Been a long time since I updated this but it's time! Finally, Spot is older. The strike hasn't happened yet, though. In fact, it's a year before the strike occurs. On a side note, 'Charlie' will now be known as Spot for here on out. I hope you enjoy and leave a review!
Brooklyn, 1898
Fast forward some years. Racetrack Higgins only had one living relative that he knew of, his widowed great-aunt, Vera Lombardo. A short, grey-haired Sicilian woman with thick-rimmed glasses and an iron fist. She was loud, outspoken, and wore a silver crucifix around her neck. Racetrack was never known to stay in one place. He spent some nights at the Brooklyn Lodging House and other times with his aunt in her flat. Spending his day at the tracks after selling, he would either go to sleep at one of the places mentioned. He was a born wanderer with a knack for gambling. Of course with Racetrack's luck with betting, he never won a cent.
Skittery Reevy, now sixteen, was second in command to the new Brooklyn leader, Crew. Frostbite, who was originally supposed to be the new leader, had a sister in Nebraska who had taken ill and so he left to be with her, saying he would probably never return. Thus, the place was given to the next oldest.
The other newsies Spot had met when he first came to the lodging house had left and found other jobs. Crew, now twenty-four, was no longer a newsie himself but he lived in an apartment of his own right next to the Lodging House. However, he still checked in on his boys now and then and was still considered their leader. Crew married Elfia 'Elfie' Stuart, former newsgirl, five years earlier, and the following year they were raising their first child, Michael.
The Lodging House seemed older somehow. The floors were rotting and the stairs creaked with age.
Spot had grown up into a smooth-talking, wiry fellow. He kept his thick, brown hair shaggy. He was never without a slingshot looped into his belt or in his pocket and read all the tabloids of the day. Spot acquired a talent for more than hawking headlines. He was a ladies man, latching onto one girl for one week and then another by the next. He seemed to have always had a need to be liked and wanted. Spot was the most sexually experienced out of the lodging house, which meant he had moved past kissing more than twice. He had a hidden talent for singing and could be found humming to himself when he thought he was alone, but of course that wasn't anything he ever flaunted.
He also felt it was his duty to be a personal security blanket for his sister.
Allie was the youngest in the Lodging House. Thirteen-years-old but still well beyond her years, she felt forced to grow up quickly. She was overly trusting and easily impressed, making her vulnerable to many. On one account, a brothel Madame tried to lure her inside her welcoming business. Luckily Spot was quick to sweep her away from there.
Lilly Dudley's father was getting on in his years. She could be found helping out at her father's small restaurant or helping sew together doilies with a close friend of hers, Sarah Jacobs. At the ripe age of sixteen, Lilly was courted for two years by the son of her apartment's landlord. She never admitted that she only did it to escape paying her and her father's rent. The landlord's son had proposed to Lilly six months earlier, to which she reluctantly accepted. Her fiancé went to work one day and never came back. Rumors went around that he left her to run off with another girl or that he died, but it was if Lilly had no feelings at all towards the whole thing. If anything, it was a relief.
Most of the boys in the lodging house had tried their own luck with Lilly, but she never showed any signs of affection toward any of them. It was as if a layer of sadness had masked her over the last couple of years.
~(:)~
"Are you serious, Race?" Spot said, looking up from his menu at Mike Dudley's restaurant. "You bet and then lost ten dollars at the tracks? Did you even know what you were doing? How are you going to get that kind of money, Race?"
Race looked at the table in defeat, mumbling excuses under his breath to which Spot paid no attention, continuing his rant on how stupid Race had been.
Allie was chatting with another newsgirl her age at the next table. Spot leaned over and tapped on her. "Did you hear what Race did?"
Allie, quite unhappy at the interruption, smiled at her friend and then turned and glared at her brother. "I don't know. Didn't he bet, like, fifteen dollars at the tracks and then lost? No big shock," she said, rolling her eyes and then going back to her conversation with the other girl.
Spot raised his eyebrows and looked back at Race. "Wait, fifteen dollars? Race what the hell were you thinking?"
Race looked at him with big eyes as if he were a lost puppy begging to be taken home.
Lilly walked over to their table with a notepad and pen. She took their order like always, her and Spot sharing a little too long of a stare. Ever since the incident at the docks eight years ago, both of them had always felt a little awkward around the other. At age twelve, they both knew they liked each other more than friends should, but when Lilly got engaged four years after that, Spot had given up hope.
Racetrack, known for flirting, grinned handsomely up at Lilly. "Ya know what my shirt is made of? Boyfriend material," he said smoothly.
Lilly raised her eyebrows and then shook her head. "Strike one, Race," she said in an annoyed tone before walking toward the kitchen to prepare their food.
