From atop the chair he is standing on, Spot glowers down at the crowd of Brooklyn newsies gathered in the small boarding house common room. He scowls, daring any of them to challenge him. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Stripes, arms crossed and slowly shifting his weight from foot to foot, as if still debating whether to say anything.
A hand on his shoulder almost sends him swinging, but he manages to hold back long enough to hear Elph speak out.
"This is all you's last chance to object. After this – all's final and I ain't gonna want to hear no complainin' from any of you's. So I am giving you one last chance," Elph's calm, but commanding voice reverberates throughout the room.
"He knows this is it, right? He ain't gonna be 'hattan no more. Brooklyn only?" A hesitant voice comes out from the crowd. All Spot can tell is that it is not coming from Stripes, who he is still keeping a close eye on.
Spot gives the question a moment to sink in and to see if Elph will be answering before, "Yeah, he understands. He knows borough-jumping ain't taken lightly."
His answer seems to settle any anxiousness left in the room, with Stripes even stopping all movement and uncrossing his arms.
"So that's settled then. Racer's Brooklyn now. Now off to bed, all of you's," Elph ends the meeting and the rest of the Brooklyn newsies start to disperse.
Spot feels the tension he didn't realize he'd been gathering slowly seep away. He'd been prepared for a bit more pushback from the rest of his borough – or Stripes, at least. The whole thing ending without even one punch thrown was a success, so far as he was concerned.
"Well, ain't you goin' to go an let Racer now?" Elph asks from the base of the stairs.
Spot turns and slowly starts to follow his King up the stairs. "You know he ain't xactly pleased with this whole arrangement still, Elph. He still thinks Kelly's out there waitin' for 'im somewhere."
"He very well could be, Spot, but you's dug this hole and now you's stuck with it. I jus' hopes that however this plays out, no one gets hurt. Brooklyn can't take you gettin' in to any troubles right now." Elph stops and turn to face Spot outside the littles bunkroom.
Spot raises an eyebrow and crosses him arms, "What you mean Brooklyn can't take me getting' in any troubles now, Elph? Brooklyn's always got troubles and as prince I's always gettin' in the middles of 'em."
Elph slumps, leaning up against the wall with a dull thud and runs his fingers through his hair. "Look, Spot, I've been puttin' it off long 'nough-"
"Puttin' what off," Spot growls.
Elph gives Spot a tired look, "Spot, I's been eighteen three months now. That's three months since I shoul've left the newsies. But then there was tha chance of war with Queens, then all this mess with 'hattan. There hasn't been a peaceful moment, a chance, for me ta leave."
"So you's tellin' me you's leavin-"
Elph waves a tired hand. "Not today Spot. Prob'ly not even tomorrow, or heck, even this week. I's been sellin' over by the docks; tryin' ta get a job there or find some old bugger whose lookin' for an apprentice." Elph takes a long breath, "but yeah. Soon."
A million thoughts race through Spot's mind; Elph dumping this on his right now wasn't something he prepared to process. "So what 'appens next? You stick around long enough ta tell everyone, then what? You stay and 'elp with pickin the new prince? I wasn't 'round last time a King left, I just challenged Matt for my spot."
Elph spares a glance to the bunkroom door beside them before relpying. "You's sposed to pick tha next prince, but if they don't like who you picks, they's prob'ly gonna challenge you – not fer the spot, but fer your throne."
Spot can feel himself tensing up again, getting frustrated with the process and just how many chances the rest of the newsies had to challenge him – and those were just the official times. Maybe Manhattan had something to their reasoning of not doing any of this King and prince nonsense.
"-and I's tellin' ya right now, Spot. Pickin' him is askin' ta be challenged. Add ta that all tha stuff he's been through lately. He ain't gonna be ready for that type of responsibility."
"Huh?" Spot asked, not quite sure when Elph had actually started talking again.
Elph bows his head and massages his temple, "Race, Spot. He ain't ready – and I's tellin' ya he ain't tha right choice – least not right now. Pick someone older maybe, then when they's aged out he might be up for it."
"Oh, right," Spot responds, not even processing much of what Elph had said. Of course he wouldn't pick Race, would he? Who else would he pick? Stripes was definitely out, that was for sure, maybe-
"I can see you thinkin' Spot. You ain't gotta decide right now, just givin' you a heads up it's somethin' ya need to keep in tha back of yer mind. You's gonna be the first ta know when I's got somewhere ta go, but ya should have a couple ideas by then. I ain't gonna tell you who to pick, but I can help ya choose or give ya some advice if ya needs it."
Spot nods. With the wavering in Elph's voice, everything was just getting too sentimental for him to deal with.
Elph mimics his nod and whispers a good night as he continues down the hall to his room.
