Chapter 11: Thoughts and Realizations

There is an exceptional view from the roof of the Metropolitan Opera House that faces the upper bay and if you went up there at the right time of day, there would be a picturesque scene of Manhattan with the Brooklyn Bridge framing it. Often when I'm upset, I will come and sit on the roof to listen as the singers practice for their performances. Tonight was one of those times.

The abrupt fight with Skittery kept rolling over and over in my brain and for some reason so did Ebony's cutting words. Each time I would try to rationalize what had happened but never came to a satisfying result. Every crummy explanation caused me to pull out another cigarette in frustration. Thus, my evening was spent mumbling to myself and smoking through an entire pack of cigarettes. And I'm not a smoker.

It must have been some time after dinner when I heard someone come up the fire escape. I was going to look over to see who had joined me when my vision was blocked by a collection of bills. I looked up to see Spot standing there, waiting for me to take the money from winning the fight. When I shook my head to say I didn't want it, he just threw it down in my lap. He then rested his hands on the wall and looked out at the setting sun behind Manhattan.

There was silence for a moment as if he was drinking in the scene before him and was trying to think of something to say. However, all he came up with was, "How long ya gonna sit up heah sulkin?"

I lit my last cigarette and took a long drag from it before answering. "Till I come up with something better to do."

Spot shook his head but decided not to dwell on the subject. "I was proud of ya taday."

He continued at my silence, "Ya did the right thing ya know...foah Brooklyn."

I scoffed, "Yeah, for Brooklyn. I just lost one of my best friends in the process."

Spot sighed and turned to face me, leaning on his arm for support. "Yeah, I uh...heard bout dat. What happened?" He asked.

I didn't particularly want to talk but seeing as I had been thinking about it for the past hour, I might as well just say my thoughts out loud. Plus, it wasn't every day that Spot actually offered to hear about other people's problems.

"He thought I shoulda gone easier on her, I didn't, he got mad, I was already mad...that's pretty much it."

I took one last drag from my cigarette before handing it to Spot who took it and finished it off.

"What made ya go off?"

I sat there contemplating whether or not to answer, then decided against it. "She didn't say anything."

This time he scoffed, "Right, I know ya a little bettah den dat. Ya ain't one ta go ballistic like dat unless yoah forced."

I sat silently, not wanting to share Ebony's biting remark and instead contented myself to listening to the soothing music coming from the building below.

"Youse don't get mad, Bruin. Youse da biggest confrontation avoidah 'a anyone I know."

"What's your point?"

"Well, on da rare occasion dat ya do get mad, ya have a tendency ta run off yoah mouth. Ya say whatevah comes ta yoah brain which isn't always good." He seemed rather amused at the thought, "And yoah more accident prone too. It's like yoah so angry all ya can think bout is dat one thing and everythin else goes out da windah." Spot chuckled to himself, "It's actually quite entertainin...when it's not aimed towads me anyhow."

I smiled a little thinking of the many times I had gone off on him. "I still don't see what you're getting at."

"I know she said something, Bruin and whatevah it was, its obviously still buggin ya."

I shook my head, still not wanting to share but thinking of what Skittery had said instead. "Ya know he blames me for everything that happened. At least you see that she provoked me."

"I nevah said I didn't blame ya." I snapped my head to Spot, not believing what he was saying. He continued, unaffected by my reaction. "Don't get me wrong, I think ya did da right thing in not lettin her win but youse coulda handled it bettah."

"You don't know what you're talking about." I turned back to face the view, wishing I had another cigarette.

"Oh really," he sounded almost angry himself. "Lemme guess...she said somthin bout youse being some street trash or how youse nothing but a spot a dirt or dat ya ain't worth nothin but foah sellin lousy papes."

He must have taken my quiet response as a yes because he continued, "Tell me this Bruin; how many times have youse been called a street rat?"

He repeated the question when I didn't answer, "How many times?"

I scrunched up my face looking back at all the times growing up where I had run ins with people of varying classes; all looking down on me and shouting rude remarks.

"I don't know..."