Race chuckled and then winked at Spot. "She's a keeper, ain't she,"
Spot smirked a little and then said he'd be right back. He got up and walked over to the window in the restaurant that was connected to the kitchen. Lilly stood on the other side, preparing soup. "I'm sorry Race got on your case," he said honestly, and then cringed when he realized his sentence rhymed.
Lilly looked up and him and smiled a little. "Race is Race, nothing new." She sighed and then shook her head. "He asked me for twenty dollars earlier today. Strange, right?" She said, raising an eyebrow before stirring the soup again.
Spot looked back over to where Race was sitting and then back at Lilly. "Oh," he said softly. "He asked you for twenty dollars?"
"Mm-hm," Lilly answered quietly, adding pepper and cheese into the soup. She took a glass down from a cabinet and filled it with ice. Then she poured a pitcher of cool lemonade into the glass and slid it across the counter to Spot. "On the house," she said.
"Thanks," he said, taking a refreshing sip.
Lilly nodded and brushed a loose strand of hair from her face and behind her ear. Pouring the steaming soup from the pot and into a bowl, she averted her eyes from Spot and asked casually, "So how is Julia?"
Spot looked up at her and scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. "Julia?"
Lilly kept her eyes on her work. "Yes, the one with the red hair. You remember, we all met up at Medda's place," She looked back up at Spot for a second and saw his look of befuddlement as if he was trying to place the face. "How did you meet her? Was she one of those uptown types?"
Spot stared at the glass of lemonade Lilly had given him as he finally remembered his latest revolving door lady-friend from last week. He looked back up at Lilly and forced a soft chuckle, plastering on a smile. "Oh yeah, um, we aren't really seeing each other much anymore,"
A twinge of happiness leapt through Lilly's heart but she kept her expression nonchalant. "That's too bad," she said finally, smirking a little at the Brooklyn boy.
"Lovely afternoon, Lilly," called a familiar voice. Both Lilly and Spot turned to see Jack Kelly, a sweet, handsome fifteen-year-old from a small boarding house in Manhattan; he wasn't a newsie yet but he knew plenty of them.
Lilly smiled as Jack sauntered casually over to them. "Nice to see you, Jack. Specials today are onion and cheese soup," she said brightly as she did to all the customers. She placed a menu in front of Jack at the bar stool and gave one last glance at Spot before retreating back into the kitchen.
Jack watched her go and smirked back at Spot. "You're gonna miss your chance, Spot,"
"What chance?" Spot muttered, sitting down next to Jack.
Jack chuckled and shook his head. "Haven't talked to Skittery in a while. How's he holdin' up?"
Spot shrugged. "He's his usual self,"
"Yeah?" Jack said, nodding.
Spot put down the drink. "Something going on I should know about?"
"Don't you read the papers you sell? Elderly woman in Brooklyn reported her wedding ring stolen. She described to the police a kid who matches Skittery's description,"
"Skitts isn't that low. Plus he's pretty religious and ain't stealin' a sin?" Spot answered, raising his eyebrows.
Jack kept his tone low and casual. "That's what I thought." He nodded slowly and smiled. "I don't know. Anyway, I gotta go." He hopped off the stool and then slung an arm around Spot. "Hey by the way, you and that doll Julia still have a thing? Cause if not, you know who to send her to," he smirked.
Spot laughed. "Goodbye Jack," he said, smiling. He watched Jack leave and then went over to where Skittery was sitting with Race. "Hey Skitts!" He called.
Skittery was laughing at something Race said and then offered a warm grin when Spot walked over to their table. "Hey, what's Jack Kelly doing on this side of the bridge?"
Spot didn't answer. "You mugging old women?"
Skittery raised an eyebrow. "Spot. What the hell are you talking about?"
"You know what I'm talking about, Skitts, don't try to pull this bullshit with me," Spot said in a stern voice.
"I'm gonna pull whatever I want with you," Skittery answered in a joking voice.
Race laughed and patted Spot on the back. "I'm betting Spot wins this argument."
"Who's side are you on?" Skittery yelled at him.
A police officer walked into the restaurant, seemingly looking around for someone. Skittery went pale. "Shit," he muttered to himself. He slowly climbed out of the booth slinked over to the back door, Race and Spot following after him anxiously. Allie noticed her brother leave the table and curiously stared after them. As she watched them run out the back door, she said goodbye to her friend and then hurried off after them.
Once they were outside, Spot stepped in front of Skittery, making him stop. "Why you runnin' from the cops? You wanna tell me again that you didn't rob an old woman?"
Skittery rolled his eyes. "Spot, give me a break," he said heading toward the street.
"Where ya going?" Spot called after him.
Race followed after Skittery. "Back to the house," he called over his shoulder.
