one.

"Before ya continue, I tink it'd be wise ta mention dat I'm still awake." A voice accompanied the cough softly afterwards. I turned quickly, my braid snapping around to rest in the front of my body, and stalked to my bed.

Sure enough, there was someone laying there.

Spot.

In my bed.

Smirking at me.

Underneath my covers.

In the bed I had earned.

"You're in. My bed." I said clearly. Spot sat up on his side, propping himself up with his right hand.

"Pretty comfy, ain't it?" He smirked at me again, knowing he was getting me angry already.

"Yeah, get outta it. It's mine, and it's mind fa a reason." I crossed my arms in front of him.

"Dere ain't no beds left, where's ya guest s'posed ta sleep?"

"Da floor." I grabbed his collar in a lunge and yanked him out of bed, thankfully not ending in a loud thud. He looked at me, astonished but still amused, and stood up while brushing himself off. I noticed he was still in his street clothes.

His wet street clothes.

I glared at him. "You laid. In my bed. Wit wet clothes on." I shook my head as I pushed him back onto the bed. "Stay dere. I'll get cha a pair a' Cig's shorts." I walked back out from the divider quietly and found Cig. I tapped him on the shoulder.

"Cig, I'm takin' a pair a ya shorts." I opened his bedside drawer carefully and retrieved a pair of raggedy looking shorts for Spot. Cig murmured quietly and gave me a thumbs up.

I walked back to the divider and saw Spot changing out of his clothes. He hung them thoughtfully up on a spare peg that was under where Quirk, Catch, and I had our possessions stored. I cleared my throat and he turned around as I blushed. He was only in his boxers.

I tossed the shorts to him and he caught them, pulling them on over his underwear. I was reminded that I still hadn't changed out of my own long-johns and asked him to throw me the pair that was still hanging on the chair where I left them a few minutes earlier. He obliged and as I was going to change them, I turned around.

"I want da pillow if I'm takin' da floor. And da blanket, fa dat matter." I left Spot behind the divider and quickly changed in the washroom before returning again.

Spot was sitting up in my bed, leaning against the wall at the head of it.

"Pillow? Blanket?" I asked quietly, preparing myself to sleep on the floor.

"Why don't cha jus' sleep on it wit me?" Spot suggested thoughtfully. "I'se feel bad if ya have ta sleep on da floor."

"Well den, you're jus' gonna have ta deal wit dat. I'm not sleepin' in a wet bed." I yanked the pillow and blanket from under Spot and tossed them onto a clear space on the floor. "If ya step on me, I'm never talkin' ta ya again."

I laid out the blanket onto the floor and adjusted myself onto it accordingly, before wrapping half of it around me and curling up on the wood.

A few minutes passed and I heard the sound of springs squeaking behind me. Spot must have recognized it was pointless to argue about it, and given up.

I allowed myself to fall asleep, even as a I felt a few splinters poking me through the blanket and had no real comfortable position to be in.

I woke up several hours later, just as the sun was beginning to make hints of rising on the horizon. It was still rather dark outside, but I couldn't sleep any longer. I sat up from where I was uncomfortably laying and let out a sharp yelp from a painful kink in my back. The pain was quick, but left my eyesight temporarily black. I rubbed my back with my fingers and tried to stretch out, but couldn't.

"Flor?" I heard Catch's voice from beside me.

"Yeah, Catch. It's just me. Go back ta sleep. Everythin's fine." I replied quietly.

She grumbled and let her head fall back onto the pillow with an audible sigh.

"I told ya ya shoulda slept on da bed wit me." Spot said behind me, very clearly.

"And I told you dat I didn't wanna sleep inna wet bed." I responded with a hoarse voice and stood up. I bent down, wincing, and tossed the pillow and sheet onto my bed. I decided it was better that I was up already and limped my way over to the shelves.

I grabbed a simple white shirt and grey trousers with my blue suspenders. I made a reach for my bowler hat but sadly remembered I had lost it.

When Spot had kissed me.

This was going to be a hell of a day, I could feel it already.

I pulled my shirt on, facing the big windows at the very end of the divvied off section for Catch, Quirk, and I, and rubbed my eyes. I buttoned up my shirt and carefully unfolded my trousers before pulling them on and buttoning them up as well. I adjusted my suspenders accordingly and redid the braid I had in my hair. I sighed once and rubbed my back again as I tried to stretch it out once more.

Spot was sitting up against the wall again.

He asked softly, "Ya leavin' already? It's hardly four, I bet."

I shrugged. "No point in stayin' here if I can get otha stuff done. Get fresh air before it's time ta work." I grabbed Spot's cap from where I threw it last night and motioned it towards him. "You should take dis."

He shook his head. "Naw, keep it 'til I getcha a new one."

I half smiled and responded, "Thanks, Spot." I cleared my throat, "I'll be back in a couple 'a hours. 'Round six, probably."

"Where ya goin'?" He asked.

I shrugged again. "Wherever da sidewalk takes me, Spotty. See ya 'round."

A/N: Well hey there! *Hides in shame* What's it been? Like a year? Year and a half?

Yeah.

Well.

*excuses, excuses*

I started my junior year of high school and writing has been taking a backburner in my life (I have seven academic classes and no study hall, all of them being either AP or honors, bad decision, Jerica. Bad decision).

So, if this chapter seems a little different than the others, it's because I've largely been out of practice. But I decided to reread what I wrote of this beforehand and fell in love with it all over again, so hopefully I'll be able to update regularly. (I'm not setting a regular updating time because I know I will break that).

So for now, enjoy this utterly pointless chapter and give my story a reread if you're still planning on reading this, and please try not to murder me.

I'm just a sixteen year old girl that fantasizes about marrying Spot Conlon...

Too far?

Thought so.

See you soon, read and review :)

-Jerica