A/N: This is one of my favorite chapters! Please R&R!
I awoke the next morning to shouts of "Get up ya lazy bums! Time ta carry da banner!". Much more successful than an alarm clock, in my case at least. Not quite remembering where I was, in all senses, I was a bit confused, and scared. I sat straight up, which resulted in me hitting my head on the top bunk, and falling back down. Somehow, during this, I managed to get tangled in the sheet on my bed, rolled myself over and fell flat on my ass on the floor. Not entirely painless.
"Ow," I said, amidst the laughter of the several conscious guys who had seen me fall. I stood up, not really caring that I was in just a nightshirt that only went down to my knees- it was covered enough for me, even if it wasn't for them. I grabbed my clothes and headed into the bathroom for what turned out to be a very cold- and very short- shower. I got dressed and pulled my hair back in a french braid- I figured it was reasonable for the period.
"You look nice an' awake, Treble," Jack said as I bumped into him, eyes still half closed, leaving the washroom.
"Oh shut up," I said, being the morning person that I am.
"C'mon, ya want some food an' some coffee?" Skittery asked, coming over next to us.
"Coffee.yes.please." I told him, and we made our way en masse to the D.O.
I revived a bit over the coffee and bread, and tried really hard (honest I did!) to listen to Jack explain how to sell papes as we waited in line.
"C'mon goil," he said as we left the D.O. (he'd said he was going to 'show me the ropes') "we'se got a busy mornin' ahead of us, gotta sell an' den we'se goin ta Brooklyn dis afternoon."
That woke me up. "What?!" I most definitely did not like the idea of Brooklyn. Call me irrational, but I didn't have a very good first impression.
"Spot don't miss nothin'. Da 'King a Brooklyn', so ta speak, hoid about us gettin' a newbie, an' a goil at dat. He wants ta meetcha."
"And what, approve of me?" I wasn't entirely happy with the prospect.
"More er less," Jack said. I just gave him a look. "What?" he asked.
"An' what happens if he doesn't?" I asked, irritated.
Jack just shrugged. I rolled my eyes and went back to selling.
A little bit after lunch we were on our way to Brooklyn, with Blink and Race tagging along for the heck of it- and, I guessed, Spot's reaction. I wasn't looking forward to it but I figured I might as well get it over with. And Jack had made it fairly clear that he'd pick me up and carry me if need be- apparently you can't say 'no' to Spot Conlon. Again with the stupid male-dominated society, I thought as we crossed the bridge into Conlon's territory.
"Well, well, well, if it ain't a newbie," someone (I assumed it was Spot) said as we walked onto the pier where Brooklyn congregated when it wasn't too cold. It was rather cold, but not unbearble- the sun had already melted all the snow that had fallen the night before.
"How's it rollin', Spot?" Jack asked as I bit back several choice comments. I don't like being treated as inferior and so far that's what had been happening a great deal of the time.
"Good. How's Manhattan, Jackie-boy?" Spot asked walking forward. I must admit, for a second there I almost forgot where I was. There is a reason he has a reputation as the most sought-after newsie in New York. Damn, was he hot. I quickly regained my senses though- no point in falling for an egotistical jackass (well, as far as I knew he was).
"Fine. An' dis is-"
"Treble," I cut in, spitting in my hand and holding it out. Spot did likewise, probably more an involuntary reaction than anything else.
"A goil newsie, eh?" Spot said. "She any good at sellin'?" he asked Jack, obviously expecting an answer in the negative. I was getting the general impression that he did not think of females as equals.
"She's a fast loiner," Jack said, truthfully enough.
"She any good in bed?" he asked, smirking, obviously wanting a reaction out of me.
He got what he wanted. I did the only reasonable, logical thing to do- I took two steps forwards and bitchslapped him as hard as I could. And I am no weakling. He reeled backwards, stumbling for a few steps before he came forward again. Although I was fully expecting what happened next, I still fell backwards with shock when he punched me. Only grabbing onto a post and Blink grabbing onto my arm stopped me from taking a nice swim in the freezing East River.
"Fuck!" I shouted, not caring who heard me. I could practically feel the bruise growing right underneath my eye.
"What the hell was that for?!" Spot and I both shouted at each other at the same time.
"You know damn well what that was for, and you deserved it!" I told him.
"So did you! No one, 'specially not a goddamned goil, hits Spot Conlon."
