Day Twelve with Christopher: Nothing bad has happened . . . then again, hardly anything at all happened. After leaving Spot, I was taken to a small apartment on the other side of Brooklyn, and ever since Christopher's always had one of his boys guarding me. They were only allowed to give me small portions of food and let me go to the bathroom but other than that they said nothing. To remain sane I kept a mental diary of everything.
The boy watching me at the moment (whose name is Ricky) was writing something in a small notebook. I sat in a chair watching for about an hour.
Boredom caused me to take a risk. I stood up ad walked over to Ricky.
"What are you doing?" I asked quietly. He snapped his head up and looked annoyed.
"I ain't doin' nuttin', just keep youh nosey head outta it or I'll mess up youh face!" It sounded a little defensive, like he was doing something he shouldn't. I was curious but didn't feel like pressing for details. I returned to my seat and began kicking the wall in a rhythm.
Kick. Kick. Kick. Kick.
I noticed him wince at every beat. After a while he demanded I stop.
"Can we go outside?" I groaned.
"NO!" he bellowed, rising from his seat gripping his notebook tightly. His dark brown eyes were flaring up and I could tell he was losing it.
The door squeaked open and Christopher and two of his boys stepped in. They were usually a silent group, Christopher hardly spoke to me. I was beginning to wonder what I was even doing there. He closed the door and pulled up a chair. The other boys went into the kitchen for food.
"Is my shift over?" Ricky asked irritably.
Christopher looked up lazily. "What? Oh, yes, I guess so."
Ricky walked past me glaring and I couldn't help but give him a bright sugary smile in return. My only fun in these days is annoying others. This was sad.
"Oy Christopher!" I called, getting his attention. "What am I supposed to do here? Redecorate?"
He smirked across the room.
"No one's stoppin' ya."
I glared. "What's the point of keeping me locked up, huh? Can you just shoot me and be over with it."
He seemed amused by this remark.
"What, getting a little cooped up?" he asked with mocking pity.
I narrowed my eyes, "well yes, being locked in an apartment with one of your thugs would make one feel a little confined."
I saw him pull out a fancy pocket watch.
He took his sweet time to look at it then looked back up at me. "I suppose I can take ya fo a walk tonight. Let's go."
He arose from his seat stretching out his hand for me to take. I stood up, ignoring the hand staring straight into his soft blue eyes.
With a nod he opened the door for me and we were out. The cool night breeze was the best feeling I've ever had. I sucked in a deep breath and let out a small smile when Christopher wasn't looking.
We started walking down a wide empty street. The gas lamps gave a comforting yellow glow, reflecting off the puddles on the cobblestone floor.
"So Rose," he started, "How'd ya get tangled wid a group like Conlon's?" His tone was mocking, which struck a nerve.
Behind his disinterested tone I knew that he was probably looking for information on Spot.
"I'm his sister," I replied. It's worth a try, I mean we're both Irish so it might work.
"Oh really? Because last I hoid Spot's sista' died ages ago. And dat was da only family he knew."
I looked at him surprised. "How did you—"
"How did I know? Geez, Rose, if dat's youh name, Spot an' I go way back, befoah even you."
I narrowed my eyes. "Now you're lying." I accused.
He gave a cold laugh. "Oh am I? Spot hasn't told ya has he. We worked together when we were young. Back before I was this way. Spot would use his smooth talking to distract dem hoity-toities an' I would snatch dere wallets. Sometimes someone found our secret hideout, dat's when I would have to "deal" with people."
I concealed my own dismay with a glare.
"An, I knew his sister. Only reason he really worked wid me was ta feed her. When she died Spot left."
There was a scraping sound behind us. We both turned and saw a stray cat run across the street. Christopher faced me again. "So what's youh real story?"
I sighed, "I'm an immigrant. Spot took me in because I asked for help."
"Youh leaving out information. Why'd he take you in?"
I racked my brain for something that sounded Spot like, "I promised to give half of me wages to him and clean the lodge house."