With a deep breath, Spot slowly turns the handle to the little's bunkroom and shuffles inside, disappointed to see a candle still lit. In fact, not only is the candle still lit, but a small circle of littles and Race are huddled around it still trying to play some card game. It doesn't look like poker. In fact, it doesn't look like much of anything, so it's probably some sort of amalgamation of games Race has put together for the littles to they can understand. Race shifts a little to look back towards the door as it clicks closed, but otherwise the small group ignores the new presence.
"I thought you alls promised you'd be in bed by the time I came back?" Spot asks, crossing his arms and giving them all a small glare. "I's disappointed in you alls."
Race doesn't even bother to acknowledge Spot's accusation, instead pulling another card from the deck.
It's Petals who answers for the group, "We's wanted to see if Race was gonna be our brotha now – 'ficially."
Spot can't help but lose a bit of his glare as Racer breaks a small smile and ruffles Petal's hair, "You know's I's yer brotha no matter what those stuffy people have to say, got it?"
Spot deflates a little as Race turns to face away from him – apparently, he still wasn't worthy of his smiles. That's fine. It's all fine. Even if it's just with Petals, at least Racer gets to smile in Brooklyn and at least he gets to see it.
"Enough – now off to bed with all of yous, and come on Racer – 's 'bout time ya went back ta our bunkroom," Spot commands.
"Nu-uh," Petals pouts, crossing her arms across her chest and not budging from her position on the floor. "We ain't doin' nothin' til you tells us."
"And if I tells yous, instead of punshin' ya by makin' ya go ta bed without knowin', then you's all promise to not throw a tantrum when Racer leaves to go sleep in the bunkroom with tha big kids?"
Petals and the rest of the littles enthusiastically nod, apparently too desperate for the news to care about whatever comes next. Race doesn't even bother to make any indication he heard the deal.
"Then yes, the we's all decided Racer's Brooklyn now," Spot grumbles out. The more time he spends around the littles, the more he understands why Elph said dealing with them was the best practice he could get before taking over as King.
The littles all erupt with cheers and run over to hug Race, who doesn't so much as hug them back, but gently pat them on the head or shoulder; whichever is closer. The simple motion makes Spot miss the old Race, the one who would dole out hugs regardless of whether they were wanted. He squashes that thought. Race will be like that again. In time.
Once the commotion simmers, Spot tries his best to be commanding, "Now, off ta bed. Yous promised. Racer's Brooklyn now so you's gonna see 'im tomorrow."
"And the next day?" Petals beams.
"Yes."
"And the day after that?"
"Yes."
"And-"
"Stop it Petals. I ain't playin'. Off ta bed. Now," Spot commands, raising his voice enough to scare the littles in to obeying.
The energy in the room instantly dies down as all the littles deflate at the command, but begrudgingly shuffle off to their bunks.
Spot extends his hand to help Race up off the floor, "Come on. 'S time we be goin' ta bed too."
Race doesn't even so much as look at Spot's hand as he pushes himself off the floor. For a moment, Spot holds his breath as it looks like Race is about to shuffle further back in to the bunkroom and to the bunk he's been sharing, but after stuffing his hands in his pockets, Race slinks out of the room after him.
Spot slowly starts meandering towards the larger bunk room, Race silently sulking by his side.
"Ain't ya happy Racer?" Spot gently prods.
The only response he gets a small shrug.
"This means ya get ta get yer own papes ta sell tomorrow. No more stealin' mine," Spot pushes again, trying ta get some reaction out of Race.
Another shrug, but Spot at least thinks Race hesitated a bit before this one.
Spot stops and turns to Racer, placing his hand out to keep Race from slinking past him. "Come one Race, you's got ta be feelin' somethin' 'bout this, right? Just a week or so ago you's were arguing with me about how you was Brooklyn but couldn't sell, and now you's Brooklyn and you gets ta sell." Silence. "Don't ya got anything ta say Racer?" Spot can feel his patience with Race waning, but he dares not lose it with him.
Race shrugs again, but this time just appends, "Don't matter what I say Spotty. Ain't like ya want ta hear it and if ya did ain't like ya'd actually listen."
"'Course I'd listen, Racer, ain't that what friends are for?"
Race finally uncrosses him arms and there's a sparkle in his eyes that Spot hasn't seen since before this whole mess -
"Fine then Spotty. I miss Jack. I want 'im ta come back and take me home to 'hattan. And-"
"I thought we'd agreed-"
"And there ya go Spotty – I told ya that ya didn't want to hear what I had ta say and that's all I's got ta say," Race spits out, the sparkle in his eyes splitting to tears that slide down his cheeks.
Spot takes a deep breath – getting angry won't help him now. "Race-", he begins, but before anything else can follow, the door to the little's bunkroom is slamming shut, leaving him alone in the hallway.