I was fuming. It took several minutes of Jack and Spot exchanging words and Blink trying to rationalize with me before either of us calmed down enough to not hit the other.
"Jesus Christ!" Jack finally shouted.
"Well, he had no right to say that!" I shouted at Jack.
"An' you shouldn't've fuckin' hit me!" Spot shouted at me.
"You deserved it!"
"So did you!"
We stared each other down. Since he was rather short, only about 5 inches taller than me, it wasn't incredibly difficult. I'm guessing Spot has a pretty short temper because not long after the staring contest began he hit me again. He didn't hit me as hard, but the impact was still enough to force me backwards. Considering I was already standing on the edge of the pier, this wasn't a good thing. I grabbed the front of his shirt in a last-ditch effort to stop from falling, but instead of staying on the pier, I just pulled him in with me.
The first thing I thought of when I hit the water was "Fuck it's cold", followed immediately by "I need air". I surfaced, treading water, and looked for a ladder or something. I found one and swam towards it, Spot a few yards ahead of me (not that I cared). I climbed out of the water, shivering, and glared at Spot.
"Ya awlright?" Jack asked, concerned.
"Just peachy," I replied. "Nice an' toasty." Spot almost grinned. Finally, I thought, someone my sarcasm wasn't completely lost on. He was completely drenched as well, and definitely paler than he had been. I knew I was too. The red handprint I had left showed particularly well against his pale cheek, and there was a visible bruise. I knew my bruise must have looked much worse against my pale skin.
"Spot, can we take 'er ta da Lodgin' House ta warm up?" Jack asked, knowing as well as I did that I would most likely wind up with pneumonia if I didn't warm up soon. Spot just nodded, not speaking, and led the way.
Brooklyn's Lodging House looked much like Manhattan's. Spot led me upstairs to the washroom. "Da foist two stalls have hot water, so you take one an' I'll use da odder, k?" he said, actually being civil. I just nodded and went into the stall, fully dressed. I stripped, shivering, and threw the clothes outside the stall as I turned on the water, praying it would actually be warm. Surprisingly, it did get warm; it didn't even take very long. I stayed in the shower for a few minutes- until I was finally warm. I grabbed the towel I'd seen outside the stall and wrapped myself in it before stepping out.
Spot was drying off-quite unabashedly-when I stepped out. It took me a full second to realize what I was seeing before I turned around. "Ya know, Conlon," I said, "It's generally a good idea to have somethin' on when you step out of the shower."
"Don't tell me ya didn't like what ya saw," he said, and I could hear the grin in his voice. "Ya can turn around now I'se covered up."
I did so, and it was very apparent that I was blushing. I hate blushing- I have absolutely no power over it whatsoever.
"Not bad yerself," he said.
"Thanks," I said sarcastically. I was covered enough, but the towel was rather short. "Do you have some clothes I could borrow? Please?"
He nodded and left. I stood there waiting, and he returned a minute later- fully dressed and holding some clothes in his hands. He handed them to me and leaned against the wall, making no apparent move to leave. I just stood there and looked at him.
"Are you planning on leaving or are you just going to stand there and watch?" I asked, annoyed. "Go right ahead," he said, smirking. I just rolled my eyes, at the same time wondering where the Manhattan boys had disappeared to. I retreated to one of the empty (and dry) shower stalls to get dressed. He most certainly knew how to push my buttons, but *damn* was he hot.
"I swear to God," I said through the door, "If you even *think* of opening that door.God help you because I will make you hurt." He laughed.
"An' how exactly do ya plan on doin' that?" he asked. I was too busy getting dressed as quickly as possible to respond.
A few seconds later I stepped out. The shirt was a bit big- the sleeves went over my hands, and it was missing a couple buttons that left me a little more exposed than I would like, but other than that it was fine. I was barefoot, but I didn't mind.
"Where's Cowboy an' Blink an' Race?" I asked, pushing dripping wet hair out of my eyes. It was mess but I didn't mind. I randomly threw it up to keep my shirt from getting soaked.
"Downstairs," Spot said.
I picked up my wet clothes and shoes and headed for the stairs. \ "Goil, yer crazy," Spot said behind me. "Ya can't walk back ta Manhattan barefoot."
"An' why's that?" I challenged. "My shoes're soaked."
