Vivienne had tried to forget all about Spot Conlon. As far as she was concerned the night that her older brother died, Spot had died as well. But his memory wouldn't fade. Even young love doesn't die so easily.
Much like her older brother, Vivienne was always a shy little girl. Onstage was when she really came alive. When Vivienne wasn't allowed to perform with her parents she was very upset and she didn't like living with her grandparents. She missed her mama terribly. Her only consolation was that she always had a home with the Brooklyn newsies. She loved being surrounded by people who cared for one another. The newsies would do anything to keep one of their own safe, even if it meant sharing their meager dinners or helping them sell their papes. Brooks's newsies were her family when her parents went on the road.
But although she found great comfort in watching the Brooklyn newsies, Vivienne still separated herself from the others. Michael was the only person she felt she could truly trust with her deepest secrets. She clung to her twin brother for comfort as they sold the "New York World" on the streets day after day. Vivienne and Michael did everything together; he was her built-in friend. They didn't even need to speak to each other to know what the other was thinking. Vivienne just had to hold Michael's hand and she knew everything she needed.
Spot came into the picture when Vivienne was about 10 years old, after the tragic death of his parents. Brooks had taken him as his right hand man, just under Myth. It was a position that Michael envied.
"These is the twins," said Brooks. "Michael and Vivienne. Theys Myth's little brother and sister."
"Nice to meet yous," Spot extended his hand. He gave a half smile.
"Hey," Michael said crossing his arms. He looked Spot up and down and then he turned and walked away.
"Well," Brooks said. "He must be in a bad mood. I'll go see what's a matter. Yous two just get acquainted."
Spot and Vivienne stood there in a painful silence for a minute. Vivienne looked down, she didn't know what to say.
"So your name is Vivienne?" Spot asked after a while. "That's a nice name."
"Oh-Th-thank you." Vivienne stammered. Spot's kind smile calmed her a little. "What's your first name i-if you don't mind me asking?" All of the Brooklyn newsies had nicknames except for Vivienne and Michael. They were just referred to as "The Twins". Vivienne liked to find out the kids' real names though.
"I, uh, I don't remember my first name." Spot said bashfully.
"Really?"
"Everyone's been callin' me 'Spot' for as long as I can remember." he said.
"Oh,"
"You know," said Spot. "I never saw twins before today. Must be fun havin' a brother that's your age. I don't have any brothers or sisters. It was just me and mom and dad..." As he trailed off Spot grabbed at the key that hung on a string around his neck.
"I miss my mom and dad too," Vivienne said quietly.
"You an orphan too?" Spot asked.
"No," she said. "My parents are traveling vaudeville performers." Vivienne felt bad talking about her parents around Spot who had just lost his.
"That sounds like a fun job," Spot smiled warmly. "I bet theys get to do all kinds of interesting stuff."
"Yeah," said Vivienne. "They get to dance and sing and they work with all sorts of people..."
Spot and Vivienne walked off together as she told him stories of her parents' adventures.
Vivienne and Spot became fast friends. He was the first person (besides Michael) who had seen her as 'Vivienne' and not just one of "The Twins". This sullen boy with his piercing blue eyes fascinated her. Around Vivienne he smiled and played.
One day as the two were selling their papes together, Vivienne grabbed onto a park bench and began to stretch. She extended her arms and bent her knees as she closed her eyes and hummed a tune.
"What are you doin'?" Spot laughed when he saw her.
"I'm practicing." She said without breaking concentration.
"For what?"
Vivienne opened her eyes. "Ballet."
Spot cocked his head. "What's that?"
"You don't know?"
Spot shook his head, embarrassed that there was something he didn't know. Spot was quite prideful.
"Ballet is a kind of dance," Vivienne began. "I wanna be a prima ballerina when I grow up."
"What's-"
"It's a ballet dancer..." Vivienne had a lot to teach Spot.
Spot was silent for a moment. "So Miss Prima Ballerina, what do ya gotta do so you can be a ballet dancer?"
"You have to practice every day."
"What do you do for that?"
"This is a pliƩ," Vivienne said bending her knees once more.
"I see..."
The closer Vivienne and Spot got, the more Michael distanced himself. He spent more time with his older brother, Myth and his friends. It wasn't long before Michael earned his own nickname. The boys called him "Shade" because he followed Myth around like a shadow. "The Twins" were no longer. From then on they were two separate kids, Shade and Prima. When Myth and Shade left Brooks's newsies, Vivienne left her grandparents' home and moved to the Brooklyn girls' lodging house. Spot was there to comfort her in her time of need.
For two years Prima was happy. She had even made friends with some of the newsgirls, Spark and Story Masi, to name a few. She had taken chances and she was beginning to break out of her shell.
For Vivienne, the feelings of friendship towards Spot gradually blossomed into something more. When he was around she didn't even miss her brothers or her parents. She knew she was going to love Spot Conlon until the day she died.
Denton wanted to make sure the events of the previous night were still fresh in the boys' minds. For the sake of the case, even though they knew exactly where every single one of the Manhattan boys were that night, they had to interview everyone. After interviewing David and Story, Denton sent them off to Brooklyn to interview Spot's newsies as well. Denton paid the two of them $5 each to make up for the papers they would not be able to sell that day. They protested, saying it was unlikely that they would make more than a dollar, but Denton insisted.
