Author's Note: I was completely drained from my Psych exam today, but decided to update anyway!! Woo!! Thanks for your reviews, I love them! They keep me going and going and going, like the Energizer Bunny :D\
Disclaimer: Sinker, Speed, and Trip are my people
Sinker hadn't noticed how beautiful Manhattan was until that evening when she sat on the roof of the Lodging House, watching the sun set. Her hands were supporting her head and her elbows rested on her bent knees. Her life had changed so much in such a short amount of time that she could barely process any of it. And before she was able to even begin to put her thoughts into some sort of order, Blink plopped down, looking wholly apologetic and curious.
He never met Sinker's eyes, most likely out of embarrassment, but he did start talking. "So what did ya do t'day?" Blink asked awkwardly.
Sinker gave him a withering look that caused Blink to wring his hands and delve into a long, blubbering apology about nearly everything he had ever done in his life, ranging from stealing an apple to inadvertently setting Racetrack's favorite deck of cards on fire, which led to the burning of Mush's hat when Mush had tried to put out the flames. As Blink's rambling came to a halt, for Blink had to breath at some point, probably so he could continue on with his confessional, Sinker leaned over and pecked his cheek.
Blink went rigid with joy, then giddily turned to gaze at Sinker's face. She was smiling softly and a single tear track was visible on her cheek.
"Thank you Blink," she whispered.
Blink grinned and bent his head, kissing her lips gently. Sinker pulled away, eyes shut tight against the flood behind them, and shook her head.
"I'm sorry Blink," she said hoarsely.
Blink, thinking she was still agitated over the Trip situation, began to protest. "Sink, I'm sorry, she—"
Sinker's forced chuckle interrupted him. "It's not that," she replied wearily.
"Then what is it?" he questioned, pained.
"For what I'm goin' ta do," Sinker answered, hoisting herself to her feet and walking towards the window.
Blink jumped straight up. "Wait! Whaddaya mean by that?" he yelled as he clumsily skid across the shingles to get to her.
The look of sorrow in her eyes caught him off-guard. "You'll know soon enough," is all she offered before she disappeared into the building, leaving Blink to scratch at his head in thought.
"Wait. How do ya know she won't two-time us?" Trip asked suspiciously after Spot had told her of Sinker's double life and the plan Spot had thought up. "Once a rat, always a rat."
"Once annoyin', always annoyin'," Spot snapped moodily. "Now if you'se'll excuse me, I'se got a goil ta get." He grinned broadly at this, completely unaware of how many pieces Trip's heart had just broken in to.
She sneezed, wiping her nose with the back of her hand, and watched Spot dash out into the glare of the evening sun, glinting off the gold of his cane. Speed appeared behind her and placed a comforting hand on her shivering shoulder. "It'll be okay," he reassured, glancing down at Trip's pale face. Speed furrowed his brow at her anemic pallor. "Trip—?"
The newsgirl coughed profusely and collapsed into Speed's arms, dead weight as her head lolled back. "Trip!" Speed yelled, and several other newsies gathered around the scene, worried expressions dotted all around.
Speed, followed by an entourage of concerned boys, carried Trip up the stairs, laying her down on her cot. Trip's eyes fluttered for just a moment, and she whispered, "Thank ya Speed," before falling back into unconsciousness.
Sinker was sitting alone at a sticky table in Tibby's, sipping her mug of coffee slowly. She'd need the caffeine to keep her awake that night. As she sat waiting, her mind wandered to that afternoon.
Sinker raised her eyebrow skeptically. "An offer?"
Spot nodded, a little grin trickling across his face. "Yup."
"And what might that offer be?" Sinker asked cautiously.
Spot's reply had surprised her. "An offer of freedom."
Sinker glanced out the window, a tad impatient even though she knew she was early to Tibby's. The stars were twinkling now, just above the pale horizon where the last rays of light were disappearing. She wondered if the view was any different in Brooklyn.
"Whaddaya mean by that?" Sinker questioned, suspicious about Spot's motive.