Spot raised his eyebrows and held up his arms in confusion. "That's gonna be the first place the cops are gonna look for ya, Skitts!" He said, and then turned to head back into the restaurant. As soon as he opened the door, an officer was just stepping out. Spot paled and turned to find Skittery a few feet away.
"Dammit," Spot muttered and then hurried over to Skittery and Race. "Second thought, maybe the lodge is the safest place for now." He said, quickly walking toward the street.
Skittery rolled his eyes. "Would you make up your mind?" He called, hurrying after Spot's fast pace, Race behind them.
"Let's go!" Spot called, turning his fast walk into a jog.
"Who are we running from?" Allie asked, jogging alongside her brother.
Spot glared over at her. "Why don't you ask Skitts."
Skittery reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a golden wedding band. "Hey Spot, ya think this is real?"
Spot looked at him funny. "Do I think that's real?"
"Yeah," Skittery said, smirking. "Cause I'm gonna sell it to a guy I know for some high cash, and it's worth more if it's real,"
Spot didn't say anything. He was actually a bit amazed Skittery managed to smoothly steal a ring off of someone's finger.
Skittery knew a friend who would take the ring for ten dollars, and with that kind of money, Skittery would be fed for two weeks. This friend that Skittery knew was an older man in his forties with a long trench coat and a blue top hat. Skittery reached into his pocket and then frowned. He checked his other pocket frantically but resurrected an empty hand. Apparently, some thief on the streets stole the stolen ring from Skittery's pocket. The 'friend' shook his head disapprovingly and walked off. Spot and Race followed Skittery down the bleak street, Allie sticking close to her brother.
"So," Race said, lighting a cigar. "Any of you fellas got an idea of how I can get twenty dollars?"
Allie smiled brightly. "Did you hear what those two newsies did in Queens? They ran out of money so they kidnapped a newsie from another borough. It turned out to be the little brother of that borough's leader, so they held him for ransom."
Spot chuckled sardonically and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, Allie? And what happened to those two Queens newsies after that?"
Allie shrugged. "I don't know. No one ever heard from them again."
"Exactly," Spot said, turning the corner toward the lodging house. "Allie keep out of trouble. Race and Skitts make sure of it." He called as they walked off.
The person Racetrack had bet and lost the money to was called Eddie Lefthand. Eddie was a newsie under the leader of his borough, Scotty November. Scotty and his second in command, Ontario, dominated their borough and were known for their tough newsies. However, Ontario and Scotty were seldom at the lodging house and more likely to be out with girls or swimming or other activities.
Because Racetrack didn't even have five cents and Eddie was demanding the money he owed, Race had to buy more time. And since both Skittery and Race knew that Ontario and Scotty wouldn't be back at their lodging house for another hour or so, they thought it the perfect time to face Eddie.
So, Allie agreed to distract the newsies in the other borough while Race and Skitts talked to Eddie. This would be a very tricky ordeal because Skittery already hated Eddie, Scotty, Ontario, and every other newsie in their borough. In fact, all the Brooklyn lodging house felt a rivaling hatred toward this borough, and you could say the feeling was mutual from the other side.
Remember Finn? Well he had been leader since he was fifteen, and had run a fair but tough borough of newsies in Brooklyn. Now, some Manhattan newsies didn't particularly liked how popular Finn was getting.
You see, Skittery was the last person to be seen with Finn, and still Skittery never knew exactly what happened to him, but he had a good feeling of what might've went down.
Finn had sold newspapers with nine-year old Skittery on a nice Thursday afternoon in early August. Finn had told Skittery to wait on a bench near a park while he went and talked with some friends of his in a nearby alley. He had said it was very important, and that Skittery was not to follow him.
Skittery had sat impatiently waiting for the older boy to come back, swinging his legs back and forth on the bench. He watched children walk by with their mothers and old men try to peddle ice cream, pretzels, and hats to every pedestrian that walked by. A few moments later, two boys who looked about Finn's age had towered over little Skittery and asked him if he was a Brooklyn newsie. When Skittery said he was, the two boys grinned to one another and then asked if he knew where his leader was. Skittery had nodded and without hesitation told them where Finn was, more out of fear than obligation. The two boys had thanked him and then headed off in the direction Finn had gone.
Skittery had always blamed himself that day after. But who could blame him? He was only nine. He didn't understand the tension and rivalry that had gone on since before Finn was leader. How could he know what was going on? While young Skittery sat innocently on that park bench, watching a squirrel being chased by some old woman's poodle, his leader was being relentlessly and mercilessly beaten up until there was nothing left to beat.
Skittery never clearly remembered who the two boys were, and he never saw them again. However, Skittery knew two things about these boys. He knew they were newsies, and he knew they were from Manhattan. And that's what borough Eddie Lefthand was from. He was a Manhattan newsie.
