Irish eyed the boys suspiciously. They blocked her way from the door, unreadable looks glued to both of their faces.
"What's the deal?" she asked.
Italy's grin widened as he glanced at Spot. "Well, last night I got to thinking'-"
"I thought I felt the world reverse," Irish cut him off.
Italy rolled his eyes and ignored his sister's comment. "Spot and I came up with a plan."
"Truth be told," Spot said, "This was all Italy's plan. If it doesn't suit you, go after him."
Irish sighed and crossed her arms. "What's the plan for?" she inquired.
"To get Ben to admit he likes you," Italy told her.
Irish felt the color drain from her face. She bit her lip and looked away. "I don't want to get involved," she told them. "Your last plan-"
"It wasn't a plan," Italy cut in. "But I think you'll like this one."
Irish felt a sigh escape her lips and nodded for her brother to go on. He grinned eagerly and exchanged looks with Spot. "Well," he began, "Ben ain't ever gonna admit he likes you until he loses you. So, Spot and I think it'd really stir some things up if you and Spot, you know, pretend to be a couple."
Irish's eyes grew ten times their original size and stared awkwardly at the boys. She felt her heart speed up and her face become paler. She opened her mouth to speak, but immediately shut it, lost of words. Italy, concerned about his sister's silence, waved a hand in front of her face. "Hello? Irish, you still here?"
Irish shook her head and slapped Italy's hand away. "You're crazy," she told him, "insane!"
Spot shrugged. "Like I said, it was your brother's genius idea," he said.
Irish held back the urge to cut him with her sharp glare. Instead, a question blurted out. "And you were alright with this?"
Spot shrugged again. "Sure, why not? You think I got anything bettah to do in my spare time? Why not hook up with my best friend's sistah?"
Italy grinned and nodded. "Spot thinks it's a great idea."
"Not really, but I'm willin' to give it a try," said Spot.
Irish switched her gaze to the window and fixed her eyes on the docks. It wasn't a bad idea, really, but a little bit psychotic. Sure, she wanted Ben to share the same feelings as her, but she didn't feel right pretending to be with Spot Conlon. What would people think of her?
She could already hear the eager giggles of the girls she bunked with. She'd never hear the end of it. They would want to know everything. Like how she just seemed to get over Ben so quickly. She'd have to make an excuse. Spot's charm, of course, she thought. That would be her excuse.
"Well," Irish began. She reached up and tucked a loose strand of her dark hair behind her ear. "I guess if you're okay with me using you, Spot, then…"
"Great!" Italy exclaimed.
"But I didn't even answer yet!" Irish thought she sounded like a whining child.
"Yeah, but you didn't have to. I knew you'd want to do it!"
Spot rolled his eyes at Italy's behavior and stepped towards Irish. He held his arm out like a gentlemen. "Shall we, my lady?"
Irish felt the heat rise in her cheeks. Nobody ever treated her like this. She bit her lip and linked her arm with Spot's, and he politely escorted her out the door.
Irish had one arm linked with Spot's, and the other linked with Italy's, and it looked as if she were trying to drag the boys to the distribution center. Nobody was going to know that her and Spot's relationship wasn't real. Once one ear heard it, then every ear will. Word would definitely reach Harlem, and Ben would immediately know what was going on. So, the three decided to keep the secret to themselves. Irish wasn't even allowed to tell Suds.
Irish pulled her arm from Italy and he only grinned that stupid grin of his. She slipped her arm from Spot's, and as she made to walk on her own he suddenly took her hand in his. She felt her eyes widen in surprise. His hand was rough, but also a bit soft. It gave her an unusual feeling to be holding hands with Spot Conlon, but then again it was just an act. She'd have to get used to it.
Spot smirked and sent her a wink. Their fingers were laced together as they approached the distribution center, and Irish could feel all eyes on her. She felt a lump form in her throat, but nobody had the guts to suddenly question Spot Conlon's sanity. They'd interrogate Irish when Spot wasn't around.
Spot walked with his usual superiority, even with a girl at his side. He gripped his cane in his free hand, and held his same, mysterious look. Even with the affectionate, romantic scene before the newsies, Spot was still a bit scary. Even though Spot may have suddenly taken a liking to a girl, it didn't change his reputation. He was still the bad boy king of Brooklyn.
Irish avoided everyone's gaze as Spot literally dragged her to the front of the line. He purchased his usual 100 papes, and she only bought 20. She couldn't find the strength to even look into Suds' eyes, but she couldn't resist. She had expected to see astonishment, or even disappointment. However, she was surprised to see admiration. Actually, with every girl she looked at, that's what she saw. Since when did every Brooklyn girl fall head over hills for Conlon?
Daisy Winthraw, a really good friend of hers, sent her a look that bothered Irish entirely. It was a look of pure jealousy - clear hatred. She wasn't the only one sending Irish this look. Every girl, with the exception of a few, seemed to be sending her daggers. Harsh hate waves.
Irish suddenly felt possessive, and tightly grabbed onto Spot's forearm. The feeling bothered her, only because it wasn't an act. She must have been doing a good job, though, because everyone seemed to tense up. Irish wasn't sure if Spot was aware of the looks she was receiving from the girls, and unknown to her he was fully aware.
Spot shot a look at some of his newsies and they looked away. This was a strange sight. His newsies weren't supposed to act like this. It was a bit odd for him to have every one of his girls glaring at Irish. He never thought any of his girls would have feelings for him. It was awkward for him to just think about it.
Spot led Irish out of the distribution center, and she was immediately thankful. She made to go her own way, but Spot didn't release her. She was apparently supposed to sell with him.
She felt her first pang of guilt. She didn't even bother to suffocate her hair under her hat. It was going to be difficult for Spot to sell with a girl.
"Don't worry 'bout them," Spot suddenly told her. "Surprised me, really."
Irish swallowed and nodded. "That was unusual. Did you see their eyes? Maybe this isn't a good idea, Spot."
"Nonsense," the Brooklyn leader said.
Irish felt tiny under his gaze. He turned away and began shouting out headlines - false beyond anyone's wildest belief. Out of nowhere, a brick wall appeared in front of Irish and she ran into it. She caught her balance and looked up, realizing it wasn't a brick wall at all but a tall, bulky man. She felt embarrassed, and frightened.
"Mind if I buy a paper, miss?" the man asked politely.
Irish grabbed one of her papes and handed it to the man with a shaky hand. He placed a penny in her empty palm.
"Thank you." he tipped his hat and walked away.
Spot was staring at her with a watchful eye. She met his gaze and he smirked, and for first time in Irish's life as a Brooklyn newsie, she finally saw how charming that smirk of his really was.