"Dat's right. Too many ta count. Dat's da case foah you, me, and every othah damn newsie in New Yawk. Why would ya let dis time be different from all da othahs?"

He didn't give me time to answer. Instead he went on, his voice gaining conviction all the while.

"I'll tell ya why; ya let it get poisonal. She played ta yoah weakest point an' it woiked."

Spot chuckled to himself, "Though, I doubt she expected it ta toin out da way it did. I'm amazed da goil could walk away."

He playfully knocked my hat up so that it wasn't covering my whole head anymore. "Ya just need ta loin how ta control yoah angah."

I snorted and fixed my hat, "Right. This comin from Mr. Brooklyn, you're as cool as a cucumber." I rolled my eyes and elbowed him. By now, the sun was barely below the horizon and slits of pink and orange could be seen peeking between the buildings. The two of us stood quietly and watched the sky darken for awhile. It was quite pretty.

"Do ya like him?"

I looked at Spot, confused but he didn't return my gaze.

"Who?"

This time he looked directly at me. "Skittery, do ya like him?"

It was a simple question but it was rather difficult for me to answer. Instead, I gave him a question of my own. "What made you ask that?"

Spot is known for his poker face. It allows him to cover up emotions that would otherwise be damaging to his game or image but I had known him a long time. While I can't tell what he is thinking, I can still tell when he's using it; and this was one of those moments. There was a sudden chill in the air as he shoved his hands in his pockets and let out a long breath. "No reason."

"Spot-"

"Comon, Bruin." He cut me off and began walking towards the fire escape as if he hadn't even brought up the subject. "Let's get back ta da party befoah all da booze is gone."

I starred at him for a moment then slowly agreed. I looked out at the skyline one last time before following him.

"I don't ya know," I said quietly.

Spot stopped walking and turned back to me. I was struggling to find the best way to explain myself but I went on because for some reason, I needed him to understand. Or maybe I just needed to understand.

"I don't like Skitts. I…I thought I did. But recently…well, he's not..." I looked down at the ground to try and find the words to explain how I felt but decided against it. Looking back up, I met Spot's eyes and stated more confidently as I shrugged. "He couldn't handle me anyway."

He blinked as he took in my words and then gave me a slight smirk. Nodding towards the stairs, he allowed me to go down first so we could begin our slow walk home.

--

"Brooklyn!"

I jumped at the greeting Spot and I received when we opened the door to the lodging house. There was a tumult of praise that could be heard for miles. Every Brooklyn newsie surrounded me to give their share of congratulations and a pat on the back. The slight guilt I had felt earlier vanished so I was able to laugh with everyone else and it felt wonderful. I immediately had a beer shoved into my hand and was lead around the room to visit with the many newsies who had stuck around for the celebration.

I realized as I made my way around to everyone, that unfortunately, Spot was right about the fight and me losing control. This meant that I needed to trudge to Manhattan one last time to do the very last thing I would have ever expected; apologize to Ebony.

In the meantime however, I would allow myself to enjoy a good party.

--

Switch's POV

I made my way over to Remy who was sitting at a table with about seven other newsies and stood across from her. "Damn boys! Give da goil some space huh?" The boys all groaned as I glared, "Clear out."

After everyone had left the table I sat down and received a warm smile from a thankful Remy.

"Thanks, Switch."

"Hey, no problem. Good woik taday by da way. I couldn'ta been moah proud."

Remy shrugged, "You woulda done the same thing."

I laughed, "I don't think I woulda controlled my angah as well as youse did. Believe me, she woulda been in a lot moah pain an' I woulda been in a lot moah trouble."

"Ah, well, it's true. People do like me better then you." She gave me a teasing smirk and then turned back around in her chair to watch the boys continue in their celebration. There was a half empty glass of beer in her hand which was probably the same one she'd had all night.

Spot had told me once that she didn't like beer too much but drank it on rare occations for the sake of celebration. I had a feeling that she merely pretended to drink the one in her hand so no one would give her another. It was smart if you ask me, I drank a lot myself.

