I do not own newsies. There, happy Disney? Stupid disclaimer, gotta ruin my day by stating the obvious….
MARTY: Would ya get to the friggin' story, already?
MUSH: Yeah, we's gonna get old an' ugly before you get done whining.
SPOT: Not possible. But yeah, get to the story. They want to see more of me.
Egotistic….fine. But before that, thanks to ktkakes and Matches and all those who reviewed.
Something bothered me about Spot. He had a cool, steady, confident air about him that reminded me of something…or someone. His eyes had a hard look in them, like he'd had to grow up too fast. But that wasn't it. Like maybe he knew things…or saw things, things that the others couldn't see.
I shook my head. No, it had to be something else…I shifted uncomfortably on the cobblestone street I was sitting on. What was it? I coughed, and shifted my gaze, as he caught me studying him. This is awkward…
Though it seemed to take forever, the other boys soon returned, and with them were several others, all wearing newsboy hats and excited expressions. I was introduced briefly, by Jack, who then rattled off each of the newcomers names almost faster than I could find the face to which the name belonged.
As the fellows started to excitedly discuss the upcoming event in Brooklyn, Jack, Spot, and a boy named David began to holler over them.
"Alright, alright, if we's gonna go, lets get started so we can get back before midnight. So let's get goin'."
Mush ran up beside me as we turned and began walking. "This'll be great, Marty! We ain't been to Brooklyn since the celebration after the strike! Spot's invited most all us newsies…not all'a us could come, of coarse, but most a' the Manhattan boys is goin'."
He shook his head as we walked, a wide boyish grin on his face. "It'll be a little cold to swim off the docks, but I'll bet there'll be some guys in the water anyway."
Mush continued to talk excitedly about the upcoming fight, evidently to be between two tough Brooklyn boys, and about Spot, the other newsies, even about this strike he had mentioned.
It was evident that these guys had been through a lot together, and they were like a big family. Although just over a year had passed since the strike,
Listening to Mush, I began to better understand who Spot and Jack and David were, and why they were leaders. I still wondered…but why had Spot nearly confronted me back there? I shrugged, deciding not to worry about it.
I followed the newsboys as we went merrily down the winding streets. I noticed how lighthearted this bunch was, even Spot at times, how they laughed and jostled each other, all full of good-natured teasing and joking.
Mush and Racetrack and a crippled boy named Crutchy walked just ahead of me, having a lively discussion about some broad at a horserace…or something.
I just listened to all of their lively banter as we walked, noticing how different life seemed when you were with the wrong people. Or the right people. In all the business establishments and workplaces, the city seemed dark, dreary, and even hostile.
But since meeting some of these boys- Chance, Mush, Racetrack- I had felt something out of the ordinary. The difference could be described like a heartbeat, or that of a lively song as it's sung by many voices. The very pulse of the city. Their song.
It wasn't an audible thing. It seemed more discrete, like something they carried inside themselves, a happiness, in the midst of good reason to despair.
I laughed as I saw Boots, whom I had seen before, I recalled, run by and swipe Race's cigar right out of his teeth. Race hollered at him indignantly and tried to look mad, but he really wasn't.
I suddenly felt a connection with them. They were offering friendship by including me in their activities, and I appreciated it. Looking at Mush, I again felt thankful that he had kept my secret, no questions asked. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. Boots had come and positioned himself behind Mush, who was holding the grumbling Racetrack back and throwing good-natured punches at him.
Maybe, I thought to myself laughing at their antics, " just maybe you should have accepted these fellas' offers for friendship sooner, when they first offered. Maybe it is worth the risk.
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We had walked for quite a bit, sometimes taking wild shortcuts, before we reached Brooklyn Bridge. I had never been this far out of Manhattan since coming to New York, and I couldn't hide my excitement as we crossed over.
Several of the younger boys screamed over the edge as we walked across the huge bridge, laughing as they heard the sound echo and reecho over the water and steel holdings. The older fellows, especially Jack and Spot, I noticed, rolled their eyes, as though they had never been party to such doings.
It was an hour or so until sundown when we arrived at the Brooklyn docks, where there were lots of boys and young men everywhere, shooting craps or dice or simply sitting around talking.
I did note that the easy-going, good-natured spirit of the Manhattan newsies was not altogether shared by the Brooklyn boys, but no one had been unfriendly. Yet.
As we walked on down the dock, I noticed that Spot was no longer with our group. Where had he gone?