~~~Mid Next Day~~~
Selling with Race would have been just fine – almost like before, but then that had turned in to this whole mess. Race hadn't wanted to sell with Spot, but sell with Petals. And Petals' assigned guardian was Trout, so she couldn't sell without him. And then Petals refused to sell without Race, which then resulted in this whole compromise of himself, Race, Trout, and Petals all selling together in one big group.
Actually, the idea had been Trout's, who was obviously just making it to keep his prince from feeling left out. Maybe Trout was a good choice for his second in command. He put up with Petals every day, was a couple years older than himself, and had the forethought to compromise and prevent another day of grouchy Race. He was also well respected by the rest of the house. Spot adds the other boy to his mental list of possible seconds; now totaling one.
Maybe he should do this every day; take someone else out to sell with Race and him. Actually, that may make it too obvious what he is doing. He doesn't need to give Stripes any reason to start getting riled up. Then, maybe Race wouldn't like someone joining them to sell – although, given their current status, he would probably prefer it. Maybe he could play it off as slowly introducing Race to more people in the boarding house? Then again, that would just be more people for Race to tell about Kelly and Manhattan.
They can't keep going like this. He can't keep going like this. This, rift, or whatever that has formed between himself and Racer can't continue. Taking over for Elph is going to be enough to deal with on its own without having to micromanage how he acts and what he says around Race.
Spot takes the moment to look around at where their sales have taken them. With such a large group, they can't stay in one spot and all sell out, so they have to travel from spot to spot throughout the day. They're getting a bit too close to the bowery, and therefore the border with Manhattan, for Spot's comfort, so he subtlety as possible turns the group to head back towards the heart of Brooklyn.
Potential crisis averted and seeing Racer on the opposite side of the street of Petals for the first time that day, Spot walks over to stand beside his friend.
Waiting until Race's sale has ended, Spot asks, "Racer, can we talk?"
Race doesn't even bother to spare him a glance as he throws his chance in to his now empty newsie sack. As much as Spot despises him, he's got to give Kelly credit for whatever he taught Race when it comes to selling.
"I don't knows Spotty, can we talk?" Race mumbles out, still not looking at Spot.
Spot takes a deep breath to calm himself before, "Look, Racer, we can't keep goin' like this. Will ya please talk ta me? Help me figure out how ta be a betta friend?"
At the word 'friend', Race slowly turns to look at Spot and crosses his arms. "I's listenin'."
"Race, I don't know what ta say. I jus' know I miss talkin' to ya and that this – whatever it is that's between us ain't gonna work for much longer." Spot asks, the closest he's gotten to pleading that he can ever remember. "I knows I's been hard on ya Racer, and I's prob'ly said some stuff I shouldn't've, but I miss the old us. Tha us that laughs and races around the side streets."
The silence before Race speaks is too long. "Spotty – ya ain't tha boss o' me. Sure's you's prince and you's made me Brooklyn, but that's it. I's gonna talk about Jack. I's gonna miss Jack. I's gonna wish Jack took me with 'im ta Santa Fe. I's allowed ta do those. And ya's got ta stop pretending everythin before tha Refuge 'xcept for the times I spent with you doesn't exist. I had friends in 'hattan-"
Spot hesitantly puts his hands up to indicate Race should stop and the other boy does eventually pitter out. Spot, uncomfortable with all this feelings talk, crosses his arms in defense from it and continue, "Aight, I got it. That deal we made? Gone. What deal?" He attempts to make a joke, but it falls flat. "Jus – maybe we can tries to be friends again Racer? Maybe go to poker night next week? Promise I'll play this time." He really doesn't want to, but he's smart enough to recognize he's got to offer Race something in return for this.
The mention of poker night earns him a small hint of a smile from Race.
"Deal?" Spot spits in his hand and extends it.
"Deal," Race mimics the gesture and they shake on it.
"Racer! Racer! Racer! Trout says we's can go get's ice cream cause we sold all the pape'ahs!" Petals comes sprinting over from across the street to pull at Race's pants-leg. Trout slowly slides up behind the little.
"I said soup Petals. Soup. Those clouds looks like they's gonna rain down on us," Trout corrects as he looks up at the sky. Petals frowns and folds her arms in a pout.
Spot mimics the motion and finds a dark cloud is indeed crawling its way over the horizon.
"But Trout, ain't before it rains the best time ta eat ice cream? The rain washes away all the mess." Spot is surprised to hear Race tease.
"Spot?" Trout asks, deferring to his prince.
"Eh, I don't see why not. But it don't mean they gets to skip out on actual washes 'fore bed." He turns to Race and Petals. "Got it?"