Christopher nodded his head slightly, "Did ya come heah wid any siblings? A bruddah maybe?"
I instantly thought of the boat ride but wiped it out of my mind. "My brothers died on the voyage."
Christopher paused, "ya know you look a lot like one a Spot's boys who ran off," he started, "Only he had a huge scah on his eye." He looked over at my eye with care. "I'se tought ya might know him, his name was Erin."
I looked Christopher straight in the face.
"Never heard of him."
Christopher rubbed the back of his neck, "interesting," he commented. "Well, we ought to get back. Wouldn't want to worry me boys." As if they had anything to worry about.
I scowled down into a puddle, and almost gasped. I saw the reflection of someone looking down at me from a building top. The most visible part of the figure was bright red lines going down it's chest.
It took all my will power to not look up. I followed Christopher back to his place reluctantly.
"Are you ever going to tell me why I'm here?" I called.
He turned to face me with a mysterious grin.
"Why would I tell- when it's so much more fun to watch Spot and you struggle ta figure it out?"
I could imagine Spot on top of the building right now cursing silently.
I stopped walking. I had both boys here right now. I needed to do something about this before I was locked away forever again!
So being the sensible non-impulsive girl I was . . . I ran for it. My bare feet slapped the cobblestone while Christopher's leather boots followed. I made mad turns slipping and sliding on the poorly lit street. Funny- this was the second time I was being chased in Brooklyn.
What does this say about my life?
Finally, I made a fatal mistake of trying to go down two alleys at once. My head went towards the right but my feet slid to the left. I slammed on the ground hitting my head on something sharp.
I felt warm blood flowing.
Water from the ground hit me in the face.
Christopher was looming over me. I wasn't going down without a fight.
I picked up the sharp object that had sliced the side of my head-a dull blade- probably from a street boy who dropped it by mistake. I held it out towards Christopher's chest.
He looked from the knife to me- eyebrows raised as if to say 'really?' I could see the pity on his face.
"Don't kid yerself, Rose." His tone was gentle like an adult talking down to a child: 'you don't know what you're doing'.
"You've kept me alive this whole time!" I spoke, breathing heavily, "So you obviously had a purpose for me. In that case . . ." I turned the blade towards my own chest. "Let me go, or I'll kill myself."
I dared to look over Christopher's shoulder on top of a building. A dark figure was leaning forward- hunched over, ready too attack. Not part of the plan.
Christopher leaned forward, so I shoved the knife closer.
He drew back, "I could have been planning on killing you tonight? Did you think of that?"
The figure on the building leapt down with catlike skill and melted in the shadows behind the wall several feet away from us. Spot, get away from here- you idiot!
"Well, I might as well of been dead since I started living with you! I can't stay trapped in there forever! Just let me go! I'll pay you!"
He chuckled softly, "you think for a guy like me it's awl about money, huh?" He shook his head looking down and then back up at me. "Well youh wrong."
I was like the image of defeat- soaking wet in a tattered dress on the cold ground.
"Youh bleeding." Smoothly, he took a handkerchief from his pocket and gently wiped off the blood. I cringed at his touch but eventually just let him work. His eyes wandered to my face.
"Hmm."
"What?"
"Well, I'se coitanly ain't killin' you anytime soon."
I cocked my head and narrowed my eyes, "Why?" His curled index finger gently lifted my face, which he examined scrupulously.
"Because, you'se got a lovely face with a legendary blemish."
THE WATER! I thought. The makeup washed off. He can see the scar. Suddenly I was lifted by my arm. "I had a feeling. . . but now . . . now I know. Spot is always predictable."
I hissed as he pulled me closer.
We walked past Spot's wall. I quickly turned my head. I was sitting in the shadow undetectable if no one knew he was there. 'Stay' I mouthed silently, turning back quickly. The last thing I needed was for him to jump out and get killed.
Things are about to get a lot worse.
A body flew across the boards of the dock and flung itself into the icy waters.
Spot's blood was on fire.
The scene was still burned in his memory. He could have touched Erin- she was so close.