Spot chuckled. "Easy, easy, I ain't suggestin' nothin' doity like. But I know you'se don' care much for what ya do for Pulitzer," Spot had taken on a serious tone. "And what I'm offerin' ya is freedom and protection. You'se tell everyone what you'se been up to, and you'se'll be free."
"And no one in 'Hattan will trust me—" Sinker began to argue, but Spot clapped his hand over her mouth, so all that came out was a muffled "mmrrmfff" noise.
He raised an eyebrow. "Don' interrupt," he warned with a smirk. "Now aftah you'se come clean, I'se'll take ya in as a Brooklyn newsie and teach ya the ways a the tough. No one'll mess with ya again." Spot removed his palm from Sinker's lips.
"Ya want me ta tell all a Manhattan that I'se been workin' for Pulitzer? Are you insane?" Sinker screamed.
Spot defended himself. "No, but that way you'se don' have ta work for Pulitzer no more an' ya don' have ta worry 'bout 'im rattin' ya out, 'cause you'se'll've already done it."
"And you'se'll what?" Sinker replied sarcastically. "Be me body guard?"
Spot smirked. "Sure. Then I'd get ta follow ya around. Everywhere."
Sinker was thinking about Spot's offer too intently to catch his innuendo. She could be free of Pulitzer forever. Free from her father. Free from the guilt she felt about her job. She glanced over at Spot's stormy eyes. He was being serious. "I need ta think this ovah," she informed him.
"That's wise," he nodded. "You'se can go back ta 'Hattan and I'se'll meet ya at Tibby's t'night, when the sun sets."
Sinker gulped. "Yeah," she agreed.
And here she was, waiting on a boy who had offered to save her from the life she had been living. But could she leave Manhattan—Blink to be precise—behind? She had made up her mind, but she was getting cold feet, unsure whether she could go through with it or not.
She had been staring at the swirling pool of coffee in her mug intensely when her thoughts were once again interrupted.
Blink's voice carried hollowly from the stool he was perched on at the opposite end of the counter. "So that's why you'se're sorry." He nodded his head to the window. Sinker glanced through the glass. In the distance, steadily coming nearer, was the figure of Spot. "You'se goin' ta be with him."
"No, Blink—"
Blink half-smiled, that same look of longing in his blue eye. "Sink, 's okay. I don' blame ya or nothin'." He hopped off his stool and extended his hand. Sinker looked at it, her stomach lurching at the gesture. Blink gulped. "Friends?"
"Blink, I—"
"Please," he whispered. "Just shake."
Sinker slowly drew her eyes from his hand to his eye, which was moist and slightly red around the rim.
"Yeah," Sinker squeaked out, nodding her head and willing herself not to cry.
They grasped each others hands, just holding on, until Blink kissed her cheek tenderly and left as Spot was coming through the door. They tipped their hats at each other, both aware of the tension palpable in the air.
Spot weaved his way over to Sinker, who watched Blink's silhouette until it melted into the dusky evening hues. The newsboy next to her cleared his throat, winning her attention. "So…"
"Yeah," Sinker ground out, a bitter taste at the back of her mouth. "I'm goin'."
It took all of Spot's self control not to jump into the air and click his heels together in triumph. He had got the girl. Of course, he knew he would. Because he was Spot Conlon, and no one could resist a piece of him. He barely concealed his smirk while he said, "Well why don' we get goin'?"
Sinker looked disbelievingly at him. "Why would we go ta Brooklyn at night?"
In an attempt to comfort Sinker, who was looking a little worse for wear and quite distressed, Spot reached over and gently took her hand in his, making her jump. "So we can see the stars." It was one of the corniest things he had ever said to a girl, but this time he meant it. "Because they'se beautiful." And then, for possibly the first time in Spot's life, his eyes took on a shy demeanor. "Like you."
Sinker met his eyes, searching for some sort of mocking twinkle. But even the glint of coldness that was ever-present in Spot's eyes was gone, and all that was left was warmth.
Maybe Brooklyn wouldn't be such a bad change.
Author's Note: La la la! Ha ha, I'm a little loopy from all the studying I've been doing lately...I hope this chapter was decent :D Review Review Review!! And you shall be rewarded!