It was dark when I made it to Queens. I took my sweet time about it. I spent most of the trip thingy thinking, and trying to stop myself from crying. I succeeded, and practiced my pokerface.
I knew where Queens was, and I knew where the Lodging House where Duchess and her gang stayed.
I was walking past an alley when they jumped me.
It was three kids. Two I didn't know. One I recognized from Newsie Nights.
"Jailbird!" I cried. "It's me, Gypsy!"
Jailbird held a hand out to stop his companions. "Spot's goil?"
I bit my lip. "I need to see Duchess and River." River was my cousin. "Please, Jailbird, it's important. I have to see them."
"All right, all right, keep yer cap on." Jailbird gave in. "I'll take ya to 'er majesty."
I sighed in relief.
Jailbird did take me to Duchess' 'court.'
It was this old abandoned warehouse. But there was a throne of crates, and a girl newsie with cropped red hair sat on it.
"Incoming, Duchess." A newsie called.
Duchess looked up, gray eyes glaring. Duchess was a newsie ruler not known for kindness. She was known for understanding, not compassion or sympathy.
I nodded to her.
"Why're you heah?" Duchess demanded.
"Spot kicked me out." I said. "I ain't got nowhere ta go. I was hopin', maybe you'd let me stay."
"And why would Spot Conlon kick out 'is goil?" Duchess asked. She smirked a half-Spot smirk at my face. "S'okay, sugah, rumor gets around."
I looked at her, clearly saying, "I'll tell you in private."
"Yer cousin's River, right?" Duchess asked.
I nodded.
"River!" She called.
My cousin stepped out of the crowd of newsies that bordered the warehouse walls.
She was sturdier built than me, with dark hair like mine, but green eyes.
"Yes, Duchess?"
Holy crap, Queens is matriarchal. I'm gonna like it here.
"River, you're in charge of this girl now." She turned to her second in command, a boy called Namer. "Namer, what do you think?"
Namer looked me over. "New name, definitely. Gypsy's too. . .Brooklyn." Three guesses why he's named like he is, and two of those don't count.
I clenched my fists, but said nothing.
"What do you think, moonshine?" Namer asked me with a sappy smile.
"I think you need a dunking in the docks, Namer." I hissed.
"Fiery, sugar." He snapped his fingers. "Sparks."
Duchess nodded. "Good name. Sparks."
She glanced at River. "River, show Sparks around."
River nodded. She came out of the crowd and led me out the door.
New name. Wow. Didn't see that coming. Sparks. Doesn't sound like me.
For the first time, I wondered if I did the right thing in coming to Queens. Hell no, I didn't. I should've stayed in Brooklyn.
River took me by the hand.
"Come on Sparks, I'll introduce you to your cousin's kid." She said with a smile.
"Oh yeah, what's her name?" I remembered. River was always too cozy with a guy. And now she had a kid to pay for it.
"Named her Nelly, but the newsies called 'er Flowah." River replied, leading me to the back rooms of the warehouse. "We don't live in the lodging house anymore, It got bought up and torn down. So we live here. There's plenty o' room."
She led me to a back room.
There were newsie bunks, like in Brooklyn. But there was also a secondhand crib in the corner, next to River's bunk on the bottom.
"You'll sleep on the top." River said. "But be careful. Flower's sleeping."
As it turned out, Flower wasn't sleeping. She was just staring off into space.
River lifted her out of the crib.
"She's a good kid." River said. "She hardly ever cries."
"Can I hold her?" I asked.
River passed me her baby. She was a cute thing, with her mother's green eyes.
"Who's dere?" a voice came from a shadowy corner.
"Cloudy, it's River."
"I know dat," the voice said crossly. "But who's da uddah one? The goil holding Flower?"
"This is Sparks." River said. "Cloudy, come out o' da shadows, you're scarin' Sparks."
"I'se is in da shadows?" The girl's voice came as her small figure crept forward.
I could see why they called her Cloudy. Her hair was long and silvery blonde, nearly white. A flop of unevenly cut hair dangled over her face, obscuring her delicate nose.
Her large eyes could have belonged to someone much bigger. They were a light blue. But clouded over.
She was blind.
But she didn't want pity. She stared at me as if she could see. She challenged me to show sympathy.
"Nice to meet you," I said. "I'm Gy-, uh, Sparks."
"No you're not." Cloudy said. "You're Gypsy, Spot Conlon's goil. I know all about you."
I looked at River, who shrugged. "She's like that."
I looked back at Cloudy. "I was. But Spot sort of, kicked me out." I bit my lip.
"Sorry about that." Cloudy said. She faced River. "What does she look like?"
River peered at me. "She's got blue eyes, and brown hair."
Cloudy nodded. "Can I speak with Sparks alone?"
River took Flower from me and said, "Sure."
She left and closed the door behind her. I looked at cloudy as she faced me.
"You remind me of a girl I left behind in Brooklyn. Witchy." I said.
Cloudy smiled. "I met Witchy. S'not often that there's two at a time gifted like we'se is."
Such modesty. Cloudy continued, "But I can still see, though not in the way you do." She grinned. "You liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiike 'im. Spot Conlon, fearless, 'eartless leadeah of Brooklyn. And Gypsy, Spark of Brooklyn, outcast, and living in Queens." She fell to the ground, cackling like Witchy would have done.
I had to smile. A piece of home, then. Witchy and Cloudy.
Until Cloudy bumped her head against the crib and swore. I laughed a bit and helped her up.
"So what will you do, now?" Cloudy asked.
I shrugged, then remembered she couldn't see me. "I don't know. I guess I'll learn my way around Queens."
"And Newsie Nights?" Cloudy inquired.
I bit my lip. "Should I go?"
"Go and see the guy who kissed ya twice an' den kicked ya outta Brooklyn?" Cloudy demanded. "Hell, yeah!"
I half laughed.
I cried myself to sleep later.
Queens wasn't so bad.
But it wasn't Brooklyn.
For one, Queens was matriarchal, and it was great. Duchess ruled with an iron fist, cloaked in boxing gloves.
For another, Queens had Cloudy, and Jailbird, and River, and Flower to keep me company.
But Brooklyn had Sling. And Jewels and Dicey and Witchy and Kitty.
And Brooklyn had her fearless leader, Spot Conlon.
Spot Conlon belongs to Brooklyn, not to any mere girl. I get that now. But it still hurts.
I was Gypsy, Spark of Brooklyn, Spot Conlon's girl, third in command of Brooklyn's newsies, head of her girl newsies, and the happiest girl alive.
Now I'm Spark of Brooklyn, in Queens, made outcast by Spot Conlon. The irony. Cloudy was right.
Well? Review, review, you know the drill.