And Christopher knew who she was. He knew she was Erin and he touched her! Spot felt something in him screaming every time Christopher touched her. This feeling was strange and new to him.
Spot had figured now Christopher would use Erin as one of his henchmen, killing off innocent people, becoming the very person Spot worked so hard not to be. Or maybe he'd use her for his revenge? The very revenge he spoke of nine years ago? The water was freezing quickly cooling Spot off. He needed a plan.
An elaborate plan.
He was going to do a lot of pacing tonight.
I was in a pickle.
Christopher brought me back- more like dragged me back- to his apartment. His boys were mostly asleep by now so no one really noticed us enter. The two of us entered Christopher's room which was locked once the door closed.
I glared with my arms crossed. I was so angry with Christopher for learning about my secret the very night I hoped to escape.
"So you're Erin?"
No response.
"The Erin?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" I snarled.
I drew a line down my scar using his finger. "You cut your face after falling off the Brooklyn bridge."
I narrowed my eyes, "How'd you-"
Before I could continue he yanked at my collar, pulling it down. "Hey!" I snapped.
He tugged it low enough to reveal my old wound from when I was shot. The skin grew over the bullet hole and bullet but it was still and angry red-violet color.
"You were shot in the chest by a Bronx leadah an lived. You've neva lost a fight. Youh the only one Spot listens to . . . !"
I glared, "Where are you getting this information?"
He rolled his eyes, "Everyone know's 'bout ya Erin- youh a legend!
"Well, that's funny. I've never heard about this until now."
He rolled his eyes impatiently, "It doesn't mattah if you know or don't. What mattahs is dat I got what I wanted!"
"Yippee," I said with zero enthusiasm.
He smiled coolly at me.
I cleared my throat. "Ah, so perhaps I ought to go?" I was about to stand up and bolt for the door.
"I don't think so," he spoke in a velvety voice. "Who's allies with Conlon? Who aw his enemies?"
I snorted, "Yeah sure. I'm as sure to tell you as Spot is."
"Erin I ain't asking you," his voice now was a bit tense. Suddenly he grabbed me by the shoulders spun me around, with one arm wrapped around me. I could have pulled away but then came the clicking sound of a pocket knife. I became suddenly aware of a sharp metal blade resting on my throat.
"You bettah staht singin' like a canary if you value youh life."
"Go ahead, Christopher. Kill me. I'm sure it isn't your first time." I couldn't see him, but I could sense he was hesitating.
"You'd die for dat boy?"
Instead of nodding (since that would kill me) I answered "yes".
"Then, if ya don't tell me I'll kill Spot."
"Well, if you can kill him now then why do you need this information?"
I could tell I caught him.
"Killin' Spot doesn't do a thing," his voice was wary, like he wasn't sure he wanted to tell me this. "He's so full of himself and powerful. I wanna crush his spirit and ego. Make him feel like da nothin' he is. Like da nobody he was."
"Ah," I spoke gently, "So, it's personal." Understanding was in my voice.
"Yes," he replied harshly. This time his mouth was near my ear and I could feel his breath blow against my skin.
It was then that I realized I was involved in an old rivalry of two boys. When I first joined Spot I had no idea what I brought myself into. My family wanted me to find a nice job in America and live happily. I admit I had both things with Spot's borough, but how long will it last. How many more grudges are held against him? How many people want him and his friends dead?
More importantly: how did I feel about Spot? So much has happened between us that I never had time to really think about this question.
"I do know one thing," Christopher mused to himself. "Spot will risk anything for ya."
I stiffened.
"Yeah, I saw him tonight. I had too much on my mind ta deal with the buggah, but I saw 'im . . . hmm."
The knife pulled away from my throat. I took the opportunity to pull away and turn. Christopher had a serious expression on, like Spot does when he's about to come up with a brilliant plan.
"No! No! No! No plotting!" I uttered uneasily.
No response.
I swore in my own language and crossed my arms. I was seriously displeased.
The next morning was the pinnacle of my distress. Not only was I forced to wake up early in the morning after virtually zero sleep, but Christopher held my hand while walking down the street the way couples do with the fingers laced together.
