At daybreak, Sarah woke up in the alley just near Fulton Market. Her hair was matted and Jack's shirt was covered in a film of dirt. How could people live like this? There must be hundreds of homeless boys and girls in New York, if not thousands, and yet somehow the thought of it escaped the minds of the more fortunate. It appalled her how many faces looked up at her through abandoned shops (this was the poorer side of the market) and how many of them were recoiling even at the sound of the ferries' horns. At first, she thought they were sick, but soon she heard whispers. 'Not there…' they seemed to be saying, 'Not to Brooklyn, it's got worse…'

By the time she reached Dock Street, the sun was already up. The boys were getting ready to sell, and there was more than she expected. Bigger, too, and meaner looking. They leaned against their clubs as she passed, clicking their tongues, for they didn't know she was a girl. She kept a straight face, hoping she looked braver than she felt. Then again, a trespasser wasn't bound to stay long…

Finally, she reached the person she wanted to see. He was up on his crow's nest, looking down with piercing eyes. His 'assistant', Spike, was a boy of 10 and chewed his tobacco loudly as he examined the situation.

"Looks like we got a visitor!" Spot Conlon announced, cocking his head. His boys gathered around while he readied his slingshot.

"I'm here to find the boy I love." replied Sarah.

Spot jumped down and stepped forward as he had done to David many months ago. "I ain't feeling the same. Try that death wish again and I'll kick ya halfway to Queens."

She took off her cap (that she had stolen from Specs) and let her hair fall. A few of the boys whistled at her, one even took her roughly by the waist and sidled up. She pushed him away, but he only came back. Spot laughed.

"Alright, that's enough, Rivers." He clapped Sarah on the shoulder after a chorus of laughter from the other boys, noticing she was rather uncomfortable. The boy, which was twice Spot's size, sauntered off.

"I didn't come here to be assaulted." She whispered.

"I know, love. I personally prefer you in a dress. Fits you better."

The boys went off while Spike lit a cigar and gave it to the leader. Sarah put her gift behind a barrel – Racetrack's best cigars would to go waste. Spot tried not to blush as they sat down next to each other.

"Ain't no trouble with Jackie-boy, is there?" thinking this was his only chance to get a girl, he pulled back his slingshot.

"I guess he's not ready to be a father." She whispered again.

He examined her over and over again, the slingshot hit the ground. He dismissed the assistant; and speechless, he noticed she had gained weight…but why the surprise? He thought. Hadn't it happened to others before, by other newsies? Surely not on Jack's behalf, but the stronger newsboys were capable of anything…

"I suspect a couple moSre months, or maybe six? The baby would be Polish from my side, and Jack said something about Welsh on his. But it's difficult to know when he's telling the truth." Her heart skipped a beat. She imagined a boy with bright brown eyes and tawny hair…a little Jack. How perfect.

Spot did nothing but answer stupidly: "you must be hungry." With that, he pulled out his lunch of bread slices and handed it to her. She nearly devoured it.

"I need help. I need food and somewhere to live." She wiped a tear off her face and pleaded, "I know you can help."

Spot clicked his tongue and put his arm around her shoulder. "Sounds like you got it bad, love. Stop your crying. Have a smoke." He took the cigar out of his own mouth, and she accepted it.

Oh, if only Mama could see me now! Sarah cracked a smile. Her mother would have screamed. Jack would be almost proud, and David would be shocked. It gave Sarah great pleasure that smoking was not considered an innocent act of a girl her age, or of any age.

Spot was impressed by her smoking, but even more impressed as she leaned in close.

"You can help, can't you?" She smiled, tears now gone. "You can do anything."

He raised an eyebrow, put out his chest, and tried not to blush. "Really?"

Then it was silent. They were too close for both their comforts. She stood up and felt guilty, but why? It was the only way to get what she wanted. Spot felt guilty for liking his friend's girl…but his friend wasn't here now, was he?

"Is it safe here?" she asked.

"Are you afraid?"

"No! Mush and Blink just told me-"

"That we make girls come to bed with us? That we charm our way out of debt to the prostitutes? That every time a girl comes by we stick our canes up their skirts, or maybe court them by force?" He laughed. "Sweetheart! It's only a half-truth. If it were all true, would we still be talking right now? …Ah, don't look so scared. I ain't gonna do a thing to you. Just as long as the boys stay away from the alchohol, you'll be fine."

"Dammit, can you help me or not?"

He smiled as he watched goosebumps rise on her skin. "On a few conditions: I let you live in my clubhouse and give you food. In exchange for your little cowboy." He took his cane and pointed at her stomach.

Now she was stunned. Letting her child grow up here with the street rats? In Brooklyn? She felt sick again.

"You OK?" He stepped forward out of concern.

"I can't do that."

He held up his hands. "It it's got problems, you can keep it. If I need to, I'll leave it to the newsgirls."

"Any other negotiations?"

"Fine, we'll compromise. If Jack comes back before it comes out, you two can have your little family. But if he doesn't-"

"Spot Conlon, you're an ass if I ever saw one!"

He smiled and watched her smoke. After a few minutes, she sat down and threw the cigar into the river. He thought of how big a tease she was, shaming himself for making her feel like that.

"Sarah, you ain't the girl I thought you was."

"Everyone says that." She felt a kick and looked around for more food.

They looked at the river and watched the other boys swim around. The bridge was beautiful, a harp against the morning sky. So it was a deal, they both decided. With eyes like the sky, he turned to her and solemnly asked:

"You really think Cowboy's gonna come back?"

Sarah stood up with her hand on her stomach. "Of course. He'll always come for me."