"...She can't stand it when he gets all controlling. Neither a' them like followin' authority. Ever." Said Mush.
"Mhmm..." Denton twirled his pen in his fingers.
"I keep expecting them to jump out of the bushes and tell me it's all a joke. B-but I know it's not."
Helena gripped her pen hard. These interviews were difficult. Especially seeing these boys, the tough newsies that they were, in such a vulnerable state. Mush was one of the hardest to see upset because he was so sweet. She found herself holding back tears.
"Alright, Mush. I think that's good for one day." Denton said. "You need a minute?"
"Yeah," Mush rose slowly, trying to wipe the tears away. He stifled his sobs as best as he could but some were just too strong.
Helena just jumped up and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him as tightly as she could. They stayed like that for a few minutes with each other's tears soaking into their clothing.
"Thanks for that." Mush sniffed, managing a small smile. He picked up his papers and went deeper into Central Park as he called out the headlines.
Helena watched his back for a while, until he was out of view. Chase and Mush had told her their story: Chase was orphaned at four years old and her only relatives were Mush's parents. So they adopted her. And four years later, just when they were feeling like a real family again, their parents died in a terrible accident and they were put into the care or Mr. Myers's employer: Joseph Pulitzer. He sent Roselia to a boarding school in Brooklyn and Nicholas was handed over to the nuns who took him to the lodging house. Mush was finally reunited with her during the strike over the summer. And now she was gone again.
"Uncle, I can't do this anymore. Maybe I shouldn't be a reporter." It was too much for her. Helena got attached to people and she couldn't stand to see them hurt.
"Don't tell yourself that." Said Denton. "This is not a regular article, this is an investigative report. I haven't gotten a story like this in years. You're doing great as it is."
"Do you really mean that?"
"Do you think I would lie about something like this?"
Helena sighed. No he wouldn't. "Who do we still have to interview?"
Denton thought for a second. "I think we have one more, Spot."
Helena's stomach growled rather loudly. "Good, I'm hungry."
Her uncle checked his pocket watch. "How about I go down the street and pick up something for dinner while you wait for Spot."
"Ok,"
Since he'd been staying in Manhattan, Spot had stayed out later. He was one of the last ones home for the past few nights.
True to form, Spot walked up to the lodging house just as the sun sank below the horizon. Only Racetrack hadn't returned yet.
"Hey, Helena," He stretched and sat down next to her, it had been a long and tiring day. "What are you doin' here?"
"I'm here every night, Spot." Helena yawned. It had been a long day for everyone.
"Well, I meant, why aren't you in Brooklyn?"
She raised an eyebrow. "I could ask you the same question."
"Alright, you got me." Helena could see the faintest trace of a smile cross Spot's face. The smile left as quickly as it had come. "I can't go back there now."
"But Brooklyn's your kingdom. The 'borough that gave you birth', like you say."
"But she's everywhere." Spot put his face in his hands to try to keep himself from crying. "Even though the music is gone, I can still hear it in my head. I remember every moment I've had with her in the past three years and it is killing me."
Helena put her arm around him as he shivered.
"Spot,"
"What?" He wanted his alone time now, so he could tear down the facade for a few moments of peace.
"I know she's not gone like you think."
He looked up. "How do you know?" He said hopelessly.
Helena cracked a small smile. "You know she wouldn't go down without a fight."
"No, but-"
"Trust me, she's stronger than you think."
"I-"
"I know what you're thinking, Spot. No one blames you for this. It's not your fault."
"I'm the king, everything is my fault." His tone sounded resigned. "It's ok, I'm used to it."
There were no other words exchanged until Denton showed up a few minutes later. And then it was all about the interview.
"The girls called at what time?" Denton studied the king of Brooklyn's face as he asked the question.
"It was 8 o'clock at night."
Helena wrote as fast as she could, every moment and gesture immortalized in ink.
"And did any of the girls say or do anything out of the ordinary?"
Spot thought for a second. "No... Chase was the same as always. Lots of sass." Denton, Helena, and Spot all smiled at that comment. "She called 'cause she and Spark and Story wanted to come here, to Manhattan."
"And you wouldn't let them go by themselves?" asked Helena.
"'Course not, you crazy?"
Helena looked up from her notepad, slightly taken aback.
"Sorry," Spot looked down again. "I didn't want them goin' alone, 'cause of all a' the weird stuff goin' on. People bein' followed and all that."
"You said that at the meeting a few days ago," Denton nodded. "So, why did you choose Skittery?"
Spot bit his lip. The more he thought about the answer, the more blame he put on himself. "Well, Jack was asleep, and Mush didn't want to go, and Racetrack said he would only go if he could have a date with Chase... A-and they called right in the middle of my poker game. I got so mad. S-so I sent someone they both didn't like... I didn't think it would cost them their safety." It took a lot for Spot to keep himself from crying. He never used to be like this.
"Do you have any idea who these people could be, the ones who kidnapped the girls?"
"No, I been rackin' my brain, tryin' to figure this out."
"What about these oddities that have been happening around the girls," Helena said."Have you noticed any connections?"
Spot closed his eyes and thought back. There was that one guy who bought papes from the girls twice. And then there was the guy at the Christmas party. Other than that, they were just being followed. Wait, Spot thought. There was that incident with Boots near Hallowe'en. Racetrack said he called himself a shadow and he had unusually dark hair...
"I gotta go." Spot jumped up.