Though from the outside we appeared alone I could see from the corner of my eye shadows jumping from the tops of buildings and figures lurking behind walls. All or Christopher's little gang was following.
Christopher truly was a marvelous actor. He walked around Brooklyn with me in tow, looking at window displays, admiring small stands on the street offering candle sticks, jewelry, and fine china.
"Are you hungry?" he asked looking at me with true concern. I wasn't buying this for a second.
"I've lost my appetite," I sniffed. I was actually famished, but I didn't want to play into his hands even if it meant losing out on a free meal.
Unfortunately, my stomach has no sense of timing and grumbled loudly. I felt my face fall into a grimace while watching Christopher's eyes narrow and a small smirk appear on his lips. He smoothly reached for an apple and paid the person at the stand. I was considering refusing the food but felt that was too childish. I took it from his hand and took a defeated bite.
"You might as well enjoy yourself, Erin," he spoke in a calm voice. "My plan isn't going to take effect until later."
I decided to give him a taste of his own medicine and ignore him.
He sighed and shook his head.
By two o'clock I felt drained- we had been walking all day without stop.
"How long are we going to walk around?" I demanded. I couldn't stand watching him slowly turn with that stupid grin on his face. "What? Tired?" he asked mockingly.
"Bored!" I answered through gritted teeth.
"Well, were about to make our final stop for the day. Come along."
We moved quickly now heading through familiar streets. Hang on . . .
We were on our way to the docks. I could see them growing larger as we came closer. This time, when I looked at Christopher with a questioning glance he did not look back.
We came on to Spot's favorite dock with his little "throne".
Christopher climbed on top of the crates pulling me up with him. Finally, he sat on Spot's seat. Christopher's boys slowly came onto the docks, surrounding us.
"What are you planning?" I asked.
"You'll see- or actually you won't see . . ." Christopher pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and tried to put it on my face. I pulled back quickly, but he grabbed the back of my head and pulled me back. "Don't even try, Erin," He hissed. Once I was blindfolded I felt weak. I couldn't stand not being able to see.
I suddenly felt Christopher sit up straighter like he was excited.
"Well, well, well, Spot. I see you came alone . . . as usual." I faced the direction I thought Spot was in, Christopher's hand gripped mine tighter. A warning and a threat: Stay back!
"Christopher I know what ya want. Just do it, but leave Erin outta it!"
"Spoooot," Christopher droned in a voice full of superiority. "That would ruin all my fun!"
I listened for Spot's reply but only heard Christopher say, "uh-uh-uh, Spot! Now we don't want violence between me boys and you, do we? Let's just talk dis through. I want you dead and you want Erin. So how 'bout dis: I get ta spill youh blood and I set Erin free?"
"And how do I know you'll keep your word?" Spot's voice was strong and full of anger.
"Well, what use is she to me after I kill you?" There was a pause then he continued, "Oh! Spot! Deah me, you have some dark thoughts runnin' through youh head!" He chuckled wickedly and shifted his hand from my fingers to around my waist. "I promise ta let her go."
"You can't use her . . . like you used me!" Spot's voice was pleading now- very out of character.
"A'course I would neva'!"
After a long pause I finally heard: "Deal."
I wanted to yell out "no!" or "don't do it!" but Spot wouldn't like that. It was his choice and I knew he would prefer to die with honor and having his friend trust in him, even if his survival was hopeless.
Christopher came down and two of his guys took a hold of my arms in his absence.
I won't describe what I heard because it was awful.
By the time I was ready to pass out, I felt someone grab me from behind and pull me off of my crate. Before I could protest a hand clamped over my mouth. I used my elbow as a weapon knocking the air out of my attacker but he was only stunned and dragged me down the planks until they ran out. The shock of the water made my heart accelerate. I was in survival mode: I needed to take out whoever this was and get back on the dock. I quickly removed my blindfold wincing in the light. I was surprised to a familiar face before me.
"Doc!"