After some time, I gained the gumption to bring up the topic I had been wanting to share with her all night. "So...Fox asked me ta go on a date wit him taday." I pursed my lips into a smile as she slowly brought her head around with her eyebrows raised.

"Fox? Asked you?" She leaned forward and pointed at me disbelieving.

"Is it so hard ta believe he'd ask me?"

"No, I mean...Fox?"

I nodded and she fell back in the chair.

"Wow. I can't imagine Pearl took that too well."

I scoffed, "Who gives a damn bout Pearl? Fox coitainly doesn't. Anyway, wese goin ta da party togethah."

"You're not going to tell Spot are you?" She took a small sip of beer as I laughed.

"Hell no. Dat would be social suicide!" Remy joined my laughing. We both knew that Spot would never approve of anyone I ever dated, or any of the girls for that matter.

"Well, I'll keep my mouth shut." She patted my hand and smiled. We both sat in silence watching the boys when something suddenly occurred to me.

"I ovah hoid what youse said ta Ebony aftah da fight, when youse came back in heah."

Remy nodded but didn't remove her eyes from the rambunctious crowd.

"It reminded me 'a someone."

Again, a slight nod was her only responce.

"The way youse told her off and all…sounded a lot like Spot."

This time, she sighed and looked at me. "Well, I do spend a lot of time with the boy." Then she shook her head, "I'm not exactly proud of it."

I waved my hand at her, "Ah, Ebony's a big goil. She can handle it." Then I laughed lightly, "But don't let Spot rub off on youse too much. I like youse da way ya are." I paused to think why this was, then continued when it occurred to me, "Yoah immune ta da Conlon charm."

At this, I received a chuckle from Remy. "I don't know about that, but I do my best to keep his ego in check if that's what you mean."

We both looked at the table in the center of the room where Spot was sitting and playing cards with a few of his boys. There was a girl hanging on his shoulders, talking in his ear.

"Ug, it's repulsive how goils throw demselves at him. He ain't dat cute."

She laughed, "It's probably better you think that." We both looked back at the girl as Remy continued, "Look how completely clueless she is."

I tilted my head, curious as to what she meant and listened as she explained, "See the way he keeps both hands on his cards? That's the first sign that he's not interested. And look at his face; it's all straight and rigid. Obviously he could care less about what she's saying and would rather focus on his damn hand. How can she be right there, so close to him, yet not see that he's not attracted to her at all?"

I laughed at the irony which brought her attention to me.

"What?"

"Can youse seriously not see dat you two should be tagethah?"

Remy groaned and rolled her eyes at me. "Christ, Switch. How many times do we gotta go through this? We tried it and it didn't work. Game over. It's not gonna happen."

"Dat was two yeahs ago Remy. Da reasons why youse broke up don't hold up anymoah."

"The last time I checked they did." She mumbled and took another swig of her drink.

I let go of the subject knowing that it was not something either of them liked to talk about, but it was stupid if you ask me. It all started when Spot took control of Brooklyn. As far as I saw it, Spot felt he needed a pretty girl at his side and Remy liked the thought of dating someone with his reputation, so they hooked up. In the end, Spot had that reputation to keep and Remy was sick of putting up with it, so it fissled into nothing. They're both too proud for their own good in my opinion.

I looked back at the floozy on Spot and sighed, "Looks like he could use anothah beer."

Remy sent me a flash of a smile and got up from her chair. "So could I."

Swiging back the last of her bottle, she grabbed two beers from another table and made her way across the room to Spot. I watched as she ran into Hawk on the way, laughing at something he said, which gave her eyes a certain sparkle. Spot looked up from his cards, searching for the source of laughter. I noticed a softness seep into his expression as his eyes landed on Remy. A sudden easiness settled into his stature as she sat down next to him, absolutely beaming, and gave him a beer.

Shaking my head, I had to agree with her; it's amazing how we can be so blind to something right in front of us.

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Mmmm...I still don't know if I like this chapter. Sometimes I have a really hard time writing Spot. Anyway, as usual, REVIEW! Thanks!