"Because it's stupid, yer feet'll freeze wid' awl da snow on da ground, it's fuckin' long walk an' you'll be lucky if ya ain't frostbit."
"So? If I wear my shoes, there ain't gonna be any difference. They're just as wet and cold." He didn't seem to have a response to that.
We were still arguing when we reached the main room where the Manhattan boys were.
"Ya ready?" Jack asked me, cutting off the argument. I nodded.
"Spot, ya comin'?" Race asked. "Big pokah night tanight."
Spot looked daggers at me before nodding yes.
"Well, it's gettin' close ta suppertime, we'se should probably be going." Jack said, being all leader-like. I turned around to pick up the clothes I'd put on the table, but I was stopped by Spot, who came over and picked me up so that I was hanging upside down over his shoulder.
"Spot Conlon, put me the fuck down now!" I yelled.
"Like I said," he said, calmly, "ya ain't walkin' back ta Manhattan barefoot." With that, he walked out of the Lodging House.
"Conlon!" I shouted. Jack was right behind him, looking as if he was trying as hard as possible not to crack up laughing. "Jack!" I said, pleading. He just shook his head still trying not to laugh. He eventually gave up. Blink grabbed my clothes and the group of us headed back to Manhattan.
When we reached the Lodging House it was after dark and I was cold. Despite the obvious discomfort of having a bony shoulder pressed up against my stomach for what was probably close to an hour, I was actually almost grateful. Although I never would have admitted it.
"Damn, goil," Spot said, rubbing his shoulder after he'd set me down inside the Lodging House. "Dat hoits after awhile."
"Serves ya right," I told him. We all signed in and headed upstairs. The boys all started their poker game but I just watched.
"Hey Treble ya gonna entertain us er what?" Jack asked, half- jokingly. I went downstairs and got the guitar. I sat on my bunk, playing and singing for awhile, while the guys played poker and some of them just listened. After about an hour I started to get tired and decided to stop.
"Dat wasn't half bad," Spot said to me, quietly, so the others wouldn't hear. Didn't want to spoil his precious reputation by giving out compliments, I suppose.
"Thanks," I said, and smiled. That settled it- without speaking, Conlon had somehow managed to convey his approval. I was a newsie, whether I liked it or not.
I awoke the next morning to shouts of "Get up ya lazy bums! Time ta carry da banner!". Much more successful than an alarm clock, in my case at least. Not quite remembering where I was, in all senses, I was a bit confused, and scared. I sat straight up, which resulted in me hitting my head on the top bunk, and falling back down. Somehow, during this, I managed to get tangled in the sheet on my bed, rolled myself over and fell flat on my ass on the floor. Not entirely painless.
"Ow," I said, amidst the laughter of the several conscious guys who had seen me fall. I stood up, not really caring that I was in just a nightshirt that only went down to my knees- it was covered enough for me, even if it wasn't for them. I grabbed my clothes and headed into the bathroom for what turned out to be a very cold- and very short- shower. I got dressed and pulled my hair back in a french braid- I figured it was reasonable for the period.
"You look nice an' awake, Treble," Jack said as I bumped into him, eyes still half closed, leaving the washroom.
"Oh shut up," I said, being the morning person that I am.
"C'mon, ya want some food an' some coffee?" Skittery asked, coming over next to us.
"Coffee.yes.please." I told him, and we made our way en masse to the D.O.
I revived a bit over the coffee and bread, and tried really hard (honest I did!) to listen to Jack explain how to sell papes as we waited in line.
"C'mon goil," he said as we left the D.O. (he'd said he was going to 'show me the ropes') "we'se got a busy mornin' ahead of us, gotta sell an' den we'se goin ta Brooklyn dis afternoon."
That woke me up. "What?!" I most definitely did not like the idea of Brooklyn. Call me irrational, but I didn't have a very good first impression.
"Spot don't miss nothin'. Da 'King a Brooklyn', so ta speak, hoid about us gettin' a newbie, an' a goil at dat. He wants ta meetcha."
"And what, approve of me?" I wasn't entirely happy with the prospect.
"More er less," Jack said. I just gave him a look. "What?" he asked.
"An' what happens if he doesn't?" I asked, irritated.
Jack just shrugged. I rolled my eyes and went back to selling.