"Hey sweetheart, ya pack one powaful punch dere," he weezed. I felt regret and relief wash away my adrenaline rush. I swam up to my old friend and hugged him.
"How'd you—"
"Spot's plan. Ya didn't think he would actually die, did ya?"
"But Christopher's boys—!"
"Taken cahre of, thanks ta Spencer's lot an' 'Hattan."
"WHAT?" I sputtered.
"Spot got everyone united against Christopher ta save you!"
"Holy—"
"Come on! We're gonna miss awl da action!" We swam back to the dock and climbed up. The scene before me was utter chaos. Spencer's, Spot's, and Jack's boys fought together against Christopher's minions.
It was brilliant. Most of the bad guys were down. Spot and Christopher were locked in battle.
It seemed all the fighting was practically over, though. Spot's plan was foolproof. I could hear him talking to Christopher between punches.
"C'mon Chris, y'know ya lost. Just end it!"
"Oh, I'll end it Spot!" He threw another punch catching Spot in the eye.
Spot was running low on energy- I could tell.
"Spot!" I called. His head swerved in my direction. "Remember our first fight!"
Understanding dawned on his face and he changed his stance. He stood taller, fists drawn protectively up to his face. He began stepping aside from the blows walking back from Christopher.
The same thing Spot had done to me.
There was a satisfying "SPLOOSH!" when Christopher fell. Spot's final words said it all.
"Nobody messes with Spot Conlon."
I looked up at my bruised friends. The Manhattan kids gawked at me- mostly Kid Blink. I could tell what was running through his head- "I shared a bed with a girl and didn't know!"
Jack and the other's seemed equally stunned.
Spencer looked mildly amused. After a discussion with him I learned he secretly thought there was something feminine about me. I wasn't sure if that was an insult or not. I guess my expression after he said that was funny because he chuckled and hugged me.
"Youh a littul too young for 'er, Spenc." I heard Spot say from behind. I turned around to see the boy standing there. His cool blue eyes were focused on me.
Spencer reluctantly let go of me.
"Well youh a littul too stupid fo' 'er!"
Normally Spot would pummel someone for saying that or at least throw a glare, but his eyes focused on me. He came up and hugged me roughly.
Squeezing my breath out.
I didn't want to ruin the moment so I just rested my chin on his shoulder and let him get this "cuddly-hugging-thing" out of his system.
Finally I gave up. "Can't breathe, Spot," I informed. He laughed and set me down.
He turned to the crowd, "Thank you all for saving Erin!"
Everyone cheered and whistled. It was a long night full of questions and whatnot. Manhattan had a chance to talk to me. They were satisfied to hear that I was happy and treated well in Brooklyn.
Kid Blink even stepped up and apologized for being a jerk.
Eventually I was alone with Brooklyn. The boys were calming down now some were already in bed.
There was still selling to do tomorrow.
I decided I better get some rest as well. I climbed the old creaky stairs feeling a sense of security.
As I reached for the door to my room, a familiar black cane swooped down, gently swatting my hand away.
I turned and saw Spot's infamous smirk. Some things never change, I suppose.
"Ya wanna tawk fo' a second?"
For Spot, this was never a question. It was an order.
"Sure."
We walked to his room side by side. He closed the door and walked to the bed. "Listen," he began while sitting down, "When I foist took you in, I didn't realize how much trouble you were."
Great, so I'm trouble.
"And if I had any idea how many pickles you'd put me in, I'd 'a neva taken ya in."
What, so are you kicking me out? I was wondering where exactly this speech was going.
"But I know ya a lot betta now. Y'know, youh probably da on'y goil I've said dat to."
"Spot where is this going?" I asked impatiently. If he was kicking me out for being trouble or a girl, fine. Just do it all ready!
"Sit down!" he snapped agitatedly, "I'se tryin' ta tell ya something!"
I sat on the edge of the bed warily.
"Listen, Erin," he spoke clearly with a strong voice, "We've been through a lot togedda. An I realized dat I like ya a lot. An' I wanna know if ya feel da same way." His eyes seemed to be digging through my own, trying to find an answer to his question.