Petals excitedly nods and pulls and Race's leg again, but the older of the pair frowns and asks, "Ya ain't comin' Spotty? Don't ya want ice cream?"
Spot shrugs. "Eh, I don't need ice cream and if it's gonna rain, then I's gonna go ahead and do border checks now; try and beat the rain back to tha boardin' house." He turns to Trout, "Okay with you? Think you can manage these two?"
Trout shrugs and nonchalantly adds, "These two ain't much of a problem – keep each other entertained for the most part. Ya want me ta send someones your way to help with border checks?"
"Nah, don't worry 'bout it. Should be quick and simple with that rain comin' our way," Spot replies. "I'll see all of yous back at the boardin' house in a bit." He ends the conversation and heads back towards the Manhattan border.
Spot's not one for believin' in old wives tales and what not, but something just feels off. Like he has to go look at the border tonight. He can't shake the feeling that something is up. Then the darn rain cloud had come out of nowhere, and yeah, that just added to the foreboding of it all.
He keeps having to ensure himself that everything is fine. Just fine. The first half of the checks were normal, not even the drunks were out yet to bother him. At least, they hadn't been out until he got to the part of the border closest to the bowery where the day-drunks were intermingled with the street workers of the area.
"Spot?!" A raspy voice calls out from somewhere. Maybe that drunk; nope, not a drunk. Kelly. Stumbling along well enough to be confused for a drunk from afar, hand still gripping his side, and a smile spread from ear to ear.
The growl rumbling in his chest rises bile in his throat. Kelly. It had to be Kelly. Just when things were starting to look up for good. Maybe he'd gotten too caught up in the lies he'd fed to Racer and started to believe them himself. That Kelly truly wasn't ever going to be a problem again.
"What you want Kelly?" He manages to growl out as the disheveled boy comes to a wobbly stop in front of him.
The smile falls right off Jack's face at that greeting. "Spotty? What happened?"
All the pent up anger from the last few weeks boils to the surface and just starts to spill out. "What's wrong Kelly? What ain't wrong? You let Racer go out and sell on his own just to get himself caught by the bulls. Then once they's locked yous in he's too focused on trying his damn best to be you and protect you that he gets himself beat to hell and back. That ain't even mentioning how messed up he is 'cause he wasn't able ta keep some goil from Snyder. He ain't Race anymore Kelly, and it's all yer fault! If you-"
Somewhere in his blind rage, Kelly had put his free hand on his shoulder and started shaking him; trying his best to pull him out and get his attention. Spot throws the arm off of him and refocuses on Kelly, "Keep yer' hands the hell away from me Kelly."
"Spotty, I - …. Racer, he's out? With you? How-" Jack stumbles over his words.
Spot balls his fists up at his sides, struggling to keep them there instead of in the face of the person who ruined Race. "Ya don't get to know, Kelly. He's out and he's Brooklyn now, so turn yer ass around and get the hell out of Brooklyn."
Jack's face pales impossibly further. "Spot, please; I's got ta see 'im-"
"No." Spot drops his voice to nothing more than a dangerously low rumble. "You don't get anything related to Racer no more Kelly. 'S yer fault he's in this mess in the first place. Now – Get. Out." He points his hand in the vague direction of Manhattan for emphasis.
Kelly, the idiot he is, doesn't give up and continues, "Please Spot. Racer- he'll want ta see me, come home-"
"'Hattan ain't his home no more Kelly; he's Brooklyn now – made 'ficial this mornin'. Did Snyder bust up yer brains too? Carve out what little he could find and throw 'em away?" Spot pauses for a moment, surprised by how dark the words spilling out are, but ultimately decides to let them continue. "Racer don't even want ta see ya no more Kelly-"
"You's lying-"
"Am I? Cause I's heard the words from Racer himself while you's been locked away in the Refuge. He don't want ta see you no more and if that's what Racer wants, then I's gonna make sure it happens."
Spot smirks as Jack's face falls impossibly further, devastated by what he's just heard. But then the fool takes a step forward, "Spot, please – jus' let me talk ta 'im; say I'm sorry-"
Spot juts both arms forwards and pushes the Manhattan boy to the ground. "I said no Kelly. Racer don't want ta see ya no more, so stay the 'ell away from Brooklyn and the racetracks."
Before Kelly can refute his statement about the racetracks, Spot aims a targeted kick to the downed boy's side. Kelly curls around the spot and lets out a sharp cry of pain.
"I's gonna be king by the end of the month, Kelly, which means I's 'ficially gonna make those racetracks Brooklyn for Racer. So stay the 'ell away if you know what's best for you."
When there's no more rebuttals from the boy of the ground, Spot turns and stalks back to Brooklyn. Screw Kelly. Racer's better off without him.