A little bit after lunch we were on our way to Brooklyn, with Blink and Race tagging along for the heck of it- and, I guessed, Spot's reaction. I wasn't looking forward to it but I figured I might as well get it over with. And Jack had made it fairly clear that he'd pick me up and carry me if need be- apparently you can't say 'no' to Spot Conlon. Again with the stupid male-dominated society, I thought as we crossed the bridge into Conlon's territory.
"Well, well, well, if it ain't a newbie," someone (I assumed it was Spot) said as we walked onto the pier where Brooklyn congregated when it wasn't too cold. It was rather cold, but not unbearble- the sun had already melted all the snow that had fallen the night before.
"How's it rollin', Spot?" Jack asked as I bit back several choice comments. I don't like being treated as inferior and so far that's what had been happening a great deal of the time.
"Good. How's Manhattan, Jackie-boy?" Spot asked walking forward. I must admit, for a second there I almost forgot where I was. There is a reason he has a reputation as the most sought-after newsie in New York. Damn, was he hot. I quickly regained my senses though- no point in falling for an egotistical jackass (well, as far as I knew he was).
"Fine. An' dis is-"
"Treble," I cut in, spitting in my hand and holding it out. Spot did likewise, probably more an involuntary reaction than anything else.
"A goil newsie, eh?" Spot said. "She any good at sellin'?" he asked Jack, obviously expecting an answer in the negative. I was getting the general impression that he did not think of females as equals.
"She's a fast loiner," Jack said, truthfully enough.
"She any good in bed?" he asked, smirking, obviously wanting a reaction out of me.
He got what he wanted. I did the only reasonable, logical thing to do- I took two steps forwards and bitchslapped him as hard as I could. And I am no weakling. He reeled backwards, stumbling for a few steps before he came forward again. Although I was fully expecting what happened next, I still fell backwards with shock when he punched me. Only grabbing onto a post and Blink grabbing onto my arm stopped me from taking a nice swim in the freezing East River.
"Fuck!" I shouted, not caring who heard me. I could practically feel the bruise growing right underneath my eye.
"What the hell was that for?!" Spot and I both shouted at each other at the same time.
"You know damn well what that was for, and you deserved it!" I told him.
"So did you! No one, 'specially not a goddamned goil, hits Spot Conlon."
I was fuming. It took several minutes of Jack and Spot exchanging words and Blink trying to rationalize with me before either of us calmed down enough to not hit the other.
"Jesus Christ!" Jack finally shouted.
"Well, he had no right to say that!" I shouted at Jack.
"An' you shouldn't've fuckin' hit me!" Spot shouted at me.
"You deserved it!"
"So did you!"
We stared each other down. Since he was rather short, only about 5 inches taller than me, it wasn't incredibly difficult. I'm guessing Spot has a pretty short temper because not long after the staring contest began he hit me again. He didn't hit me as hard, but the impact was still enough to force me backwards. Considering I was already standing on the edge of the pier, this wasn't a good thing. I grabbed the front of his shirt in a last-ditch effort to stop from falling, but instead of staying on the pier, I just pulled him in with me.
The first thing I thought of when I hit the water was "Fuck it's cold", followed immediately by "I need air". I surfaced, treading water, and looked for a ladder or something. I found one and swam towards it, Spot a few yards ahead of me (not that I cared). I climbed out of the water, shivering, and glared at Spot.
"Ya awlright?" Jack asked, concerned.
"Just peachy," I replied. "Nice an' toasty." Spot almost grinned. Finally, I thought, someone my sarcasm wasn't completely lost on. He was completely drenched as well, and definitely paler than he had been. I knew I was too. The red handprint I had left showed particularly well against his pale cheek, and there was a visible bruise. I knew my bruise must have looked much worse against my pale skin.
"Spot, can we take 'er ta da Lodgin' House ta warm up?" Jack asked, knowing as well as I did that I would most likely wind up with pneumonia if I didn't warm up soon. Spot just nodded, not speaking, and led the way.
Brooklyn's Lodging House looked much like Manhattan's. Spot led me upstairs to the washroom. "Da foist two stalls have hot water, so you take one an' I'll use da odder, k?" he said, actually being civil. I just nodded and went into the stall, fully dressed. I stripped, shivering, and threw the clothes outside the stall as I turned on the water, praying it would actually be warm. Surprisingly, it did get warm; it didn't even take very long. I stayed in the shower for a few minutes- until I was finally warm. I grabbed the towel I'd seen outside the stall and wrapped myself in it before stepping out.