"Well Spot, considering all the danger we've been through, I've never had time to think about that."
His face showed some surprise to this answer and he started laughing.
Frankly, I couldn't see what was so funny.
He leaned forward, "I know a way to find out," he whispered in my ear. He pulled me close to him and gently placed his lips on mine. It was the strangest sensation I have ever felt. But I liked it. My entire body was awakened. Ever part of my skin he touched was left with an electric feeling. Our lips fit together perfectly, like two pieces of a puzzle.
I wanted this moment to last forever.
Spot reluctantly pulled back, his eyes still burning for an answer. "Well?"
This time, I leaned forward putting my lips close to his ear.
"I love you."
His face turned towards mine. His lips caught mine while his hands entwined around my waist. I felt my own hands wrap themselves around his neck.
I pulled back reluctantly, seeing confusion run across his face. "If I don't go back to my room the boys are going to wonder what's going on." I explained.
He snorted, "Let dem wonder."
"I just don't want them to walk in hear and interrupt. We'll continue this later, okay?"
He nodded his understanding, though I could tell he didn't agree.
I walked to my room silently. Everyone else was asleep or still talking downstairs.
I fell asleep dreaming of Spot.
I was awakened by a terrible sound. It sounded like a crash.
It came from Spot's room.
I ran with the other boys to see what happened. When I tried the door it was locked. I started banging on it.
"SPOT!" I screamed.
I leaned against the wood and heard heavy breathing.
I turned to the boys behind me, "take this door down!"
They nodded and immediately started slamming their bodies against it. I waited anxiously. They managed to crack the middle leaving a wide enough whole for someone small to crawl through.
I easily slid through it and peered around the room.
I was surprised to see two figures: one sitting up on the floor and the other lying sprawled on the ground.
Through the dim light, I could see the one sitting up was Spot.
He seemed fine but I realized he was clutching his chest.
There was blood pouring from him.
"Spot what happened?"
"The little coward came in when no one was lookin'and tried ta kill me in my sleep." I looked at the other figure and saw it was Christopher. There was a knife in his back.
Oh, the irony.
I could hear the other boys climbing in and talking quickly.
"Spot," I whispered in a shaky voice, "we're going to get you help, ok?"
"Don't kid yerself, Erin," his eyes widened and he started coughing- blood sprayed onto his shirt. "Scuse me," he said jokingly his voice a bit shaky.
Spot's voice was never shaky.
"Erin, you can't help me anymore. I'm dying."
My head felt light, I wasn't processing what he was saying. He said 'dying', what does he mean? He can't die. He's right hear in front of me talking. He isn't going to die. I WON'T LET HIM DIE!
"Spot," my voice was weak but still had an aggressive tone, "you're not going to die!"
"Erin."
I turned and saw the boys behind me, caps off looking at the floor. Doc was right behind me looking at me with pity. "Erin, he's not gonna make it. Dere's nuttin you can do."
I glared at him.
"We aren't giving up until we try!" I felt Spot's cold hand touch my cheek. I turn eagerly to see if he was better.
He was getting paler. It was just like on the ship.
"Erin, I need you to be strong . . . for me." Tears welled up in the corners of my eyes.
"Aw you cryin?"
"No!" I snapped, "I'm sweating through my eyes!"
He laughed very quietly, I could barely hear it.
His hand weakly reached around his neck and pulled at the cord that held his key.
He yanked it off and held it up to me. "Youh da new leadah a Brooklyn. Da Queen, eh?"
He smiled warmly at me.
I didn't reach for the key.
"Don't die," I demanded.
"Erin, I would do anything for ya but I can't stop dis."
I wiped at my tears and took the key from him. I bent down, gently cradling his head. I kissed him deeply feeling his lips lose their warmth.
When I pulled back he sighed. His eyes half closed.
"I love you," he breathed.
"I love you too, Spot."
There was no real indication of what happened next but I knew. All the boys knew.
Spot Conlon was dead.