Spot was drying off-quite unabashedly-when I stepped out. It took me a full second to realize what I was seeing before I turned around. "Ya know, Conlon," I said, "It's generally a good idea to have somethin' on when you step out of the shower."
"Don't tell me ya didn't like what ya saw," he said, and I could hear the grin in his voice. "Ya can turn around now I'se covered up."
I did so, and it was very apparent that I was blushing. I hate blushing- I have absolutely no power over it whatsoever.
"Not bad yerself," he said.
"Thanks," I said sarcastically. I was covered enough, but the towel was rather short. "Do you have some clothes I could borrow? Please?"
He nodded and left. I stood there waiting, and he returned a minute later- fully dressed and holding some clothes in his hands. He handed them to me and leaned against the wall, making no apparent move to leave. I just stood there and looked at him.
"Are you planning on leaving or are you just going to stand there and watch?" I asked, annoyed. "Go right ahead," he said, smirking. I just rolled my eyes, at the same time wondering where the Manhattan boys had disappeared to. I retreated to one of the empty (and dry) shower stalls to get dressed. He most certainly knew how to push my buttons, but *damn* was he hot.
"I swear to God," I said through the door, "If you even *think* of opening that door.God help you because I will make you hurt." He laughed.
"An' how exactly do ya plan on doin' that?" he asked. I was too busy getting dressed as quickly as possible to respond.
A few seconds later I stepped out. The shirt was a bit big- the sleeves went over my hands, and it was missing a couple buttons that left me a little more exposed than I would like, but other than that it was fine. I was barefoot, but I didn't mind.
"Where's Cowboy an' Blink an' Race?" I asked, pushing dripping wet hair out of my eyes. It was mess but I didn't mind. I randomly threw it up to keep my shirt from getting soaked.
"Downstairs," Spot said.
I picked up my wet clothes and shoes and headed for the stairs. \ "Goil, yer crazy," Spot said behind me. "Ya can't walk back ta Manhattan barefoot."
"An' why's that?" I challenged. "My shoes're soaked."
"Because it's stupid, yer feet'll freeze wid' awl da snow on da ground, it's fuckin' long walk an' you'll be lucky if ya ain't frostbit."
"So? If I wear my shoes, there ain't gonna be any difference. They're just as wet and cold." He didn't seem to have a response to that.
We were still arguing when we reached the main room where the Manhattan boys were.
"Ya ready?" Jack asked me, cutting off the argument. I nodded.
"Spot, ya comin'?" Race asked. "Big pokah night tanight."
Spot looked daggers at me before nodding yes.
"Well, it's gettin' close ta suppertime, we'se should probably be going." Jack said, being all leader-like. I turned around to pick up the clothes I'd put on the table, but I was stopped by Spot, who came over and picked me up so that I was hanging upside down over his shoulder.
"Spot Conlon, put me the fuck down now!" I yelled.
"Like I said," he said, calmly, "ya ain't walkin' back ta Manhattan barefoot." With that, he walked out of the Lodging House.
"Conlon!" I shouted. Jack was right behind him, looking as if he was trying as hard as possible not to crack up laughing. "Jack!" I said, pleading. He just shook his head still trying not to laugh. He eventually gave up. Blink grabbed my clothes and the group of us headed back to Manhattan.
When we reached the Lodging House it was after dark and I was cold. Despite the obvious discomfort of having a bony shoulder pressed up against my stomach for what was probably close to an hour, I was actually almost grateful. Although I never would have admitted it.
"Damn, goil," Spot said, rubbing his shoulder after he'd set me down inside the Lodging House. "Dat hoits after awhile."
"Serves ya right," I told him. We all signed in and headed upstairs. The boys all started their poker game but I just watched.
"Hey Treble ya gonna entertain us er what?" Jack asked, half- jokingly. I went downstairs and got the guitar. I sat on my bunk, playing and singing for awhile, while the guys played poker and some of them just listened. After about an hour I started to get tired and decided to stop.
"Dat wasn't half bad," Spot said to me, quietly, so the others wouldn't hear. Didn't want to spoil his precious reputation by giving out compliments, I suppose.
"Thanks," I said, and smiled. That settled it- without speaking, Conlon had somehow managed to convey his approval. I was a newsie, whether I liked it or not.