Everyone stood on the docks that day looking down into the waters. Spot was probably at the bottom resting in a crate from the dock. He would have liked that. To be buried in the sea.
I felt empty- like half of me was torn out and spilled into the water.
The boys were wary around me. All I did was give simple orders about burying Spot all until now.
We simply threw Christopher's body in an alley dumpster.
I held onto the key the spot had given me. For Spot I would be strong. I would be the leader he was.
Though, maybe a little less arrogant.
A short boy stood tall and proud between Flames and Duke. He appeared irked as though he had better things to do then stand on a smelly dock with a bunch of scary Brooklyn Newsies. His brown hair was cut short and neat but you couldn't tell from the two nights of sleeping on the street. His clothes were in the same condition, but his green eyes flashed our brightly against the unkempt look he was bearing.
The boy craned his neck, wincing from the sun's brightness. He could see a silhouette of a slim boy sitting atop the crates. The silhouette smoothly slide down a few feet in front him.
He was dressed a bit boldly wearing bright red suspenders with a faded blue button down shirt. He actually left the first few buttons undone, revealing a very dirty undershirt, and a small key hanging by a string around his neck. In addition to this accessory, he had a string wrapped around his wrist and metal band.
He had no shoes but he did have a scepter of all things hanging the belt loop of his pants.
The strangest thing about this boy was his face. A cruel scar stretched down from his eye to below his cheek bone but besides that he was very handsome. He also had this look in his eyes, as if he had seen more than a boy his age should see.
As if he knew more than he should know. It was a wise look, but also a dangerous one.
"Who are you?" The short boy asked trying to summon up all his courage.
"I should be asking you the same question," replied the mysterious boy who appeared to be leader. The first boy recognized he had an Irish accent and hoped this similarity would give him leverage.
"Me name's Darcy."
"You're clearly an immigrant." He merely said this as a state of fact.
"Is that a problem?" Darcy snapped defensively.
"Let's watch that tone, a yours. You don't want to start a fight."
"What if I do?"
"I'm not a man to mess with."
Darcy's face turned red with anger. He did not like being challenged. Besides, this guy was about the same height as him. He could take him.
Darcy threw a punch at his nose which suddenly wasn't there. He felt something swipe behind his heels knocking him to the wooden ground.
"Now, I don't want to hurt you so I'm just going to lay down the rules."
Darcy stood up and glared.
"Rule number one: no one, and I mean no one steals from a Brooklyn newsie."
"How'd you kn—"
"Is rule number one clear?"
He nodded stiffly.
"Good. Number two: Everyone follows my orders. Anyone who breaks rule number two get a personal soaking."
The boy was clearly trying to contain his increasing anger.
"And finally rule number three: trust your friends."
"Wha—" now the boy was confused. "What's that supposed to mean? I don't have any friends here!"
The boy analyzed him carefully with sharp light brown eyes making Darcy feel uncomfortable.
"You've probably been in New York for a couple 'a days, couldn't find work, so you became a thief. You got a family, kid?"
The boy was stunned by how this stranger could know so much from a glance and wondered if he had a similar past.
"Uhh, my little brother Riley."
A smile spread on the boys face. "Well how'd you boys like to be newsies?"
A flash of understanding ran across the boys face. "Yes! Yes, we'd like that very much . . ."
"Erin. Erin Conlon." The boy took a ridiculously fancy bow taking off his hat. Reddish brown hair with uneven ends fell to his jaw bone. When he stood up straight again, Darcy noticed something about Erin.
"You—! You look like a . . . a—"
"A girl?" she supplied, smirking.
"But, I thought—"
"Rule number three is trust your friends. Now that we're friends, I trust you."
The boy grinned sheepishly. "Thanks!"
"Go get your brother and we'll all head to our place."
Without another word, Darcy raced off the docks with a smile on his face.
Erin took in a deep breath through her nostrils, breathing in the smelly salty water aroma of the docks. She opened her eyes and stared into the waters.
If you looked very carefully into her eyes they almost seemed to be a sharp grey-blue.
